Chapter 1

Birthright

George Pollock, Jr.

"I'm concerned about the foal," the doctor admitted.

"How so?" the female pony asked. She glanced at the shadowy image in the light box on a wall of the examination room. It was like an X-ray but somehow more. But less than a photograph. An image of a ghost. An image of the youngster within her.

"There seem to be … physical abnormalities … developing." It was always difficult saying that, the mare thought. Always. There'd be the sudden gasp, the patient's initial stunned silence and the almost-blank look of fear as horrific images filled the patient's mind. And the doctor hated it. Because there was no way to make things better. They were. They would happen.

The pony blinked. "Such as what, Doctor?" And that was all.

And that surprised the mare. Was she expecting that, she wondered. How could she? "The, um, skull, hooves and spine seem to be developing unusually. Let me show you." She pointed to the ghostly image, then circled her hoof around a tiny projection on the skull. "First off, let me assure you there is good news. The skull is mostly forming pony-normal, and the horn is in its proper place and growing at the rate you'd expect at this stage."

The pony – a unicorn – grinned. "That's my gift, Doctor."

The mare glanced back for a moment at the patient's white horn. She carried it well, even in midlife. But her age was something else to be discussed. Later. "Behind it, though," the mare continued, returning to the image, "there are these little bumps growing in a line to the back of the head. See?"

The unicorn squinted. "Oh ... yes."

The doctor moved her hoof along the back of the ghost. "And they continue along the back to the tail. And that's another concern."

"What about it?"

"It seems to be bony."

"Pardon?"

"A pony's tail is just hair. Just like the mane. It wouldn't appear very well on the scan, if at all. But your youngster's tail appears to be developing as an extension of the spine. Like a cat's or dog's."

A strange pause. "Or a lizard's?"

"Yes. I suppose."

"I see."

Why isn't she more upset? "But I want to assure you that the foal otherwise has a normal pony body configuration."

"You mentioned the hooves."

"Right." The doctor's hoof moved to the tips of the ghost's legs. "Ordinarily, the bones in the hoof are covered by a single structure called the wall. But here, if you look closely, not only are there no walls, but there are extra sets of linked phalanges at the end of each leg. And the terminal phalanges are curved and developing pointed external ends."

The unicorn cocked her head quizzically and looked lost.

The mare reconsidered. "Your foal is developing … claws ..."

The patient regarded the image for a long moment. It dragged on such that the doctor began to notice. "Well …," the unicorn finally said, almost absently, "I guess that's to be expected ..."

"You thought this might happen?"

The unicorn sighed and looked at the floor for a moment. Then she faced the mare again. "Doctor, have you ever seen these traits together before?"

A shaken head. "Certainly not on a pony."

"What about another creature?"

"Well," the doctor replied, indicating the line of bumps on the image, "if I didn't know better, I'd say these look like osteoderms."

"And those are what, exactly?"

"They're bony plates under the skin of some reptiles. They're kind of the anchor for some of their scales. And some reptiles have vertical scales where your youngster has the bumps."

"Oh, my."

"I don't know if you know this, but on dragons, those vertical scales are flexible. But not quite soft. The scales on a dragon's body are the hard ones everypony thinks of when they think of dragon scales."

The unicorn lowered her eyelids slightly, and a smile – tiny and surprising to the mare – began to rise. "Actually," the patient said, "I'm quite aware of how flexible the vertical scales can be."

"Most ponies aren't."

The smile grew. "I am not most ponies, Doctor ..."

The mare nodded. She did have a huge reputation as an artist, she conceded. Daring. Bold. She was famous for that. Or infamous. It depended on your perspective. And on what incident in her life you were talking about.

"In any event," the doctor continued, "there's nothing in your medical record that would account for this aberration."

The smile vanished instantly. The eyes behind the narrowed lids suddenly became defensive, even angry. "Please do not refer to my unborn," she growled, "as an 'aberration.' "

The mare had never heard a unicorn growl. She fought the distraction. "I meant the differences from normal development at this stage. Nothing more."

"I would hope so." Some heat dissipated through a sigh, and the patient started studying the floor again. "Doctor," she said at last, and very softly, "it's the father. That's what it is. That's all."

"The father?"

The unicorn looked up. "What if I were to tell you … that the father is a dragon?"

The mare imagined, and some of the images that ran past her mind were disturbing. She couldn't deny that. "That would explain a lot," she admitted. "But I've never heard ..."

A unicorn's smile returned. This time, it was proud. "Well, now you have."

"You're … kidding …" She studied the proud smile for a moment. "You're not kidding, are you …?"

"No. Not in the least."

"A … dragon."

"Yes."

A silence of acceptance, then: "And you didn't think that was important enough to mention? Why didn't you say so when we confirmed the pregnancy? My Celestia ..."

"I didn't know how to, exactly."

"You could have said,'The father is a dragon.' " It was her turn to sigh. "... Please forgive a professional question, but … I mean … how …?"

"How did we do it, you mean?"

"I was thinking of the physical compatibility, yes. The size difference ..."

"He's not a fully grown dragon. From what I understand, he's considered to be at the very end of his teens. As dragons reckon it. So he's still not so grown that … things … couldn't happen." Her smile became fully worldly.

"Does he know you're pregnant?" the doctor asked.

"Not yet."

"Why not?"

"He's been visiting Pyra, his ancestral homeland. He was actually born in Equestria. The pregnancy was confirmed after he left."

"And you still haven't told him?"

"I didn't know how to, exactly," the patient repeated.

"Oh, for Celestia's sake … OK … Just out of curiosity, how long have you known him?"

"Since he moved here to Ponyville when he was a child."

The mare calculated. "If he's a late-teenage dragon now, that would be something like quite a while."

"It has been."

"A teen parent. Not the best of all possible worlds. I have to be honest."

"I … really think he'll step up. He's always been a fine young gentlepony. 'Gentle … dragon,' I guess. He always does the right thing." A chuckle. "Eventually."

"For your sake," the doctor said, "and your youngster's, I hope so." She shook her head. "Well … my concern is for the health of both of you. You've made a foal, and we're going to make sure it comes into the world in good shape."

The unicorn glanced away. "I don't know that you can call it a 'foal.' Not in this case."

"Then we'll call it your child. Because that's what it is."

"All right." The patient looked again at the image on the wall. "He's quite adorable, really."

"The child? I can't perceive the sex yet. Pony or dragon ..."

"Actually, I meant the father."

"Oh."

"He's had a crush on me since we met. It's been sweet. Even after all these years."

The doctor recalled something, and she had to mention it. "I'm glad you brought that up," she began. "You know you're no longer in your prime brood years. Just a little past."

"I know," the unicorn replied quietly.

"That's going to present its own problems. Pregnancy for a pony in midlife, as you are, gets complicated."

"I know," the unicorn repeated quietly.

The mare regarded the patient's mane. The unicorn had been her patient for many years, since the pony was a filly with chic curled mane and tail that were deep blue with violet undertones. Even back then, the doctor had perceived that she was – and would be – a pony of style. Of class and art. And of boldness.

