//------------------------------// // Talk Of The Town // Story: Anchor Foal: A Romantic Cringe Comedy // by Estee //------------------------------// She arguably hadn't felt so relaxed and in control since she'd received the invitation to the Solar throne room, and recognizing that little fact nearly reversed the whole thing. But she had a true reason to be calm this time, especially as she'd just personally disproved the existence of lurking traps. Being kicked into Ponyville had undone more than two years of careful work, cut her off from precisely-constructed supply lines while permanently blocking the flow of bits through pipes which had taken so much effort to unearth before ultimately placing her within the confines of an open-air prison sentence of indefinite duration -- -- but it had also separated her from the box. And she'd felt it was safe, it had to be safe, of course it was safe -- but that had been a lie. The sort of thing she told herself in order to remain calm, because even if she knew the words were a falsehood, repeating them gave her something else to think about. She'd felt the box was safe, but she hadn't known: the only way to gain that truth was to enter Canterlot and retrieve it herself. Something which had only been possible at Fluttershy's side, which had meant she'd needed to wait -- -- but the box was in her right saddlebag. (She could feel it through the fabric, because the edges had always been on the sharp side, and every poke against her skin felt like a caress.) The best things were hers once again, and the renewed possession had to mean Celestia's investigations had been limited to the city. More than two years of her life had been turned to ash by the Solar alicorn's unwelcome attention -- but the largest hooves in the realm had never placed prints into the older burnout. For that, Celestia knew nothing. It was calming. It made her feel relaxed, in control, and that made the entire day start to work. Hiring the packing company had been a simple matter, and she'd taken a special joy in filling out the invoice before placing it into one of the pre-stamped envelopes and mailing it to the palace. Once that was done, empty boxes had been brought into the basement and once Fleur had broken into the cage, the inventory had begun. Fleur possessed a precise memory for exactly what she owned at any given time, which made it easy to see if anything was missing. Fluttershy had tried to help her load the boxes, and she'd allowed it: there wasn't anything there which the pegasus didn't need to see, and when it came to potential theft... her charge wouldn't. "...it's a lot of makeup." Fleur was still field-wrapping bottles: the protective padding was provided by dresses which were more than three seasons old and so by Canterlot standards, were no longer good for anything else. "Professional supplies." Some things could be acquired as gifts, and she could usually find something to do with those attempts to curry her favor -- but nopony had ever been thoughtful enough to considerately nose over a basket of assorted hoof files. Fleur would have awarded significant bonus points based on practicality alone. "...but that much of it?" "I get a lot of bookings." She was just barely able to prevent herself from the full sardonic eye roll -- then recognized that she'd used the present tense, and that made her feel better still. Maybe there was still a way to get some of it back... "And makeup doesn't last." With a tiny, still-unnoticed snort, "Some of it doesn't keep, either. You can get somepony to make a wonder which makes sure food doesn't spoil for a while, but just try buying a device which prevents eyeliner from turning into powder after two weeks." Her field slung a pair of vials onto the small discard pile: their contents didn't shift so much as sift. "Of course, that keeps ponies coming back for more of it..." She'd had better results with -- -- they don't grow here. And the thought didn't upset her, because she'd just recognized a simple fact about Ponyville: it was a town with an earth pony majority. If she could just find a few seeds... "...I have the same problem with some of the medications," Fluttershy softly said. "The mixes separate if they sit for too long, or just spoil. Or..." The hesitation took long enough for Fleur to wrap most of the hoof polish tins. "...go inert. Quickly." It was perhaps a measure of just how good she felt, not considering what her charge might have truly been referring to. Not thinking about it at all. "I believe it." Her field uncovered the rest of the fast-cooker. "Pass me an empty box? This one's traveling alone." Fluttershy's right wing carefully unfurled, pushed the cardboard over. "...I've heard about those," she said. "But this is the first one I've seen. They're supposed to be really hard to find." "The company is still trying to make shipments match the demand." Which was why it was the piece she was second-happiest to see: in Fleur's opinion, it was among the best gifts she'd ever received. (Unfortunately, it hadn't come from practicality: the stallion who'd presented it to her was the inventor's oldest son, and he hadn't inherited his mother's creativity in the lab. The same lack of imagination had carried over to puzzle and bedroom: Fleur, who'd been doing everything she could do to work with him, had finally wound up faking her climax and calling it a night.) "Which is why I'm glad it's still here. This is worth breaking into the cage for." Or, for that matter, the apartment. Another reason Fleur hadn't kept anything within the walls that she couldn't afford to lose. A break-in was always a possibility, especially for a pony who knew how easy it was. And there were other opportunities for theft -- --no: she didn't risk it. Fleur had chosen her intermediary carefully: somepony who was not only easily intimidated, but who tended to believe just about anything she was told -- especially when it was possible to hear the echoes of never-spoken threats lurking behind the words. That was a pony who was too timid to steal. (Unfortunately, based on the caged evidence, she had also turned out be a mare who was more afraid of what she was seeing than what she had read, and so Fleur's former landlord had been able to intercept her.) Besides, all Fleur had really told her was that she was being asked to clear out a rented roleplay site. Just about every escort would eventually wind up using a few, although the majority of independent ones got fed up with turning over part of their booking fees to the hosting brothels. "Just a few more," she observed as the cage's floor began to drift into grimy visibility. (Multiple dresses needed cleaning, and a few were going to be outright scrapped.) "And then the packers can come down." Which was something she'd deliberately had to push off, because some stereotypes had a well-earned basis in fact: the idiotic flirting had started at the moment she'd entered the company's office, had its movements tracked