The showerhead was turned so that it would offer a drizzling mist rather than a steaming, streaming downpour. Nut sat opposite of Black Maple in an overlarge tub that had more than enough room for two—in fact, some of the paying clients managed to fit four or five. A whorehouse was distinguished by fine amenities, and the enormous tub was distinctive. Two glasses of rye sat on a shelf on the wall near the tub.
Together, they had spoke of many things; everything that seemed pertinent. Nut told Black Maple of his trip to Canterlot, all about Pod and Taffy, and answered every question she had about the airship crash. He even told her about his moment of realisation in Donut Joe’s, and Black Maple had hung onto his every word with keen interest. She too, had revealed much to him, and how she had struggled with herself over these past few days of separation.
For whatever reason, all of Nut’s hesitation that he’d experienced with Red Maple had departed. It seemed as though the dreadful tension that existed between Black Maple and himself was now gone, though he refused to believe that the vigorous and athletic shagging had done it. The wall, such as it was, had come down, and her company was far more tolerable. Maybe this was temporary, and soon, they’d go back to squabbling.
“I’m glad you told me about your arrangement with Pod and Taffy,” she said.
“Are you upset?” he asked in response.
“No,” she was quick to say. “Not at all. Not in the slightest. But I do have some conditions if I have to share you with two other mares.”
“Well, that seems reasonable.” Nut allowed himself to slide down deeper into the tub so the falling mist would land on his stomach. “I have to say, I was worried. All those promises made, and I didn’t talk to you about it… because, I guess, at the time, you and I—”
“Needed sorting out,” Black Maple said. She rubbed her hind legs together beneath the misty drizzle, licked her lips, and looked Nut right in the eye. “I am actually pretty happy about this. I want you to have family ties. You need to be more passionate about life. Experience some feelings.”
“So what are your conditions?” he asked.
“Simple.” Her eyes narrowed. “I want to be there when those foals are conceived, however they are conceived. Ideally, they’re made the old-fashioned way, but if the parties involved aren’t comfortable with that, we’ll do whatever happens to be necessary. Also, we’re going to be actively involved in the lives of those foals. We’ll not be strangers.”
“That seems reasonable,” Nut said, repeating himself.
“With that out of the way, we need to talk about my legs.”
He gave her his full attention and waited.
“I need some help. You know it, I know it, my mother knows it. If I’m left to my own devices, I’ll procrastinate and put it off. Nopony knows me like I know me, except for maybe my mother. She’s canny, my mother. But I have too much invested in continuing to punish myself. So…”—she puffed her cheeks out during the long pause—“you need to be hard on me. Maybe stuff me in a sack again, because that got my attention the last time. I’m going to fight you and I might even be unpleasant. But if you’re my friend… you’ll shove me through this. Help me, and I’ll give you my undying loyalty and the best birthday blowjobs that you’ll ever have. You’ll be pulling your tail out of your fuzzy crack when I’m done, I promise.”
Her words left him distracted for a moment because his brain decided that now of all times would be a good time to visualise what she said. A match was struck in his loins and the mist did nothing to cool the burning heat emanating from his groin. Black Maple was chewing on her bottom lip while she made eyes at him, the sort of come-hither stare that made his stomach do flip-flops. Just who was this stunning creature and what was he doing in a tub with her?
“I made some new friends,” he began. Intense concentration was necessary to keep his voice from cracking. “A lot of them are missing limbs and have replacements. I’ll go talk with them and see if I can get some advice. Some of them have some pretty advanced prosthetics.”
“You’d do that for me?” Each blink of her eyes was like an arsonist tossing lit matches. She had thick, sooty eyelashes, perfect eyelashes if ever there were any. Wearing a reckless grin, she reached out with one hind leg, and with a light touch, traced her hoof along the inner flesh of Nut’s thigh.
Reaching out with his magic, Nut turned off the shower, which caused the knob to squeak in protest. He lay there, steaming, suffering a terrible distraction from long, sooty eyelashes, and wanting a drink of rye. Black Maple lay in a provocative position, and he felt no need to look away. She was his to look at now, and he allowed his eyes to roam over her every tantalising inch. When wet, her pelt was as black as pitch at midnight.
