And so, it ended. At least, this felt like an end. Twilight could not help but feel conflicted about how this chapter of her life had ended. She had cemented her love with the time honoured tradition of marriage, and that was good. But in one night, she had also destroyed her public image—and potentially ruined her relationship with her mentor. She had saved this bake-off, this final bake-off that meant so much to so many, but this was not the end. Next year, there would be another bake-off; potentially the biggest, most important bake-off in all of Equestria’s history, but these too, were already embroiled in scandal.
It wouldn’t stop Twilight from following through with her vision. The ponies of Equestria all had their reasons for a bake-off, and she would provide the venue, the means. Was it a solution? That remained to be seen, but she did believe that this was a good start. A good cadre of reporters would need to be assembled, so that they could collect the stories, just as Seville had done. The stories would be important; determining the hows and whys, the motivations for what brought ponies together to bake, it might just be an excellent bit of fertile common ground. They all had their reasons and knowing these reasons might lead to a greater understanding.
“Boss…” Bundt Buttercream’s face had a sad smile, though her eyes were bright and cheerful. “It’s all over. Until next year. I should arrive in Ponyville next week and I guess we’ll sort out all those details left unsorted.”
This was a bittersweet moment; Twilight had made a dear friend, and had to say goodbye, albeit a temporary one. Still, goodbyes were always a bit sad. “Tell me, Miss Buttercream, has your cutie mark had anything to say about this? Have you had a chance to do any soul searching at all?”
“It’s funny you ask,” the pregnant mare replied. “When you went out on your night on the town, I did just that. The party got tiresome, my back started hurting, and I went back to our room. I spent a lot of time staring out the window and for the first time in my life, I genuinely, truly believed that I had a greater calling. I felt like I had a purpose… a meaningful purpose. Something that went beyond making ends meet and just paying the rent. Boss, I want to change the world.”
“It makes me happy to hear you say that, Miss Buttercream, because we’re going to change the world.” Contented in some indescribable way, Twilight heaved a sigh. “We still need to sort out your job title and description, but I’m thinking that you’re going to be my director. You have a love and passion for baking. You’re great with ponies and you have a lot of industry connections. You proved yourself and kept the show going here. No, more than that… you kept the show going through the worst of circumstances.”
Bundt blushed.
“I think our first official bake-off will be the worst,” Twilight continued, almost gushing from her own enthusiasm. “The papers are having a field day and twisting my words into pretzels.” Left eyelid twitching, she tried not to think of her own impending exile for the awful, awful things she had said about Celestia. “I expect our first effort to be quite trying. But once the real message gets out… once Equestria sees what we’re really trying to do, I think things will get better. At this point, I think words are worthless and we need to rely upon action.”
“Boss, I agree.” Bundt nodded so hard that her ears bobbed. “If we can’t convince them, we’ll show them! Also… I was kinda wondering if you were serious about that promise—”
“Which promise?” Twilight blinked in an apologetic manner for interrupting. “I apparently made a lot of promises, most of which I can’t remember. As my devoted assistant, you’ll have to help me keep track of these promises.”
“Oh.” Bundt Buttercream squared her withers, stood up as straight as her pregnant body would allow, and gave a nod. “Boss, you promised to build an enormous castle to house the future bake-offs. A place where ponies could come, gather, and stay. And you promised to make it look like it was made out of gingerbread. You promised free lodging so this wouldn’t become an activity for the well-to-do, the well-off, the wealthy, and the privileged.”
Ears sagging, Twilight quailed. So this is what the papers meant by the castle boondoggle that would waste taxpayer money. A promise was a promise, but this seemed to be a mighty unpopular promise that ponies were angry about. After wrestling with her uncertainty for a few seconds, resolve filled Twilight’s heart—resolve and defiance in equal portions.
“That promise will be kept,” said Twilight to her assistant. “If this is to be about equality and unity, then attendance must be made available to all.”
“Boss… we have our work cut out for us.” Bundt’s eyes became a little teary and she sniffled. “I look forward to making all of this happen.”
Extending her wings, Twilight pulled her devoted assistant into a warm, affectionate embrace. Bundt was a little bit weepy and Twilight was too. She squeezed Bundt as much as she dared, and after a moment, Bundt’s forelegs encircled around her neck. It was an immensely satisfying hug that held the suggestion of something more than friendship, something greater.
“Goodbye, Bundt.”
“Goodbye, Twilight.”