through listening for the traditional crude whistle -- and then the trailing stallions had seen Fluttershy. After that, she'd practically had to shove them up the basement's ramp at hornpoint. Deep breaths allowed her to pick up on some of the hopeful hormones drifting down. I decide. Besides, while some had a few puzzle pieces which matched her charge, the majority felt the peak of romance was represented by that whistle. It was going to be hard enough to pair Fluttershy with somepony whose vocabulary knew to exclude a too-loud declaration of 'I'd like to dust those feathers!' Her field had nearly made a grab for the pegasus right there -- "-- and I'll make sure they're careful with this," Fleur decided as the dome of the fast-cooker went into the box. "I don't want to do what it takes to get a replacement." (Technically, she knew of a rather simple method -- but there were ways in which fighting through any purchase riot at Haydocks would be easier than having sex with him again.) "...so where do we go after this?" Fleur raised her head: the bundle of old blankets within her field bubble bobbed with the movement. "There's a few stops." They were advertising, and that meant Fleur needed to learn where the most active sales floors were scheduled to appear over the next few moons. She'd already committed Nightmare Night for further building her charge's fragile self-esteem and Homecoming was the sort of holiday which didn't encourage parties so much as family-inflicted injuries -- but Hearth's Warming wasn't all that far away. Get her circulating. Put the word out. And maybe by the time we hit solstice, she'll be getting a few gifts of her own. "But we're not heading to the Heart immediately," the escort (no longer quite so former, because Celestia hadn't discovered everything and so the alicorn hadn't won yet) instructed. "We have to touch up our makeup first, after being down here." For Fleur, it would be the second repair of the day: there had been a pause between roof and basement to fix the damage which had been done by the steam. "And I have one more personal stop. It's a quick one." If Fluttershy had asked, the words 'Just a pharmacy' were ready to go, with just about all of the irony serrated off. But the pegasus simply nodded, and the yellow snout nudged another waiting box. So much of it was easy. Canterlot wasn't her home, but the time she'd spent away hadn't been enough to fully prevent it from remaining her territory. She knew the ins and outs. The patterns. Where to prowl. She also knew a number of other things, and the offer to not tell ponies about them in exchange for fiscal considerations no longer had a reason to be honored. The trip into the Tangle passed one of her dead-drop receipt sites, she was able to get away from Fluttershy long enough to make a discrete check of the little hollow, and it didn't even contain a note telling her to drop dead. It made sense for those whom Celestia had spoken with to have told the alicorn about where they had been making the deposits -- but given the comparable sizes of the 'know' scroll versus the 'suspect' one, Fleur had been vaguely hopeful of having a few last payments waiting to be recovered. But she'd been away, and it was possible that more ponies had talked -- or rather, used her absence as a chance to retrieve their bits. The pharmacy stop was quick: Fluttershy was willing to wait outside, the brewer was mostly concerned about reciting the full and mandatory dosage speech, and Fleur left with three well-hidden vials of sleep aid potions added to her saddlebags. A last resort, but -- a resort which was now available. She just wouldn't use them unless there was no other choice. But she'd known where to go. Being in Canterlot meant she knew exactly where to go for so many things, and the fact that she had less strings to pull for opening those doors didn't mean she'd lost them all. She was moving through her own territory, what had to still be her territory, and that meant there were ponies who would do what she wanted. A few might even cooperate with her desires when they didn't strictly wish to, because she had done the asking -- -- slow down. (Her hoofsteps shifted to match the thought, Fluttershy met the new pace, and dozens of traveling ponies felt grateful for the chance at an extended view.) Celestia spoke to a lot of clients. She may not have everything from the city, but I have to assume she suspects most of it. And if anypony feels I've gone too far with any request, they might just carry the protest directly to her. Play it subtly. She could try for what an escort on her level would normally be able to access, and a little more -- but not too much. Still, she knew the capital. The ponies in it. And they knew her not merely as an escort, but as the third most dangerous mare in Canterlot. That had to still mean something. (For starters, it meant the first was watching her.) Ponies who knew her (or at least believed they did), and some of those were ponies who got out of her way as she came down the street. But there were also city residents who simply stared, frozen by the presence of beauty. Others followed for a while. She recognized a few minor nobles: she'd had a perfectly acceptable evening with one, while three had never been able to hire her. Matching Fluttershy with the fifth would fail to fulfill one of the core requirements because while it was remotely possible that she might somehow be happy with him, having children meant sex and sex generally required being more than two heartbeats away from death. There's plenty of ponies who would be thrilled to just have her as wing trimmings. Somepony they could show off. But Celestia wants her to be happy... Happiness was harder. Canterlot residents watched the mares, because beauty demanded attention. Fleur was pleased to note the amount of visual regard being directed towards Fluttershy, and prepared to sort any possible catch. They moved through chill air, followed by hot gazes, with the unicorn constantly checking the pegasus for shivers which went beyond that produced by the weather. But Fluttershy didn't bolt. Ponies were staring at her, because they had to -- but she was moving on the ground. Staying at Fleur's side. So many ponies were looking at her charge, because Fluttershy was beautiful. And because she had to pay close attention to every vibration of the feathers, Fleur didn't immediately recognize the common element in a few of those gazes. To her, it was natural for them to focus on that lightly-shivering yellow presence. It was what she wanted to happen, and the fact that so much of it was taking place was simply a testimony to that beauty, along with granting an assist to Fleur's makeup skills. Ponies she knew. Ponies who wanted to know her charge -- -- they saw each other at almost the same moment. Fleur had a single heartbeat in which she was aware of the mare's presence without the reverse being true, the deep black body (although not so dark as what lurked under