//------------------------------// // Chapter 24 // Story: Down With the Pastryarchy // by kudzuhaiku //------------------------------// Princessing tended to make a pony hungry and Twilight Sparkle eyeballed the lunch menu. The iceberg salad promised a titanic dining experience that wouldn’t sink one’s figure, but Twilight wasn’t in the mood to watch her figure: Pinkie and Seville could be trusted to do that. There was the something to taco ‘bout salad, with queso if you say so, otherwise, it was nacho cheese. The penne for your thoughts was tempting, and the pickle platter promised to be a big dill. There were low carb options, advertised as the path of yeast resistance. Being a unicorn, she could never abide by a low carb diet; as Luna had once told her, from crust thou art, and unto crust thou shalt return; carbohydrates are good for you, and give you calories to burn. The mackin’ cheese promised a smooth delivery, a creamy mouth feel, and no regrets the next day. Twilight rolled her eyes. That much cheese in one meal was sure to cause regrets. Something was off with this menu, but Twilight was too distracted to determine what it was. So distracted was Twilight that she did not notice Pinkie’s forelegs slipping around her until it was too late, and then, of course, it was too late. When she turned left to face Pinkie Pie their muzzles bumped together. Either by accident or design, Pinkie took this as an invitation, and Twilight found that she was quite powerless to resist. Pinkie did that thing she did with her lips and Twilight, now quite helpless, had the menu fall from her magical grasp. Just as suddenly as it had started, Pinkie pulled away with a wet slurp and gasping, Twilight tried to recover. “Mmm, that fineapple upside down cake has my mouth watering,” Applejack remarked. “What was that for?” Twilight managed to say after several almost-pants. “Mmm… because you did good.” Pinkie Pie’s bright blue eyes glittered. “I did good and then I did not so good. Got me a blue chip and then a red chip. At least I got a chip, otherwise, I’d’ve been disqualified. But being disqualified doesn’t matter so much to me because thanks to you, I still have a bake-off to compete in. It almost ended, Twilight, and everypony was scared. But you… you saved us.” Lightheaded, Twilight was certain that the stars orbiting around her head were real. “Yeah.” Applejack said from behind her menu. “Nopony quite knew what to do, but Pinkie kept baking so everypony around her just sorta followed her lead and I reckon that spread a good distance, because everypony stuck around. And then you came on the public announcement system and then Seville did too and everything was okay.” “Speaking of Seville, here he comes. He looks frazzled.” Pinkie Pie patted the spot beside her on the plush bench upon which she sat. “Come and sit with me, Mister Orange-y Warange-y.” “Ladies.” Seville took off his hat, placed it on the edge of the table, and sat down. “Jackie. Pinks. Dollface.” Lowering her menu, Applejack gave Seville a stern look. “How come you never call me ‘Dollface?’ Why is that?” Perhaps because she saw Seville’s hat, she took off her own and placed it atop his. “You’ve been flirty with just about every mare in our little circle, except for me, and I’m kinda jealous.” “Jackie, you squirted out two mooks from out your rodeo hole… I’m stayin’ a country mile away from whatever you got to offer.” Stunned, Twilight sat there, blinking, holding her breath, unsure of how to respond. When both Applejack and Seville started laughing, it was even worse somehow; try as she might, she could not find the humour in what had been said and her eyes darted back and forth between her two friends. Even Pinkie was giggle-snorting while Twilight sat in stunned silence. “Flirting?” Twilight shook her head. “I never noticed any flirting.” “Twi, there’s flirting, and then there is flirting.” Applejack leaned over the table and her voice dropped down low. “Rarity flirts with everypony. Including you, but you probably never noticed. It’s flattery, Twi. Feel good stuff. Bein’ social. Seville is a gentlepony and he’s a bit like Rarity in that he’s flattering. He flirts, but he doesn’t flirt.” In a rare moment of vulnerability, Twilight replied, “I don’t get it.” Reaching up, Applejack wiped her eyes now that the laughter had left her, she took a deep breath, and after failing to come up with a meaningful response, she shrugged and said, “I don’t know of a better way to explain it. But I can see you’re a bit spooked about this, Twi.” Giving herself a shake, Twilight tried to unruffle her feathers. “Noir