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// People With Minds that Hate 
// Story: Honey Pie III: Revolution 
// by SPark 
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Deciding that Bright Steel was in good hooves for the time being, I pulled my mind away from her and back to the hive.  Having made certain that all was well with my children, it was time to see how things were with my friends.  I rose from the bed, noting that Pinkie seemed to have already gotten up ahead of me.  I trotted out into the throne room, to find Pinkie in the process of trying to decorate it with streamers.  Since she didn't have a ladder and the ceiling was quite high, the streamers looked a bit odd, covering only the lowest portions of the walls.

"Hi Sweetcake!"

"Getting ready for a party?" I said with a smile.

"Yep!  I'm going to throw a party tonight for the whole hive!  And also my friends, and Ladybird.  It's going to be terrific!  Though I wish I could have brought more things from Ponyville, I have lots of decorations, but I can't bake here.  What kind of party is it without cupcakes?  I could have brought some, but not enough for the whole hive, because that is a lot!  Way more than I could carry.  Maybe even as much as Rarity's baggage, just for the cupcakes!  There's just no way I could do a traditional Pinkie Pie party, so I'm going to have to improvise."

"I'm sure it will be wonderful," I said.  I thought about the entire hive at a party.  They wouldn't all come—they wouldn't all fit if they did—but quite a large number were likely to attend.  I thought too, about the way that the Ponyville changelings had used her parties as feeding opportunities.  That worked well when you had a great many ponies and only a few changelings, but in the reverse it could be problematic.  I made a mental note to make certain that all the drones attending knew to not actively try and draw on the emotions from our pony guests.  It was hard to pull in feelings that weren't directed at you specifically, but Pinkie was quite capable of feeling happy at the entire hive, which wouldn't go well. 

I left her to her preparations and walked out into the tunnels.  I decided to go check on Rarity, so I took pony form again.  When I arrived at her chamber, I found that she'd hung a curtain over the entrance to her room.  I smiled.  I'm sure it was partly because she wanted more privacy, but I was also sure that the color had been carefully chosen.  I tapped at the wall next to the improvised door with one hoof.

"Come in!" called a cheerful sing-song voice.  I ducked through the curtain and found Rarity within, surrounded by a flurry of fabric swatches, sketchbooks, and even one of her dressmaker's forms.  Effervescent excitement hung in the air.  Rarity was obviously "in the zone," as she called it. "Ah!  Sweetcake!  I was just about to go out in search of Viridian.  I don't suppose you could find her for me?"

"Of course."  I sent the mental summons to the drone, one of those who had been living in Ponyville and who thus had acquired a pony-style name.  "Can I ask why you need her?"

"Well, dear, just the other day she gave me the most marvelous idea!  She promised to help me with it, but of course she had to come back here before we could really get anything done."

"What exactly is this idea?" I asked, feeling puzzled.  Why would Rarity want to work with a changeling?  She had a phobia of insects that made it difficult for her to deal with changelings at all.

"Changeling fashion!" said Rarity, actually dancing in place with delight.  "She approached me to make a set of little charms, you see.  Since ponies have such difficulty telling changelings apart, she had the idea to wear little symbols, like cutie marks, to help ponies know who was who.  And of course I'm sure that most changelings are, ahem, how shall I say it?  Practical-minded, I suppose?"

"Boring?" I said with a little smile.

"Oh, I wouldn't go that far."  Rarity waved a hoof, dismissing the very thought.  "In any case, most changelings are practical-minded enough to only want a simple charm, but I talked Viridian into trying something a little more elaborate.  And once I started sketching for her, the ideas I began to have!"  Rarity clapped her forehoves together with glee.  "This is something exciting!  Something completely new!  With so many new challenges!  I have so many wonderful ideas!  How would you feel about putting hoof-polish on the insides of your leg perforations, for example?  They are just crying out for an accent color!"

"Uh..."

"And then there's your natural iridescence!  You in particular... I could do such things for your natural form!  The colors!  The elegance!  There is so much there to work with!  Here, change back so I can hold some swatches up against you."

I took a step back.  The intensity of her enthusiasm was more than a little bit intimidating.  "I thought you didn't like how changelings look?  What about your phobia?"

She made a dismissive gesture.  "Such things are nothing in the face of my art, darling!  You may still look a bit too much like bugs, but now that I've realized the world of fashion possibilities that has opened up before me, I do not care one whit!"