the surface, and it was a puzzle Fleur never looked at for long) easy to pick out. Large eyes were looking through the glass of a shop window within the Heart, because the mare had a special interest in cameras. She knew what she liked (as did Fleur), and she liked to keep a permanent record of the results. It had made certain things that much easier, even if Fleur was no more fond of examining the stolen pictures -- -- but the mare was looking at the glass, and the surface provided just enough of a reflection for what was happening behind the dark tail. She spun on the spot, which was seldom an advisable move for any species with four legs: the result nearly twisted her into the ground. But she found her balance somewhere within the stagger, the tail lashed, and hot black eyes glared as lips like peeling scabs pulled back from her teeth and forehooves furiously scraped at the street. So many ponies would have pulled back in the face of such open aggression, and there were those in the shopping district who found instinct taking over their paths, sending them through the closest available doors because that way, there was a barrier in place if the target somehow happened to be them. But Fleur simply maintained her trot, and that meant Fluttershy had to do the same. Ponies she knew. Ponies who knew her. Ponies who were now aware of just how much Fleur knew. She steadily trotted on, because that was what she had to do. But there was plenty of glass available, and multiple shop windows helped her watch the mare. You had to be ready for a charge at all times, because that was what a maddened animal might do -- "...what happened?" Even for Fluttershy, it barely counted as a whisper: only carefully-rotated ears combined with what was now a substantial amount of experience allowed Fleur to pick up on it at all. "...that was because she saw you, wasn't it?" Fleur noticed the increase in the shiver rate as they passed Barneigh's, and allowed their travels to accelerate because it was Barneigh's and you couldn't pass it quickly enough. "Yes." "...why?" Because I know her. Because she paid to pretend somepony didn't. Somepony who hadn't signed her little contracts, the ones which haven't been tested in court. She just didn't know she was paying me. Not for moons. And now she does. Her fur remained within its natural lie, with no strand going against the grain. Fleur's tail moved precisely as she wished. But that didn't change what was happening within. I had control over her. And now I don't... But the mare hadn't said anything, and the display had been strictly limited to the visual -- -- did Celestia tell her to keep it quiet? Because I couldn't do my job if ponies were coming after me? It was something Fleur hadn't really considered before, and it seemed to be the only possible solution. Nopony had sought revenge because a very large alicorn body had positioned itself in front of the target. Celestia had granted Fleur a measure of protection because the Solar ruler was practical and that shield was necessary. And if I complete my sentence... There was now a certain question as to whether that interposing body would use the opportunity to step aside. ...have a clear shot at the horizon ready to go. And when it came to that particular mare, along with so many others -- legally, extortion didn't include simply saying everything out loud. For free. However, that theoretical shield was currently in place, and so Fleur aimed her words for the yellow ears only. "She has a reputation among escorts." In this case, the lie was the plural. The mare didn't hire escorts, because escorts shared information: it was the best way to be safe. Fleur had simply gotten close to her at a party one night, that grouping of pieces was impossible to ignore, and after that... "...a bad one," Fluttershy easily guessed, and shivered a little more. "It's --" How much could she really tell Fluttershy -- -- Fleur considered the mating habits of multiple animals, and decided she could say enough. "-- not quite enough to get her on the blacklist. There's ponies who are willing to participate, and -- technically, it's legal, because they're adults and they sign their consent. But most of them just do it once." Anypony who spent a night with that mare wound up with a long period of solitude in which to rethink their actions, especially since they wouldn't be able to go out in public until the worst of the injuries healed. "It's something a few ponies like to play at. And as long as they all understand what the game is -- and that it is a game -- it's okay, because games stop when somepony says they aren't having fun. But she just -- goes too far." There's a safeword. There's always a safeword and with the ones who know what they're doing, it's never said. Stinging fades. The tail swats have just enough force to let you know the impact is there. And the one who's taking the blows is the one who has the true power, because they're the one who can make it stop. She listens for that word. And the moment she hears it is when her real game begins. There was a way to summarize all that for her charge, and Fleur used it. "She isn't... nice." "...oh," the pegasus whispered. "You -- you weren't -- you didn't have to --" I was in her bedroom. It was easy to sneak in there once the party reached full gallop. Then I found the other room. The pictures. The stained frames on the wall. "-- no. I'm not what she looks for." I was looking for -- Fluttershy shivered a little faster. "Good," her charge immediately stated, and it was that as much as anything else which made Fleur look directly at her. "They're not all like that." If they were, Fleur's working time would have been cut down to three moons. "You'd be amazed how many ponies just want silly things. There are escorts who get paid to tickle." "...really?" "Of course, the problem there is that it's hard to tell somepony to stop through all that laughing --" "-- Fleur!" the stallion's falsely-jovial voice called out from far too close by, and the first priority the addressed party resorted was the one which hadn't had her checking ahead. Every escort in Canterlot knew that voice, largely because it insisted on taking the floor at every group meeting. It could pile words up to the ceiling and on a good night, one in every twelve might be slightly true. "It's been forever! And yet somehow, that feels so short, doesn't it? Even so, it's like being gone for a while means you were never really here at all!" She turned her steady gaze forward. When regarding the surface alone, there was a fair amount to look at. The well-built unicorn's deep red fur was precisely, almost enviably groomed -- it was the one thing about him which Fleur almost wanted to emulate, as she'd never been able to figure out how he managed to get that kind of visual distinction on the strands -- and he was trying out a fetlock style, which meant most of the male escorts in Canterlot would soon be doing the same. His features were handsome