nerd here, he tries to act like his heroes,” Applejack said to Twilight, her voice still low. “Hey, what’s the big idea—” “Twilight, everything is fine. I was just giving Seville some guff, that’s all. And he gave me some back.” “Why I oughta—” “You oughta what?” Applejack demanded while giving Seville Orange her best  Applejackian eyebrow. Again, Twilight’s friends laughed and this time, she managed a nervous chuckle. “Seville, this is your fault—” “My fault?” Seville tapped on his barrel with his hoof. “How’s this my fault?” “Everything was fine, Seville, and we were the perfect circle of friends until you came along and complicated things.” Applejack squinted at Seville through one eye and she wore a fine smirk upon her muzzle. “You tried to make friends with all of us… to endear yourself to all of us. You’ve made an active effort to be a nice feller, and not at all like the shitheel that was my husband. He couldn’t stand my friends, and made no effort at all to make nice with them. In fact, he didn’t want me being friends with them no more, ‘cause he felt it was distractin’ me from what’s important.” Suddenly, Twilight had a profound understanding; it was as if a lightbulb was turned on. “Lightbulb,” Pinkie Pie muttered beneath her breath. “Why is it always a lightbulb? Why can’t it ever be romantic mood lighting like a candle?” After a morning of pretty intense princessing, it felt good to be doing mostly nothing. Everything had returned to normal, whatever normal was. There had barely even been a fight—twasn’t a scuffle even—but Twilight’s inner alicorn was enjoying the afterglow. Okay, so she hadn’t battled some terrific evil that had just woke up cranky after a one-thousand year nap, but she had engaged a canny, wily foe that she felt was no less dangerous. Afterwards, she had a lovely lunch and had, perhaps, a better understanding of friendship. Yes, it had been a morning of learning. Seville was back to roaming the floor, doing his job as a reporter. No doubt, he’d have some amazing stories now that the bake-off had been saved. Bundt Buttercream took over her job once more as the announcer, and her sultry voice could now be heard on occasion. Booker Worthwood was sorting out the final details, making sure that everything was perfect, just perfect. And yet, for all that she had accomplished this morning, Twilight felt unsettled. There was still the matter of the bake-off itself. At some point, she still had to deal with the Equestrian Baking League, because it was uncertain if they would recognise this as an official event after the kerfuffle. Their representative had packed up and left town with Bourgogne Blintz. It seemed like a trivial thing, at first, until one realised that the big winners here might not be recognised by the Equestrian Baking League—for the winners, this presented a tremendous problem. Twilight was determined to fix it somehow. Down below, Pinkie Pie was hard at work on a wedding cake. That was the contest she had chosen to enter out of the many different themes of the afternoon. It was a calculated gamble of sorts; a wedding cake was a long, involved process that took time, but was only worth one chip. During the time it took to make a wedding cake, Pinkie Pie could be doing two, maybe three quick, fast events, which would earn her some red or blue chips. But wedding cakes showed technical prowess and Twilight knew that Pinkie Pie was going for another gold chip. In the other cubicles, Twilight could see cookies being made for the cookie theme. Cookies, she had been told, were a safe bet, but were limited, because cookies could only score a red or blue chip and nothing else. But a baker could score a fast and easy blue chip if they made a pretty batch of cookies, and a strong blue chip run was a good way to achieve the three-hundred points needed to gain special show recognition. Cookies were also risky, because you might get no chip at all—and then your run would end. The same could be said for wedding cakes, however. Everything had some element of risk. A bad batch of cookies, a bit too dark, a bit overdone, or worse, burned, it was enough to make everything end in tragedy. But a failed wedding cake was no less dramatic, as far as ends go. Twilight began to feel the tension. Pinkie Pie made perfect cookies and Twilight began to wonder why Pinkie chose to do a wedding cake. Why, Pinkie’s Pinkie Sense warned her when cookies were in danger from burning—she had a sense for that. For whatever reason, Pinkie Pie had taken the riskier choice. Perhaps because they were in Las Pegasus, a city known for gambling. Or