The unicorn had, indeed, evolved into elegance with the years. But the price had been the rich colors of her mane and tail. To the point of gray hairs – but still only a few – among the subdued blue and violet.

But even then, the doctor acknowledged … to take a young lover – a dragon lover – at her age …

Well, that was bold.

"Aside from your age issue," the mare continued, "there could be complications we can't even begin to predict" – she raised a hoof toward the image on the wall – "just from the genetics. You could miscarry. You could have a stillbirth. The child could die after birth or while it's young. I don't know. I've never had a case of trans-species pregnancy – or even heard of one. I'm surprised it could even happen between a pony and a dragon."

The patient gazed at the doctor with devilishly playful eyes. The smile returned and blossomed into a grin. "Oh, Doctor," she almost whispered, then rubbed her belly slowly and dramatically, "right now, I'm full of surprises."

The mare tried to suppress a snort of laughter. She failed. She started snickering and ended up in belly laughs. It just felt good. For her part, the unicorn just kept grinning.

The doctor recovered slowly with a smile. "Mmm … ahem … well … Seems like the child will have a great sense of humor, anyway."

"The father has always been playful, too. That's part of his charm."

"Hmm. May I ask you a personal question?"

A smile in reply. "Doctor, when I'm here, all of yourquestions are personal."

"True. What … made you want a dragon? If you know what I mean ..."

"I didn't want a dragon. I wanted this dragon."

"Of course."

"And why …?" The patient's blue eyes – still bright with passion, even after all these years, the mare noted – drifted to the side, drifted away. "I always knew how he felt about me. And I was never sure how to respond. But he became a friend. A good one. More than a crush. Or an admirer. A friend."

"I'm glad for that."

"And then, a few months ago, he said he was going to visit Pyra to learn more about his heritage. He'd lived here in Ponyville since he was a child, as I said. I was a filly then. And he was so sweet. But the age difference, of course – and the species issue – and anything beyond friendship … well, society wouldn't understand ..." She fell silent, and the silence sounded almost ashamed.

"From what I know about your career," the doctor said, "you've never really cared what society's thought of what you've done."

"And it took me forever to get to there. But when I was young, I did care. I was rather shallow, Doctor. You probably saw that."

"Well ... sometimes." The tone, delivered with a smile, was understanding.

"But I would never – ever – take a child. Ever. I'm not perverse."

"I've never thought you are. Just daring."

"For the record," the patient stressed, "the father was of consenting age when we … you know. By both Equestrian and Pyran law."

"Now, that sounds a little defensive."

"It's accurate," the unicorn noted. "For the record."

"OK. So why did you finally take him?"

"I suppose – before he left – I wanted to finally express my gratitude … appreciation ... affection … for his friendship. In some ways, it's been magic."

"Just for the record," the mare said playfully, "there are ways to express that other than taking the friend."

"Well, I found myself wanting to give him … an experience … that would be special. Something he could remember and feel happy about. And let's be honest, Doctor: Having been taken by a unicorn would make him special among dragons. The, um, size issue you mentioned."

"Had he ever been taken before, as far as you know?"

A shaken head. "He said he hadn't."

"Not even by a young dragoness?"

A shrug. "There really were never any around."

"Huh." The doctor chuckled. "Well, he certainly left you something to remember him by."

"I'd remember him, anyway. This," she said, patting her belly, "is an unexpected gift. One I'm proud of. Make no mistake. And a blessing. Especially at my age."

The mare studied the patient's abdomen. The fetus inside was only four apples big now, but it would start showing eventually. And news that an unmarried famous artist like the unicorn being pregnant – let alone by whom – would spread like the wind. Even to Canterlot. Where – the doctor recalled from her discussions with the patient – the princesses kept her on retainer. I wonder, she thought, what they'd think to learn that a pony-dragon child was on the way.

"You must tell the father," she said at last. "It's his right to know."

"Yes. I understand that."

"Promise me you'll tell him before your next appointment."

"I promise." She grinned. "Should I bring a note from him?"

"Pinkie promise me."

The unicorn's eyes widened. "What?"

"Pinkie promise me."

"How do you know about that?"

"Pinkie Pie's one of my other patients. Didn't you know that?"

"No. I usually don't discuss my health issues with my friends. So she and I have never mentioned our doctors. Or doctor, I guess."

"Pinkie promise," the mare replied.

A broad laugh. "Oh, Doctor! We're adults!"

"Pinkie promise," the mare repeated.

The patient finally realized that the only way around the obstacle was through it. She sighed and crossed her chest with a hoof. "Cross my heart, hope to fly," she recited, then held the hoof over her left eye. "Stick a cupcake in my eye." She lowered the hoof and smiled. "Satisfied?"

A mare's grin in return. "Now, you know what happens when you break a Pinkie promise, right? Especially if I tell her you have ...?"

The unicorn thought of her longtime pink friend who created the promise. She thought of one time, long ago, when somepony seemingly broke a Pinkie promise – but truly hadn't. And she thought of what the pink friend had done when the promise seemingly had been broken.

"I'm familiar with what happens," she answered. Best to play it safe, she decided. She was carrying a youngster, after all.

The doctor nodded. "All right, then. Any questions for me?"

"Should I stay on the diet you outlined?"

"For now, yes. But I'll have to check what's best for a prenatal dragon – or half-dragon, I guess. Egg yolk, maybe. Dragons gestate in eggs."

"I do like omelets."

"And I've met dragon doctors from Pyra at inter-realm medical conferences. I'll check with them, too."

"All right."

The mare turned to the light box and removed the fetal-scan sheet. She pondered it for a moment. "A mother who's a midlife unicorn, a father who's a teenage dragon and their trans-species youngster ..." She faced the patient. "You're all probably going to go down in medical history. But it's probably going to be really rough on all three of you. Are you ready for that?"

The unicorn bowed her head. Her gray-flecked blue mane swept forward, and as she closed her eyes, she seemed to be praying. "I thought I'd never have a child," she said quietly. "Certainly not at my age. And certainly not one as special as this."

She raised her face, and her eyes surprised the mare with their strength. "But no matter what happens," she said, "I will have this child. Even if I die doing it. The child is everything. The only thing.

"If the choice must ever be made, Doctor … save the child … not me. That is my final word."

The mare was silent, then put the sheet in a folder thick with paper. "Let's pray it never comes to that," she said, very softly. "Come on. Let's get your next appointment set up."

She opened the examination room's door and let the patient pass. As they headed down the hall, the mare noted the unicorn's cutie mark swaying as she walked. Because of the patient's art and success, her mark was known throughout Equestria. "It just struck me," the doctor said.

The unicorn glanced back slightly. "Hmm …?"

"By the time you're full-term, you'll probably be too big to wear any of your own designs. No formal events for you by then. That's sad."

The patient halted suddenly, and the mare nearly ran into her. The unicorn kept staring ahead, and the doctor was confused.

"No … formal wear … for an expectant mare ..." the unicorn whispered to no one.

Then she gasped.

"Oh … my … dear … CELESTIA ..."

She spun around almost violently toward the doctor and shouted, "FORMAL MATERNITY WEAR!"

The mare spoke her mind: "I'm sorry – what?"