enough, although he tended to have one cheek partially puffed out: the distortion had a way of switching sides just when the viewer had gotten used to the other one. A light blue mane swept across his neck in waves, and the tail was forever immaculate. He wasn't a coworker: any such description would mean Fleur had been willing to participate in a group effort with him, and that was something she hadn't been willing to suffer through. She had solved his puzzle, and so she was familiar with a pony who hogged both the center and edges of the spotlight while wrapping his body around the actual bulb. He was simply somepony in the same profession, and the fact that he'd had to acknowledge her as also being in it had formed the cornerstone of their relationship. "Polish," she politely greeted. "It has been a while. We just don't seem to be at the same parties any more." A light shrug added its own punctuation. "You're missed, of course." But he was looking at Fluttershy. "And to see you with her...!" The stallion's forelegs bent, and a briefly-ignited horn traced an arc of glowing respect through the air. "Lady," he smiled, with the gleam from bright teeth glinting off Fluttershy's foreknees. "...um..." was the best her charge could do for an opener and depressingly, when it came to what Fleur had expected, it represented an improvement. "...I'm -- not a noble..." "But you are a lady," Polish declared as he straightened again. "And there are times when that's much more important." It came across as sincere. Polish often came across as sincere, which was just one of the reasons he received so many bookings -- but in this case, it almost felt as if he was -- -- and that was when the dark yellow eyes focused on Fleur. There were ponies slowing their pace, and some had stopped entirely. Gravitational pull had a way of doing that, and several began to slip towards the new center of activity. The steady draw of beauty had only marginally increased -- but for a herd species, the instinctively-sensed opportunity for street theater just couldn't be passed up. Fleur, fully familiar with the nature of those who typically shopped in the Heart, was already prepared to use it. "You're right, Fleur," he declared, and she knew why he was agreeing with her. Strictly speaking, Polish was bisexual, and that was a useful thing for an escort: anything which increased your potential client pool generally didn't hurt. And when working, he preferred to play the stallion -- "Because you haven't been at any parties lately," he smiled. "Not in Canterlot. Now why are you isolating yourself out there in the boondocks? -- no offense to your home, milady." That with another little head sweep towards Fluttershy. "I've been to Ponyville, if only briefly. 'tis quaint. And I'm told it's quite inspiringly comedic, although I've never been there for the good parts. But apparently Fleur must love to laugh so much that she's given up on the more restrained nature of Canterlot." (That made another dozen ponies stop all by itself.) "Which is truly saying something, because I've hardly ever -- never? Fleur, refresh my memory: do you laugh?" -- but most ponies meeting him off-shift had to deal with an utter bitch. All right. There was a chance for this to happen. If Celestia had anypony tell my clients why I wasn't going to fulfill my bookings, then they were potentially told I was in Ponyville. That word has spread. There was no way to avoid it. Visually, Fleur couldn't be missed -- and that meant her lack of presence also had a way of standing out. It wasn't a party unless Fleur was there and so technically, nopony in the capital had been to one in a while. Her absence had created a very noticeable social vacuum, along with what had to be a power struggle as the city's other escorts fought to see who would take over the status of most-booked -- -- and that might even be him. He was certainly carrying himself that way, although that was typical for Polish: he considered himself to be the most important pony in any room, and it took most of his clients a while to leave him alone in it. But she knew he would have been among the first to go after her scraps. (Even so, she couldn't really call Polish a remora. After all, hagfish existed.) She'd realized it could happen: that just being in Canterlot would mean being spotted by those she knew, and the possibility of having that sighting lead to questions. It was why she'd planned out her answers in advance. "Seeing you always makes me think about laughing," Fleur smiled. The bulge not-so-smoothly switched to the left cheek. "Still, it begs the question, doesn't it? Because you're not in Canterlot, Fleur. You're in Ponyville. And you seem to be -- staying. Now whatever could have drawn a mare such as yourself to leave all of this behind --" The entire crowd (and it was a crowd now, one Fleur was taking great personal pleasure in counting) seemed to lean in. She still didn't understand why Honesty was an Element. She had questions regarding its presence on any list of 'virtues'. And even so, she recognized the upcoming moment as something special. The instant when Honesty transmuted into pure delight. Fleur smiled again, and told the truth. "-- I don't have a choice," she happily interrupted. "No choice?" Polish asked, and she watched as he visibly failed to reconcile admission with tone. "Now why wouldn't you have a --" "-- because I'm on a long-term job," Fleur merrily stated. "Single client --" and she felt Fluttershy's wings lock "-- indefinite duration. And yes, it is interfering with my party schedule, although I'm hoping to be at a few around Hearth's Warming. But it's worth it, Polish. This is something nopony would ever turn down." "Single client," he carefully repeated. "In Ponyville..." She wasn't using her talent: the crowd was too large, and any true attempt to sense might have overwhelmed her. (There was also the continuing issue of being at Fluttershy's side.) And even if she had been drawing on it, she could only sense the sexual aspects of a sapient. There was no magical way for her to tell when an entire herd was having the same thought. However, hearing the simultaneous intake of breath from more than a hundred ponies (including a few minor nobles, two Day Court legislators, and a justified plural on gossips) served as a perfectly mundane one. Polish's jaw dropped. Several mares automatically gasped, which was only distinguishable from the rest of the gasps because Fleur had heard it so often. "You're kidding," was the first thing to emerge once he'd gotten it all tucked back in. "You have to be --" "No!" Fleur joyously declared. "It's the truth! The Princess assigned me to be the personal and exclusive companion of a Bearer!" And she'd won. She didn't have to listen to the latest round of exclamations and poorly-masked whispers. (She did have to move closer to Fluttershy, because the pegasus' knees had just bent a little too much and Fleur needed to be in a position to prop up any possible