maybe Pinkie wanted to test herself so that she could find some measure of self-worth. Down below, the pink pony mashed Fancy cognac and bananas together while making a face of intense concentration. “I’ve never seen Pinkie this wound up and tense afore,” Applejack remarked. “Getting that gold chip lit a fire ‘neath her hindquarters. It’s like she knows that she has some inner greatness now and she’s determined to show the world. Getting that gold chip was great for her confidence. It feels good knowing I was a part of that. Together, the two of us discovered that Pinkie can run. Now look at her go. Just look at her.” Distracted, Twilight nodded. “You and Pinkie have a lot in common.” This got Twilight’s attention. “We do?” Thinking of how that sounded, she added, “Well, of course we do. Ha… ha… heh. Just wondering, what do you think we have in common?” “You’re both skittish and ya sell yourself short until your confidence is engaged. And then, look out. Pinkie has a real fear of failure. She takes it hard. You do too. Pinkie hides it by acting like a clown and not taking anything serious, and you, you don’t do much to hide your caution. Y’all are more alike than either of ya realise.” “We both fear rejection,” Twilight said, confiding in her longtime companion. “Pinkie’s been burned. It’s hurt her more than she’ll ever express in words.” Applejack took a deep breath and turning her head, she focused on Twilight. “And you… you had your crush. Which, because of the way you are, completely crippled you when it comes to love. Like I said, Pinkie hides it by acting like a clown, and you… you’re just you. You’re both dancing around this idea of commitment. Neither one of you realise that this is the sort of common ground that’s good and fertile for relationships. This shared weakness is what could be bringing you together.” “It’s more complicated than that.” Twilight watched as Pinkie poured her cognac and banana mixture into the mixer. “How so?” Applejack asked, and there was no ridicule or derision in her words. “My sexuality,” Twilight replied in a barely audible squeak. “But it is more than that. It is defining everything.” “Definition?” Reaching up, Applejack pushed her hat back from her eyes and then leaned in closer to Twilight. “Like… dictionary stuff? Twi… are you somehow being held back by dictionary stuff?” “No… ha ha… uh… that’s silly. You’re a silly pony, Applejack.” “Uh-huh.” The apple farmer offered up a hard nudge in the ribs. “You have to know what stuff is and how to categorise it afore you can engage in it. You’ve got to have the dictionary stuff sorted out before the dickin’ stuff can happen.” “Pfft… that’s preposterous.” For some reason, Twilight was far too sweaty and she had the peculiar feeling that she might start hiccuping. “Oh boy… here we go. Rodeo time. Friendship rodeo.” Reaching out, Applejack slipped her foreleg over Twilight’s withers and pulled her friend close. “Now to see if I can hold on as you come tearing out of the bull chute.” In response, Twilight snorted. “When you look down at that mare, what do you see?” “One of my best friends—” “Bull chute.” Something about Applejack’s silly-serious demeanour left Twilight annoyed. Rather than fight it, she decided to let Applejack help. Maybe the wise mare could help. “That’s the thing, Applejack. I don’t know what I see. It’s like a puzzle, and I don’t know how to make the pieces fit. The pieces have to fit otherwise the puzzle can never be finished.” “The pieces here bein’ yer princessly parts and pink pony parts fitting well together.” A fierce, face-destroying blush set Twilight’s muzzle on fire and began to creep down her neck. “That’s part of it, but it is more than that. It’s more than my sexuality and getting confirmation of my various attraction factors.” Twilight almost felt like spewing up her lunch. “It’s how she and I and Seville fit together.” “Wait… Twi… is this… is this about herds?” Applejack’s foreleg, wrapped around Twilight’s withers, went as rigid as iron. Something dreadful tightened around Twilight’s lungs and she found that she could not get enough air to make a response. It wasn’t that Applejack was squeezing her; no, she could deal with that. Fiercely hot prickles traveled all over her body and she was forced to endure some of the worst hot flashes she had ever experienced. The only thing that made it bearable was that Applejack was holding her, though being near a warm body somehow made it worse. “Oh shit.” Applejack kept her voice down. “Deep breaths, Twi. Deep breaths. I swear, I don’t—no, I can’t understand you. You can pick fights with eldritch