"FORMAL MATERNITY WEAR!" The unicorn rose on her hind legs and hugged the doctor almost maniacally. "DARLING! YOU'RE A GENIUS! FORMAL MATERNITY WEAR!" She released the embrace excitedly. "I've never heard of it being done! It's brilliant! It'll be my next project! THANK YOU!"

The mare recovered enough to joke. "It's certainly pregnant with possibilities."

"Pregnant … Possibilities …" Blue eyes flared wildly under the stately white horn. "THE. NAME. OF. THE. LINE! Absolutely fabulous!" She gazed in awe at the mare. "Oh, Doctor! You've missed your true calling!"

A smirk. "And when I think of all the money I wasted on medical school ..."

The unicorn spun around and trotted briskly down the hall. "Let's see …," she began as her voice got farther away, "they'll have to be lightweight and cool and stretch and still flatter their lines. Or curves, I suppose ..."

The mare watched her go. And suspected – deeply – that several months from then, throughout all Equestria, expectant mares at formal events would be wearing fashions with labels bearing her patient's famous tri-diamond cutie mark.

Or maybe not. By then, the doctor speculated, the unicorn might – Celestia willing – have her hooves full with a far more personal, and very successful, project.

Part II

View Online

Birthright
Part II
by
George Pollock, Jr.

My dearest, darling Spike,

I hope this finds you well and that your visit to Pyra has been as fulfilling as you wanted. All is well here in Ponyville.

You’ll notice I called you “Spike,” not “Spikey-Wikey.” After our night of love, I no longer see you as a teenager but as a young adult. I was honored to help you with the transition, and I delighted in the passion you gave me. I hope your first time was as wonderful.

But now I must tell you something that will change our lives forever. I hope you’re reading this where you can accept this news calmly and with full understanding.

Spike, my darling, our night of passion resulted in the conception of a youngster. In short, I’m pregnant.

I’m several months along, and my doctor assures me the child is thriving. I BEG your forgiveness for not telling you sooner. The news was so shocking, I couldn’t understand it myself at first. I didn’t know how to tell you. But the pregnancy is well along now, so I knew I had to finally tell you. Again, please, please forgive me for not telling you sooner.

I realize you’re probably shocked and full of questions. My doctor explained a few things, and they helped me. I hope they’ll help you, too.

First, a pony and dragon apparently can have a youngster, though it’s extremely, extremely rare. It’s called a “kirin.” It’s essentially a pony with scales, and its specific features depend on the pony and dragon that made it. Spike, I’m just as surprised as you probably are that a pony’s and dragon’s “life essences” can even combine. My doctor said she didn’t know the exact genetics but that enough kirins had been recorded in Equestrian and Pyran history to show it was possible. It’s the extreme rarity of successful “encounters” between ponies and dragons that makes the fact so little known. (She tried to make a joke with my name about our “encounter.” I was not amused.)

Scans show our youngster has claws and a tail much like yours. Both are historically unusual for a kirin, the doctor said. They usually have had hooves and only a pony’s tail. (Maybe your “life essence” is rather potent.) But the claws and tail seem to be developing like a normal dragon’s, so there should be no problem. There are also vertical scales like yours along its head and back. You can faintly make out its mane and its pony’s tail over the upper part of the dragon tail. And it’s developing a unicorn’s horn like mine.

The second thing she told me was that kirins were usually born when the dragon (male or female) was fairly young, as you are. It’s the size issue. Once the dragon grows too large, an “encounter” becomes physically impossible. Especially for an adult male dragon. But when the dragon is relatively young, the physical compatibility is much better. (As you and I both know now, darling. And for the record, it was exquisite!)

Also, my doctor was surprised at my becoming pregnant at my age. You know I’m in midlife and that the chances of a mare like me successfully conceiving are reduced. (But apparently not gone in my case!) I confess that’s why “precautions” didn’t occur to me that night. I was stupid and oblivious and lustful and presumptuous that I couldn’t get pregnant. Please forgive me for that.

BUT I don’t regret I’m now carrying our youngster. Not for an instant. I thought I’d never have a child, certainly not at my age, so I feel this one is a blessing for me. Spike, please let it be a blessing for you, too. Please join me in the life of our youngster. I know you always do the right thing. You have all throughout your life. (Usually with a little prodding, but it gets the job done.)

Please understand this, though: I will have the child, regardless of your choice. I’ve even told the doctor that if something horrible ever happens, she should save the youngster, not me. That’s how strongly I want our child to live.

I can imagine this news has shocked you greatly. But now you know you’re a father. Spike, your friendship, affection and love have been very, very special to me since we were younger here in Ponyville. They’ve come to fruition now. Please come take your place at my side – and that of our child.

I love you. Please write and come home soon. To both of us.

Rarity

P.S.: I think “kirin” is actually a rather lovely word, don’t you? If our youngster is a filly (I guess we’d still call her that), what do you think of that for her name? It might even fit a “colt,” too. It sounds neutral enough.

I truly believe I’ll see you soon. We can talk about it then, darling.

Love,
R.

Part III

View Online

Birthright
Part III
by
George Pollock, Jr.

“Rubies with flame sauce,” the young dragon said. It was the cheapest thing on the menu, and it fit his budget at the moment. But he liked flame sauce, so it worked out well.

“Coming up,” the older dragon said. He started throwing sauce ingredients into the huge wok on the lava-rock stove, and they began sizzling. He blew red flame into the stove, the rocks glowed a brighter red and the food spattered louder.

The smaller dragon, a purple-and-green late teen by his kind’s reckoning, watched the cook. The larger creature was apparently from the Orient, the eastern part of the dragon realm of Pyra. It was unusual to see an Oriental dragon this far into the Occident, the western part. The two, however, were at the mouth of an eastern-cuisine food cave, so it made sense. Even if it was a stereotype, the teen admitted.

The evening was rainy, but the dragons, the stove, the ingredient counter nearby and the adjacent table rock at which the teen sat were under a huge canopy supported by giant poles at the cave’s mouth. The young creature had folded in his wings to keep them out of the rain. The drops hitting the canopy almost matched the sizzling in the wok. Farther into the cave, around a corner, was the glow of an unseen chamber. But not unheard: The teen could easily discern a regular, loud chopping.

Torches just inside the cave lit the scene, so while the teen was bathed in light, the older dragon was backlit. The teen hadn’t seen many Oriental dragons in his young life. But the cook had all the common features: His body was narrow and snakelike, and his short legs and arms were at each end. His front half was raised off the ground so he could work the food. He had something like a mane all around his neck and a sort of mane around his jaw. The teen knew enough that it was called a “beard.” The cook also had a ridge of vertical scales on his back all the way to the end of his tail, like the young Occidental waiting for the food. The teen’s were green. The cook’s were red.

Unlike the youngster, the cook didn’t have wings. And he had two “feelers” – it was the best way to describe them – on the front of his snout. They swept back along the sides of his head. And he had something like antlers coming out of the top of his head. But it was all normal for dragons from the Orient. Nothing unusual about any of it. Nothing at all.