faint.) She just had to look into Polish's eyes, because the herd thought as one and so watching what was, for him alone, the horror passing through his mind -- that was enough. She knew what he was thinking. What they were all thinking. Because most ponies weren't all that familiar with the Bearers, not for who they were. Fleur certainly hadn't been, and she considered herself to be a representative sample. They would know that the Bearers existed, that they were in Ponyville, potentially that all six were mares -- and for so many, that was where the thin trail would drop off from the path of knowledge into the abyss of rumor. Most Canterlot residents weren't familiar with the Bearers. But for Fleur to make that claim, in the middle of this crowd -- it let the inquiries begin their flow. Any questions which reached the palace would have to draw the same answer. Polish knew she was speaking among ponies who had the passed-along ability to check on her, it meant she couldn't lie -- "-- the Princess." It would have been a hollow voice if it hadn't had something jammed into the middle. "A personal request," Fleur smiled, and waited for the rest of it. "And... a Bearer..." Fluttershy's entire body dipped left: Fleur moved just in time to get her upright again. Nopony really noticed, because so many were focusing on the same inner vision. "I said that," was the merry answer. "You're with..." His ribs seemed to ripple, and it took Fleur a moment to realize that he was trying to shift wings which he didn't have. "You're -- the exclusive companion -- of..." Which was where his words temporarily ran out and Fleur, with no true ability to sense thought, still found herself looking with bemusement at the only concept in his head. Most ponies don't know the Bearers. But a few know one-sixth more. They'll tell the others. She'd been in Ponyville for a while. She'd been listening. And so she knew that when most ponies thought of the Bearers -- "...her?" Polish just barely managed to finish. "Her who?" Fleur innocently asked. "The --" It seemed to take the last of his strength. "-- other Princess..." Fleur casually adjusted her posture to where half her legs were locked against the opposing half of Fluttershy's. "I've said enough already." -- they think of Twilight. "Incidentally," Fleur casually added, "be very careful about addressing her. If you ever meet her. Not that it's likely to happen." Her smile served as the forever-closed gate before him, and made no mention of the minor detail of his being rather unlikely to seek out the services of a librarian. "But she has a preferred form, and you didn't use it." A tiny shrug felt appropriate. "I know her preference, of course. In fact..." Fleur tossed her mane, added an artful tail swish, and smiled again. "...some might say I -- oh, this is heading right for gossip, isn't it? And in public! Well, a good escort shouldn't be talking about a client! Not outside of meetings, for things which only escorts might need to know. And since I'm in Ponyville right now, I just can't get to any meetings." Regretfully, "So I'm afraid I'm at the limits of what I can say. Or should. Or feel like. So if you don't mind, Polish, while it's been lovely to catch up, I have some things to do. With the Lady, on behalf of the Princess and the Bearers. I'm sure you understand." She applied a small amount of forward-leaning pressure to Fluttershy's flank, being careful with the wing. The stunned pegasus began to shuffle forward, and Fleur matched that pace. It took a little more effort to start steering her charge past the motionless stallion. Let them all think about that for a while. And now that Fleur considered it, there was a certain benefit to traveling with a mare whose public reactions tended towards shocked silence -- "-- it's... good to see you, Fleur," Polish choked out. (She presumed the choking came from the usual source, as hagfish were usually able to get rid of the mucus.) "Likewise," she honestly replied. Two coughs, and then, "And it was a pleasure to meet you, Lady Fluttershy." "...thank you," her charge whispered. Fleur nodded, accelerated a little, felt Fluttershy match the increased rate -- --wait. The words came ahead of the sudden, separating turn, and the divergence almost sent Fluttershy into the street: wings flared just in time for a single flap to keep the pegasus up. "How did you know who she --" But Polish had already staggered out of sight, and the milling remnants of the crowd had too many other things to think about. All right. (Although she wasn't entirely sure about that.) One more thing to track. She carefully herded Fluttershy out of the street, picking a nearby tea shop for the recovery site. Fleur knew her charge was going to need a moment and as it turned out, the dam didn't break until halfway through the steeping. Softly, "...you just said..." "Nothing which wasn't true," Fleur stated from her side of the little shadowed corner table. She was pretending to watch the water darken. "...but... but he's going to think..." Without bothering to make eye contact, "I don't control what he thinks." Silence. Steam curled up into Fleur's nostrils. "...I didn't like him." "Because you have taste." "...he is an escort, isn't he? From the way you two were talking..." "Yes. He's actually in fairly high demand," Fleur understated. "There's less stallions escorting than mares, so there isn't as much of a choice." And shrugged. "It should actually be the other way around, since there's more mares than stallions in the population. Even if the Most Special Spell only produces fillies, it doesn't mean all of them grow up to look for mares. But more stallions talk about becoming an escort than ever do it. Most of them just can't keep up with what the job requires." Extremely eventually, "...sex?" Fleur once again considered what any cottage resident would inevitably have to witness during mating season. "Not unless they have multiple clients in one night. That's rare, and a skilled escort can compensate. But most stallions hate being bundled into that many tuxedos." Fluttershy was quiet for a while. "...he really is popular?" "Yes." "...why?" Fleur told her. "...that," Fluttershy finally voiced, "sounds very impractical." "Well, he's a pony to start with," Fleur noted. "Higher percentage of mass concentrated there compared to the overall body weight. And then you get him." "...but what can he even do with it? When it's that big..." "It's not just the size, it's knowing how to use it. Look, you saw it. Well, part of it. He usually doesn't let the whole thing out, even when he loses control. It's scared ponies before. He usually has to stick part of it to the side so it doesn't get in the way." Her charge looked thoughtful. "...there's a name for that. For the medical condition." "Really?" "...macroglossia." Fleur's mind automatically ran the translation. "'Really big tongue'." "...yes." "I'm pretty sure he wouldn't be able to spell it." Fleur shrugged. "And half his