Fortunately Viridian arrived just then, sparing me from being the sole focus of Rarity's mania.  After a few minutes, I managed to make my excuses and go, before she could actually start applying paint to me.  Feeling very glad that Viridian didn't seem to mind being the guinea pig for Rarity's fashion experiments, I headed down the corridor to check on the rest of my friends.

The room next to Rarity's was Applejack's, but it was empty, there was no sign of the orange mare within.  I reached through the hive, looking to see if any of my drones knew where she had gone.  I found her in the mushroom farms, which shouldn't have surprised me.  The drone's memories told me that she had been there since shortly after dawn, asking endless questions about how the farming worked, and what techniques the worker drones who tended the crop used.  I debated going down to talk to her, but before I could, a message from Ambassador Wildcard let me know that it was nearly time for the press conference. 

I wanted to listen closely to that, but didn't want to just stand in the corridor while doing so, so I headed back to my room.

Pinkie was nearly done with the decorating in the throne room.  She waved as I went by.  She'd enlisted several drones to help her hang the streamers higher up.  Pony and drones alike were enjoying themselves, so I left them to it and walked into the bedroom. 

I settled myself back on my bed, closed my eyes, and looked out through Ambassador Wildcard's.  





The ambassador was standing on a small stage that had been erected in front of the embassy.  A podium in the center held a microphone.  A line of guardsponies stood in front of the stage.  Beyond them, a crowd of reporters and other onlookers was slowly gathering.  Guards were scattered throughout the crowd, and were keeping those who weren't reporters further back, only letting ponies with the press up next to the stage.  I saw quite a few photographers and even one pony with a bulky video camera, hoof on the crank, ready to roll film.  There was also a cluster of curious changelings off to the side of the stage, and I recognized Lilac as a bright splash of color among their dark carapaces, still at High Peak's side despite that putting her in the middle of the changeling group rather than among the ponies.

A few more reporters arrived.  The crowd behind them grew a little larger.  There was a low murmur of conversation filling the open square in front of the embassy.  Finally Wildcard glanced up at the sun, nodded, and stepped to the podium.  The crowd quieted.  The pony with the camera started cranking it steadily.

"Ladies, gentlecolts, esteemed members of the press, changelings of the hive.  Thank you all for coming out today.  I would like to begin with a short statement about yesterday's events.

"As I'm sure you are all aware, yesterday every changeling in Canterlot not already within the walls of this embassy was forced to flee to safety.  In the process, four of them were killed and several more were injured.  Some of you may also be aware that those attacking us were also changelings.  Said changelings do not belong to our hive.  They are not bound by our agreements with Celestia and the nation of Equestria.   They hold to the ancient changeling philosophy, that changelings should always be hidden and should always steal.  We disagree rather profoundly on that point, for the changelings of Sweetcake Hive, which I represent, believe that changelings should seek an ideal of openness, friendship, and cooperation with ponies.

"We hope that this conflict will be short-lived, that a peaceful resolution may be found, and that no further lives will be lost.  But however it may go, we are not willing to return to living lives of deceit.  We desire nothing more than to live in peace with both ponies and changelings of all hives."

He paused, then added, "I will now answer whatever questions you may have."

There was an immediate stir among the reporters.  One, a blue unicorn stallion a bit quicker than the rest, shouted, "Where are the ponies that were replaced by changelings?  Are you holding them in there?"  He pointed at the embassy.  "Or are they at your hive?"

"We are not holding any ponies, here or anywhere else.  All ponies who were replaced have already been returned to their friends and family."

"But what about all the ponies who are still missing?  Where are they?"

"Right here," said Ambassador Wildcard, gesturing to the group of changelings standing by the stage.  "Those individuals are not ponies who we replaced, they have always been changelings."

"So you're saying that changelings have been living as ponies, right here in Canterlot, for years?  Some of these ponies have records in the city that go back nearly a decade."

"Yes."

Another reporter, this one a cream-colored unicorn mare, called out, "And does Princess Celestia know about this?"

"Yes, she does.  With her blessing we have been working to do away with both replacement and pony disguises.  But moving to a completely open method of energy gathering has been going slowly.  Not all changelings are willing to accept it, nor are all ponies.  She has agreed to allow covert energy gathering from such changelings until we can complete the move to open methods."

"I find it very hard to believe that the princess would tolerate such deception, Ambassador," said the mare with a scowl.

"Celestia is a very compassionate person," replied the Ambassador calmly.  "Although she has made it clear that she does not enjoy such deception, she also isn't going to force us to starve."

"These other changelings," interjected a dark brown earth pony mare, "you said they weren't part of your hive.  Are they renegades of some sort then?"

