//------------------------------// // Chapter 14 - Unexpected Confidant // Story: Heteropaternal Superfecundation // by Thornquill //------------------------------// Devil took a deep breath and examined the old door in front of him. A bitter distaste for the situation was warring inside him against a gnawing guilt, and he knew there was only one way to fix it. It wasn’t even that hard—at least, in his head. The problem was that knowing what he wanted to say and actually getting the right words in order to say it were, in his experience, two entirely different things. Still. He knew what would be waiting for him if he didn’t find a way to pull it off. Grimacing both at the thought of slogging through the next few minutes and at the prospect of failure, Devil lifted a hoof and nudged the door open as gently as he could. Carrot was sitting on his small bed, and for a moment, he didn’t seem to realize that Devil had come in. He remained lost in thought for a few more seconds before he blinked and glanced over at Devil. “Hey.” “Hey,” Carrot said, his expression cautious. “Um... look,” Devil said. “Dad told me to back off. Said you had some serious shit to work through. And... Guess I wanted to say I’m sorry for pushing you around the other day. I was just messing with you.” Carrot smiled, and Devil was surprised to see how exhausted he looked. Even growing up, his brother had never looked quite so thin. “I know. It’s fine, Dev.” “No, it’s not,” Devil forced out, looking away. “I mean, I know you and I don’t... we don't get along well... or... at all, really. And I can be kind of an idiot sometimes. But you know...” He worked his teeth silently for a moment, then turned back and fixed Carrot in a hard glare. “If anyone’s hurting you... You give me names, and I’ll take ’em down to Tartarus myself.” Carrot’s smile widened, and then he broke down in a hollow, halting chuckle. “I think setting you on anyone’s case is a little extreme, even now. But thanks, Dev. I appreciate it.” “I'm serious,” Devil said, puffing up and relaxing now that the awkward part was out of the way. “You’re my little brother. I’ll always have your back. ...At least, whenever it actually matters.” “I know.” Carrot looked back up and gave his brother a knowing grin. “But only when it matters. So if you keep this nice-guy act up, I’ll get suspicious of you.” “Don’t worry,” Devil laughed. “It won’t happen often. Anyway, dad and I are heading out. You gonna join us or not?” * * * “You’re starting to be a regular sight around here,” McSoarley said. He slid a thick, heavy glass from his silver wing to the bar, filled to the brim with ale as thick and black as oil. “You making your start in this city?” Sunburst wrapped his hoof through the glass’ wide handle and pulled it towards him. “Not exactly. More like getting away from a few things for awhile. Trying to figure it all out.” “Ah,” McSoarley said. With a sweep of his wings, he waved a few empty glasses off the bar, seemingly making them vanish until they reappeared in a bin behind him. “And you picked Manehattan for that? Odd choice.” He chewed his lip thoughtfully, giving a meaningful glance around the small bar, as if he could see the whole of the city through the walls. “You want to be careful in a big city like this. It’s not kind to ponies just trying to find their way. You got to know what you’re looking for, or it tends to just kind of swallow you up.” He gave a derisive snort. “Plus, the rent’s Tartarian.” “I was looking for something,” Sunburst said. “But it didn’t turn out the way I wanted.” “Ah, well, that happens too. What’s next then?” “That’s what I’m waiting to find out,” Sunburst replied with a shrug. He took a short sip from the glass, mostly drinking off the thick, sweet foam until the colder ale beneath it pulled through. It smelled like charred wood and tasted of smoke, sweet grain, and an undercurrent of bitterness lingering beneath a warm, pleasant vein of vanilla. It was a world removed from the thin, watery beers he remembered sampling with his classmates at CSGU, and he was surprised to find he was starting to prefer it over the usual rainbow of cocktails he’d ordered at bars before. “I’ve come all this way. Figured I’d wander around and at least see a new city before heading home again.” “Home,” McSoarley sighed. He gave a wry smile. “Now there’s a loaded word, isn’t it? But where’s home for you now?” “The Crystal Empire,” McSoarley whistled appreciatively. “You are out of your way, aren’t you? Family there?” “No. Friends, yes. But no family.” McSoarley shrugged. “Sometimes friends are family. Blood isn’t always as good a tie as it ought to be.” The door opened, and a freezing wind followed several large ponies in as they squeezed their way through the door. “Oho. Speaking of family, I got me a whole gaggle of regulars I need to welcome.” Sunburst waved the barkeep off with a nod. Sometimes friends are family… sometimes. He thought of Cadence and Shining Armor. They really had almost become a surrogate family to him as time had gone on. But then he thought of