reputation is not being able to spell things at close quarters --" "-- sorry?" No animals use their tongues that way. I think. "Never mind." It took multiple stops before she could pin down any degree of detail. The designers... they were among the best sources of gossip, because ponies tended to chat while they were being measured for new clothing: some used it as a form of self-distraction, while others needed the words to justify why they'd been allowed to get so far as the tapes in the first place. The problem was in getting Fluttershy past the door, because Fleur had once again galloped into one of the few subjects which could make her charge put a hoof down: the concept that dresses would be made (and bits received) by somepony other than that bitch. It could be argued that Fleur mostly won on a technicality: Rarity might be the only dressmaker whom Fluttershy was willing to see commissioned, but that mare turned out to have a new gap in her skills. To wit, she didn't make costumes, not even for herself: the supposed designer apparently stayed in her shop during every single Nightmare Night and according to Fluttershy, most of the ponies who visited would flee screaming. The only part of that which surprised Fleur was having the reaction restricted to a single evening. Dresses, but not costumes -- and Fluttershy had already committed to the holiday. It meant they had to get something commissioned, and there were fashion houses which were willing to take the job. But that didn't mean all of them. Fluttershy outright rejected any visit to Barneigh's on principle (which Fleur agreed with) and Tone Lintflicker's shop received the same refusal (which she didn't understand, but it still left a sufficient selection). Additionally, there was one place which was known to work a special kind of thaumless magic, and the same effect which had originally rendered Fleur inaudible to anypony within had Fluttershy turn invisible, mostly because 'inaudible' had already been covered. Victrola's Sequins was well-known for two things: their ability to cater to a very narrow range of body types, and their absolute refusal to acknowledge anypony who wasn't within it. But eventually, the process was managed. They were both measured, because it quickly became clear to Fleur that the only way Fluttershy was going to let her tail be measured by anypony other than Rarity was if somepony was both going through it with her and blocking the closest exit. Fleur took the designer aside, proposed a few ideas for costumes, let creativity take over from there, then paid for express sewing and shipping. Or rather, arranged for the palace to pay it, which was much more enjoyable. And when it was over, with Fleur carefully guiding a shaken, recently-quantified pegasus towards the door, the designer thanked them for their patronage. Because she was grateful to have hosted a pony of Fleur's reputation, not to mention the Lady Fluttershy... It didn't happen at Fleur's favorite makeup store, where she was finally able to indulge in the shopping spree of a lifetime: even if the vast majority hadn't been for her, she had the comfort of knowing she could rebill for more eyeliner in two weeks. But it did take place at the restaurant, because there was an eatery which mostly existed to let ponies be seen and so Fleur had already decided that Fluttershy was going to be seen there. And when she casually asked how the mare knew her charge... "It was a party." Fleur carefully looked the mare over. Rich. Successful. A Canterlot accent which could cut glass. Nopony she'd ever seen in Ponyville, although nopony had said that Pinkie restricted her craft to a single settled zone. "Which one?" "The Dowager event," the mare proudly said, because just getting in was truly something to have pride in -- and then her attention shifted to Fluttershy, who'd been poking through overpriced, miniaturized salad as an excuse for keeping her head down. "There was a stallion talking about you. He didn't have a picture, but he described you so vividly that once I saw you -- well, it couldn't be anypony else!" "...oh," Fluttershy managed. "...a stallion? Who...?" "I didn't get his name," the mare admitted. "I don't think he was there for very long. Some greenish fellow with odd teeth. But when he started talking about you -- well, there was no way to miss him! I think everypony at the party was listening." Which was when she momentarily frowned. "Even the waitstaff," she continued. "And the musicians. The music stopped until he was finished. He was -- just that captivating, I suppose. Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, dear. Enjoy the city! And do let me know if you can be at my own humble party." A thin slice of field deposited a calling card on the marble table. "I think ponies would enjoy getting to meet you." She left. "Greenish with odd teeth," Fleur carefully said. "Can you think of anypony in town like that?" "...it's too little to go on," Fluttershy finally answered. "Especially with all the new ponies who keep moving into town. Fleur -- why would somepony at a party be talking about me?" She thought about it. I wanted to advertise her. Why is the campaign already running? "This is a guess," Fleur admitted in advance, and Fluttershy nodded her consent for continuance. "But Ponyville's a commuter town. Ponies know you're dating now, and some of them work in Canterlot every day. Gossip travels and in this case, it could be taking the train." But it's the Dowager. How many Ponyville residents could get in? (She'd missed the Dowager. She'd managed to get in for the last two years...) ...nine nobles. Maybe it was one of them. It was possible, especially since she wasn't sure who all of them were. It was possible for one of them to be that well-connected, at least to the extent where she hadn't formally eliminated the option yet. "...that makes sense," Fluttershy decided. "It's just weird. To think about ponies talking like that. About -- me." "It's not the worst thing," Fleur pointed out. She took a sip of imported river water, then decided it had been brought in all the way from the far end of the kitchen. "Just for starters, it gives us an extra pool to work with." Which, in the name of irony, was when the pond scum slimed its way in. It only took Fleur a split-second to recognize the symptoms. The ponies closest to the entrance reacted first: there was a great scrambling of hooves, with four legs per pony suddenly being too many to sort out in a hurry -- and then a dozen voices simultaneously called for their checks. It made those sitting a little further away take notice, and that led to a very small, extremely directed stampede which ended in a pileup in front of the coat check area. Two mares bucked their bodies in a way that left full saddlebags on their table, then simply made a break for the nearest window. "-- and I will, of course, be served by the chef herself!" the too-familiar voice declared. "It is still a mare, correct? I insist on