"The other changelings belong to other hives, who have not allied with Equestria."

There was a murmur through the crowd at that.

"You mean there are more hives full of you creatures?" said the unicorn stallion who'd spoken first, sounding aghast.

"Yes."  

The Ambassador paused, trying to decide what best to say about the other hives, but before he could continue, the earth pony said, "Does this mean that these other hives and yours are at war?"

"There has been no official declaration of war.  All we know is what they have said, that they demand we return to the old ways of hiding and thievery, and what they have done, which is two attacks resulting in nine deaths."

"Here now," said the stallion, rather aggressively, "You said that your hive and Equestria are 'allies', does this mean that our soldiers will be expected to fight and die to save changelings?  I notice that the guardsponies here practically seem to be working for you."

Wildcard shook his head.  "No.  Celestia wishes to avoid violence and conflict whenever possible.  She has no plans to send her guards to fight on our behalf.  They have nobly done their duty to save lives and prevent lawbreaking here in Canterlot, but they will not be sent off to war."

"But if there's a changeling war in the middle of Equestria, ponies will be hurt!"

Wildcard stomped hard on a jolt of anger.  He wanted very much to point out that so far the casualty list included nine dead changelings while no ponies had been injured at all.  Instead, he said, "We are taking steps to prevent any such accidents.  This evening we will be sending most of our hive members in Equestria back to the hive.  Further conflicts, should there be any, will not be taking place amid the pony population."

"Going back to those changelings who have been living as ponies," said the unicorn mare, "isn't it endangering ponies, to have changelings feeding from them?"	

Wildcard managed to not sigh at the far-too-common question and answered, "The process of drawing energy from ponies is not at all harmful to them.  Especially not when performed responsibly, by changelings who care for their friends and family among ponies."

"Friends and family," said the stallion with a snort.  He seemed to be actually angry now.  "You say feeding does no harm, but what of the harm done when these 'friends and family' learn that somepony they cared for was a lying creature?"

Wildcard once more stamped on his anger and answered mildly, "Relationships always carry the chance of emotional harm, whether with ponies or with changelings.  I do not think you can claim that no pony has ever lied to another about who and what they were, nor that ponies are so fragile that they cannot cope with such discoveries."

"Some ponies are more fragile than others.  What of the foals?  At least one of you creatures was raising children.  What should we think of that?  A changeling, raising pony children?  Surely we should be concerned for the foals?"

"All right, that is it!"  That voice came not from the group of reporters, nor from the podium, but from beside the stage, where Lilac was standing next to her husband.

"Honey, don't," said High Peak, worriedly.

"Don't you 'honey don't' me!  I have listened to this nonsense long enough!" Lilac shouldered aside a drone and marched past the guards, up to the stallion who'd been speaking.  She stood nose to nose with him, glaring up at him, her entire body practically vibrating with righteous indignation.

"You!"  She poked him in the chest with her hoof.  He blinked down at her in shock, obviously at a loss for a reaction.  "You blithering idiot!  You keep babbling on about how our friends and family are 'oooo, scary changelings' and you are missing the blindingly obvious fact that these 'scary changelings' are our friends and family!"  

Lilac's ears were back, and she hardly even paused for breath as she pressed on with her angry rant.  "You want to know what we should think about changelings and foals?  I'll tell you about what that changeling right there," she pointed back at High Peak, who had put a hoof to his face in embarrassment, "has done to my foals.  He has gone to their piano recitals.  He has helped them with their homework.  When Butterscotch started algebra last year and he didn't know anything about it, he stayed up late for weeks to read the entire textbook, so that he could help him with it.  When Cotton had a fever when she was two, he's the one who rushed her to the hospital, and insisted on sitting by her bed for the entire night, even though he fell asleep four times at work the next day and nearly lost his job!  A job that he only has in the first place so that he can take care of his children!  He has changed diapers and stayed home to babysit and done absolutely everything a father could possibly do for them.  And no, I didn't know he was a changeling during all that, but I don't bucking care!  I found out because he had to run for his life yesterday!  You're sitting there trying to whip up some kind of paranoid, pitchfork-wielding mob against my husband, when he's already in danger of his life!  Do you think my children will thank you for getting their father killed?  I can assure you that they will not!  We shouldn't be sitting here fussing over how hurt and upset we are because we got told one single lie by our friends, we should be thinking about what we can do to help them!  They need our help and they need our love, and I for one am happy to give it to them."