Flurry, of how he couldn’t look at her without wondering what it would be like to raise Pumpkin, his own true daughter, and the warm feelings drowned in a cold tide of ice. But sometimes, you can’t have the family you want. Even if you’d give anything for it. He pulled his cloak a little closer around him to ward off the invading chill, and gave the bar a casual glance as he nursed the ale. After his disastrous meeting with Hoops, he had decided there wasn’t much point to returning to the Empire immediately. He had planned to be away for several days anyway, and going back would just force him to brood on everything he had done wrong. So he had extended his stay instead and wandered the city, exploring its libraries and galleries in the hope of clearing his mind a little. It had even worked to some extent, much to his relief. Along the way, he stumbled across a few mentions of this place, McSoarley’s Old Ale House, as a local institution and historical icon. Sunburst wasn’t much for any kind of drink at the best of times, but the location and its history had intrigued him, so he had wandered in one cold night to see what the fuss was about. Since then, he had returned several times. While the new experiences of Manehattan were welcome distractions, he found the ale house a surprisingly good venue to simply exist quietly. The old, tiny rooms were kept warm and cozy by the old pot-bellied stove standing in the middle of it all, and though the omnipresent grime and grit of Manehattan was present in every window and surface of the bar, McSoarley seemed to have integrated it into part of the decor and soul of the place. Most of the polish had faded from the wooden bar and ceiling, and the whitewashed walls were gray with age. They were also covered in bric-a-brac that seemed to have accumulated from every corner of Manehattan, like the bar was a kind of dust trap for wayward and forgotten bits of the city itself. But it was warm and bright, and McSoarley’s wry smile and friendly manner seemed to give the ale a character that had nothing to do with its ingredients, and could never be replicated elsewhere. All in all, Sunburst had found it a remarkably comfortable spot to spend several evenings. Here, it seemed, he was a world away from Ponyville, his mistakes, and all the failures that had followed him through life. Here, he was just another bit of curious flotsam passing through this small corner of the city until it moved on without him. It was nice, in that sense, to be allowed to be unimportant. “Almost never see that lot together,” McSoarley said casually, wandering behind the bar again. “The old father’s almost always at sea, and his boys all went and grew up when none of us were looking. Good to see they’ve found a bit of time to spend together.” Sunburst gave another glance at the newcomers, now huddled together around a table by the stove. He could see two of them clearly, though he thought there might be a third behind them. They certainly seemed like the seafaring type, especially the huge, brown Earth Pony nearest the fire. Sunburst thought he looked like the type who broke storms rather than got chased away by them. Then he turned back to his drink. “You probably have a lot of regulars in a place like this.” McSoarley shrugged. “It’s a good mix. We get a lot of tourists who come looking through the oldest pubs in the city, that sort of thing. The real locals know when the quieter hours are and come then. That’s why I thought you might be settling in. You dodge the crazier hours with precision our best curmudgeons would envy.” Sunburst had to laugh at that. “I’ve never been one for loud scenes, no.” “Well, whatever magic you work, just keep it up, and you’ll always have a peaceful spot here.” “Hey, McSoarley?” “Carrot!” McSoarley said, turning to beam at the speaker who stepped right up beside Sunburst. “Was wondering if you were going to be hiding behind your brother all night. You’ll be getting something for yourself after all, then?” Sunburst’s blood ran cold. Belatedly, he realized he was gripping his glass so hard, it felt like the handle would snap off at any moment. Slowly, he turned his head to face the newcomer. “Just a half measure of the dark ale,” Carrot Cake said. “And dad asked if you’d keep an eye on Devil’s tab. We don’t want him…” Sunburst saw Carrot catch sight of him. The smaller Earth Pony’s mouth froze mid-sentence, and his eye spun to lock onto Sunburst’s with the frightened intensity of a startled deer. Then, in the time it took for a log to snap in the fire behind them, surprise turned to fury. “What,” Carrot asked, turning to face Sunburst with the dark, swelling hatred of a blizzard twisting every line of his face, “the fuck are you doing here?” Out of the corner of his eye, Sunburst could see McSoarley’s jaw drop. After a few seconds, the glass he was filling at the tap overflowed, and he came back to awareness with a jolt as the black liquid spilled over his hoof. Sunburst couldn’t edge away without toppling the chair he sat on, but he still managed to lean back and