//------------------------------// // Chapter 17 - Fathers // Story: Heteropaternal Superfecundation // by Thornquill //------------------------------// No one made a sound. Sunburst was resolutely studying a knot in the table’s wood. Hoops was chewing his lip, his eyes totally invisible behind his thick bangs. Carrot’s teeth, meanwhile, were gently grinding back and forth, his lips curled from a silent conflict, his eyes watching his hooves where they sat firmly planted on the table in front of him. No one missed the soft creaks the table gave every now and then from the pressure of those hooves, and the weight of emotion held barely in check behind them. After lingering in Ponyville for more than a week, Sunburst had begun to wonder if he shouldn’t return to the Crystal Empire and simply wait for news once more. Even Starlight didn’t know much of what was happening. Carrot and Cupcake were rarely seen, and then only by close friends like the Apples. Rumors had finally started to circulate around town, and while most ponies made deliberate efforts not to be influenced by them, Sunburst knew that there were more than a few who simply couldn’t resist wondering why the Cakes’ habits, and the ponies who kept visiting them, had changed so strangely. Then, Carrot asked to talk with both of them in the castle kitchens. Sunburst hadn’t known what to expect, but at the very least, he imagined it could hardly be worse than anything he had already gone through. Whatever was necessary to help everyone move on from this, he would do. A cup of black, unsweetened coffee sat beside Carrot. He had been taking large gulps from it every few moments, though to Sunburst, it looked like he was barely able to keep from spitting it back out. Nonetheless, he seemed to be taking some kind of grim satisfaction from choking it down. Finally, Carrot looked up and met their eyes. “You know nothing would make me happier than for both of you to disappear… right.” Carrot said. It was not a question. Sunburst and Hoops both withered a bit. Carrot let out a long, hot sigh. “I’ve had to ask myself… so many questions. Questions I never even dreamed asking. Because of you.” He tapped the table firmly with a hoof, ground his teeth some more. “I have to wonder. Do you have any idea what this has been like? To have a family… to adjust, to learn to have a family over the course of years, to learn to be a father… and then wake up asking yourself, ‘are they even mine?’ ” “Carrot,” Sunburst began, but froze in silence when Carrot’s glare flashed to him. “You’ve talked enough,” he said. “My turn.” After that, though, the silence returned. Sunburst and Hoops didn’t dare move, but Carrot seemed to have lost his train of thought. They could hear his loud, hard breathing, and that sole communication between them went on for more than a minute. Large droplets of sweat grew and spiraled down the clear glasses of water beside Hoops and Sunburst. “I asked myself if my foals had anything to do with me,” Carrot finally whispered, more to himself than to the other ponies. “I asked myself, have I been working… slaving… all these years for foals that aren’t even mine? Do you two have any idea what that feels like? To even ask, and then to hate yourself for asking?” “No,” Sunburst said, finding some small bit of steel to put into his voice. “But I know what it’s like to ask, ‘where is my daughter?’ And tell myself every night that I’ll never know. Never deserve to know.” Carrot didn’t react to that in any way. He seemed almost to not even have heard. They fell into silence again. This time no one knew how many minutes crawled by. “I never asked myself anything,” Hoops finally broke in, his voice uncharacteristically small. “Not once. That’s my part in this whole mess. Never stopped to ask myself a single thing.” He gave a rueful smile, still staring down at the table. “It’s one of those things, you know? Everyone always said something like this would happen if I wasn’t careful. I never listened. Living that way never hurt dad, I figured. How could it hurt me?” Hoops looked up, tucked a stray length of his bangs behind his ear, and gave Carrot a sheepish smile. “He never stuck around, my dad. Just did whatever he wanted. I guess—” “Are you really making this your sob story?” Carrot asked with a lethal glare. Hoops’ smiled died. “No sir,” he said tremulously. “I’m just saying… look. I want to… I want to do the right