In a week or so, they would say ‘hello’ again…
Pinkie’s limp, straight mane didn’t bounce when she walked, which was somewhat unnerving. Twilight was still worried about the pink one and hoped that she would return to her usual bubbly, bouncy self. Other than the bluing of her eyes, she showed no other signs of recovery. Even in her condition, she was still the strongest of them though, and carried most of their gear, insisting that she be the one to do it.
It was one-hundred and nine degrees, which is what passed for a ‘cool’ evening here in Las Pegasus. It was still so hot that the tarmac was soft underhoof and standing in one spot for too long caused burnt frogs. The departure platform was packed with ponies leaving the bake-off, but none of them were standing still.
Twilight did not know how to feel. After all that had happened, she had no idea how to feel. She had arrived here as a single mare and was now departing as a married mare. Nothing made sense. Even the things she thought she knew she now doubted. She felt betrayed and was, herself, a betrayer. The unity and equality that she had been raised to believe in, she was no longer certain if it had ever existed. At least, not in the way she had been made to believe.
And the awful, awful things she had said about her mentor, blaming her for the problems that the little ponies had caused. Just thinking about it was enough to make Twilight cringe. Blaming Celestia for the failure of society was just unthinkable. Twilight most certainly would not want to be blamed for something she had little to no control over. Celestia was one of the most benevolent, most progressive rulers to be found in the world, one who struggled with the fine, fine line that existed between domineering authority and free agency. The ponies—the citizens—of Equestria enjoyed a sense of freedom that most of the rest of the world did not have. This freedom meant that they could act like jerks—but it also meant that extraordinary ponies could do extraordinary things that benefited the whole of the world.
Such was the cost of freedom.
The very fact that ponies chose to do good meant so much more when they had choice. Take that choice away and what was one left with? Applejack was a good pony with flaws, but she chose the path of goodness. Not every Apple did. There were a lot of bad Apples… even rotten Apples. Did Applejack stand out even more because she was good? Perhaps.
As Twilight grappled with with her difficult inner dialogues and thoughts, a pegasus approached. Armed with a camera and wearing a hat that had a press card tucked into the band, he drew close with Twilight failing to notice him. Seville did notice however, and he placed himself between the reporter and his princess.
“Hey, Princess, a word if you don’t mind?” the pegasus reporter asked.
“No,” Twilight replied, taking notice of the interloper for the first time. Scowling, she was in no mood to hide her resentment of the press.
“I’m from the Fillydelphia Free Union and I would like to ask you about your plan to return Equestria to a segregated society if I may—”
“No, you may not.” Sneering, Twilight turned one critical eye upon the pegasus reporter and thought about all of the really awful things that she would like to say right now. “I have no comment and no desire to speak to you.”
“Some advice,” Seville said to his fellow reporter. “Perhaps if you left bias out of it, and stopped digging for sensational headlines, maybe you and your career might get somewhere. Now piss off.”
Nostrils flaring, the pegasus, determined as he was to get a story, ignored Seville and kept his attention on Twilight. “Equestria wants to know why you’re tearing us apart after we’ve worked so hard to stay together. Everything in your drunken rant suggests major steps backwards… regressing society rather than advancing it. With Princess Celestia assaulting our wealthy, our captains of industry, and with you destroying our beloved unity, how are we, the free ponies of Equestria, supposed to defend ourselves from the nefarious machinations of our rulers? We’d be better off without you and I’m positive that the free ponies of Equestria agree with me—”
“We reporters are supposed to seek out stories, not make them up ourselves,” Seville said, planting himself between Twilight and the aggressive pegasus reporter. “Our job is to tell the truth, not manufacture it.”
“Look here, you Crown-sponsored shill, how about you step aside and let a real reporter do his job?” Extending his wing, the pegasus gave Seville a hard shove that knocked him into Twilight, and in her current hungover, weakened state, she stumbled a bit.
Before Twilight could react, Pinkie did. Moving faster than than the eye could follow, she rose into a bipedal stance. As graceful as any dancer, the portly ponk bounced from one hind hoof to the other, bobbing and weaving from side to side, a constant change of angles of approach, and before anypony could react, she brought her left front hoof upwards into a vicious uppercut that started down low, down near her gaskins, and collided full force with the pegasus reporter’s jaw.
There was a terrific sound as all of his teeth smashed together, and this, as well as the solid, meaty impact of Pinkie Pie’s uppercut, caused the crowd all around to freeze in place. The pegasus, struck by the forceful blow, was lifted right off the ground. He somersaulted in the air, flipping end-over-end at least three times, and then came down flat on his back upon the sizzling hot tarmac.