shrink into his cloak as Carrot’s eyes glittered like daggers. “Is this for real?” Carrot continued. He was staring at Sunburst as if he couldn’t quite believe his eyes. “Was wrecking everything I ever had in Ponyville not enough? Was there more you could do by following me?” “I didn’t even know you were here!” Sunburst protested, now pulled as far back from Carrot as he could go without falling. “Well, I suppose I knew you were in the city, but the odds of running into you— Listen, I swear, I wasn’t trying—” “Lads,” McSoarley said. His voice had taken a grim edge Sunburst hadn’t heard from him yet. “Seems like there’s some bad blood between the two of you. However—” “Oh, you have no idea,” Carrot growled. “Maybe I should just go,” Sunburst squeaked. “Is something wrong here?” Sunburst’s eyes flicked to the deep, gravelly voice that had just spoken, and he felt what little color he had left drain from his face. The enormous, craggy sailor had risen and approached the bar, and he was now frowning down at the two of them with a quiet menace that could send soldiers fleeing. “You know this pony, baby bro?” Somehow, the other stallion had approached with utmost silence, and Sunburst hadn’t even noticed him until he stood right beside him. He was tall and lean as death incarnate, and his golden eyes were the only spots of color in what otherwise seemed to be a living, breathing shadow. He was looking down at Sunburst with an expression that was both quizzical and eerily eager. He looked like nothing would make him happier than for Carrot to say there was trouble of some sort. Baby bro? Sunburst thought, his mental voice as small and meek as a mouse. This… this is Carrot’s family? This is where I die. As his breath grew thin and he felt the threat of a faint approaching, however, he held onto awareness just long enough to see Carrot suddenly deflate. “No, dad, nothing’s wrong. You guys head on back.” Sunburst had never felt so nonplussed in his life. The massive, older pony, apparently Carrot’s father, only narrowed his eyes and focused his stare on Sunburst. Sunburst met those glittering, gold eyes, a perfect match for those of the dark pony standing at his back, feeling his pupils shrink to pinpricks. He swallowed a large, hard lump of pure fear as he waited for the mountain of muscle to act. “Hmmmmmm…” His face was still as stone as he kept his eyes on Sunburst. For his part, Sunburst did his utmost to keep from quailing. He had the uncanny sense that this pony was putting more pieces together about him than Sunburst would ever want. Beside him, the dark pony simply stood and watched, cool as ice, like an enormous cat waiting for something interesting to happen. Then, Carrot’s father let out a slow, thin sigh and stepped back. “If you say so.” He turned to Carrot’s brother. “Come on, Dev. It’s warmer in the back room.” “Huh?” The brother glanced around between the gathered ponies, confusion and a bit of disappointment plain to see. “What are you talking about? The stove’s out here.” “Warmer. In the back.” Without another word, the older pony stepped through the narrow door in front of the bar and disappeared into the pub’s second room. The one he had called Dev gave Carrot and Sunburst another glance, let out the softest hrmph of annoyance, and followed his father out of sight. Slow as molasses, McSoarley set Carrot’s glass on the bar in front of him. “You two’ll be good,” he said in that same stony voice, “or you’ll be gone. You need to settle anything, you take it outside. Last thing I need in this city is to ban Captain Rum Cake’s son from my house. You hear me, lad?” “Yeah,” Carrot breathed. “It’s fine, it’s just… fine.” McSoarley nodded and stepped out of earshot, though he kept one eye firmly trained on the pair of them. Sunburst watched Carrot with ever-mounting bewilderment. His anger had gone out in the space of a heartbeat, as suddenly as a firefly being crushed underhoof. Now, he sat wilted and small at the bar, head hung beneath a limp, disheveled mane. His very limbs seemed to have shrunken and grown a little thinner, and Sunburst almost thought he had turned a few shades grayer, like the Crystal Ponies when bereft of their usual brilliance and cheer. What sat before him now, he realized, was a pony hanging on the thinnest of threads. He didn’t have enough left in him even to sustain a righteous rage. Slowly, Sunburst edged back to a comfortable posture beside Carrot. He marveled that his glass of ale was still in one piece. I’m lucky I’m still in one piece. “I had no idea you were here,” he repeated softly. “I know,” Carrot said. Even his voice sounded like a husk of what it had. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have… it doesn’t matter.” He shifted, and Sunburst thought he was about to get up and join his family in the back. “Wait,” Sunburst said, not knowing why he said anything at all. Carrot paused. “I just want you to know… I can’t be sorry enough for what happened. For all of it. I can’t ever begin to make up for it.” “…No. I suppose that’s true. You can’t.” The words were said without the malice they ought to have carried. Carrot didn’t even glare. He just stared down at the worn wood lifelessly. “Still. It’s not even completely your fault, is it? Otherwise, I could hate you like I want to.” “It’s not really Cupcake’s fault either,” Sunburst said carefully. “You shouldn’t let these feelings settle on her.” “I don’t hate Cupcake,” he said, and Sunburst found he could believe him. What Carrot said next, however, made Sunburst frown in puzzlement. “I hate myself.” “That’s… not really fair,” Sunburst said, unsure of how consoling he should try to sound. “We made some horrible mistakes, but... if anyone deserves to be hated, it is me.” “You, for doing what most stupid stallions would do? Yeah. I guess. But I’m the one who should have been there.” Carrot stared down into the ale. The foam had dissolved, and his face was clearly reflected in the still, coffee-black surface. “I’m the one who should’ve given Cupcake the family she wanted. I had six years to do it. But it was beyond me the whole time. If it wasn’t for me being such a… none of this would have happened. So, I don’t know how much I can really hate anyone else.” “You can’t blame yourself,” Sunburst said. “This… even if you could have changed things… we all share the blame. But we won’t fix this if that’s all we focus on.” “There’s nothing to fix. Everything I ever tried to build has fallen apart. If I ever even had any of it. All that’s left is to throw away the pieces.” “What… what are you talking about?” Carrot was silent for awhile. “I think I have to leave Cupcake. I came here to think about everything, and… now I have. It’s just a matter of time until I have to go to Ponyville, and… finish everything.” Sunburst gaped at Carrot in horror. A black well of dismay opened up inside him, and he nearly panicked on the spot. “What? No! You can’t do that! She needs you, she loves you! She always has! You can’t just give up like this!” “What else is there to do?” Sunburst mouthed silently for a few moments, trying to put some form of resistance together. “Fix things!” he finally demanded feebly. “Fix…! Fix! Everypony keeps saying ‘fix!’ ” Carrot said, his voice finally rising. The anger was slowly kindling to life again. “I don’t know how, alright? I don’t know how to fix promises broken this badly, or ponies who don’t love each other, or… whatever else in Tartarus I’m supposed to ‘fix!’ It’s all broken, so just leave it already!” “You don’t… you don’t love her anymore?” Sunburst couldn’t even begin to guess at what emotion could twist Carrot’s features the way they contorted then. To hide it, Carrot took such a massive gulp of the ale that he nearly choked on it. “It’s not my love that’s the problem,” he spluttered. “Then it’s hers?” Sunburst said. “Carrot, if that’s in any doubt, then please, listen to me if not her—she has never once stopped loving you. This whole time, she’s been desperate to keep this secret because she was terrified of losing you! She practically banished me to the frozen north to try to keep from losing you! You mean the world to her, Carrot!” “What does it matter to you?” Carrot asked, venom dripping from his words. “Haven’t you gotten what you wanted? It’s over. Nothing’s in your way now. You can have Pumpkin or whatever it is you were after.” “I never wanted it like this,” Sunburst pleaded. “Never. That’s why I stayed away. And I still will, if that’s what it takes. Cupcake loves you. And I’d rather Pumpkin grow up with a mother and father who love her, and each other, than have a… a father like me. Someone who loves her, but tore her family apart.” Sunburst tried to get Carrot to meet his eyes, to see the true, desperate emotion he was pouring into his words. “I would disappear forever, if I thought it would help anything.” At the very least, something in Sunburst’s words seemed to have cooled Carrot’s anger. “…Why?” he finally asked, his voice almost back to its lifeless, hopeless tone. “Why would you do something like that?” “Wouldn’t you have?” Sunburst asked. “Before all of this happened, when Pumpkin was still just your daughter, wouldn’t you have done anything for her to have a good life?” Carrot looked at him, his eyes almost gray in the weak light. They were almost totally empty. The only sign of hope Sunburst saw was a flicker of confusion. Carrot hadn’t expected a question like that. “I…” Sunburst turned away. His jaw was set with resolution, and his eyes had gone hard. “I know what my mistake was this whole time. I couldn’t get past what I wanted. And I wanted to see Pumpkin. I wanted it so badly, there were nights when I couldn’t imagine facing the next day, knowing I would never know anything about her. I couldn’t take it. So, I started trying to fix all this. I meddled and I investigated, and I brought all this to a breaking point.” He lifted a hoof and buried his face in it, as if he could push the shame and guilt out of the very muscles beneath his skin. “Cupcake was right to be so scared. And this… this is all my fault. My daughter’s family is…” He looked up, begging Carrot