thing. It’s like it’s come full circle, and the ball’s in my court this time, you know? So…” he gave a helpless shrug, the set his own hooves on the table. “You tell me what you want from me, and I’ll do it. I swear it.” “That’s a big change in attitude,” Sunburst said quietly, “from somepony who tried to run away.” “Yeah… yeah.” Hoops swallowed and nodded. “I ran. I was scared. I’m still scared. I want… Tartarus, I wanted to crawl in a well and die. It was like I just wanted a nightmare to end… just wake up, wake up, and none of it would be real. Everything would go back to normal. And then…” Hoops shook his head, and some of his bangs fell back over his eyes. He brushed them back with a slight scowl, then smiled. “I never… you don’t really get it until you see them, do you? And you realize…” “You realize what you’d do for them,” Carrot said, giving Sunburst the smallest glance as he did. Sunburst might have been imagining it, but he almost thought he saw approval, or gratitude. It was too fleeting to be sure which. “I think that’s what finally brought me back. One of the things. Pumpkin and Pound… aren’t mine. Not by blood. For awhile, I thought that made me wrong to love them.” “You raised them,” Hoops said quietly, giving Carrot a weak smile. “You’re more their father than anyone.” “You’re damned right,” Carrot said. “I’ve taken care of them. I’ve raised them through sweat, tears, and even a little bit of blood, with how wild they are. That makes them mine.” He gave each of them a long, hard look, but the anger had gone out of it. “It took me awhile to realize that. Or remember it. But now I’m convinced it’s the truth. They’re family, and that’s that. But…” he gave a long sigh. “I don’t know if that means they’re just mine.” A long silence. Sunburst didn’t dare to break it, didn’t want to even contemplate what Carrot might be saying. By what he could see of Hoops, he guessed he was thinking much the same thing. “Look,” Carrot continued, “I’m tired of secrets. I’m tired of ponies sending little letters behind everypony’s backs. I’m tired of seeing that shadow of fear in my wife’s eyes every time she thinks I might figure something out. I’m tired of everything. I’ve had it. I’m burned out. I’m absolutely burned out on everything each one of you has thrown at me. And if one more secret pops out, I’ll break. I’ll just… break. And the way I see it, there’s no fixing this. Any of it. Cup’s made mistakes, you both sure as Tartarus have made mistakes… and I’ve made mistakes.” He rubbed his temples with a hoof, clenching his eyes as if trying to ward off a headache. “Celestia knows I’ve spent more time than I can recall these past few weeks imagining ways I could’ve kept this from happening. Could have. Would have. Should have. But it’s all chaff in the breeze, now. Trying to make this all neat and pretty is what’s brought us here, and I don’t want any more of it. So.” He took a long, shuddering breath. “Cupcake and I have… talked. Some. Not enough, but… We think it’s time to own the mistakes. We know what we’ve done, so now, we say we we want from here on out and have done. You want to be a part of Pumpkin’s life, Sunburst? Well. I don’t like it. But… I don’t know that it’s right to leave you out, either. You want the same for Pound, Hoops? Same deal. We’re all fathers. We’ll all be fathers.” He took another long pull from the coffee cup, and this time, it was impossible to say whether the look of pain that twisted his face came from the taste of the coffee or his words. “It’s not going to be easy. We’re probably all going to hate it. But I guess we’ll have to work through it. Because I’ll be damned if I let all this cast any more of a shadow on those foals’ lives than it already has.” His eyes went from Sunburst to Hoops and back again. Sunburst was struck by the change the past weeks had wrought on him. He looked older, painfully so. His face was lined in ways it surely hadn’t been before the Corner burned down, and there was even something gray in his expression. Something weathered. For a moment, Sunburst saw the resemblance to the old seafaring pony he had seen that night in the bar. Most of all, he could see the austerity; an immovable quality that would brook no argument, no challenge. There was no question among them about who was in charge there. “You two think you can work with me on that?” Sunburst couldn’t quite speak through the lump that had formed in his