abominations and whole armies of critters, but then you have moments like this one that leave you completely helpless.” “It’s overwhelming. I can’t define it. I don’t understand the social interaction involved. It’s more complicated than normal relationships and I don’t want to make mistakes or let somepony down. There’s so much pressure. I’m still trying to figure out what I am now. My sexuality is too awkward to think about so I avoid thinking about it. I don’t know how everything fits in relation with everything else, and with three of us involved, the complication factors seem infinite.” “And you want all of these things sorted out and defined before you can settle?” “Yes.” “Twi… I’m sorry… I’m real, real sorry… but life doesn’t work that way.” “Well, why not? It should work that way. Things need to be empirical. It would make everything easier. I want things to be that way. It’s hard for me to function, otherwise.” A sigh slipped from Applejack’s lips, followed by, “Well, let’s try to sort this out as much as we can. Twilight, what is your definition of a herd?” “I don’t know,” Twilight, on the verge of tears, confessed. “There’s too many of them.” Closing her eyes, Applejack raised her free hoof and rubbed her temple. The sturdy, stubborn apple farmer drew in a deep breath, then another, and then opened her eyes. “I’m not certain I understand. I might, but I don’t want to jump to conclusions. Give me some examples to work with. Help me see your perspective on this, Twi.” “Celestia and Luna share a husband. And that should set the definition, the standard. Celestia and Luna both have intimate interactions with Gosling, but never at the same time. There are boundaries there. If everything conformed to this standard, it would be easier. But it’s more complicated than this.” Again, Applejack took a deep breath. “But then there is Tarnish and his family. Two couples choosing to live together. And that would be fine, but the water is further muddied because… because Tarnish is a daddy without intimate interactions. Alto is his son, but Octavia’s position… relation? Her status? It’s never been stated or defined. Or Vinyl for that matter. Are they friends? Wives? The whole thing is a mess. It’s a big scary mess. It’s like a tangled mane or tail and I want to attack it with a brush until everything is smooth again.” Clinging to Twilight, Applejack waited for more to escape. “And then there are herds were everypony is doing everypony. How do they fit together? How do the pieces fit? How is the relationship and the exchanges that take place defined? I haven’t even figured out my own sexuality and this… this is somehow bigger than that. Is it too much to ask to have some sense of coherent definition? Friendship can be boiled down to simple equations, but this presents far too many variables for my liking.” “Twi… I have a confession.” For the first time, Twilight lifted her head and looked Applejack right in the eye. “You do?” “I do.” Another deep breath. “Twi, I’m in a herd.” “What?” Stupefied, Twilight sat there, blinking. “With who?” One eyebrow lifted over one green eye. “With your brother? Ew!” “Twilight… Celestia and Luna are sisters.” “Ew… they are! Argh! Ugh! Now I can’t unthink it!” Disgusted for reasons she could not explain, Twilight suffered a full-body shudder of revulsion. “After Big Mac got hitched to Sugar Belle and came home, we went down to the town hall and we did us some paperwork and signed a few forms and I quietly married Sugar Belle.” Almost panting now, Twilight shook her head. “Why? Why? And why didn’t you tell me?” “It wasn’t done for love or anything like that. It’s a matter of practicality. It was Sugar Belle’s idea, actually. It changed our tax situation for the better and allowed us some special legal loopholes as a corporate family. We’re a herd and it wasn’t done for love, just practical reasons.” “Gah, that makes everything worse. That’s horrible.” “So… Twilight… imagine how big a dictionary might be if all these little variations about herds were included.” Applejack’s eyebrow relaxed and came down from its high and lofty perch, but still maintained its haughty air. “Really, Applejack… tax reasons?” “Being established as a corporate family gives us considerable powers. We now have a favourable position at long last when dealing with contracts and guarantees and insurance and whatnot. We’re protected. Every apple on every tree is now protected as a corporate asset and should something ever happen outside of our control, we’ve got the insurance to handle the situation. That money is coming in one way or another. It feels