with his eyes to give some sign, any sign, that not everything was lost for good. “Isn’t there any part of you that still loves them? You had something real with Cupcake. Can’t you have it again?” “I…” Carrot looked as though he didn’t know which way was up any longer. He almost looked like he barely knew where he was anymore, or who he was talking to. Then, he seemed to come back to himself, and the gray blanket of apathy threatened to settle over him one again. “What we had couldn’t have been real. Not completely. This didn’t end with you meddling in everything. This ended back before the twins were even conceived.” Sunburst couldn’t believe his ears. He shook his head. “How?” Carrot shrugged. “Cupcake always wanted a family of her own. I did, too. But I couldn’t give her that. I can never give her that.” He looked at Sunburst, and Sunburst thought he could see a barrier go up in Carrot’s eyes. Before it could harden completely, though, something inside the other pony seemed to break. He looked away, and Sunburst thought he was almost passed caring about anything at all. “I can’t have foals. At all. With anyone. She ever tell you that?” “…oh…” Sunburst breathed. Carrot gave a bitter smile, empty of any happiness. “Yeah. They told me just before she went to Las Pegasus. That’s why I wasn’t there. I was supposed to go, but…” He drained nearly half his glass in one long draught. “Do you have any idea how happy I was when she told me she was pregnant? When the doctors told me I couldn’t… I thought our marriage might be over, all the way back then. And then, suddenly, we had children. It fixed everything, Sunburst. I wasn’t scared she would leave to find a stronger stallion, and I didn’t have to be stronger. I wasn’t broken anymore.” He looked at Sunburst, scowled in disgust, and gestured vaguely at him, as if he could wave him away like so much mist. “And then… you showed up. And it was all a lie.” He turned away, lifted his glass, but lowered it without taking another drink. He looked sick. “Someone as weak as me will never get to have a family. So I’ll just learn to live without.” For a moment, Sunburst just stared at Carrot. The other pony seemed to wilt even more, the ultimate figure of resignation and despair. Sunburst couldn’t understand why, but he was suddenly angry, of all things. He felt his face screw up into a scowl, and it took all his effort to temper it back into a shaky frown. “Hey. You know I barely know you. But surely you can hear how stupid that sounds, right?” Carrot blinked, but didn’t look at him. “It doesn’t matter what you think.” “Then you won’t care if I keep talking.” Sunburst said flippantly. He couldn’t help a twisted grin. “Shows you really don’t get just how much trouble you’re in, doesn’t it? But let me ask you something, Carrot. Think of how you were back then, before all these horrible things happened. Now let’s imagine your roles got reversed, huh? So tell me. Would you have divorced Cupcake if you found out she couldn’t have foals?” “What… no! Of course not,” Carrot said. The words roused him just enough to let him throw a disgusted frown at Sunburst. “Thank Celestia. If you were that kind of pony, McSoarley really would have to kick me out,” Sunburst replied. “So why the hay are you putting that kind of weight on yourself, then?” “It’s… different,” Carrot said, and Sunburst saw him glance at the back room where his family had disappeared. Sunburst thought a few more pieces clicked into place at that point. “We’re stallions, we’re supposed to be…” “You talk a lot about the way things are ‘supposed’ to be,” Sunburst grumbled. “Who the hay said you have to be huge and strong, just because you’re an Earth Pony? Who said you have to be some kind of perfect, shining icon of masculinity?” Carrot didn’t say anything to that. He seemed to be thinking through something, and he glanced again at the back room. Sunburst took it as a sign to continue. “You’re not the only pony this has happened to, Carrot.” Carrot turned back to glower at him. “You can’t tell me we’re the same. Pumpkin’s your daughter after all, isn’t she?” “Maybe not exactly the same,” Sunburst countered, “but you’re not the only pony who doesn’t fit into the mold he thought he should have.” He found his gaze wandering as he thought back to that night where all their paths had crossed. “It’s practically how it started for me, too. I was in Las Pegasus all those years ago because I had just flunked out of Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns.” “…flunked?” Carrot frowned in confusion. “I thought Cupcake said you were the Crystal Empire’s grand wizard or something.” “Court wizard,” Sunburst corrected. “And I am.” Carrot snorted in disgust. “So, doesn’t really matter then, does it? You were probably one of those genius types that never adapted to schoolwork or some rubbish like that.” “Definitely not a genius type. And no. It was because I couldn’t cast any of the spells they tried to teach me.” Sunburst drained the last of his ale. “I can handle basic levitation spells with some effort. I managed