throat. He only nodded, jerking his head in a way that almost threw his glasses from his face. He replaced them with a sheepish smile, using the motion to hide some of the bright tears that had sprung into his eyes. Beside him, Hoops gave a much slower, more sober nod. “Yes, sir,” he said deferentially. Carrot nodded, heaved a sigh, and stood to leave. “Enough said for now then, I guess.” * * * She was waiting for him in the park by the buckball field. Neither of them had brought anything to play with. It wasn’t that kind of day. It didn’t matter to Hoops, though. He was simply glad to see her. “How’d it go?” she asked when he drew near. She made no effort to hide her concern. They both knew what it had taken to meet up with Carrot and Sunburst, and how many ways it might possibly go. Not even those closest to the family, like Applejack, knew exactly what Carrot or Cupcake were thinking, or what their plans for the future were. Now that he had met with Carrot, Hoops wasn’t sure even they had any clear idea of what exactly was going to happen. “Well,” he said, letting out as much of his anxiety as he could with a deep breath. “I’m still breathing. That’s something.” “Heh. More than most colts can expect, meeting under those circumstances,” Applejack said with a wry, nervous smile. She gestured to the bench beside her, and Hoops settled in, wrapping his wing around her and pulling her close. “Have they decided what they want from you? You know, going forward?” “I think,” Hoops answered slowly, blowing a lock of his mane aside in a pause between words, “that’s going to be up the air for awhile. But it sounds like they’ll have us around, if we want to be.” “If you want to be?” Hoops gave a small shrug. “I think they’d let me off if I asked, no strings attached. Sounds like they’re too tired of trouble to force anything.” “But you didn’t ask?” Hoops shook his head, staring up at the clear, ice-blue sky. It was so open there in Ponyville. It reminded him of Cloudsdale. For a little while, they sat there in companionable silence, just enjoying each other’s warmth. A few other ponies were talking in the distance, but no one came near the dry game courts. The migratory birds had migrated since their last game, and a serene stillness seemed to hang over the park, soft as a quilt. It seemed a shame to break it if it could be helped. Still, there was still something he had left unsaid. “Thanks, by the way,” he finally said. “For what? Applejack asked. “For giving me another chance. After I left.” Hoops shifted uncomfortably. “And after everything about Cupcake and Pound turned out to be true.” “Heh. Well, I won’t lie, I was pretty mad at you, sugarcube,” Applejack said. “But after I got to thinking about it… I understood. At least a little.” “Understood? How?” “Well. I think I had some idea of why you left. But I didn’t really piece it together until Sunburst told Starlight where you’d gone. Back to Manehattan.” “I don’t think I follow,” Hoops said with a frown. “What difference did that make?” “I did something like that too, once.” He felt Applejack nuzzle his neck a little, but the stiffness in her shoulders betrayed that she was thinking hard about something. “I never left Ponyville much before Twilight became a princess and started including me in all these happenings and doings across Equestria. But I had been to Manehattan.” She went quiet for a little bit, and Hoops wondered if he should nudge her to keep going. Then she said, “I decided, if you had to run for a little bit, I could forgive that. You came back. That matters more.” Somehow, Hoops got the impression he didn’t need to say anything to that. They lapsed back into silence, Hoops passing the minutes by stroking her long, thick mane with a gentle touch. “I was wondering,” Applejack continued eventually, “what changed your mind?” “Hmm? About what?” “Coming back,” Applejack said, snuggling a little closer to him. “Apologizing to me. Going to talk to the Cakes. You didn’t have to.” She looked up at him, and she seemed to be trying to decide something about him behind those emerald eyes. “By the sound of it, Sunburst was ready to write you off. I doubt the Cakes would’ve gone looking for you. You could’ve started over somewhere pretty easy. Was just curious what brought you back.” “Well… Aunt Screed had a few ideas,” Hoops said. “She’s really not the best at talking… pretty bad at it, actually. But she got the