Beside his head, a lone tooth clattered to the ground and came to a bouncing stop.
“Move a muscle, and I’ll kill you,” Pinkie promised.
With a grunt, Applejack lept into action and snatched Pinkie from behind. The two mares struggled as Applejack tried to drag her friend away, but Pinkie, even in her greyed out, faded state, was stronger than the apple farmer by far. Bouncing and jiggling, Pinkie whipped her body around, with both their luggage and Applejack on her back.
“Holy alicorn shit, she’s strong,” Applejack said through bared teeth.
Twilight, recovering, felt something inside boil over. Pinkie, having returned to her senses, stopped trying to buck off Applejack and began backing away, a look of horror upon her face. Seville once more placed himself between Twilight and the now prone pegasus reporter. Applejack, perhaps realising that Pinkie had recovered her senses, slipped her forelegs around the pink mare’s neck to comfort her.
“Oh no, what have I done?” Pinkie’s words were a pained whine. “I didn’t mean to…”
Hearing Pinkie Pie’s pained voice was the final straw for Twilight Sparkle. All of her fear, doubt, and uncertainty manifested, as well as her rage, outrage, and bottled up emotions. Grinding her teeth, she failed to hold everything in, and suffering a moment of raw aggression, she rage-shifted into something truly terrible.
Colour bled away from her pelt, the pleasing purple taking on a dreadful bone-white ashen appearance. Her mane and tail ignited into curtains of flame, while her eyes turned into a baleful, infernal red, the very fires of Tartarus. She grew in size, her legs gaining length, her neck stretching, and her wings—now ablaze—sprung free from her sides.
Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t teleport you to the frigid vacuum of space and let you suffocate for the harm you have caused upon the ones I hold most dear to me!
The sound of Twilight’s voice sent the little ponies around her scrambling, including those most dear to her. Seville almost stumbled, but Pinkie snatched him up and ran away with him, with Applejack still clinging to her back. Twilight remained a seething caldera of rage and she towered over the prone pegasus, while the tarmac began to boil around her flaming hooves.
Before the last of Twilight’s self control evapourated from the raging inferno within her, she fought to regain her senses. She wanted this pegasus to suffer—the desire was all-consuming and difficult to back away from. Fearing that she couldn’t be trusted, that her control was no longer absolute, Twilight took a step backwards away from the flattened pegasus.
The gradual transformation to normality began to take hold.
Her mind racing, Twilight’s rationality struggled to reassert itself, and also her logic. Recoiling in horror, Twilight feared that her greatest weakness had just revealed itself in the worst possible way. Under most circumstances, she had her temper under control, but this wasn’t most circumstances. She had been emotionally battered, torn down, she was hungover, distraught—Twilight’s current self was completely unrecognisable from the mare that she was when she was at her best. Right now, she was at her worst.
Shaking her head, she heard the screams of terror all around her as the mob of ponies retreated for safety. They were terrified of her. Their princess. Their protector. Not only had she behaved badly while drunk, but she had done even worse while arguably sober. A hangover did not excuse this.
It was at this moment that Twilight understood the necessity of guards. Had they been present, this whole awful situation could have been avoided. Pinkie would have never been panicked enough to rush to Seville’s defense. Seville wouldn’t have been in harm’s way. This was just one more failure in a long, long line of failures, and Twilight felt her emotions curdle into something indescribably awful.
The gentle, considerate part of Twilight realised that her assailant’s back was being burnt on the sizzling-hot tarmac. Scowling, she lifted him from the ground and felt awful when she saw him unmoving, limp within her telekinesis. Wide eyed and terrified, he appeared as though he might actually die from fear. Little ponies could do that and Twilight, a big pony, could be utterly terrifying beyond mortal comprehension.
This was just one more mess to clean up, one more public failure that would haunt her.
“You’ve been nothing but trouble for the city of Las Pegasus,” the mustachioed police officer said to Twilight. “We’d appreciate it if you didn’t come back.” While he spoke, the pegasus reporter was loaded into an ambulance wagon. “Does this really need to be an assault on the Royal Family?”
Mindful of her temper, Twilight responded in a forced deadpan. “What else was it?”
“A misunderstanding,” the officer said while the wagon’s doors were slammed shut. “This reporter’s life is about to be ruined over a misunderstanding. That ain’t right.”
“I think I’m having a misunderstanding.” Twilight’s deadpan did not falter. “If my consort was a unicorn like you, would we be having this conversation? How is this a misunderstanding, exactly? Is my consort not entitled to protection from assault?”