to get a few tricks working in school, and my professors managed to hammer in a defensive immobilizing spell after years of practice. But I hit my limit after that. Anything more complicated is almost always beyond me. So, I got kicked out. Most Unicorns can at least take magic a few levels beyond their focused talent, but I’m borderline crippled. Just about every Unicorn in magic kindergarten is more powerful than I am.” He gave Carrot a bitter smile. “How’s that for a very important pony, huh? A court wizard who can’t even cast a basic shield spell.” “Then how the hay are you a court wizard?” “I’m good with books. And learning, and remembering. But that’s about it. I know a lot about magic, but I can’t do any of it. So I’m more of a consulting wizard for the Empire than a conjuring one, if that makes sense.” Sunburst shrugged. “It took me a long time. But eventually, I managed to find a place where the things I could do helped other ponies. A place like your bakery, say.” Once again, Carrot didn’t respond. “We all have our strengths, Carrot. And we all have our weaknesses, too. There’s always something we can’t do. We don’t deserve to be damned because of that.” “You’re just full of sympathetic stories, aren’t you?” Carrot groused. He couldn’t put much malice into the words, though. He sounded too uncertain. “But what does any of this have to do with Cupcake?” “I’m just saying, don’t assume you’re worthless to her because you can’t have foals. Frankly, you’re not allowed to put words in her mouth like that.” “Now you’re telling me how to respect my wife?” “Am I wrong?” Sunburst countered. “Honestly, Carrot, if you were any other pony, and our relationship were a little less… awful… I’d say you can build a perfectly good family no matter what went wrong. But you already have a full family waiting for you back home.” “They’re not… they’re not family,” Carrot protested weakly. “They’re your foals, and some other idiot’s. Not mine.” “You’re as much their father as anyone on this earth, Carrot,” Sunburst urged. “You’re the one who’s been there for them and looked out for them all this time. You know them. And I’ll be damned to Tartarus if, after you brought them home, you didn’t love them like they were your own.” “I… I did.” “And has that really changed?” Sunburst asked. “Even if things are too broken between you and Cupcake… Pumpkin and Pound don’t deserve your hatred, do they? Aren’t they still the same foals you loved, for whatever reason?” Once again, Carrot looked like he was losing focus. He blinked and looked around, as if trying to remember what he was doing. “Why are you talking to me? What do you even want?” “I want…” Sunburst stopped, realizing he wasn’t sure of the answer. He let out a tiny, broken laugh. “I don’t know what I want. I really don’t. But I know what I don’t want. I don’t want to see your family fall apart.” “Isn’t it a little late for that?” Carrot asked, giving his own bitter chuckle. It died away, however, when Sunburst met his eyes with a look of determined pleading. “It doesn’t have to be. Look. Maybe this all really is just too much. We can’t pretend none of it happened, I know that. But why don’t you come back to Ponyville with me? Come back and just… try to remember why you were there in the first place. You had a reason to love Cupcake, and Pumpkin and Pound too. Come back and see if any of that is still real to you.” Carrot stared long and hard at Sunburst. “And if it isn’t?” “Then you haven’t lost anything. You can still make your decision. But don’t make it here. Don’t make it when all you have is this horrible story Cupcake and I left you with.” Carrot was silent for a long time. McSoarley was still keeping an eye on them, but otherwise gave no sign he had heard a single word of what had passed between them. Carrot’s father and brother remained hidden in the other room, content to let Carrot sort the matter out himself. Carrot glanced at the door they had disappeared through, and seemed to be thinking something over. Most likely, Sunburst thought, he was deciding whether or not to rejoin his family, or else maybe he was thinking about calling them back in and letting them tear Sunburst apart after all. Sunburst bit his lower lip and examined his empty glass. Thin rivulets of warm ale still smeared the inner walls. What’s one more failure to add onto everything else? At least this time, it feels like I said the right things for the right reasons. “You’re not what I expected, I’ll give you that much,” Carrot said softly. “Why do you even care if what Cupcake and I had is gone? Who the hay even are you?” Sunburst laughed and pushed his empty glass away. “If it really comes down to it, no one worth knowing, I think. Just a busybody who should’ve kept his nose in books where it belonged.” Carrot gave a long, heavy sigh, then drained his own glass. He set it down with a thud, then stared at it with mild disappointment. “Fine. I need to go back one way or another. If you think you’ve got more to say, I’ll at least hear you out.” Sunburst blinked and felt his mouth go