“It’s Frigga’s Day.” Black Maple sighed out these words, as if tired. “The weekend is starting. Tonight will be lively. It’s a payday. Sun will be setting soon. With all the tension in the city, I expect trouble tonight.”
“What sort of trouble are you expecting?”
She shrugged. “Just trouble. I never know what form it’ll take.”
“I plan to pull an all-nighter in the garage. There’s ruined wagons that are in need of repair. If there’s trouble, send somepony for me.”
“Before you go”—her words were coy and inviting—“have some supper with me. Maybe a few drinks. I promise I’ll let you go. But I want to enjoy myself before the trouble starts.”
“I’d like that,” he replied. “Fish and chips on Frigga’s Day. That sounds good.”
“And fried egg sandwiches with onion jam. If the numbers are anything like last week’s, about four hundred of them will be sold. Who would have thought that a fried egg sandwich with onion jam and stinky cheese would sell so well?”
“Well, they are rather good. Four hundred, you say?”
“More customers come here for the sandwich than they do the entertainment. I don’t get it. It’s just a sandwich.” She shrugged with her wings. “I mean, it’s a good sandwich, but a sandwich is a sandwich. I’m partial to nookie, myself.”
He grinned. “Right about now, I’d take the sandwich.”
The windows were open to allow a cool, moist, briny breeze to blow the stink out. Though not yet nightfall, the first of the regulars showed up, most of them the sorts that would spend a majority of their pay here for an epic night of revelry. Or, at least, what passed for an epic night of revelry. There was something on the air tonight, just as Black Maple had said, and Nut wondered if there would be trouble.
A massive plate of fried fish and chips sat between Nut and Black Maple, a shared plate that got the attention of Grace Smooth. Nothing was said though. Nut felt good about things; unusually so. While he ate, he thought about the many things said, the way Black Maple moved in bed, and as was so often the case, the Gallopagos was on his mind. It seemed more distant now, a little further away, so what harm was there partaking in the pleasures that life had to offer? What was the old chestnut? The tired old idiom? Something about life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans, or some such thing.
It certainly applied here. None of this was planned. In fact, for the longest time, it was avoided, just like so many other things, the sorts of things that he considered distractions. Yet, now that he’d let his guard down and relaxed a bit, he found himself with some regret, and wished that he’d done so sooner. In some strange way, this was Hickory’s fault, though Tater Blossom might also share some of the blame. His plans had been radically, forcibly altered with his trip to the Widowwood.
Lifting a chip with his telekinesis, he flicked it in Black Maple’s general direction. Very much like the orca that had nipped off her legs, she lunged at the flying chip, and with a snap of her teeth, she snatched it out of the air. It was an impressive feat, one of meaningful kinesthetic and spatial mastery, something he respected a great deal even as he made light of it by turning it into a game.
“I’m going to buy a house,” he announced out of the blue.
“You’re what?” Black Maple asked around a mouthful of partially chewed fried potato.
“I’m going to buy a house,” he said again. “Tater Blossom deserves better than a room over a garage. I suppose I do too. After some thinking, I’ve concluded that I’ve learned all that I can learn from my current experience. Time to move on to something new. Plus, I want Pod and Taffy to be able to visit. And my parents.”
“Are you putting down roots, Nut?”
“Nothing of the sort,” he was quick to say. “It’s all temporary. Ephemeral. Transitory. But I can’t live like a hobo until the day of my departure. My mother made some fine points. I could be doing more with my life. So I intend to. I’ll buy a house and then figure out what to do next. Why shouldn’t I? I mean, I just landed a lucrative job working for the Crown. That was never part of the plan, but it happened. I am now a contracted courier for the new agency known as the Underwatch. Supposedly, I’ll be getting a badge. I also have an apprentice… something else that was never part of the plan. And now”—he turned to look at the pegasus beside him—“there’s you. This… all of what we just did, none of that was part of the plan.”
“You know, Nut, you being long-winded isn’t so bad when you actually have something to say.”
Rather than respond, he flicked another fried chip in her direction.