point across. And then I… well, I couldn’t get past some of the things you and I talked about.” “What things?” Applejack asked with a confused frown. “Back when we first started seeing each other. About… you know. How it felt. To not have them around anymore.” “Them?” Applejack asked. Then her frown disappeared as she remembered. “Oh. Yeah.” “Yeah.” Hoops leaned back, and his hair fell to the sides of his face as he looked at the sky. “This is all… I messed up, AJ. But… I guess… I just couldn’t get it out of my head what it was like, growing up all those years without him. And then I realized that’s what I’d be doing to this kid. I didn’t think I’d be able to forget that.” He reached up and brushed more of his mane away, then gave a rueful grin. “Jeez. That sounds pretty selfish anyway, when I say it.” “Nah,” Applejack said. She straightened up until their faces were on level again and planted a light kiss on his cheek. “You did good, sugarcube. You did good.” * * * Sunburst stood motionless outside the crystal door. His mind was almost completely blank. After the hectic pace of the past few weeks, everything suddenly felt like it had ground to a screeching halt. Time itself didn’t seem to move. If Starlight hadn’t been there giving him such a worried look, he might have stood there for hours. “Are you okay?” “Yeah,” he said, speaking a little too loudly. “Yeah, I’m fine.” “We don’t need to do this today,” she offered. “I think everyone’s taking time to try and come to terms with things. It might be easier to take a few days to really process this.” “No,” Sunburst said. He let out a long, shaky breath. “I’ve been processing this for a long time. I just… I can’t believe things are changing like this. It doesn’t feel real.” Starlight put a foreleg around him and gave him a loose, encouraging hug. “Hey. It’s real. No matter what happens from now on, I don’t think you’re going to get shut out anymore. You can do this.” “I know.” He fidgeted with his glasses, checking for the tenth time to be sure they were straight. “Do you want me to wait for you back in my rooms?” “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I’d rather you stay, if you’re okay with that.” “Then come on,” she said gently. “They’re waiting for you.” “Right… right.” He raised a hoof and knocked. In that moment, such a spike of anxiety welled up in his chest that he nearly choked. He clenched his teeth and forced it back down. Is this what it’s like for everyone? Is it supposed to be this terrifying? Cupcake opened the door. She still looked exhausted. Sunburst doubted any of them would sleep soundly for some time. So much of the stress was still hanging over them, like stubborn rain clouds that wouldn’t make way for the sun. She gave them a very formal, weak smile, nodding to both before stepping back. “Starlight. Sunburst.” “Hi, Cupcake,” he said, trying to return her smile. “How is everything?” She held him with a cool, penetrating gaze a second longer than was perhaps necessary. “As well as can be expected, I suppose.” Sunburst only nodded. None of them were there to make small talk. For his part, he still couldn’t believe he was there at all. Carrot sat in the parlor, and the playpen had been pulled out on the floor nearby. Pound Cake sat within, staring grumpily at the mesh ceiling that had been pulled over it to keep him inside. In Carrot’s embrace, Sunburst could just see a large tuft of orange mane poking out. As Carrot turned towards them, he saw Pumpkin, looking around curiously to see where the new voices where coming from. Her clear, slate-blue eyes fixed on Sunburst, and she gave him the same curious look as before, tilting her head as if trying to get a better view of something. Sunburst’s heart nearly stopped, and his steps faltered as he made his way towards Carrot. He stopped at the couch, barely able to speak or breath for the painful lump that was forming in his throat. “H… hello again, Carrot.” Carrot didn’t speak, but gave a slow nod in acknowledgment. “We’ve talked with Carrot’s family lawyer,” Cupcake said. “He’s agreed that if we’re all okay with it, introductions can be made before any formal work gets started.” Sunburst took a hesitant step closer. He froze when he saw Carrot recoil. Then Carrot gave a reluctant sigh and glared at Sunburst. “Don’t forget. She’s our daughter just as much as yours. More so. We’re putting a lot of trust in you.” “I know,” was all Sunburst