slightly agape. Carrot glanced at him with an annoyed frown. “What?” “Nothing,” Sunburst said, shaking his head. Blaspheming Tartarus. Something I said actually worked? * * * Even outdoors, Hoops couldn’t shake the tension in his shoulders. With each passing day, he remembered more and more clearly why he had never lived more than a week or two at a time with his Aunt Screed. The sky was reduced to a hard, narrow ribbon above him, and the rust-colored towers felt like they were leaning over him, closing the sky off even more. The hard, black road beneath him seemed to punch back a little with every step as he trotted through the crowds. He constantly jostled strangers with his shoulders as he tried to squeeze his way through, earning dozens of glares and scathing protests. Growing up, he had spent as much time at flight camps and schools as he could. Whenever possible, he had been one of the few colts who actually boarded at school instead of living with family nearby. It had earned him more than a few sneers and jeers from other students, but he always made sure they didn’t keep it up for long. Screed spent more than most families to send him to those schools, he hadn’t let anyone insult what she did for him for long. She had given him the sky he so desperately wanted. Now, he would give anything to go back to the open air and wide flight lanes of Cloudsdale. To not have to worry about what it’ll cost me to go back, he thought reluctantly. But somehow, the soaring skies didn’t seem like the place he belonged anymore. Indeed, he had never felt lower in his life than in the days following Sunburst’s visit. He had always been able to brush off criticism from other ponies. He’d had to learn how to do that, had to learn to give as good as he got so he could keep some kind of control growing up. For the first time, he found he couldn’t do it so easily. What really plagued him, far more than what Sunburst had said, was what Hoops himself had said about Applejack. He had lied when he said he didn’t care. He’d had to lie, or else Sunburst would have used the relationship against him. Still, Hoops’ flat-out denial that Applejack meant anything to him had hurt far more deeply than he thought it could have. Applejack respected him. Hoops wasn’t quite sure how to explain it, even to himself. Somehow, though, it felt as though she saw him as a better pony than he himself thought he was. She believed he was someone incredible. And so, suddenly, he had also believed he could be that pony. He believed he could be someone incredible. For her. He knew Applejack didn’t see him that way anymore. He had proven her wrong, and he couldn’t rid himself of the anger and shame it brought him. Every time he tried, every time he told himself it didn’t matter, that relationships were stupid and he was better off without such judgmental jerks, that was when Screed’s words kept coming back to haunt him. Running away was the choice his father had made. Now, it was the choice Hoops had made. And while it ate at him from the inside that Applejack and Screed no longer liked the pony that had made that choice, it was not what poisoned him. What truly harangued him was that he didn’t like the pony who made that choice, either. He didn’t know what to do about it. However, if nothing else, he was at least an expert in one thing: he knew what his father would do about it. Knowing that, there was at least one decision he could make where he would be certain of how things would turn out. He crossed into messier streets where active development was in progress. Here, the structure of the roads and sidewalks dissolved. Instead, ponies followed chaotic, intertwining paths of convenience like ants as they wove their way to and fro. Dirt lots and half-finished shells of concrete were fenced off with thin chain fences. A few radios were playing music high above, their tunes clashing and competing against ponies yelling commands and calling for materials. Some kind of power tool was waging a celestial war against the bedrock, and Hoops flattened his ears against the din. How does Screed stand it? He came to the edge of a fence and peered up at the rising tower. It was nothing more than a dizzying network of metal at this stage, a steel skeleton rising one hoof-thick bolt at a time. The beams had a thin, matte coat of red paint against rust, bright as blood in the late morning sun. All around it, ponies in hard hats and tool vests clambered on shaky scaffolds or balanced on the beams themselves, engaged in any number of tasks. Then he spotted Screed herself, a small knot of gray clinging upside down to one of the beams. Her short mane spilled out of her helmet and dangled in the breeze as she talked with a worker standing upright beneath her. Hoops raised a hoof and called. “Screed! Hey, Screed!” He saw her turn and spot him. She stared down for a second, then gave a small, curt nod before turning back to the pony beneath her. They talked for a few minutes longer, then she scurried along the underside of the beam and started pulling herself head-first