He watched as she ate and thought of the many differences between Pod and Black Maple. Pod was refined, a natural born socialite, while Black Maple was earthy and crude. One day, Pod would be a reproduction specialist—a doctor. As far as life dreams went, Black Maple already accomplished most of what she wanted from life; she now owned an inn that served as a brewhouse, restaurant, a pub, and a brothel. Her success was such that she’d already paid off the loans needed to secure it and from here, her fortunes could only rise.
Distracted, Nut drenched a slab of fried fish with malt vinegar, stabbed it with his fork, and tore off a rather polite bite. The vinegar jolted his senses, tickled the hidden depths of his sinuses, and caused his salivary glands to gush. When Black Maple helped herself to a bite, he didn’t complain. What was once annoying—her stealing his food—was now endearing.
“Tell me about your tribe,” he said to her after swallowing.
“You actually want to know?” she asked.
“Very much so. And I don’t mean pegasus ponies in general, but your specific tribe.”
“I don’t know where to start.” She swallowed with a loud gulp, leaned over the table, rested her heavy wooden forelegs upon its edge, and then cast a sidelong glance up at Nut. “We’re not like the pegasus ponies that came along with the Founders. In fact, the pegasus ponies of Cloudsdale really hate our kind, because we have a proud tradition of mixed blood.”
“Yes, because of the swoop down out of the sky for rape and plunder tradition.”
“Yeah”—her head bobbed—“that. There’s only so many mares in the tribe and they can only birth so many foals. But if you take over a city, there’s a whole lot of mares that can potentially birth little pegasus foals. It’s a gamble though, I suppose. But we’re as mixed as they come and the pegasus ponies of Cloudsdale think we’re barbarians.”
“Are you?” he dared ask.
“Want a black eye?” she replied.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“You’ll take whatever I have to give and like it.” She belched thunderously, licked her lips, and belched again. “Now where was I? Oh, right. Our tribe came to Equestria later. We, the Endless Horde, the Sky Nomads, the Terror Wings, we had a long and fabulous history terrorising the world and causing mischief. We had no home of our own, no territory, no continent. The sky was ours, along with whatever else we happened to take. Things were pretty good, I’m told. Our strategy worked out a little too well and our numbers were such that they blotted out the sky.
“When we swept over a city, we could block out the sun. One day, as the story goes, we invaded a city. Unbeknownst to us, this city was hit with the plague, only the city didn’t know it either. It had only just started. The plague did what no other army had ever done; it defeated us. Laid us low. In no time at all, we went from the Endless Horde to the Very Small and Very Sick Horde.
“An old enemy showed up. Princess Celestia. We regularly flew into Equestria and its territories to help ourselves to whatever they had to offer. Since we were asshole barbarians, we expected her to finish us off in our weakened state. One less menace in the world, one fewer barbarian tribe. She had every right to kill us, to do us in after all we’d done, and all the crushing defeats we handed to her armies.
“But she showed kindness. Mercy. Benevolence. We Sky Nomads, we called that weakness. But there she was, helping us, and helping the city we invaded. At the end of it all, with what few survivors were left, she invited us to come home with her. So we did. We pledged our undying loyalty to her, now and forever. That was a long time ago though, and I suppose some of us wonder what she’s done for us lately. I don’t know. But we became Equestrians, just like so many other tribes. And we’re the most vicious, most bloodthirsty, most dangerous of the various Equestrian tribes, and we have the military service record to prove it. Cloudsdale pegasus ponies can suck it.”
With her story told, she hoisted her mug and guzzled down its contents.
“And you became an innkeeper,” he remarked.
She belched up an ale sour cloud, pounded her barrel with a wooden foreleg, and then gave Nut the stink eye. “We developed a tradition of hospitality and keeping others safe.” Her words were almost a growl. “Our kind protected the weaker ponies on the far off frontiers. We built inns… bastions of civilisation and a refuge for pioneers, traders, and merchants. To stay under our roof was to be safe. Secure. To have no worries about waking up in the morning. Princess Celestia called us hospitaliers rather than barbarians, and we treasured our newfound reputation. We were once her sworn enemies, most hated enemies, and she trusted us to look after her precious little ponies.”
“That’s actually quite fascinating. Really.”
She cast a dubious glare upon Nut, belched up another ale sour cloud, then stole the fish still hanging from his fork. It was almost as if she dared him to say something while she chewed, and he couldn’t help but feel a certain fondness for her right now. She was bold, brash, and boisterous. Black Maple was the anti-socialite. She was the literal barbarian at the gate, come to crash the party.