“Hey” The officer pulled his sunglasses away from his eyes so he could look Twilight in the eye. “Look here, Princess… I’m sick of your privileged shit. Just who do you think you are, anyhow? Where do you get off accusing me of that?”
Sensing something dreadful beneath the officer’s sudden outrage, Twilight fought to keep her cool. He broke eye contact first, glancing away, and Twilight kept her focused, burning stare upon him. She stood there, trying to think of what to say, how to handle this with diplomacy, tact, and consideration.
“You came to my city,” the officer said in a low voice that was almost a whisper, while he kept his gaze averted. “You stirred up trouble. The calm of the city has been damaged. This morning, there were riots and protests because of what you said. As for you yourself, my downtown area has been utterly trashed. Ruined. Last night, my officers tried to contain you in the most delicate way we could, because we weren’t allowed to arrest you. You… you came here and you royally fucked my city over. The cost of your visit will be passed along to the taxpayers. So maybe this isn’t a misunderstanding… maybe this is just a message. Or just desserts. Maybe this is you getting a tiny sliver of what is coming to you, but nowhere near what you actually deserve.”
“I have a suggestion,” Twilight began in her most measured, most steady deadpan.
“And that would be?” the officer asked, looking Twilight in the eye again.
“That you shut your mouth and do your job. And maybe, just maybe, I won’t dismantle your career for what you just said to me.” Pausing for a moment, she ground her teeth together, while forcibly keeping her emotions held in check. “I do believe it would go quite badly for you if Las Pegasus suddenly became a part of my demesne.”
Backing away, the officer retreated with fear plainly visible upon his face.
Disgusted with everything, including herself, Twilight stood rooted to the spot. “I will see that the damage is compensated for and I will see to it that things are made right. I apologise for any trouble caused by my visit. Now, that reporter accosted my consort, and this came after being told no. Even after I expressed my intentions and made it clear that I wished to be left alone, that reporter persisted and my consort, Seville, was shoved. This wasn’t rivalry between reporters, or a spat between citizens—no, this was assault upon my consort… my husband. He was shoved hard enough that he fell against me, and I will not let this slide. If this is dismissed as a ‘misunderstanding,’ then there are sure to be even more ‘misunderstandings’ in the future. So a clear example must be made, right now.”
The police officer tossed a contemptuous nod in Twilight’s direction. “Yeah, whatever. Get out of my city so I can get back to work cleaning up your mess.”
“Gladly” The word was spat out with as much chilly sarcasm as Twilight could muster, but unleashing her inner-snark did nothing to make her feel better. With a wave of her wing, she dismissed the officer and longed to be aboard the train that would take her home.
The train ride was not the comfort that Twilight hoped it would be. She sat alone in her seat, with her companions sitting opposite of her, each of them still very much terrified. They clung to one another, trapped in a tiny enclosed space with a being who commanded the primal element of fire, something that appeared to be a pony, but wasn’t.
Twilight’s torrent of self-pity was now a flood.
What she wanted, what she needed, was comfort, but it seemed as though there was none to be had. Miserable, she turned away from her companions so that she could stare out the window, but there wasn’t much to see; just scrublands as far as the horizon. She was supposed to be securing the future, making it better, but it felt as though she had made everything worse.
Unable to bear the silence, and with nothing beyond the window to distract her, she turned her gaze upon her friends once more, and yet again, they shied away from her, clinging to one another in terror. How had things arrived at this point? Everything had been so hopeful, then so bleak, then hopeful again, and now, it felt as though everything was ruined. It felt so awful that Twilight was almost certain that her marriage was over, and she kept replaying the absolute worst scenarios in her head in an endless loop of self-torment.
“I’m sorry,” Twilight blurted out, unable to bear the silence a moment longer.
From her friends, there was no response. Their ears were pinned back, their eyes were wide, their pupils small, almost pinpricks, and Twilight was certain that she could hear their frenzied hearts pounding over the muffled clatter of the train. If she couldn’t fix this somehow, it would be a long, long ride back to Ponyville, and the castle was sure to become an awkward place if she and her consorts weren’t on speaking terms. The problem, as Twilight saw it, was that she couldn’t stop being a princess. There was no way to step out of this alicorn body to reassure her friends, to comfort them, to make things better.
Perhaps it was time to reconsider her stance on guards.