could think to say. He didn’t think it would have been enough for him, had their places been reversed. Slowly, though, Carrot gave another nod. Then, he carefully extended his forelegs, holding Sunburst’s daughter out to him. For a moment, Sunburst thought his muscles would fail him. They felt starved for air, so on edge were his nerves. Then he sat back, reached out, and took Pumpkin in his own embrace. She’s so heavy, he thought, blinking hard as tears sprang immediately to his eyes. How can something so small be so heavy? He supposed, however, it made sense. Their lives had been revolving around these foals for so long. They ought to have a little real weight to throw around. Pumpkin stared up at him, still quizzical, still uncomprehending. Sunburst felt the first small sobs shaking his chest as he tried desperately to keep his breathing under control. “Hello, Pumpkin,” he choked out. Then, he couldn’t hold it back anymore. He shut his eyes, feeling the tears spill out as soft, gentle sobs shook him. He sniffed hard, not caring what anyone might see or think in that moment. Above it all, though, he was smiling. His smile was so wide, it was almost painful. Someone sniffed nearby. It was probably Starlight, but he couldn’t be sure. He didn’t open his eyes. He wanted to hold onto that moment. He wanted to sear every detail, every surge of raw emotion into his memory. He didn’t want to ever forget what it was like to finally be allowed to hold her. Some small part of him was even terrified she might be taken away again, and this memory would be all he was left with. He hoped desperately that then, of all times, his memory would keep hold of everything, even though he already knew it never could. Nothing could ever match the reality of that moment, so soon to be over no matter what came next. He held onto it as long as he could. “Hello Pumpkin,” he repeated when he finally regained some measure of control. When he opened his eyes, he saw that Starlight was indeed trying to cover a shaking smile, her eyes bright with tears. To his surprise, Cupcake was blinking hard too. Even Carrot’s face had softened. While he still looked worried, there was something like understanding in the way he looked at Sunburst now. It was almost as though he recognized something. Pumpkin poked at Sunburst’s chin, then batted the long beard with a questioning frown. Sunburst gave a small, broken laugh. “Sorry, you don’t know who I am, do you? I’m… I’m your…” Another wave of sobs threatened to cut off his words completely. Before he continued, though, he gave one last glance to Carrot, eyebrows raised in silent question. Carrot’s jaw tightened ever so slightly, but he gave a single, small nod. Sunburst turned back to Pumpkin, taking in every detail of those bright eyes, so near in color to his own. There was no more doubt in his mind. “I’m your dad, Pumpkin.” Pumpkin’s brows furrowed, and she squinted at him. Sunburst was almost certain she understood him. Then she pointed to him. “Da?” “Yes,” Sunburst laughed. “Yeah. I’m your dad.” Pumpkin’s frown deepened, and she pointed back to Carrot. “Da?” “Yeah,” Sunburst said with a soft chuckle. “He’s your dad too.” Pumpkin blinked. She tilted her head the other way, scowling at him as if he was pulling some kind of bad joke on her. All he could do was shake his head and smile. “We’ll... explain some other day, Pumpkin.” He pulled her closer, holding her as tightly as he dared. All of that would be sorted out in time. For that moment, Sunburst allowed himself, for the first time, to not worry about it. Right then, he knew he had everything he could ever want. * * * “I’m afraid it’s still not enough,” Starlight said, peering down worriedly at the papers spread out in front of her. In light of all the mending that needed to happen between the ponies involved—most especially Carrot and Cupcake—she and Applejack had assumed roles that could only be described as temporary household managers for the Cakes. They handled most of the minutiae of day-to-day living while the Cakes tried to find a new equilibrium. For Starlight, that also meant taking over the administration of the new Sugarcube Corner. And it was to her great dismay that none of them had enough to even come close to building it. Beside her, Applejack gave the papers a rueful glance, pausing on her way to deposit more laundry in the bedroom for folding. “Are you sure? You factored in the