She gave the reporter one last heated glare, then spun on her hoof and marched back over to High Peak.  She grabbed him in a tight, purposeful hug and kissed him, briefly but emphatically.  Then, her foreleg still over his shoulders, she turned and glared at the rest of the ponies present, as if daring any of them to say something.

There was a long, stunned silence from everyone, changeling and pony alike.  Then somebody out in the crowd, possibly Silver Song, started to stomp her hooves against the stone plaza, applauding Lilac's outburst.  Other ponies joined in, and so did some of the changeling infiltrators.  Soon the whole plaza was alive with nearly-thunderous applause.

Wow, said Wildcard to me, still staring at Lilac in shock.  You should give that mare a medal.

Looking at Lilac through his eyes, all I could do was agree.  Maybe I will.  If anyone deserves one, it's her.





The press conference wound down rather shortly after that, and Wildcard set about getting the drones and the ponies who were accompanying them ready to head back to the hive.  He had that all well in hoof, though, so eventually I left him to it and turned my attention to other matters.

As soon as I opened my eyes in my own room, I was pounced on by a fluffy, pink missile.  

"Ack!"

"Hee!"  Pinkie kissed me soundly, and I laughed and kissed her back.  

"Is your party ready?"

"Almost!  The store room drone said I had to ask you before she'd let me have all the honey I wanted though.  And your brain was away in Canterlot, so I had to wait for you to come back, but now that you're back, can I?  Please?  Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeease?  It won't be a party without sweets!"

I laughed.  "Pinkie... you can have some of it, but I suspect that if you take all you want, you'll use it all up.  We don't have that much.  Unlike ponies, none of us keep bees, that's all wild honey that the scouts have found.  It's a special treat, mostly for nymphs, and once it's gone it will take a long time to replace."

"Can't you just buy more?"

"With what?  We don't have very many bits.  It's not like most of us work jobs."

Pinkie looked thoughtful.  "Some of you did.  The ones living in Canterlot mostly had jobs."

"Yes.  But they were told to bring back love, not bits.  Most of them spent their money when they earned it."

"Oh."  Pinkie sighed, her ears going down.

I nuzzled her.  "Hey, I said you could have some of it.  There will be sweets at your party.  And I have some ideas about getting bits for the hive.  Wildcard and I were discussing trade with ponies, and ways the drones living among ponies might be able to earn bits.  Someday the hive will be a much brighter, less dreary place.  Now, though, is not the time for that.  We're basically under siege right now."

"I know.  Parties are still super important though.  I think they're even more important when things are bad and scary.  Ponies need to be cheered up.  So do changelings."  She nodded, her face setting into an expression of determination.

"That is why I love you.  You work so hard to make everyone happy."  I bent and kissed her again, more lingeringly this time.  She kissed me willingly back.  I felt a sudden rush of desire, and couldn't help but entertain the idea of keeping Pinkie here for a while.

She pulled back from the kiss and kissed my nose tip.  "Gotta go get the honey and finish getting ready for the party," she said.

"Do you have to go right now?" I did my best impression of big, pleading foal-eyes at her.

She giggled.  "Some things are better when you take the time to do them right.  That means both parties and bucking.  There will be lots of time after the party is over."

I couldn't help but chuckle at that.  "I'll bow to your superior expertise on both fronts," I said.

Pinkie giggled again.  "If I have a queen bowing to me, what does that make me?"

"An empress, obviously.  The empress of parties!"

"Whee!"

"Or maybe the empress of bucking..."  I grinned at her.

"Or the empress of bucking parties!  Except I've never actually hosted a bucking party.  Maybe I should!  I bet that would be lots of fun!"

"Uhm..."

Pinkie booped my nose with one hoof.  "I was just kidding.  I do have a party to plan though!  Gotta go!"

She zoomed out of the room as quickly as she'd arrived, leaving me grinning behind her.  

Feeling much better, I once again mentally sorted through my various responsibilities, in what was becoming something of a regular ritual.  In the hive all was well.  There were still little flickers of resentment, and I noticed that two of the most resentful under-queens had gathered small circles of similarly minded drones.  I made a mental note to keep an eye on that.  I wasn't going to demand that they all agree with everything I did, but letting an outright rebellion break out wouldn't be good for the hive, especially not now.  

Outside the hive, Wildcard was still doing fine at the embassy.  The little caravan of changelings and ponies was almost ready to depart.  I noted with approval that Celestia had agreed to send along a guard company to keep an eye on them.  That was good.  It would be disastrous if the caravan were attacked.  Things looked fine in Canterlot, so I moved on.