down a pillar, making for the ground. Even over the din, Hoops thought he could hear the clink of the long claws at the elbows of her wings as she gripped the metal with them, moving with blinding speed like a spider as she made her way through her domain. As seamlessly as if she were gliding on wind, she transitioned from pole to earth, waiting until she stood upright to fold her thick wings behind her back. Almost immediately, she seemed a little less comfortable. She walked forward with a stiff gait, speaking with one or two more ponies before meeting Hoops at the fence. “One sec,” she said, then ducked inside a small trailer just inside the gate. When she returned, she undid the thin chain holding the gate closed and stepped out to meet him. She left it slightly open behind her, and she didn’t take more than a few steps away from it as she gave him a stern, quizzical look. “Need something?” “Just wanted to say goodbye,” Hoops said, giving her a small smile. “And thanks.” Screed’s eyebrow rose a little higher, but otherwise her expression remained stony. “You’re leaving?” “Yeah,” Hoops said. “There’s something I need to do.” Screed waited quietly for further explanation, but Hoops didn’t have anything more he was ready to offer. When it became clear she wasn’t going to speak either, however, he gave an awkward cough and continued. “Seriously, though, thanks for putting me up again. It means a lot.” “Least I could do for my nephew,” Screed said with a shrug. “Yeah… about that,” Hoops said. He felt his wings twitch, and he bit his lip to try to hold back some of his nervous energy. “I might need to come back pretty soon, depending on how things go. Mind if I crash here a little longer if that happens?” That seemed to annoy Screed a little. “You’re family,” she said. “There’ll always be room for you here.” “Cool… cool. And, uh… I might need that job, if the offer’s still open.” “Depending on how things go?” she asked. She turned her head and narrowed her eyes just slightly, but he couldn’t decide what she might be thinking. “Pretty much,” he admitted. Screed scrutinized him for a little longer before answering. “Decide if you need it before you come asking again,” she finally said. “I’m not holding anything open ‘just in case.’ But if you do need it, I’ll see what I can do.” “Thanks, Screed. Really,” Hoops said. He didn’t have any way to convey that she had done more for him than just let him hide at her place. He wasn’t ready to explain everything that had happened in Ponyville. Even without that, though, he didn’t really know how to talk about it. Instead, he simply hoped she understood his sincerity. Whether she did or not, she seemed tired of the conversation. She turned an eye back to the construction site, following some of her workers with narrowed eyes as if searching for slackers. “Don’t be a stranger, then.” “I won’t,” Hoops promised. “See you around.” He turned and trotted away from the site, hearing Screed chain the gate closed behind him as she went back to work. That’s that, then. Now there was nothing to do but find a train back west. It was not the decision his father would have made. Hoops didn’t know if it would change how Applejack or Screed might see him after this. He didn’t know what it might do to his future, or whether there would even be anything left for him after. Yet, he was dead certain of one thing. No matter what happened next, he knew he wouldn’t have the kind of life he had grown up hating. He had rejected the choice that would lead him there. Even if whatever he got later was even worse, he could take some pride in having avoided the one storm he could see. * * * Screed stood inside the chain fence, watching Hoops trot away into the crowds with a heavy heart. She wanted to go after him, to follow him back and help guide him through whatever he had decided to do. But she knew she couldn’t. It wouldn’t be right, and she wouldn’t know the right things to do. She never had. All through his life, all she had been able to do was nudge him in the right direction and give him a safe place to come home to, on the rare occasions he wanted it. It was part of what made her so proud of him. Even when he was almost totally alone in life, he hadn’t ever let it break him down. He always found some way to keep going. It might not always be the best way, but he knew how to get what he needed without anyone else looking out for him. Screed could never have given him the family he deserved. But he had tenacity, and that gave her some measure of happiness. That, at least, would carry him forward, with or without her. If he was strong enough to find his own way, maybe it wouldn’t matter that she’d never known how to help him. All she hoped, in the long run, was that she had done just a little to help him along, even if it would never be enough. “Good luck, kid,” she said as he vanished into the city. Then her lips twitched into a thin, wry smile, thinking of a broken door and a shouting match she had heard from floors below. “And bring that great-nephew of mine back to visit if you can.”