extra lumber, didn’t you?” “I’ve been over it three times,” Starlight said, shaking her head. “Without the insurance coverage, there’s just no way to replace an entire building. Not before months of living with no income pulls them under.” “Shoot.” Applejack clenched her teeth, her eyes wandering around the suite as if she were looking for inspiration. “There’s gotta be something more we can do.” “I’m open to suggestions,” Starlight said, tossing down the quill. She leaned back, spreading her shoulders to work the kinks out of her muscles. “I don’t want to be the one to tell them the Corner isn’t getting rebuilt.” Applejack gave a short, grim nod in emphatic agreement. Starlight doubted either of them needed to discuss what they thought that might do to the fractured relationship. Its survival was dubious even now. Without that shared goal and purpose, Starlight didn’t think even the best intentions could hold it together. “What about Sunburst?” Applejack asked hesitantly. Starlight let out an angry sigh and leaned her face on one hoof. She took a few moments to think before answering. “I mean… it would work. But I don’t want that to be the answer.” “Why not?” Applejack asked. “I mean, if he’s got the clout, then…” “It’s not just the money,” Starlight said. “It’s what it’ll cost him. He can’t just take from the treasury and do whatever he wants with it. Rebuilding almost an entire shop out of pocket will put him in debt to the Empire for years. And that’s even if it’s really legal for him to even do it. If anyone asks, he’ll do it without hesitation. But I want to find a solution that doesn’t put so much weight on him. It doesn’t seem fair.” “Well, no, it doesn’t,” Applejack agreed reluctantly. “But it might be their only chance. We both know Hoops can’t do much. He even offered to quit the team and go to work full time if the Cakes asked him, but they all agreed it wouldn’t come to that. Even if he did, though, he doesn’t make much. I can’t imagine it would be enough.” “No,” Starlight agreed. “Ugh. I just can’t help but feel like there’s some solution I’m overlooking. Isn’t there anything you can think of I’ve forgotten?” “Forgotten?” Applejack said with a dry laugh. “Sugarcube, you’ve probably ferreted out ways to help that a certified lawyer wouldn’t have thought of. What in tarnation could we have forgotten by this point?” It was then that they heard the trumpet. “What the hay was that?” Starlight asked, standing and tilting her head curiously at the window. Applejack followed her as she went to look out with a puzzled frown. “No idea. You ain’t expecting one of the princesses or something, are you? That’s about the last thing we need right now.” “No. At least not that anyone told me.” “Helloooooooooo, castle ponies!” a high-pitched voice rang out, loud enough that Starlight could see the crystal windows rattle slightly in their frames. It was not a princess’ voice, but the volume it was projected with was probably enough to rival the royal Canterlot voice regardless. “I come bearing stony salvation and tidings of tephrite! Carrot and Cupcake, get thee out here, the new Sugarcube Corner is near!” “Sweet malty wheat fields,” Applejack gasped as she looked out the window over Ponyville. A moment later, Starlight drew up beside her, and her mouth similarly fell open in shock. Down on the ground beneath them, a ponderous caravan of no fewer than five enormous carts had lined up outside the castle. Most of what they held was covered in dusty tarps, but beneath the edges, Starlight could catch glimpses of huge blocks of stone. All but one cart was pulled by a pony in varying shades of gray, and to Starlight’s increasing surprise, only one of the haulers was a stallion. He was an Earth Pony, gray-golden in color, who looked almost as ancient as Granny Smith. And at the head of the column, waving up at the window like her life depended on it, was a pink pony whose smile could have been seen from ten times the height at which Starlight and Applejack stood. “Pinkie Pie,” Applejack laughed. “Sugarcube, we plum forgot Pinkie Pie.” By the time they exited the castle and ran down the stops to greet Pinkie, a small crowd had started to gather around the caravan, pointing and whispering curiously. Then, Starlight saw Carrot and Cupcake emerge among them, staring at the carts and at Pinkie with wide, disbelieving eyes. “Aha, there you are!” Pinkie chirped when she saw