What had caught the teen’s eye more were the fine red jewel-like scales covering the cook’s body; his orange mane and beard; and his large yellow eyes. The youngster had seen dragons of all colors, even red. But somehow, the cook’s appearance made him seem – well, not mysterious. More like mystical. That the teen was sitting in the presence of some subtle power he couldn’t describe. It was just a sense, but it covered him like the after-tingle of lightning.

“What’s your name, kid?” the cook asked. He began to work a spatula quickly around the wok.

“Spike …” He seemed distracted, as if even his own name didn’t concern him right then.

“You’re new here, aren’t you? I know most of the regulars in this end of the cave colony.”

“I’ve been traveling, so, yeah, I’m new here.”

“Where’ve you been?”

“All around Pyra. Learning my heritage. That kind of thing.”

“Where are you from?”

“Ponyville. It’s a town in Equestria.”

The cook squinted. “You’re a long way from home, kid.”

“I know.”

“How’d you end up there?”

“I was born in Canterlot, the capital, and moved to Ponyville. Long story.”

“Huh.” The older dragon grabbed a nearby bottle of igneous oil and poured some into the wok. It raised its own sizzle, and the liquid immediately took on a dark-red color. “Where are you staying?”

“The hostel in the northwest part of the colony.”

“It closes at the twenty-second hour. You know that, right? You’ll need to be back there by then. Otherwise, you’re outside all night.”

“I know. That’s the first thing they tell you.”

“Good.” The cook began to toss the ingredients slightly into the air with the spatula. The sauce was already smelling great, the teen thought.

“So …,” the older dragon continued, “do you like Pyra so far?”

“Yeah. Been a little weird seeing dragons everywhere I go. They’re kind of a minority in Equestria. It’s mostly ponies.”

“Ponies aren’t so bad. I’ve met a few I’ve liked.”

“Oh, they’re good. Not saying they aren’t. Some are really nice. There’s this one unicorn I know. She’s been really nice to me for years.”

The other dragon stopped flipping the wok’s contents, and sizzling filled a long moment afterward. “Unicorn, huh?” he finally asked. He returned to stirring, but did it more slowly. And he looked thoughtful. “Unicorns are special. I met one once, myself. You’re lucky.”

“I think so …,” the teen replied.

“What’s she like?”

“Well … she’s a fashion designer. Really pretty. And elegant. And generous. Helps out her friends every chance she gets.”

A nod, with eyes focused on the food. “Sounds about right …,” the cook said, his voice strangely distant. He looked again at the teen. “Like I said, you’re lucky to know her.”

“I know. And … I think I love her. Really.”

A shrug. “Unicorns can be really easy to love. They’re like that.”

“And I think … she might love me.”

“That a bad thing?”

“No. She’s older than I am. That’s been … interesting … in the past few years. But she’s cool with it.”

The cook blew flame into the wok directly, then took it off the stove. “Just have to let it thicken now,” he observed. “So is this unicorn your girlfriend?”

The teen sighed. “I … don’t know. We’ve kind of been great friends for a long time. Had a crush on her since I was a kid.”

“Does she know that?”

“Uh-huh. For years. We’ve become kind of an item to our friends.”

“Sounds like you’re more than just great friends, then.”

“Maybe …”

“So why don’t you just admit that? To her and yourself?”

“I’m a little … scared.”

“Why?”

“Well … it was easy being a kid dragon with a crush on an older pony. Ponies thought it was cute.”

The cook smirked. “It is kind of cute, kid. I’ve actually seen it.”

“When?”

A sigh. “Long time ago. Long story. So what’s different now?”

“When I got older, I began to feel that ponies weren’t as comfortable with us. ‘Baby dragon and young unicorn’ was cute. ‘Teen dragon and midlife unicorn’ was … strange.”

“Is that what they said?”

“Could see it in their eyes.”

“Or did you just think you saw it?”

A pause. “I dunno …”

The cook crossed his arms. “You said you two had friends. What do they think about it?”

“They’re cool with it.”

“So does it matter what anyone else thinks if your friends support you two?”

“Guess not ...”

“What about your folks?”

“I was an orphan egg. Closest I have to family is the female unicorn who hatched me with magic.”

“Huh. Orphan. That’s rough.” The cook considered something. “This isn’t the same unicorn, is it …?”

“No.” The youngster shivered. “That’d be like having a crush on my mom. That’s creepy.”

“Actually, tradition is that a female unicorn who hatches a dragon is considered an older sister. It avoids the ‘mother’ confusion but still keeps the relationship at arm’s length.”

“Ya know … I always have thought of her like that …”

“So what does she think about you and the fashion designer?”

“She’s one of the friends. So she’s cool with it.”

The larger dragon uncrossed his arms and again stirred the sauce, which was getting viscous. “Then it seems it’s just your feelings left. Let me ask you: When you go home, is she the first you’ll want to see?”

“I think … she’ll probably have to be ...”

“But do you want her to be?”

“Yes.”

“Then don’t be ashamed of what you have with her, kid. And don’t play around with her. If she’s that special to you, she deserves better than that.”

“I think … we’re past playing now.”

“Why’s that?”

“I got a letter from her today.”

“Uh-huh.”
“We had … an encounter … before I left. My first time.”

The cook grinned hugely. “Well, you two sure as hell aren’t just ‘great friends’ anymore, are you? Damn … With an older female. A unicorn. You lucky son of a salamander …”

“She got lucky, too, I guess …”

“Why?”

“She says she’s pregnant now.”

“Uh.” The older dragon thought. “All right … what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know …”

“What the hell do you mean, you don’t know?”

“I don’t… know …”

“You’ve just made a new life, boy. You need to understand that. Or is that pretty pony of yours just a plaything?”

“No!”

“Then are you going to be a dragon and step up?”

“I’m just … so young, compared with her … I didn’t think that …”

A quick scowl at the sauce. “Damned right, you didn’t think,” the cook mumbled, looking back at the teen. “And you’re old enough to get a unicorn pregnant, so don’t whine about how young you are. Playtime’s over, kid. You wanted adult fun, you take adult responsibility. That’s the way it goes. Now, do you have any kind of skill? Trade? Talent? Ability? Anything?”

Now the teen thought. “I actually like …” He didn’t finish.

“Like what?”

“Baking.”

“Baking ...”

“Yeah. There’s a pastry shop back home I’ve helped out at. Like with fire breath.” He looked embarrassed. “Light the stoves. Melt sugar for some recipes. Things like that ...”

“That melting is called ‘caramelizing,’ kid. Learn the lingo.”

“And I’ve learned a lot about making stuff just by helping out.”

The cook broke into a grin so wide, the teen was sure the older dragon was about to guffaw in ridicule. And the cook did guffaw. Just not in ridicule.

“HA!!” The cook shook his head and slapped the counter with a forepaw. “Kid, look around you! I make gems and sauce and other crap for a living! It pays the bills. And it supports a daughter. If I can do it with just gems and sauce and crap, you sure as hell can do it with baking. Pastries are high-end items. And ponies pay through the nose for them. Willingly! Damn! OK – would the shop be willing to take you on as an apprentice baker?”

“I guess I could ask.”

“Don’t guess. Ask. And meantime, do such good work, they’ll want to take you on.”