And he liked that.
Just as he was about to express his sentiment, the door opened and a group entered. He felt something—concern—and it was obvious that Black Maple had the same reaction. Two pegasus ponies, an earth pony of immense bulk, and a unicorn with shifty eyes. The unicorn was well dressed, in very much the same way that Nut was well dressed. As for the others, they were cheap hoods in cheaper clothes.
Flanked on both sides by the pegasus ponies, the unicorn began to look around, and his critical gaze went from place to place. Nut had seen this before; others had come in here and done the same thing, acting as if they owned the place, or were interested in buying. This behaviour was particularly annoying to Nut, and irritated him a great deal. He found it arrogant, insulting, and ire-inducing.
Nut was a pony whose ire should not be induced.
“I would very much like to speak to the proprietor of this establishment,” the unicorn said.
“That would be me,” Black Maple said.
Now, the unicorn, still flanked by the pair of pegasus ponies, approached the table, and when he drew near, he said, “A while back a very reasonable offer was made. My associate suffered some misfortune. Lost his teeth. I understand that he had quite a rude reception. Bad form to maim the messenger.”
“So now you’ve come to deal with us yourself,” Nut said to the unicorn who stood near the table.
“I do not recall speaking to you,” the unicorn replied. “Kindly fuck off.”
Black Maple smiled, a shark’s grin, wide and inviting. “I have no need for business partners. Sorry. Don’t need insurance, or protection, or whatever slimy racket that you’re selling. There’s no negotiation on this issue. So how about you kindly fuck off.”
“I would say you clearly need a business partner, because you clearly don’t understand what is going on.” The unicorn too, smiled, but it was not a nice smile. Not in the slightest.
“And I would say that you’re going to need a surgeon,” Black Maple replied, her grin as wide as ever. “Now get the fuck out, shit-for-brains.”
From behind the bar, Grace raised the attitude adjusting table leg; it had a rusty nail sticking out of one end. Nut sized up the situation. The two pegasus ponies were speed, while the earth pony was muscle. Something told Nut that the earth pony wasn’t a fighter though, at least not much of one. He was here to do property damage, most likely. Smash tables and break chairs. The unicorn was calm and collected, obviously no stranger to violence. His magical capabilities were unknown, and so he was the top priority, if this went sideways.
“My interests will not be dissuaded,” the unicorn said in a voice of utter calm. “If this offer is refused, other offers will be made. I will not be told no. Surely we can reach a mutually beneficial agreement before there is any unpleasantness. I do not wish to merely take from you, but offer you a product as well. A profitable product. One that will make you wealthy. Surely a clever mare such as yourself is not averse to wealth.”
“Your sales pitch is about to cost you an eye,” Black Maple replied.
“It seems as though your previous business transactions cost you a leg. Or two.”
True as always to his nature, Nut did not respond. He did not react. Motionless, he waited, conserving energy. One of the pegasus ponies stared at him, egging him on, an invitation to do something rash. Nut would not be the one who started trouble—but there was a good chance that he’d be the one to end it. Just a little while ago, he’d slipped his foal pole into Black Maple’s foal hole, and now there was about to be a fight. This wasn’t how he expected his day to turn out. But then again, when he went to the Widowwood, he didn’t expect to return home with an apprentice, either.
“How much is it,” the pegasus on the right croaked, “to take this queer one upstairs? Skinny here needs his asshole stretched.”
No response. Not even a twitch of an eyebrow. Ever the stoic, Nut did not react. He waited, watchful, his eyes on the trouble. No distractions, no reactions. A sheathed sword was not the promise of peace, but of readiness. The customers were all watching now, waiting, perhaps hoping to see a show. In between the two pegasus ponies, the unicorn seemed to be losing patience, while the earth pony behind them flashed a malicious grin.
What happened next was chaos, plain and simple.
Black Maple’s wing flexed faster than any equine eye could follow and her mug rocketed off at impossible speeds. Before anypony could even blink, the crockery mug smashed against the unicorn’s face—right into his eye, in fact. There was a crash of crockery, the distinctive sound that it made when it shattered, and then a multitude of things happened all at once.