having mares cook for me. It's so much of what they're good for --" Three tables tipped over. Two of them still had ponies hiding underneath. Fleur looked at Fluttershy, and found two desperate eyes staring back. "We have to go. Now." The mares blinked at each other, mutually decided it wasn't a good time to talk about the inadvertent chorus, and then eight hooves hit the floor. "...there's too many ponies at the door!" Fluttershy gasped. "And those two are jammed in the window! Where do we --" "-- kitchen!" Fleur cut her off. "There's always an exit through the --" Which was when she felt it, because there were ways in which pony senses had their advantages. There were detriments to being part of a herd species: social, emotional, the potential for loss of control -- but on the somewhat dubious bright side, you were generally aware when something had just looked at you. Fleur felt the pressure of light blue eyes on her back, saw Fluttershy jump as the gaze moved -- "-- let's just go!" She moved: her charge followed. Past three waiters, and fields which weren't quite up on the news nearly lost their trays as the mares galloped by. Fleur just barely diverted past the unlucky stallion who'd chosen that exact moment to leave the restroom, but the kitchen doors were right there and then it was steam and pots and ponies staring at the intruders into their domain. "What are you doing?" the sous shouted, because a sous was automatically going to be good at that. "No patrons in the kitchen! Are you trying to gallop out on your bill --" Fleur's horn ignited. A flare of field went for her left saddlebag, flung a voucher at the angry mare. "Code Vlad! Code Vlad!" The sous' face changed. Ears rotated towards the dining area, picked up on the sounds of increasing desperation. The sheer power of the wince had her snout seemingly collapsing inwards towards the skull, which somehow still allowed the jaw to work. "Pasta boilers and turn right! We'll try to buy you some time!" Because there were situations where Fleur's beauty turned her into the enemy -- and then there were simply times when every mare had to unite as one. "Make sure you tip yourself! Heavily!" And then they were galloping, the door was right there, but that voice was speaking again, it was getting closer -- "-- who was that? Was that somepony who was being talked about? She almost looked..." Several dozen curses went through Fleur's mind: the ones which were in Equestrian got as far as her throat. "-- horse apples!" A one-track train of thought had potentially chosen its route and if he was actually going to follow them, a single-minded pursuit being conducted with one functional brain cell -- -- through the door, into an alley because no matter how rich this part of Canterlot was, a restaurant's back door always opened onto windowless alley: trash needed to be put out and cats had to eat somewhere. They had a fairly clear shot to the street, but he would be expecting that. He didn't have the imagination to expect anything else, and she heard Fluttershy's wings rustling as they ran -- -- we're out of options. Fleur's horn ignited. The white stallion poked his head out of the back door. He looked around. He sniffed. A refined snout registered the presence of refuse while once again failing to place its owner into the category. "Mare?" he inquired. None of the garbage deigned to answer him, although it was possible to see some of the older cans trying to twitch away. His snout wrinkled again. A magnificent mane came fully into the dim light, followed shortly by a body which was covered in clothing that was slightly too tight. Anypony who made things for him eventually started making them in the wrong size, and he'd never figured out why. "Mare?" he repeated, because he could only manage so many words in a short span. And with a sniff of disgust, he began to pick his way through the alley, head slowly shifting from side to side. "Mare?" He reached the street, turned left, thought better (or more likely, nothing) of it. Trotted off to the right, using the single syllable as sonar. Fleur, peering down from the rim off the roof, finally exhaled. "Sic pereant..." emerged as a low mutter, and then she turned to check on her charge. "Are you all right?" "...yes." "I'm sorry." It was sincere. There was no way not to be sorry. "He's sort of -- a special hazard around here. You do what you can do to avoid him, but eventually, just about everypony has to deal with --" "-- Blueblood," Fluttershy finished, and shivered again. Fleur blinked. They had already chorused. This time, the hesitation simply echoed. "...how do you know Blueblood?" Feathers rustled, and the incredible tail curled in on itself. "...the Gala." That was worth another blink. "You were at the Gala? What year --" "...1272," Fluttershy shakily replied. The year before Fleur's arrival. She'd only heard stories about that party, fear-distorted young legends about something which had made it safe from Blueblood forever after... "The one where the columns collapsed?" "...it wasn't Rainbow's fault." Two blinks. "...it's -- a long story." Which means she isn't going to tell any of it -- And then Fluttershy smiled. Fleur looked at that smile, something which had happened with her charge's full face exposed to the world. The simple quietness of it. A sincerity which didn't know how to be anything else. "...I guess you could say," Fluttershy went on, adding a small shrug just before the smile became brighter, "it wasn't funny at the time..." It took some time to hear all of it. There were interruptions: extra stores, a few times when neither wanted anypony else to overhear, added to extended breaks for giggling. And by the time it finished, they were back on the train, with their saddlebags full, legs weary, and Sun about to depart from the sky. "...there's a code," Fluttershy softly laughed as she settled onto her bench. (Fleur noticed a little twitch in the left hind leg, along with the passage of an extra second before the pegasus curled it in.) "When did that start?" "It's been around for a while," Fleur admitted. "Long enough to predate me. It just doesn't get used at the Gala because it's supposed to be sort of -- neutral ground. Gossip is kept to a minimum, and anypony with an invitation is welcome. Even if you only get it because your family was never taken off the mailing list. But he stopped coming after the cake hit him. He's got a very selective memory, Vlad --" "-- why 'Vlad'?" "Vladimir Blueblood. That's his full name." Fleur shrugged, then settled onto her own bench within the half-full train car. "Not that he remembers it most of the time. I doubt he can bother to recall what happened to him at the Gala either, especially since it made him look worse than usual. But in that case, it's enough that everypony else remembers." "...poor Rarity," Fluttershy smiled, because it had been just enough time for even that to become funny. (For Fleur, the duration required would have been something less