“Yeah, but …” The teen frowned. “… a kitchen career. … Thought I’d get to do something a little more exciting with my life …”

The older dragon paused a moment, then thoughtfully surveyed the food stand top to bottom, left to right. He then looked back at the other dragon with narrowed, slightly belligerent yellow eyes. “Watch it, boy …,” he growled in a low voice. “I’m trying to help you out here …”

“Sorry.”

The cook recovered his calm, then sighed. “Look … I know it’s going to be a lot of hard work. You’re a teen parent now. Got to be honest: not the best of all possible worlds. Like I said, playtime is over. There’s a life on the way that you made. That kid is going to need you more over the next few years than you’ll ever need getting drunk on lava ale with your buddies in the same time.

“And you did it with a unicorn, kid. Do you have any idea how rare that is for us? A unicorn and a dragon getting together in real love is like finding a blue diamond. Maybe like finding three. If you’re lucky enough to do that, your life is going to be special. Because the best unicorns are special. Especially the mares. And it sounds like you landed a very special one for her to have stayed with you this long.”

He leaned over and stared into the teen’s green eyes. “So … do not throw all that away like some stupid punk, kid …”

The young dragon said nothing. The cook backed away and noticed that the sauce was ready to serve. “What’s her name?” he asked.

“Rarity,” the teen replied.

“How appropriate.”

“Yeah …”

“Did she say how far along she is?”

“She said a few months. Most foals are born in 11.”

“Well, it might be a little longer in this case. Historically, kirins usually take about 13. Those are pony-dragon offspring. And they don’t happen too often at all. The parents have to be about the same size at the time of conception. Let alone have an encounter. Let alone ever meet each other. You two apparently have great timing.”

“She said in the letter they were called ‘kirins.’ She tried to describe them, but I still can’t imagine what one would look like.”

“Really.”

At that, the cook surveyed the ingredients counter: Beakers and boxes and bottles and utensils and the stuff that sauces are made on. And bowls of prepared gems: Opals and diamonds. Amethysts and emeralds. Alexandrites and aquamarines. Topazes and tourmalines. Peridots and garnets. Even common quartz. And a bowl with a tiny pile of sapphire shards at the bottom. Usually, it would be filled to the rim or more with the blue gems, chopped and appetizing. But it held only precious dust.

Next to it sat a bowl with a mountain of rubies rising above the rim.

“We’re going to need rubies,” the cook finally said.

The teen indicated the bowl. “They’re right there,” he noted, trying to be helpful.

The older dragon glanced at him. “We’re going to need rubies,” he repeated, as if that was the end of the discussion. All it did for the younger dragon was confuse him completely.

The cook turned toward the cave. He paused long enough for the chopping sound within – which had been lost under their conversation – to continue for a moment more. “Miyuki!” he called. “Get out here!” The chopping stopped instantly.

“WHY?” A female voice yelled from the lit yet unseen chamber around the interior corner. “I’m not done chopping those sapphires yet! What do you WANT?”

“Just get out here, please!”

There came an irritated sigh and the sound of some utensil being dropped obnoxiously onto a surface. After which was heard the unmistakable hollow tones of hooves. Louder and louder with each step.

And she appeared around the corner.

A young mare. But not quite a mare. She was about the teen’s size and thus much smaller than the Oriental dragon. She was covered from her snout to her rump to her hooves in fine red jewel-like scales, accented by an orange mane and tail. Small red vertical scales flowed along her back, and even the mere torchlight made her eyes alive with blue.

On her head stood a stunning gold-colored unicorn’s horn.

She stopped at the cave’s mouth, where she proceeded to look thoroughly annoyed. “WHAT?” she demanded impatiently.

“I need some rubies, please,” the cook said pleasantly.

She peered at him, then scanned the counter and pointed a hoof. “There’s a whole bowl right there.”

He looked. “Ah, yes!” he answered in false surprise. “My mistake. Thank you, Miyuki.”

The mare-yet-not-a-mare regarded him with visibly deepening confusion. “You are so … weird sometimes, Dad …,” she said at last. With a quick glance at the younger dragon, she turned around and departed into the cave. There was a quick disappearance around the lit corner, and the chopping sound started anew. The teen swore he also heard frustrated cursing.

The cook took a pawful of rubies from the bowl and laid them on a plate. Grabbing the spatula and the wok, he herded the thick, chunky sauce over the edge and drizzled it across the gems. As he then placed the dish before the teen, he chuckled.

“She’s just like her mother,” he said. “She was barely able to stand my quirks, too.” He turned toward the cave and pondered it thoughtfully for a moment, then faced the youngster again. “But when I’d see their sapphire eyes, I could never get angry at either of them. And even when she gives me attitude like that, Miyuki is precious to me. She’s all I have left to remember her mother by.

“You see, kid,” the cook concluded, “children are most precious when they’re your own.”

The teen took up a spoon, looked at the rubies and stirred them absently in the sauce. And he realized that the preciousness in his future would more likely be a mix of purple, green and white. Maybe with a lush sapphire-colored mane and tail. Especially if the child were a filly. Those would be very special on a filly, he thought.

They’d be just like her mother’s.

“So what are you going to do?” the other dragon asked.

The youngster lifted a spoonful of rubies and held it in front of him. For a moment, it seemed as if the food was the most compelling thing in the world to him. It wasn’t.

“I’m going to find a quill, some ink and a scroll,” he said, “and write a letter.”

“I have all those in the back chamber. You can use them. Write the letter here at the table. It’s still early in the evening. You’ll be able to get back to the hostel in time.”

“All right.”

“I’ll send it by smoke when you’re done. That way, you’re not tempted to get rid of it before you send it. I think that’s best.”

“OK.”

“What’s it going to say, kid?”

More gazing at the spoon. “That it’ll take me about three or four days, starting tomorrow, to get back to Ponyville. To support a very special friend.”

The older dragon smiled quietly and nodded. “Enjoy your meal, kid. On the house.”

“Thanks …”

With that, Spike began to eat.

Part IV

View Online

Birthright
by
George Pollock, Jr.

Part IV

“Sometimes,” Twilight Sparkle said, “being a parent can be a real bitch.”

“Amen to that,” Sweetie Belle said, nodding.

“Well … yes …,” Fluttershy conceded.

Pinkie Pie put a large plate of cupcakes on the center table at Sugar Cube Corner. “Oh, I don’t know,” she ventured, “I’ve always kind of liked it.”

“You’ve had six foals, Pinkie,” Applejack replied with a chuckle. “Pretty obvious you must like it.”

“Well, gosh, Big Macintosh and I really love each other, silly.”

“Pinkie,” Twilight said, taking a cupcake, “I love books, but sometimes I close them and put them down.”

“Huh?”
“Never mind.”

“Ya know, Mac always has been a hard worker ...,” Applejack said and smiled slyly at the others around the table. She took a cupcake and glanced knowingly at Twilight. They grinned quietly.

“Huh?” Pinkie repeated.

“Never mind,” Twilight repeated, grinning.

Fluttershy took the meaning after a moment, looked down and blushed.