A pained screech, a spurt of crimson, the sound of crockery shards hitting the floor, and then a moment later, the muffled thump of a body falling upon those sharp, jagged pieces of shattered mug. There was a bellow from the frog-voiced pegasus, shouts from the crowd, and then came clarity in the chaos:
“My eye!” the unicorn shrieked as he clutched at his face with his hooves.
Doing so caused him to shove the thin sliver in his eye in even deeper.
One of the pegasus ponies yanked his boss up from off the floor, and there were several sharp bits of crockery now lodged in the unicorn’s bloodied flesh. Heaving his boss, the pegasus threw the unicorn over the back of the earth pony, and as all of this was taking place, the second pegasus lunged for Black Maple. Wings out, front hooves forward, he closed the distance with alarming speed.
Nut was faster.
Susan was brought to bear, her blade sprung forth, and with a smooth upward swing, one wing was sheared clean off. With Susan still in motion, Nut whirled her around, and the crook end was rammed into the pegasus’ exposed throat. His forward momentum drove him right into the hardwood crook, which compressed and flattened his windpipe. With a telekinetic shove, Nut hurled the pegasus away, and an eyeblink later, the brute lay upon the floor, minus one wing, and pawing at his crushed windpipe.
The severed wing lay upon the table, still twitching.
Black Maple licked her teeth, her eyes on the pegasusless wing, and then she said, “You’re free to go. Take your boss and get out while you still can. This wing however, this wing belongs to me. If any of you ever come back, it’ll cost you your balls. I’ll geld you and hang your sorry, shriveled balls above the door as a warning. Now, get the fuck out before I kill you and have your bodies dumped into the deeps.”
“No.” Nut’s voice was flat. “Don’t move. If you do, I’ll finish what I started. Somepony go to the callbox and flip the switch to summon the constables. We would be terrible ponies if we sent them away without medical attention.”
“Damnit, Nut… why make things more complicated?” Black Maple demanded.
“Because this is the right thing, and we do the right thing.” He glanced around and saw that nopony had budged. “You there!” He pointed at a pegasus. “Go to the callbox. A free drink awaits you.”
With a gurgly belch, the soused pegasus zoomed off at remarkable speed, thirsty for a free drink.
“Grace, come here. If these two try any funny business, I want you to bop them over the head. Not gently.” Stepping around the table, Nut drew closer to the fallen pegasus. “I’m going to attempt to stop the bleeding. If any of you try anything, I promise you, I will make the bleeding so much worse. Allow me to save your friend’s life.”
“We’re helping them?” Black Maple seemed incredulous.
“It’s the right thing to do,” Nut replied as he went to work. “Hey, I need some kind of soft, absorbent cloth. Somepony go fetch something.”
The cleanup crew worked to scrub the blood from the floor. All of them experienced, they could clean up all manner of bodily fluids and get anything soiled sparkling clean. Nut sat watching them work while nibbling a somewhat cold slab of fish and nursing a fresh tankard of ale. Black Maple sat in sullen silence beside him, peeved with him because he’d done the right thing.
All that was left now was the mess. As it turned out, their unwanted visitors were all wanted ponies, with outstanding warrants, and the unicorn, a one Mister Key, was a wanted fugitive that had escaped from prison quite some time ago. He’d come here to Vanhoover and started himself a new criminal empire from scratch. His prefered occupation was an alchemist and opium salespony.
“You just had to go and get the constables involved, Nut,” Black Maple muttered beneath her breath.
“It was the right thing to do,” he retorted.
“Says who?” She looked over at him with her teeth bared.
“Says me.” He sipped his ale, licked the foam from his lips, and stared right back at the pegasus beside him.
“Frigga’s Night is alright for fighting,” she said, changing the subject. “Thank you, by the way. I had everything under control, but I appreciate what you did. I owe you.”
“You owe me?”
“You’ll get yours later,” she said to him with a flirtatious wink.
Much to his surprise, she leaned up against him and closed her eyes. No fighting, no bickering, no snarling or contention. When he sipped his ale, she sighed, a sound that seemed content to his ears. As for the rest of the room around him, everypony and everybirdy was on their very best behaviour. He heard lots of pleases and thank yous. It was like this every time there was trouble; everypony and everybirdy would clean up their act and behave like model citizens. There were plenty of drunks already, but no disorderlies.