Bright had just started setting up camp.  Or rather Peridot was setting up camp with help from Bright, and from a grumbling Shade, who didn't seem to appreciate the crystal pony's presence at all.  Still, everything was going well there too, so I moved my attention to Quicksilver.

She had reached the other side of Manehattan and was scouting out the club scene there.  It was still daylight, so it was too early for her to do anything, but she'd picked out several potential locations to go changeling hunting.  I nodded my approval and shifted my mind once more.

The long-term infiltrators that I'd recalled from the small towns had reached the hive without incident.  All the short-term infiltrators reported no suspicious signs either.  Several of them were at the hive too, dropping off their gathered emotional energy.  I considered holding them here, just in case, but in the end decided to let them go back to their work.  Much as I hated risking them, we needed them.  When the caravan arrived, we would have ten ponies in the hive, all but one of which had strong feelings of love and friendship to draw on.  But nine sources of energy, even ones that put out plentiful amounts of love, wouldn't keep up with the appetites of two thousand changelings.  They would come closer than some might guess, a little love could go a long way, but it still wouldn't be enough.  We needed the infiltrators.

So I confirmed their orders and sent them back out to find new ponies to replace temporarily.  I told them all to be careful, and offered any who were afraid the chance to stay behind, but none of them took that offer, they were all willing to risk themselves for the hive.

I felt a little glow of pride at that.  They weren't literally my children, but they were mine in a more symbolic sense, and their loyalty to the hive was gratifying.

I found myself musing on the fact that the average drone of the hive seemed more dedicated to the hive's welfare than its former queen had ever been.  Perhaps that was why I was doing as well as I was with ruling.  I didn't think I was anything all that special.  In fact I thought it quite likely that any drone in my place would have done as well as I had.  We were raised to think of the hive's welfare before our own, after all, and that was what the hive needed.  

As far as I knew, Chrysalis had been groomed to be a queen since before she'd had her final molt.  I had been barely an adult when she'd taken over, but I knew from the memories of those older than I that she hadn't been raised as an ordinary nymph, nor even as an under-queen candidate, she'd been told she was the chosen queen from a very early age.  Perhaps that had been the wrong way to go about it.  I'm sure that Sepal had meant well in carefully grooming her successor, yet maybe she had done the wrong thing.  Maybe if Chrysalis had been raised as I had, with her whole life dedicated to serving the hive rather than ruling it, she might have come out a better changeling for it.





The party that evening was, somehow, a very Pinkie Pie party, despite nearly everything being different.  The music, for example, was provided by Pinkie's singing.  She was currently trying to get some of the drones to sing along, with mixed success.  Singing was mostly a thing for nymphs, not for adult changelings, but if anyone could convince them to join in, it would be Pinkie Pie.

The food was also different.  I wasn't sure I dared to ask what Pinkie had done to the fungus from the fungus farm.  Ordinarily it was off-white, coming in irregular, blobby lumps.  She seemed to have dyed and sculpted it into a variety of fanciful shapes.  

She'd used her access to the hive's honey supply with great care too, I saw.  She'd taken raw honey comb and carefully cut bite-sized clusters of the little hexagonal cells.  Each one provided a sweet mouthful, and a gum-like bit of wax to chew after.  The trimmed scraps had been used to sweeten the punch, so nothing was wasted.

With colorful food, sweets, music, and streamers, it managed to be an almost typical party, despite the backdrop of the throne room and the changelings vastly outnumbering the ponies.

There were exactly seven ponies present; Pinkie, her five friends, and Ladybird.  There were also more than a hundred changelings.  They varied from curious to delighted.  Quite a few of them were the infiltrators from Ponyville, who knew Pinkie quite well and loved her parties.  The rest were largely curious workers who had never so much as seen a pony before, with a few equally curious warriors mixed in.

That was the dominant emotion in the air, both what I felt through the bond and what I tasted from the ponies. Happiness was there too, the drones were enjoying this strange event, as the ponies seemed to be as well.  Of course there was a faint tension beneath it all.  We were still effectively at war, and that wasn't going to go away, but for the time being everyone present seemed eager to put that aside and enjoy themselves.

I circulated through the party, answering questions from the drones about party etiquette and chatting with Pinkie and her friends when I encountered them.  

I ran into Twilight near the base of the throne itself.  She was looking up at it speculatively.  "Have you ever sat on it?" she asked as I approached.

I shook my head.  "No.  It seems kind of pointless.  When I had just molted into my wings there wasn't a throne here at all.  Chrysalis had it installed."