mighty, mighty good to be secure, Twilight. Say whatever you’d like, but I sleep better at night.” “Ugh.” Twilight now had more on her mind than when she started this conversation and it felt as though nothing had been settled. Looking down at Pinkie, she thought about the kiss at lunch. Pinkie too, was uncertain of her sexual orientation, and Twilight knew this from the talks they had together. The only thing that was certain was that they both shared an attraction to Seville—along with a burning inquisitiveness for one another. Though she would never admit it aloud, Twilight enjoyed snuggle-humps, as awkward as they were. “Twi…” Applejack’s voice was almost a whisper. “These things sort themselves out. That’s why I told you to get on with it. You can’t sort this out from the outside looking in. You gotta be in the middle of it all. I hope you can trust me when I say that. It’s like when we was off on our first adventure. You gotta let go. You hafta let go and let things happen. You… you probably have all the time in the world… shucks, I dunno. So maybe you’re not aware of how fast these seasons keep on passing. Seville and Pinkie… they don’t have all the time in the world, Twi. While you are busy trying to sort everything out and put everything into its proper place, they lose another of what few finite seasons they have.” Twilight’s lips pressed into a tight, thin line. “Those laugh lines around Pinkie’s eyes grow deeper every year. She has greys now. Seville, he’s a little younger… but he lives himself a dangerous life. Just like that, he could be snuffed out. Think about all of the bad things that’s happened to him. Any one of them mighta been fatal, had circumstances been a bit more cruel. They’re both waiting for you… meanwhile, you’re trying to re-write the dictionary so you can have your neat and tidy definitions. Is it worth it, Twi?” Twilight’s initial response was anger; it wasn’t fair that life was passing her by while she was trying to make sense of things. But after the surge of anger, then came the anxiety over what she had lost. The panic was real and she could feel a piercing twinge of pain spike through her innards. It was hard to breathe now; she was sweaty, too hot, angry, anxious, and overwhelmed. Even worse, Twilight knew that she had the power to turn back the clock. But at what terrible cost. She had the means to keep Pinkie and Seville young, the means to reset their lives on a whim. But such an act would have ripples… consequences… harmony, like a river flowing, could not be bound. It would find a new way, meander through new channels. To hold back the flow in one place meant flooding another. Closing her eyes, Twilight remembered screaming. Hold on! I'm a-comin'! Applejack! What do I do? Let go. Are you crazy? No I ain't. I promise you'll be safe. That's not true! Now listen here! What I'm sayin' to you is the honest truth! Let go, and you'll be safe! When she opened her eyes, they were ink-shot. The past, present, and future all blurred together. Reality shifted like panes of coloured glass stacked atop one another. Applejack was old and young at the same time. A filly and a withered old mare with fierce eyebrows. An old mare made wise by reading the wisdom of the seasons, observing them as they passed. Blinking, she tried to rein in the ink, and found that she could not. Applejack would be the second-last to go, offering advice right up to the end. Twilight’s gaze fell downward at the pink mare below. Pinkie would be the last; she would see her best friends off, one by one, she would throw them a final party, and when her work was finally done, she would nod off one day. Spike would be the one to find her—he would think she was napping in her favourite chair yet again—but his frantic attempts to wake her would be for naught. He would be so distraught from her loss that he would sleep for almost a decade. It would be his first big sleep. Twilight knew that her body—this body—would not survive Spike’s long slumber: she would pass whilst he hibernated. Oh, she would make a heroic effort to hang on, but she would fall short by just a few seasons. Why did she know this? Spike wasn’t here—he wasn’t present for her to look at. Reeling from what she had seen of Applejack and Pinkie Pie, Twilight struggled to regain her senses.   With a blink, everything was fine again. Her vision cleared; Pinkie Pie and  Applejack were themselves once more. The scent of bananas and cognac were strong in Twilight’s nostrils—along with the tang of ink. Only one thing was certain at the moment, only one thing made sense. Twilight had to let go.