“I’m still me,” she said to them while fighting to keep her anger out of her voice. “I’m still Twilight. Things got tense. I lacked the situational awareness that I should’ve had… I’m still hungover, though that’s not much of an excuse. Everything that’s happened over the past few days… it’s been trying. It really has. My emotions are a mess right now. I’m still trying to sort everything out. I’m a married mare now. I finally got what I wanted all along and then those I love the most were in danger and things just happened. I’m sorry!”
For a time, Twilight was certain that she had just wasted her breath, but then Pinkie Pie’s ears pricked up. Though she was still frightened—visibly, very much so—the pink ponk left the warm security of her fellow earth ponies. When she drew away, they tried to pull her back, but Pinkie seemed determined on her course of action.
With but a few steps, she crossed the space between them and sat down beside Twilight. After sitting down, she scooted a little closer, then a little more, until at last she was touching. Reaching out, she took Twilight’s fetlock into her own, and gave it a squeeze. For some reason, Twilight thought of giggling at the ghosties, but Pinkie didn’t have a trace of a smile upon her lips, much less any laughter.
“You were even scarier than Nightmare Moon,” Pinkie whispered to Twilight. “But Nightmare Moon was a stranger, at the time. You… you’re my very bestest friend in the whole wide world… and then all of a sudden, you’re somepony else… somepony that swallowed up my friend and made them go away.”
“I’m sorry.” For a second, Twilight was sure that her heart was breaking.
“Are you Twilight again?” Pinkie Pie’s vivid blue eyes stood out in sharp contrast against her faded, grey-pink pelt. “My Pinkie Sense tells me that you’re not quite yourself.”
“Maybe… I’m not myself right now.” Twilight thought for a moment about how she had treated the police officer. “But I want to be me again.”
“It’s good to hear that, Twilight.” Pinkie edged a little closer and came to rest against Twilight. “There’s this weird magic coming off of you right now, Twilight, and it is really unpleasant. Right now, it feels like my heart is going to leap right into my throat and jump out of my mouth. If you could make that magic go away, I think it would be better for Seville and Applejack.”
Magic? Twilight took a moment to take stock of her senses. She wasn’t aware of any magic. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath while turning her senses inwards. What had she done when she had shifted? Perhaps the shift wasn’t responsible. Maybe her interaction with the officer had caused some involuntary reaction of some sort. Mood affected magic, she had learned this in Magic Kindergarten. And right now, her mood could only be described as soured.
“Something’s changing.”
Twilight did not open her eyes at the sound of Pinkie’s voice, but continued her inward search. Awash with self-pity, depressed, Twilight attempted to sort out the tremendous pile of emotions that had overwhelmed her. She was the Princess of Friendship; so why didn’t her friends like her right now?
Because you want to wallow in self-pity right now, and you don’t want to be comforted, her brain suggested. You want to continue being angry and distraught, so you have an excuse to keep wallowing.
Twilight cringed; even her brain, her innermost thoughts and dialogues were downright rude right now. Just as she was about to feel even worse about that, she caught herself and what she was doing. Fearing that she was mired, she gave Pinkie’s fetlock a squeeze, hoping that she could convey a sense of urgency, a sense of distress to her friend.
“I think I’ve hit bottom,” Twilight confessed aloud. “It feels like everypony hates me. I’m pretty sure that the future is ruined. I’ve said and done things I’m not sure I can fix. My reputation has been damaged. I caused riots. Instead of harmony and order, I’ve sown discord. Everypony hates me. I’m no longer welcome in the city of Las Pegasus. How can I do my job as a princess if I’m not wanted in a city? Right now, I’m so miserable that I want to dig my own grave and bury myself in dirt.”
With the last word spoken from Twilight’s mouth, the oppressive atmosphere in the private cabin dissipated. Seville and Applejack both relaxed and sat blinking, confused, as if they had just recovered from some kind of fugue. With Twilight’s admission, the spell, whatever it was, had broken. She had her friends again, but she felt no better. If anything, she felt worse. Having spilled out the contents of her heart, she felt even more mired in misery than when the oppressive silence held sway.
“I wasn’t sure if I could overcome… whatever it was I had to overcome,” said Pinkie into Twilight’s quivering ear. “That was super hard. But I saw that my friend needed me and so I had to do something.”
Twisting her body about, Twilight wrapped her forelegs around the pink mare beside her and almost crushed her in a desperate embrace. Squeezing her eyes shut, Twilight engaged in a powerful struggle to hold back the tears. A moment later, there was another warm body groping her from behind, and she knew that it was Seville. Then, she felt another embrace her, and surrounded by her friends, Twilight let go.