"Somehow I'm not surprised," said Twilight dryly.

I chuckled.  "She was more than a little narcissistic.  She used to sit here with the room full of drones, just so she could see them bowing to her.  It's probably a good thing the whole hive wouldn't fit in this room, or nothing would ever have gotten done."

Twilight surveyed the room.  "I don't know, the ceiling is fairly high.  If you could optimally distribute flying changelings...  How may did you say there were in the hive?"

"Right now, just under two thousand.  It was a little over that for most of Chrysalis' reign.  She lost some in the attack on Canterlot."

"Hey there."  I look over to see Rainbow Dash, hovering in mid-air.  "Whatcha' talking about?"

"What a narcissistic idiot Chrysalis was," said Twilight, making a face.  Then she paused, looking suddenly thoughtful.  "Uh.  No offense to you or anything.  She was your mother, wasn't she?"

I shook my head.  "No.  I was hatched during the previous queen, Sepal's, reign, so either Sepal or one of her under-queens was my mother.  Probably her, the queen usually lays most of the fertile eggs."

"Ah, even if you were Chrysalis' kid, lame-os can totally have awesome kids," said Rainbow Dash.  She nodded seriously at me, then zoomed off towards the refreshment table.

I looked after her, feeling a bit puzzled.  There'd been something about her voice, and a hint of some bitter emotion in the air around her, that made me think there was something behind what she'd said.

Twilight was looking after her too.  After a while she shook her head and said, "If she weren't right about that, she wouldn't be here herself."

I nodded, but didn't pry further. 

Pinkie started singing again, and a chorus of drones were singing along this time.  I smiled.  They were enjoying themselves.  So was she.  I think I could declare the party a success.

"I'm going to go see what the punch is like."

"A little odd," I said with a smile, "but I liked it."





Later, when the party had wound down, I found Pinkie standing in the middle of the mostly empty room, her mind a fuzzy blank of near-exhaustion.  She had flung herself eagerly into making this party a bright, happy note in a very dark time and it had taken a lot out of her.  I could feel a deeper, emotional weariness creeping around the edge of her mind too.  I sometimes thought that the occasional bouts of depression she sometimes still suffered might well be simply the natural result of pouring so much of herself into others.  The font of happiness wasn't endless, it could run dry, and it seemed that tonight it had.

She protested when I herded her towards my bedroom, insisting that she needed to clean up, but I had already set a half dozen willing drones to that task.  Pinkie gave in and leaned against me as we walked slowly along the short passage that led from the throne room to my bedroom.  I tucked her into the bed there, then climbed in with her.  She clung tightly to me.  

I love you, I said softly, silently to her.  

I love you too, she said, and clung to me even more tightly.  Her emotions were complex, a softly bitter blend of sadness, weariness, and guilt.  I could guess at the reason for the latter.  She blamed herself, as I couldn't help but blame myself, for the mess we were in.  It wasn't fair to either of us, but it was hard to shake all the same.  If I had never loved her, none of this would have happened... 

I pushed that thought away, trying to not feel sorrow and guilt.  It would only make Pinkie even more miserable.  But the feelings were hard to shake off. 

I wish I could fix everything for you, said Pinkie, burying her muzzle against my shoulder.  I wish parties and cupcakes really could make everything better.  I tried so hard tonight to make everyone happy.  It's not enough, though.  It's never enough.  I'm so sorry.

No, don't be.  It's okay Pinkie.  It is, really.  I hugged her tighter, my muzzle against her mane, the candy-sweet scent of her filling  my nostrils.  A flicker of another emotion ran through me at that, and my pulse beat a little bit faster.  

There was no answering quickening from Pinkie, though.  She knew what I'd felt, but she only sighed softly, and her sorrow gained another bitter note.  I'm failing at everything tonight...

I bent to kiss her forehead and pushed aside the insistent little flicker of arousal.  That's just silly.  You're not.  You're here, when I need you.  You're saving the hive.  You're saving me.  I couldn't make it without you.  

Maybe we won't make it at all, though, and it will be all my fault.

We'll make it, I told her.  We will.  Bright Steel and Quicksilver and Celestia and so many others are helping out.  Everything will be okay.  Yet even as I said it, I wasn't sure I believed it myself, and Pinkie knew it.  

Pinkie and I held each other in the darkness for a long time, and though she eventually drifted off to sleep, the bitter taste of her sorrow and guilt, echoing the sorrow and guilt that I felt, never quite faded away.