them. She freed herself from her harness and bounded over to them, enveloping them in such a crushing hug, Starlight though she could hear bones creaking from across the road. “Shoot, I was planning on you two being inside the castle when I showed up! But I guess the surprise still works!” “Surprise?” Carrot asked breathlessly. “Pinkie, what is all this?” “Surely thy name cannot be but Carrot Cake,” said a soft, gravelly voice. Starlight turned to see that the old stallion had followed Pinkie, and was now addressing the Cakes with a low bow. “And thou, who art better known to us. Well met, Cupcake.” “Igneous,” Cupcake said, blinking in surprise. “What are you all doing here?” “Pinkamena our daughter hath spoken of thy plight, and hath moved our hearts to pity most pious,” Igneous said. “Knowest thou that thy generosity towards her hath not without notice passed, nor thanks; and that we hath of our gratitude heretofore spoken, many a time and oft.” “Uh…” Carrot blinked in confusion. “...Yes?” “She has thou sheltered, and given labor; she hast thou taken under the wings of apprenticeship these many moons,” Igneous continued. “ ‘Tis, then, at her pleading that we aid thee.” Igneous bowed deeply, but Carrot and Cupcake merely stared at him, mouths slightly open in befuddlement. “He wants to help you guys,” Pinkie whispered loudly behind a hoof. “This is… for us?” Carrot asked, mouth agape as he stared at the carts. Starlight and Applejack finally managed to make their way over to them. “Yepperoni! Mr. and Mrs. Cake, behold the new Sugarcube Corner!” Pinkie declared expansively. “Some assembly required. I wanted to bring the whole thing completely built, but daddy said that was silly. I thought that was a point in my favor, but when he makes up his mind…” “Pinkie, this is too much, we can’t…” Starlight cleared her throat and glanced around with a sheepish smile. “Well… about that. What exactly did you bring, Pinkie?” “Enough to rebuild the Corner twice over!” Pinkie declared. “And every block is the Pie family’s absolute finest—hoof-chiseled to a zero-point-zero-zero-three percent margin of error. After what happened, we’re not leaving a gator’s chance in Yakyakistan for the Corner to burn down again! Just try to set fire to these rocks! Only don’t, because it’d be a huge waste of time.” “Starlight?” Applejack asked. “I can only put together the roughest estimate right now,” she said, glancing meaningfully at the Cakes, “but even if Pinkie’s underestimating by half, if we refigure the Apple’s donation towards the framing only, this would give you more than enough to rebuild. We’d just need to scrounge up enough money for labor.” “Labor?” Applejack laughed. “Shucks, if that’s all that’s left, consider it done. We Apples can’t raise a barn out of thin air, but if we’ve got enough to get to work, you just leave it to us. We’ll have the frames raised by the end of the week.” “Our cousin speaketh words in echo of our own hearts,” Igneous declared. “Under the tutelage of my father, it were by mine own hooves that our homestead was raised, and those skills hath been passed down to each of our daughters in turn. Thou need’st no ponies but what stand before thee.” “I…” Carrot could only shake his head, flabbergasted beyond words. “We could never repay a gift like this.” “Speaketh not of debt,” Igneous said firmly. “For this is no simple charity. For thy kindness to Pinkamena, she doth consider thee as nigh unto kin as we ourselves, her own blood relatives. That alone shall serve to justify our aid. For, any whom sweet Pinkamena deems to call family is now, and forever shall be, family to us in turn.” “Sweetie?” Cupcake asked, looking to Carrot with wide eyes. In answer, he gave a shaky laugh. “I think I’d be a fool to say no,” he said. “Igneous, no matter what happens after this, we won’t forget it. You can count on that.” “Then the pact is sealed,” Igneous said soberly. “Let us commence with the labor forthwith and with all haste!” “Well, how about that,” Applejack said as a the Pie family started to move the carts toward the town square and the vacant lot. “Something actually worked out pretty cleanly for once.” “After everything that’s happened,” Starlight laughed, “I think everyone deserved that. And it was pretty silly of us, if you think about it.” “What’s that?” “We should know better. Never forget Pinkie Pie.” Applejack gave a slow, serious nod. “Never forget Pinkie Pie.”