“I think”—these words were accompanied by a hoof grazing along her neck that left chilly tingles dancing the entire length of Twilight’s spine—“that you and I need to find a way to laugh.”
“Laughing feels impossible right now,” Twilight said to Pinkie.
“Ah, but that is when laughing is most important.”
“Pinkie, I don’t think I can laugh right now.”
Like a pony drowning, Twilight clung to Pinkie as if she was a floatation device. She was certain that she had pulled herself out of the mire of self-pity, because she felt even worse for Pinkie now than she did for herself. Pinkie had harmed another pony and this would weigh upon her mind for the longest time. She would hide it, of course, but Twilight would know it was there.
“You could try flirting again, Twilight—”
“Applejack… no.” Pulling Pinkie even closer, Twilight groaned and this was followed up with some self-indulgent cringing. “That won’t make me laugh.”
“I bet it would make Pinkie laugh though, and that’s important.”
Still cringing, Twilight allowed herself to feel annoyed at Applejack’s logic.
“Twilight flirted?” Disappointment could be heard in Pinkie’s voice. “How bad was it?” Was it like her dancing?”
“Worse,” Applejack replied.
“Hey...” Twilight’s monosyllabic utterance crept out as a nasal whine.
“Pinkie, Twilight wants to do some paddling in the bedroom.”
Pressing her muzzle against Pinkie’s neck, Twilight wished the universe would open its entropic maw and swallow her. Seville was a horrible pony. Wiggling her backside, she tried to push him away from her, but this backfired, and caused parts of them to shift closer together. She wanted to be miserable, but her friends were making it really hard to do right now.
“Oh.” Pinkie sucked in a deep breath before she kept going. “Oh, I see. I suppose we can try a little paddling to see what that does for us.”
“Twilight said she wanted to ride Seville around the bedroom like he was a canoe. And Seville asked Twilight if this meant that she wanted to paddle him.”
“Oh… that… that…”—Pinkie seemed to be stuck stammering for a moment—“that is bad. A canoe? Really? If Twilight and I rode Seville around the bedroom like a canoe, one of us would be sitting on his face, right? That’s perverted.”
Every muscle in Twilight’s body went tight and she longed for a state of nonexistence.
“You know, I’m okay with this arrangement.” Some of the confidence and reassurance had returned to Seville’s voice, and he seemed a bit more like himself. “Pinks, you keep comforting that end, and I’ll comfort her from behind.”
“Hey,” said Applejack, who also sounded a bit more cheerful, “that was a good one.”
It was hard to cringe, blush, and be miserable all at the same time, But Twilight did her best. Her interaction with the police officer lingered in her thoughts, as did her reaction to the reporter. The public would not forget these things, and the spectres of her actions would haunt her for the longest time.
“Seville, you’re the boniest canoe. I swear, it’s like snuggling with a washboard.”
“Hey, what’s the big idea!”
“Seville, right now, It’s like I am cuddling with a saw.”
Twilight told herself this wasn’t funny and desperately clung to her misery.
“It’s a shame,” Seville said while redoubling his grip around Twilight’s middle. “The unicorns and pegasus ponies got the best princesses. But I, me, myself, being the earth pony that I am, I got stuck with the worst princess. The shortest, smallest princess, with the stubbiest horn—”
“Hey!” Twilight called out in protest.
“We earth ponies get stuck with the worst of everything.”
“I know, Jackie, I know.”
“Hey!” Twilight squirmed to sit up and her eyes fluttered open. “That’s not funny! That’s not funny at all!”
“Pinks, you and I got the throwaway princess.”
“The one who wrecked Las Pegasus,” Pinkie added.
“No!” Twilight writhed between her mates, but had trouble disputing what they had said.
“Goose and Shining got the beautiful, willowy princesses. The leggy princesses with slender, graceful forms—”
“Seville!” Twilight twisted herself around to face him. “I’ll have you know that I pride myself on my sturdy build, you… you… you… you creep!”
“Cadance once described your body-type as a foal-freighter—”
“She what?!” Twilight had turned around so much that Pinkie was behind her, and Seville was in front of her. She sat with him, nose-to-nose, not at all minding the closeness. “Did she really say that?”
“She said that and a whole lot more.” Seville’s brows furrowed when Twilight’s lips brushed up against his own. “Cadance was swine-drunk at the time and she started telling us all embarrassing foalsitter stories about an annoying little purple punk that made it difficult to make out with Shining Armor.”