“Oh, my …” Rarity snickered, despite herself. To keep the others from seeing her blush, she surveyed the baby-shower gifts on the neighboring table. Among the torn wrapping and ribbons, the infant toys were piled on one side. Elsewhere, there was a bassinet, champing rings, lots of blankets and baby caps, and many infant drinking cups. There also was a book from Twilight: “The Care and Feeding of Young Dragons.” Rarity had laughed aloud upon seeing the title and then scrambled for a grateful compliment upon observing that Twilight was confused – that she didn’t see a joke. Apparently, the book wasn’t meant as one. So Rarity scrambled. Quickly.

A crib stood nearby, a hanging spinner toy attached to the headboard. Five tiny pegasi hung from strings and floated somewhat aimlessly in a circle. From a sixth arm of the spinner hung a tiny toy dragon. It had obviously been attached in place of a pegasus. Rarity knew what it symbolized but allowed her younger sister, Sweetie Belle, to explain it: The dragon represented the father of Rarity’s unborn youngster. It was Spike. It had touched her deeply.

There was also a lovely baby carriage. “What a gorgeous pram!” she had exclaimed when Sweetie Belle had rolled it in from the next room.

“A what?” Applejack had asked.

Rarity had sighed. “Baby carriage, darling. Baby carriage.”
“Oh.”

“And it is lovely,” the unicorn had assured her. Because it was, Rarity had thought. Truly. A practical yet elegant design. Somewhere among her friends and her sister, somepony had good taste. She wondered who it was.

She sincerely hoped it was her younger sister. Sweetie Belle had a husband and a colt now. For several years, actually. To Rarity’s mind, there was some paradox – somewhere – that the younger sibling had married and had a foal before her. But birth order wasn’t a guarantee that marriage and parenthood would come in the same order, and she understood that. Rarity wondered why her own pregnancy had come so far along into her life – let alone by a young dragon. What possible purpose could The Steed have at this point for all that?

She didn’t know. All she knew was that the foal existed within her now. That was enough for her. She had decided that she would leave the rest to The Steed.

“Got any cravings yet, Rarity?” Pinkie asked. “I remember my cravings. Some of them were really weird. There was hay and pickles. And then I liked clover and pickles. And then I couldn’t get enough tofu and pickles. And then I wanted cupcakes and hot sauce. But I always liked that. I just wanted more. And then there was cupcakes and pickles.” She took a cupcake from the plate. “After that, …”

“Apples,” Rarity interrupted politely.

“Apples? That’s so boring!”

“Nevertheless, dear.”

“And I swear it’s keepin’ Sweet Apple Acres in business!” Applejack said, then laughed. “That’s all I have Apple Fritter doin’ anymore – pickin’ Rarity’s apples!”

“And your daughter picks some of the sweetest I’ve ever tasted, Applejack,” Rarity said. “Please do tell her thank you for me.”

“Will do. If I ever see her again. High school and activities and her friends and all.”

“I see.” Rarity took a sip from the glass of apple juice she held. She wondered whether she’d live to see her foal in high school. She didn’t like thinking like that, but she was just past her prime brood years; her doctor had told her that. But she hadn’t needed to be told. Before her night of passion with Spike, she had felt it not just in her body, she had felt it in her heart. She had been resigned to being foal-less. So if a foal was a miracle in itself, then hers – at her age – was yet another. And it was the offspring of a pony and a dragon. A “kirin,” she had learned it was called. Her family and friends had come to learn it, too. And a kirin was very rare in the world, like yet another miracle.

All right, she had decided long before this, the youngster was already a triple miracle.

“Have you decided on a name yet?” Fluttershy asked quietly. She always asked quietly.

“Miracle …,” Rarity whispered, not realizing she had.

“That’s pretty, Sis,” Sweetie Belle replied.

The older sister blinked and returned to the moment. “Pardon?”

“Is that what you and Spike decided on?”

“We … really haven’t discussed that yet.”

Fluttershy also blinked. “Thunder and I talked a lot about a name before we settled on ‘Ambrosia.’ She is very sweet …”

Pinkie Pie gobbled another cupcake. Nopony could say with certainty that she had actually reached for it. One moment, the treat was on the platter. The next, there was a pink blur, and the pastry was gone. And in the moment after that, Pinkie was chewing something, then swallowing it. “ ‘Miracle’ sounds like a good name for a filly, but what if it’s a colt?” she asked.

“I … don’t know,” Rarity replied.

Pinkie was already eyeing another cupcake. “So when’s Spike coming home?”

“A few days,” Rarity said. “I got the letter from him last night. He said he’d be back in a few days. He’s flying from the Occident of Pyra. That’s quite far away.”

“Bet he’s a happy pappy,” Applejack said with a grin.

“He said he was ...”

Twilight narrowed her eyes skeptically. “You don’t sound convinced.”

The white unicorn sighed. “If there’s any doubt … it’s mine.”

“You don’t think Spike will come through …?” Fluttershy asked cautiously. She always asked cautiously.

“YES, HE WILL!” The others started at the outburst, and Fluttershy cowered back in surprise. Rarity recovered her composure. “Forgive me … There’s a lot on my mind. But not about Spike. It’s just that I don’t know how I feel about … being pregnant. It’s so new … and strange …”

Sweetie Belle chuckled. “First one always is, Sis.”`

“Amen to that,” Applejack repeated from before.
“I really can’t remember,” Pinkie observed.

Twilight was silent.

“Especially this foal,” Rarity said. “It’s a pony-dragon … hybrid. There are so many unknowns. My doctor said there weren’t any alarming signs, but she admitted it was new to her, too. We don’t even know what normal development for an unborn kirin is.” Her tone turned deeper. “Something could go wrong, and we wouldn’t even know until it’s too late.”

Sweetie Belle, within foreleg’s length, reached over and touched her sister’s shoulder. “Rarity, it’ll be all right.”

“Hey, now,” Applejack broke in quickly. “This here’s a baby shower. There’ll be no talk like that while …”

The unicorn was too far down the path. “My Steed … can you imagine losing a foal after carrying it for so long?”

The others gasped suddenly. All but Twilight. She closed her eyes and said nothing. Nopony said anything for a few moments. Until realization finally hit the one who had spoken. Rarity’s eyes suddenly widened.

“OH, MY STEED!!” she whispered. “OH, STEED, Twilight!!” Her voice grew with contrition. “Oh, Steed, I’m SORRY!! Twilight, FORGIVE me!! PLEASE forgive me!!”

The purple alicorn kept her eyes closed. “You’re right … to be afraid … Rarity,” she said quietly.

“Twilight …”

Her friend finally opened her eyes and looked at Rarity. “It’s all right. … I understand. … I felt the same thing when I was pregnant with Wishful. It’s normal …”

“Every time … it’s normal …” From somewhere, Pinkie sounded wise.

“Rex and I have had three foals,” Twilight said, still quietly. “Wishful was our first … She just never woke up when she was born. But we’ve had three foals. We’ve always counted her …”

Another foreleg was reached out. A purple shoulder was touched. “Sugar Cube …,” Applejack said.