“Fighting and fronking on Frigga’s Day. Today has been just about perfect.” She rubbed her body up against Nut’s side, her feathers rustled, and the joints of her wooden legs creaked. “In fact, if you want what’s coming to you right now, we could go upstairs.”
Nut was tempted, but torn. He had ale to finish. It had been a long day, but if the truth were to be told, he still had a bit of stamina left. Black Maple continued to rub up against him with catlike affection and he found it odd that he didn’t mind her antics. In the past when she’d done this, he thought of her as a pesty pegasus. Now, it was just affectionate.
When the door opened, he looked up from his mug.
It was Red Maple and Tater Blossom. The earth pony filly appeared tired, but wired. She had glassy eyes and she wore a huge grin plastered across her face. The pair approached the table and Red Maple herded Tater Blossom away from the mess on the floor. Just before they sat down, Nut raised his mug in salute, and he heard a low titter from Black Maple.
“Given the mess on the floor, I reckon you two had to sort out your differences. Funny, neither one of you look too bad.”
“Oh, that.” Black Maple rolled her eyes. “That’s not our blood. I’ll tell you about it later.”
Red Maple pulled out a chair for Tater Blossom, helped the filly sit down, and then sat down herself. She leaned over the table, sniffed once, thoroughly invaded her daughter’s equinal space, and then began to chuckle. Meanwhile, Tater Blossom hunched over the table, yawned, and eyeballed the cold, greasy leftover chips on the plate that sat between Nut and Black Maple.
“I’m really very happy for both of you,” Red Maple said.
“I don’t know what you mean, Mom.”
“Don’t be coy, girl. I know what you’ve done. You’re radiant right now.”
“Radiant?” Black Maple sat up straight, blinked once, and then looked her mother in the eye. “If by radiant, you mean happy, then yes, I am happy right now. Filled to the brim with happiness. If I were a bird, I’d be singing.”
“So where have you two been off to?” asked Nut.
“Well, we went to the Museum of Grotesquerie and we checked out the display of brand new pickled punks, there was a live two-headed chicken, and a whole bunch of new displays.”
“I saw a two-faced cow,” Tater Blossom said in a sleepy voice to Nut. “It had three eyes.”
“After the museum, we went to the arcade. Turns out that Tater here is a bit clumsy. Poor thing. Still growing. Hopefully, she’ll either grow out of it or into it.” Red Maple smiled, slipped her foreleg over Tater Blossom’s neck, and gently rocked the filly. “After the arcade, we went to the Seaside Aquatheatre and watched a puppet show—”
“All the puppeteers was under water, where they couldn’t be seen, and the puppets was above the water. It was neat!”
“Yes, the puppeteers were submerged,” Red Maple said. “We got to watch the Founding of Equestria. The Princess Celestia puppet was exquisitely detailed. When that was over, I took Tater out for pizza, and then we had ice cream, and I did everything equinely possible to spoil her. Because, why not?”
“That is incredibly sweet of you, Mrs. Maple. You have my sincere appreciation.”
“Appreciation is the thing,” Red Maple said, the tone of her voice abruptly changing. “So many foals today wouldn’t appreciate this at all. But Tater had so much enthusiasm and verve. She was so excited about everything. It felt good… like when Blackie was young… before the orca.”
Nut’s mug was snatched away from him and before he could react, Black Maple emptied it all in one gulp. Then, she belched up a cloud of ale fumes, swayed a bit in her seat, smacked her lips, and thumped the empty mug back down upon the table. She licked the foam from her muzzle, looked at her mother with sad, ale-softened eyes, and then her head shook from side to side.
“You never stopped being appreciative, Blackie…”
“That… that actually makes me feel better.” Black Maple belched again, this time she peeled her lips away from her teeth to achieve operatic resonance, and several heads turned to better hear the frog song. “I always appreciated everything you did, Mom. Even you coming to look after me while Nut was away. Really. Honestly.” She swayed. “Even if I acted like an ungrateful cuss. You’re always here for me when I need you, Mom. Always.”