than a second.) "Is he really a Prince?" "He's a noble. Or at least he's in that bloodline. But the way somepony explained it to me, a lot of the old Houses demanded concessions for joining Equestria during the Unification. Most of them didn't get much unless they had strategic territory. But just about everypony kept their titles. There was a Prince in his line, centuries ago, and... they kept using it, right up until they realized how stupid it sounded without the wings. But he tried to bring it back, because he wants ponies to think he's on that level. He thinks that much of himself." And because it had to be said, "When he thinks at all. Oh, and no matter what he says, he isn't related to the Princess. Not past the level where everypony might be related to everypony else." Trace every family tree back far enough, and some of the roots would tangle. "...is he on the blacklist?" Two passing mares glanced at them upon hearing the words. Fleur's tail lashed them away. "Not quite. He's actually --" and she winced "-- mandatory." "...mandatory?" "He can hire escorts," Fleur continued. "Just not the same one twice, and it never reaches his bedroom. He's sort of a final exam for the mare side. If you can put up with him for an hour, there's a good chance you'll never have to do anything worse." It meant she'd been near Blueblood long enough to solve his puzzle (but not much longer, and she'd been told that she'd come within four minutes of the record), and there hadn't been much there. A stallion that conceited was mostly concerned about how his companion could make him look better. He felt the greatest attraction to himself, and to directly encounter a female version of his own form would mostly lead to extended arguments over access to the mirror. He was impossible to blackmail. Everypony knew about him, and he was too stupid to care. Fluttershy giggled again. "...so you had a night with him." "Yes." "...are you going to tell me about it?" Fleur smiled. "Maybe when it's funny." The train began to move, wheels sending little jolts up through the benches. Fluttershy winced. "...thank you. For the day." "Thanks for coming with me." Advertising posters began to slide past the windows. "...and thank you for stopping at the butcher before we left. I didn't know there was a butcher in the Heart..." "Gristle's hasn't been there long," Fleur noted. "But ponies are getting used to the place now, more or less. Some even get their pet food there." "...he's very nice. I've never met a nice griffon..." "I did promise to replace the meat." All of which was being shipped, and Fluttershy had unsurprisingly been familiar with every last cut. "And his stock is gallops better than what you had. If you need something else, we use him. The other shop in the capital barely has any selection at all." There had once been a pair of poorly-suited competitors, but one had gone out of business: Gerald Gristle had responded by hiring the entire staff and putting them on the morning shift. The posters were speeding by now, and a flash of angle-lowered fading light took them out of the station. "What hurts?" "...sorry?" Fleur repressed the sigh. "Every time the train hits a bump, your whole body jumps. What hurts?" Several buildings came and went. "...I'm just sore," the pegasus admitted. "It was a long day. I'm usually on my hooves that long, but there's less trotting, my saddlebags are full, and -- I'm just sore, that's all. My muscles are tight. But I'll be okay after I sleep --" "-- will you let me help you?" She didn't realize she was leaning forward until after the words came out. Her horn was partway across the gap between benches, her charge was just looking at her... "...I'm trying to," Fluttershy softly replied. "...it's -- not easy. But I'm trying..." "I need a yes or no," said the mare who was still feeling somewhat more relaxed. In control, because the best things were with her again and still. "I can't do anything unless you let me." Fluttershy looked around. Up and down the aisle. "...I'm not sure who you want me to date here." Fleur shook her head. "Help with the pain." Followed by, just a little more quietly, "Please?" Sun began its final dip. There was no guarantee of return. "...yes. You went into that pharmacy, so if you're carrying mchanga or --" Fleur's horn ignited, and saddlebags moved. Fluttershy stared. "...why are you taking off my --" The pink glow carefully deposited them next to the window, then moved again. Spread out, carefully coating every feather. "...what are you doing?" And there was nothing more than confusion within the question. No fear. "Why are you putting me in your field? You don't have to carry me home --" Fluttershy paused. Looked at the glow as it moved across her tail, and shivered slightly. "...this is -- it doesn't feel like..." Paused, took a breath. "When it's Twilight... there's a tingle. Like one of my legs is falling asleep, only it's my whole body." "It's like that with me, too," Fleur quietly said. "With every unicorn. Most of the time." "...so why not now? And why wrap me so tightly? It just feels..." The pegasus looked at her own flank, and the single visible eye focused on the fur of the mark. Fur which was vibrating, when the mare was no longer shivering at all. "...soft," Fluttershy decided. "It feels -- soft." How long has it been since I -- It was something perfectly suited for an escort. It could be argued as the ideal match of effect to profession, and yet... she just hadn't used it. How long had it been? Before she'd arrived in Canterlot. Before she'd stopped trying to fly. Before. "Every unicorn has a trick," Fleur softly reminded her. Something the caster just knew how to do, magic born from the core of personality and need. Hard to teach, occasionally impossible to duplicate, and while most tricks repeated across the centuries, Fleur had never met anypony who matched hers. Some were basic, while others had power behind them. But for so many, it would be the first spell, and there were times when it was the best one. "This," a filly said across the chasm of years, "is mine." The pegasus was no longer shivering. The corona was. Tiny waves of light coruscated along the inner surface. Lumens vibrated, and that gentle movement was conducted to the fur and skin below. Fluttershy softly gasped. Fleur, feeling the tension through her field, carefully directed the vibrations (and there was a low hum now, like somepony holding a single note through a long breath) to where the tightness was the worst. "...they're loosening. It... it feels better." Fleur silently nodded. "It feels -- good." Why haven't I used it? Because there were only two reasons for doing so. And nopony had been worthy of either one. The train started to make its way towards Ponyville, with Moon's glow reflected from the outer surface of the windows while gentle pink light played across the inner. It was bringing one mare to her home, and the other back to her prison. In both cases, there was a long way to go.