“Because … she was a part of our lives. And always will be.” Twilight’s eyes started, just, to rim with moisture. “Rarity …”

“Yes, darling?” Her friend sounded shamed and sympathetic at the same time.

“You’re right to be afraid for your foal when you’re carrying it. … So love your baby now. Don’t wait for it to be born …”

“Amen to that.” Fluttershy this time.

Silently, Rarity rose and walked to Twilight. She hugged her friend and nuzzled the alicorn on the back of her neck.

“I won’t wait, Twilight,” she whispered. “I promise.”

Twilight closed her eyes again, lifted a hoof and touched one of Rarity’s forelegs that was around her neck. Despite the moisture, there were no tears. A moment later, Twilight wiped her eyes and released herself from the embrace. “Yeah, well …,” she said in playful sarcasm, “… just wait until you’re wiping its rump at three in the morning …” Then she sniffled and laughed in release. The rest joined her.

“Now, like I said,” Applejack said, “that’s enough of that. This here’s a happy occasion. Next thing ta do is to get ready for Spike’s return. Rarity, you have a better idea of when he’s comin’ back? Better than a ‘few days’?”

The unicorn returned to all fours from standing. “He said three or four days from when he wrote the letter. That was yesterday.”

“That was fast,” Pinkie noted. “I didn’t think Derpy Hooves could fly that fast. Or that straight.”

“It came by dragon’s breath, not the regular mail. It just appeared in this ball of green energy in the middle of the air at the boutique last night. Quite scary at the time.”

Twilight had returned to the moment. “So he could be back here as early as ...” She calculated. “… the fourth.”

“Day after tomorrow,” Applejack said, without calculating.

“Or as late as the fifth,” Rarity said. “In either case, it gives me time for a day trip to Canterlot for work tomorrow.”

“You’re going to Canterlot before he gets here?” Sweetie Belle asked. “Do you think that’s OK?”

“It’s just a final fitting for Princess Celestia’s outfit for the summit coming up. I’ll arrive in the morning, have lunch with Rainbow Dash and then head to the palace for my appointment with Celestia. I’ll be back here in the late evening.”

Fluttershy raised an eyebrow. “What’s a ‘summit’?”

Pinkie waved a hoof in the air frantically while finishing the last cupcake in another. Nopony had noticed yet that after their first treat each, the remaining pastries had disappeared in a pink direction. “OH! OH! I KNOW! It’s the total when you add numbers together! The ‘summit’!”

Silence. Until Twilight started smirking, and it became contagious. Smirks became chuckles became laughs. Amid the hilarity, Pinkie looked confused. “Hey! I was good at math!”

The alicorn recovered. “Pinkie … a ‘summit’ is a meeting of the leaders of realms. They talk about how things are going among the lands. It’s meant to make sure there are no misunderstandings among the lands and things stay peaceful.”

“Do they do math, too?”

“Not usually.”

“That’s too bad. Math is fun.”

“In this case,” Rarity said with a tone that tried to rein in Pinkie’s arithmetical enthusiasm, “Celestia is meeting the First Fire of Pyra – he’s the dragon king – and the leader of Mythos. He’s a manticore and the leader of the chimeras. They say he’s very bossy, doesn’t have a sense of humor and really doesn’t like any creatures who aren’t chimeras.”

“Hate ta sound prejudiced,” Applejack conceded, “but sounds like a typical Mythosian ta me.”

“Celestia told me, by the way,” Rarity added, “that his title is very strange. It’s ‘fuehrer.’ She said it’s very ancient.”

Sweetie Belle looked concerned. “Are you up to a trip right now? Even a day trip?”

Her older sister smiled. “Of course, dear. I’m not so far along that I’m exhausted because my belly is swaying with every pace I take.”

“That’ll change, Sis. That’ll change.” Her grin was knowing.

“And you’re going to see Rainbow, too? Busy schedule,” Twilight observed.

“The Wonderbolts are between maneuvers,” the unicorn explained, “so she has some free time. Seems that’s a precious commodity for a Wonderbolt. So I’m lucky to see her at all.”

Applejack nodded. “Tell her I said, ‘Howdy!’ ”

“And that we all miss her …,” Fluttershy added softly. She always added softly.

“Do you want to bring her some cupcakes?” Pinkie asked. “Oh – and tell her I said, ‘Hi!’ ”

“Actually,” Rarity replied, “I rather think she’d like that. Oh, but only if you have time to make them.”

“No problem. I’m making cupcakes all the time now. I’ll bring some over tonight. In fact,” Pinkie said eagerly, “I’ll set up the ingredients right now. It’s never too early for cupcakes. Be right back!” She rose from the table and headed for the kitchen.

Rarity raised a hoof tentatively. “Oh, darling, there’s no rush.”

“Too late! Gotta have cupcakes!” With that, the pink pony vanished through the swinging double doors to the kitchen.

A slight silence followed. “Never,” Twilight finally said, “come between Pinkie and her cupcakes.” The rest chuckled.
“So … um …are you and Spike going to live at the boutique?” Fluttershy spoke shyly. It was in her name.

“At least at the start,” Rarity replied. “But we’ll have to find a new place by the time I have the foal. The boutique will be much too small for the three of us. My bedroom will be empty after that, so I’ll use it for storage. Like Sweetie Belle’s old room is now.”

“Where’s Spike gonna sleep until then?” Applejack asked. “Where does a young dragon sleep, anyway?”

Rarity seemed surprised and confused simultaneously. “Why, he’ll sleep in my room with me, of course. At least next to my bed. Where else?”

A grin came back. “That’ll be cozy.”

“Which is precisely why we’ll need a larger place.”

Twilight had been refilling her teacup. “Well, at least you know a good estate agent.” She grinned at Rarity’s younger sibling as she set the teapot back onto the table and reached for the sugar bowl.

Sweetie Belle grinned. “Didn’t get this for nothing, you know.” She reached down and patted her cutie mark – a “For Sale” sign. “But I can’t sell to Rarity. Conflict of interest. But I can recommend an agent, Sis. That’s OK to do.”

“Well, thank you, dear,” the older unicorn said. “But let’s keep that for later.”

Applejack squinted. “But what about when Spike’s fully grown? Ain’t no home in Ponyville that big.”

“Again,” Rarity replied, “we’ll keep that for later.”

“AW, FOR THE LOVE OF CELESTIA!!”

All but Twilight started at the cry, and all turned toward Twilight. Her pink-purple magic aura was levitating the sugar bowl and a spoon. Her gaze was focused intently into the bowl. She finally sighed and put the items down. “Out of sugar,” she huffed. “Thought I was the only one with a sweet tooth.”

“I’m sorry …” Fluttershy apologized softly. “I mean … I took the last spoonful. I like a lot of sugar in my tea, too …”

“Not a problem, Sugar Cube,” Applejack said soothingly. “We all like it. I’ll just go get some more.” She made the first slightest movement to get up from the table.

“Oh, let me get that, darling,” Rarity volunteered. “I’m already up.” Her horn glowed its light blue, and the aura enveloped the bowl. It rose from the table and started to glide away as she trotted off toward the kitchen. “Be right back!”