Twilight made a noise that was one-third groan, one-third moan, and one-third giggle.
“See, that’s the thing, Twilight. Ponies say and do stuff when they’re full to brimming with drink. Goose does it. I do it. Cadance does it. Shining Armor once strutted through the Grand Galloping Gala with a lampshade on his head—”
“I heard about that,” Twilight said while she settled and made herself comfortable against Seville. “It doesn’t make me feel better, though. I’ve done much worse than wear a lampshade over my head. I’m not even sure if I’ll still be a princess once I get home.”
“I don’t think it works that way.”
“Yeah, Seville’s right.” Applejack reached around Seville so she could caress Twilight’s cheek. “Celestia’s not the sort that’ll throw away all the good work you’ve done just because you wrecked Las Pegasus.”
“I still want to hear Twilight flirt—”
“Ugh, no. Pinkie, I’m not cut out for flirting.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” replied Pinkie, with a great deal of insistence in her voice. “Having spent so much time around Tarnish and Maud, I’ve become a connoisseur of fine flirting.”
“Pinkie, that makes everything even worse.”
“Twilight, maybe try thinking of some poetry. Something real poetic-like. Luna’s started writing erotic poetry again, just like she used to do way back in the days of yore. Maybe you’re not a sexy flirter, or a clever flirter. Maybe, since you come from Luna’s lineage, maybe you’re a poetic flirting-type.”
Once, Twilight had tried to read one of Luna’s books on poetry, and she had made it about five or so pages in before having to abandon her efforts. With every act described, the love, the passion, the wooing, her brain had conjured vivid mental images of Gosling and Luna. Hours of cold showering and babbling to herself had done nothing to relieve her traumatised brain.
And that was only the section on limericks.
“After scaring us to death, you owe us—”
“Pinkie, that’s unfair!”
“What’s unfair is, your body is coming up with new and creative ways to keep us from cheering you up or lifting you out of your depression. What was up with that magic, anyhow?” Pinkie delivered her words with a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “How are we supposed to battle your mood-magic, Twilight?”
The question made Twilight’s face contort into an unpleasant grimace.
“Go on, Twilight,” Seville said, his snoot now pressed against Twilight’s twitching ear. “Maybe try a little poetic flirting. I give you my word, I will not laugh.”
“You promise?” Tilting her head, Twilight gave her husband a dubious glare.
“Look, I want to show you what I can do when I don’t have whiskey dick. So I have good reason to keep my promises.” Seville’s words caused Applejack to start chuckling, and he elbowed the mare behind him.
“You’ll get no such promises from me, Twilight.” Applejack slapped Seville’s ribs for elbowing her, but there was no malice in the action, only affection. “As for Pinkie, she needs a laugh. It’s like priming the pump, so I reckon.”
“Go on, Sugar Sparkle.”
The way Seville gazed into her eyes left her feeling emboldened. Poetic, even. Twilight was great with poetic language, and she had the graded papers from school collected in a folder to prove it. If she flirted and failed, it would not be the most embarrassing thing that could happen with Seville. They were married now. Sharing a bathroom. Things would happen. Sexy things would happen, and those held the potential for all manner of embarrassment.
Closing her eyes, Twilight tried to think of her most poetic, most beautiful thoughts, but it was hard. There was a lot of clutter in her mind right now, a lot of junk. Plus there was the matter that Sevilles assets pressed tight against her thigh, and that was distracting. It was rather like having a sack with two juicy oranges stuck between them.
This thought did not help Twilight’s sense of poetry at all.
Always helpful, her brain tried to remind her that this was one of the worst days of her life. In response, she thought about how she had woken up married to two wonderful friends. In a rather cruel reversal, her brain helpfully reminded her how it came to be that she woke up married, with a night before that she could not remember. Annoyed, Twilight mentally suggested that her brain go fornicating in a direction that led away from her.
When insulted in such a way, Twilight’s brain played the Ace of Spades and reminded Twilight that she would shortly be a fornicator; a foreign body belonging to a stallion would soon be inserted inside of her body, vigorous thrusting would take place to engage the application of friction, and this act would continue until an explosion of biological proportions happened, thus leading to the making of funny faces, along with a disgusting mess that would require an immediate change of the sheets.
With an awkward aftermath to follow, no doubt.
If there was poetic beauty to be found in all of this, Twilight wasn’t sure what it was. Still, she was willing to give it a try, now that she was married. Ponies spoke favourably of the activity and even did the deed for recreational purposes, so she supposed that she owed it to herself to find out what the big deal was, before dismissing it for being gross.