With one extended wing, a watery-eyed Red Maple fanned away the ale fumes.
“I need ponies who will put up with me when I’m being difficult,” Black Maple said while a little dribble of foam trickled down from the corner of her mouth. “They will have my appreciation. My undying gratitude. For some reason, right now, I am very emotional. I’m not drunk. What’s wrong with me?” She blinked, glanced around, and then let go of yet another terrifying belch, which made everything on the table rattle.
Red Maple redoubled her efforts to fan away the fumes.
“I bought you the most amazing gift,” Black Maple said to Tater Blossom. “Once my mug is refilled, I’ll tell you all about it.” She turned. “Grace! More ale! And soft cider for the young miss.”
“Sure thing, Boss!”
“Mom”—Black Maple covered her mouth with one wing to stifle a hissy, fizzy belch—“I have a guilty confession. I was a bad filly.”
“Blackie, I already know that you got laid, there’s no need to—”
“No, Mom. I didn’t say a naughty filly, I said bad filly.” The younger pegasus looked the older pegasus right in the eye. “Since we were clearing the air and being so open… Mom… Mother… I lured Nut into the tub with me. He fondled me and I fondled him back. There was a lot of groping. We mighta scrubbed each others’ unmentionables.”
Red Maple’s eyebrow arched.
“Oh balls… run for it, Nut.”
But Red Maple’s response was surprising. “It’s fine,” she said in a flat deadpan. “At least, it’s fine for now. But there’d better be a proposal in the near future. Otherwise, things will not be fine. Things will not be fine at all.”
Nut gulped and was strangely terrified.
“So basically,” the younger of the two pegasus ponies said, “things are fine so long as we stay together. But, uh, if we break this off—”
“I’ll be coming for you, first, because you know better. You’ll wish the orca finished what it started.”
Black Maple’s ears pinned back. “I sorta thought that I’d get amnesty for my confession.”
“Other pegasus ponies might have preen-mates, and that’s fine.” Red Maple’s voice lowered down to almost a whisper. “But that is not our way. This is how we lose our past, Blackie. We give up little pieces of it so we can be modern. Little rituals and customs get carelessly cast aside… tossed away like so much garbage. And when all of it is gone, what are you left with? Tell me.”
Ears completely limp, head low, Black Maple shook her head. “I hadn’t thought of it that way. It didn’t seem like that big of a deal, but it does now. If anypony is going to suffer for this, it needs to be me.”
Grace set down four mugs and then hurried away.
“I was actually asking Blackie about her past. Her traditions. The reasons why all of this happens to be the way it is. She is surprisingly well-versed in her history and social customs. I find them fascinating.”
“You do?” Red Maple’s head swiveled around until her authoritative maternal stare fell upon Nut. “You actually care about this stuff?”
“I do,” he replied without hesitation. “Blackie was just telling me that when we raise our little flock that they’ll need to learn these rituals and customs.” His words seemed to mollify Red Maple, so Nut allowed himself to relax a bit.
“We’re holdouts.” Red Maple pulled Tater Blossom close her to, gave the earth pony a gentle squeeze, and then sighed. “All we have left is our odd rituals and stories. I worry that one day, we won’t even have that. We’ll just be pegasus ponies. Equestrian pegasus ponies. Indistinct from all the other pegasus ponies.”
“Princess Celestia will remember your history, I’m sure.” For all of his efforts to be reassuring, Nut wasn’t sure of how Red Maple took his words. “Your daughter told me of your history. I asked, because I wanted to know. So long as Celestia lives, she will remember your kind.”
Black Maple raised a full mug. “Not all those memories are good ones.”
With a dangerous smirk that left her muzzle lopsided, Red Maple also raised a mug. “We were worthy foes… and valued allies. When Princess Celestia remembers us, it’s no doubt with a sigh of relief and an unclenching of her mighty sphincter.”
The two mares clunked mugs together, gulped some of the foamy liquid down, and then smiled at one another. Nut pushed the mug of watered-down cider across the table to Tater Blossom, and then hoisted his own mug. Lost in thought for a moment, he thought about what to say, and hoped to think of something meaningful.
When no words seemed forthcoming, he simply presented his mug in a silent toast…