She passed the swinging doors into the kitchen. “Yoo, hoo, Pinkie Pie!” she called musically. “We need more sugar!”

The room was quietly, surprisingly, extraordinarily Pinkie-free. Rarity halted and scanned around. “Pinkie?” No pink pony popped out of nowhere with a gleeful “Hi!” The emptiness of the room didn’t need to pop out at her. It was already there, in full silence.

Where could she be? Rarity thought. She paced into the kitchen slowly. In confusion and concern. “Pinkie Pie …?”

“In HERE!!”

The voice had come from the walk-in pantry on the other side of the room. It was, Rarity realized, Pinkie’s. But somehow, it sounded … irritated. As if the speaker was in the middle of something terribly, terribly important and that answering was an inexcusable – no, horribly unforgivable – bother. The door was almost closed, so Pinkie wasn’t visible inside. Rarity trotted over, opened the door and stepped inside.

And gasped.

A pink pony was standing on its hind legs, its back toward the unicorn. It was diligently using a metal scoop to collect flour from a wooden bin on a shelf. The flour phoomped regularly into a large measuring cup. In that Rarity had seen Pinkie doing such before, there was nothing strange about it.

It was the mane. The tail. They were both pink. They were both straight.

They were both – as Rarity knew, and deeply feared – Pinkamena.

Amid the shock, Rarity heard the door creak mostly closed behind her.

“What do you want?” the pink pony asked. It didn’t face Rarity – just kept scooping flour and sounding deeply annoyed.

“We … ran out of sugar …,” the unicorn explained, recovering. Somewhat.

A deep, inconvenienced sigh. “Hold on. Let me do this first.”

“Oh, no bother. If you just tell me where …”

“I’ll GET it!!” The answer was a harsh, sharp whisper. A final scoopful of flour flew into the cup, followed by an upset, hollow clunk as the scoop was thrown back roughly into the bin. Then another sigh – frustrated and again deep.

“Is everything all right, dear …?” Rarity asked warily.
“Everything’s fine,” the other pony growled, then turned toward Rarity. The unicorn saw blue eyes of imbalance. The cool gaze of suspicion, of subdued hostility and contempt. Hateful eyes.

Oh, my Steed, Rarity thought. It IS Pinkamena …

The eyes lit on the sugar bowl hovering between them in a light-blue aura. “Gimme that,” Pinkamena snapped and grabbed the bowl. She placed the measuring cup on a shelf and faced another bin, marked “Sugar.” Grabbing the scoop within, she started filling the bowl.

“Thank you …,” Rarity said, unsure. Think, she prodded herself, think … “I’ve … admired how you’ve handled motherhood … um … Pinkie. I’ll probably seek your advice.” She chuckled awkwardly. “I mean, after six foals …”

“Seven,” Pinkamena corrected quietly but harshly, not looking at the unicorn.

“Pinkie, I know for a fact that you and Big Mac have six foals.”

Pinkamena stopped. Then a small sigh and bowed head. She closed her eyes. “Seven,” she repeated softly, though still sounded contentious. “We’ll have seven.”

The meaning materialized for Rarity. She gasped again. “Pinkie!! That’s wonderful! Congratulations!”

“Yeah, whatever.” Pinkamena opened her eyes and finished filling the sugar bowl. “Shoulda gelded him in his sleep after the first one …”

“Pinkie!! That’s horrible!!”

The second scoop slammed angrily into a bin. “No, it’s the TRUTH!!” It was a hot, whispered yell, delivered with the venom of altered blue eyes. “Pregnancy is horrible! The weight, the sickness! The waddling around like a bloated bear! The pain in your ankles! Everything!”
“Well … surely by now … you must be used …”

“And foalbirth! Squirting out an entire foal while you’re in the worst pain you’ll ever feel! EVER!! Every second, you’re screaming and feeling like you’ll rip apart!”

Suddenly, Pinkamena moved – sugar bowl in hoof – snout to snout with Rarity. The unicorn felt the pink pony’s hot snorts on her face. She felt fear.

“AND …” Pinkamena said in a soft, cruel voice, “you’ll spend every second of that asking yourself, ‘WHY?! WHY did I do this to myself?! Why did HE?! WHY?!’ ”

Rarity quivered. “Because … you … love him …?”

Pinkamena let out the single most contemptuous snort Rarity had ever heard. “Then let him have the Steed-damned thing …”

Think, Rarity, think …

“Because … you … love the foal … and want it, anyway …?

A smile slowly curled on Pinkamena’s face, a change that Rarity found upsetting at best. “Well, well, well …,” Pinkamena whispered, “seems you’re smarter than your career choice lets on.”

She lifted one of the unicorn’s hooves and set the bowl on it. Then a devilish grin. “Twilight’s right,” Pinkamena said. “Try to remember you love the damned foal when you’re wiping its rump at three in the morning.”

Rarity nodded by reflex only. The pink pony patted the unicorn’s cheek with a hoof. “Good girl,” she said in a playfulness that was unsettling. “Tell the others I’m starting the cupcakes. Don’t tell them they’re mostly for me. The craving has started. You know what that’s like, don’t you, darling?”
Rarity nodded again, and her horn glowed its light blue again as her magic enveloped the sugar bowl. It lifted slightly from her hoof, then hovered as she lowered her leg. And she thought.

“Regardless, dear,” she replied with what she considered remarkable calm, “congratulations to you and Big Mac.”

Another sigh. “Yeah. Sure. Whatever.” Pinkamena took the measuring cup of flour from the shelf and considered. “Oh – and don’t tell the others about No. 7 yet. Mac and I just found out, OK?”

“Of course. We’ll have the shower at my boutique.”

“Not much need for a shower after six foals. We have so many hand-me-downs, we pretty much have everything we need. But with four fillies and two colts, gotta admit the colts have gotten the short end.” She followed with a shrug and a chuckle that seemed – seemed – full of acceptance.

Rarity noticed, quite by coincidence, that the ends of the pink pony’s mane and tail had started – slowly – to curl again. She thought it was a good sign. “Nevertheless,” the unicorn replied, “at my boutique.”

“Don’t forget the cupcakes,” the other pony finished. And before Rarity’s eyes, the pink mane and tail actually started curling with increased speed.

She indicated the levitating bowl. “Thank you for the sugar.” She turned, pushed open the door and trotted away. As she did, the pony now becoming Pinkie Pie began to wonder – from out of nowhere – what, along with cupcakes, she would crave this time.

Rarity stopped at the swinging double doors and closed her eyes. She took a deep, trembling breath, released it and opened her eyes. And she stepped through the doors.

She returned to the dining room and placed the sugar bowl on the table. “Sugarrrr!” she announced brightly.

Twilight didn’t miss an instant. Her magic grabbed the bowl and spoon. “Thanks, Rarity.”

Sweetie Belle regarded her older sister curiously. “You were in there a bit, Sis. Couldn’t find the sugar?”

“Oh … Pinkie Pie got it for me …” The unicorn surveyed her friends and sister. And she recalled the pink friend in the other room who had depth unseen. Not mere merriment. Passion, as well.

They were all friends. With families. And a family of friends.

“We were just talking about motherhood,” Rarity concluded.