“Seville, I want to forge life upon the anvil of your loins.”
Nothing happened, at least, not right away, but Seville’s expression went blank. The corner of his mouth twitched, one ear stood up while the other ear fell over, and whatever his reaction was, Twilight found that she could not read it at all. Perhaps she had said the most beautiful, most profound thing he had ever heard, and he was stunned by the poetic beauty of her words. After the dreadful day she had endured, a little bit of optimism was in order.
“Seville, speak to me. Cousin… can you hear me?” Applejack gave Seville a gentle shake, but there was no response. “Cuz… are you there?”
Twilight wondered if she had stunned him with her poetic purple prose.
“So… Twilight… what you’re saying is…” Pinkie’s words slipped out in a hesitant, cautious manner, and clutching at Twilight, the pink mare shivered. “What you are trying to say is that you want to smash our husband’s junk with a great big hammer—”
“No!” Twilight blurted out as the horror of what she had said dawned upon her. “No! No! No!” Panicked, she shook Seville. “I didn’t mean it! I don’t want to forge life upon the anvil of your loins! I take it back!”
“Seville, shrug it off! She didn’t mean it!” Applejack gave the stunned stallion a hard shake.
“What’d I do? What’s wrong with him?” Twilight pressed her right front hoof into her cheek and smooshed her own face in panic. “What went wrong?”
“Oh, it’s fine, Twilight… every husband wants to hear his wife say that she wants to crush his balls with a hammer—”
“I never even said hammer!” Twilight’s words were muffled by the hoof pressed into her cheek.
“Twilight, what else do you do on an anvil?” asked Applejack while she pulled Seville away from the mare that just waxed poetic about gelding him with blunt force trauma.
“I’m never drinking or flirting ever again! How is it that I can be not-perfect at things?”
There was a whoosh from Pinkie, followed by a great sucking sound, and a startled Twilight jerked around in her seat to see what was going on with the mare behind her. Pinkie’s barrel expanded to what had to be twice it’s normal size, her eyes crossed, and every hair in her mane contracted into a compacted mass. The pink ponk exploded with laughter; a terrific whoop came barreling out of her like a cannonball and her mane exploded into a mess of curls that threatened to take out Twilight’s eyes. Colour returned to Pinkie Pie and the sound of riotous laughter filled the cosy, compact private cabin.
Pinkie Pie laughed so hard that she oinked—she became Pinkie Pig, snorting and oinking while clutching at Twilight. Seeing Pinkie in full colour again—glorious, oversaturated pinks, Twilight was so overcome with relief that she didn’t care that Pinkie was laughing at her disastrous attempt at flirting. There was such marvellous comfort to be had, such consolation. Reaching out, Twilight embraced Pinkie Pie and huggled her as hard as she dared.
There were few things in life as precious as Laughter.
Her barrel heaving, Twilight clutched Pinkie Pie and tried to control the sudden rush of emotion. But then, with the pink ponk jiggling against her in the most confusing, most distracting sort of way, she realised the mistake that she was making. Now was not the time to rein in her emotions, no; now was the time to let them happen, unfettered.
Twilight laughed.
But she cried too.
Terrible things had happened, dreadful things that would linger in her thoughts. But good things had happened to. Wonderful things, even if she couldn’t remember what some of those things were. There was a lesson here, and she owed it to herself to take it to heart, whatever this lesson was. Clinging to Pinkie, Twilight laughed and cried at the same time, her conflicting emotions all converging into an experience.
“Did it work?” Seville’s voice was cautious.
Turning her head, Twilight peered through bleary, teary eyes, and though she made a valiant effort, she could not bring Seville into focus. Reaching out with one foreleg, she hooked it around his neck so that she could draw him in, and then crushed both he and Pinkie together in her terrific, constrictive embrace.
“I thought that maybe if I played it straight we could get Pinkie to laugh,” he said as Twilight squeezed. “Pinks, are you yourself again?”
“I love you both.” Twilight struggled to say the words and her barrel shuddered with emotion. She tried to say more, but no words would come, only hitching sobs that wracked her with enough force to make her wing joints ache.
“Welp”—Applejack pulled away with a smug, self-satisfied grin on her face—“this is a mighty fine outcome, made all the better by the fact that I was right, and Rarity owes me a hunnert gold bits. A mighty fine outcome, indeed.” Leaning back, she turned away from the trouple and gazed out the window, perhaps watching as the stars twinkled in the advancing shroud of purple dusk.