//------------------------------//
// A return to moon piracy 
// Story: House of the Rising Sunflower 
// by kudzuhaiku 
//------------------------------//

Sundance knew what needed to be done, even if he wasn't sure how to go about doing it. While his nose pointed in Pluck's direction, his eyes were on the fuzzy alphabet blocks, something he wished he had as a foal. They made for a fine fort, though he imagined it would be difficult for a small foal to stack them. A team effort might make it a bit easier however, but Sundance was an only-foal. With no brothers or sisters, he would have struggled to make a fortress from the fuzzy alphabet blocks. Perhaps that was the point of these blocks; to make the little ones work together until the bonds of siblinghood were established. 

A blink, and then another. He didn't like his own plan, even though he knew it to be necessary. It wasn't much of a plan, just something he'd thought up on the spot, something motivated by gut instinct and what was sure to be what other ponies called his wisdom—though he still had some doubts about being wise. A wise pony didn't slalom the stacks. The wise and clever played it safe. Or maybe wisdom was more about managing the risks to minimise danger. His eyes traveled to Pluck once more, who was scratching behind his scarred ear with his hind hoof. 

The carpet beneath him was more rough than soft. Doctor's office carpet, or bank lobby carpet. Stuff made to last, made to wear well so it would never need to be replaced. It would end up a victim of its own endurance, for certain. A few decades from now, the carpet would be horribly out of date, the style of yesteryear, a forgotten relic from a no longer fashionable past. This room too would suffer an awful fate and become a place frozen in time. Just like his grandmother's apartment with its groovy gold tiles, harvest gold fridge, peach prosperity drapes, and avocado avalanche toilet, all of which came before a time that Sundance could not remember, but he could still swear that he was there. 

"Pluck, there is something I need you to do for me." 

"Yeah?" 

The colt seemed pretty cool in his response, and Sundance hesitated before he said, "Just a little favour." 

"What do you want?" 

"I want you to convince Flax to come home with me." 

The cocky look on the colt's face went away and he trained his one eye upon Sundance. Something that was almost anger could be seen for the briefest of moments, but that was replaced by an unreadable expression of cold calm. Silent Thunder, who sat near the doorway, turned his head to look at his earth pony companion for a short time, and then focused all of his attention on Sundance. 

"Now why would I want to do that?" asked Pluck. 

"Because"—Sundance was careful to keep his eyes on the fort, and not on the floor—"you say that you're Flax's brother, and brothers do what is best for their sisters." 

"I'm not sure this is best for her." 

"No," Sundance replied, his voice low and steady, "I don't think that's true." 

Pluck's mouth formed a straight, thin line just above his scarred, dimpled chin. 

"I think," Sundance began, "that you know that this is a good chance for Flax. She's too little to make this choice on her own, the staff here knows that, and you, you know that. I know that. All of us know that. So the real decision is all about three brothers doing what is best for their baby sister. This is your test, not mine. What we're doing right now determines what sort of big brothers you are. Can you give her a future? That's what we're doing here, I'm pretty sure of that. So, can you?" 

He squirmed a bit, shifted around a bit, and then Pluck sat up tall. Almost defiant, he folded his forelegs over his barrel, squinted his surviving eye, and then in silence, he stared at Sundance with an almost blank expression of thoughtfulness. Sundance, for his part, felt a bit like throwing up. Was he right? He might be. Even with his confident words, he wasn't wholly certain that he was correct. If he was wrong, all of this might blow up in his face. 

"You can't care for her with no future of your own," Sundance continued, his voice still steady. "If you want to provide for her, you must secure your own future, and I can give you that. That's a promise, Pluck… I will give you a future, one full of promise and hope. Take that for yourself, and you'll be able give her the future that you want for her. Turn me down and you blow the opportunity of a lifetime… and for what, exactly? Gerard and Silent Thunder were easy to convince because they're thinking of Flax. The fact that they're getting something out of it is secondary. They're doing this for her, but also getting something for themselves." 

"Thunder, is this true?" Pluck asked of his silent companion. 

The stormy pegasus turned away, his eyes aimed at the ceiling. His wings slapped against his sides, and one of his front hooves tapped against the floor. Clearly uncomfortable, he shifted to the right, then to the left, and then back to the right again. Then, with a slow turn of his head, Silent Thunder turned to face Pluck and offered up a brief almost imperceptible nod. This lasted for only a few seconds, and then the pegasus colt's expression returned to lemon chewing and thunder spitting. 

"A lot of ponies have made promises to me," Pluck said to Sundance. "Not many of them were kept. I don't want that to happen to Flax. She's a donkey, and I'm an earth pony, and ain't either one of us has much of a future. So I'm doubtful about your promise. I want to believe you… I really do. But your promise is just words… there's nothing to them. No mention of what sort of future. It's just words. Just words. Just a promise of some future without saying what that future is. So I'm not convinced. I'm doomed to a dead end so it will be the one I choose." 

These words caused a feeling of heaviness to settle over Sundance's heart. 

"It doesn't have to be this way, Pluck. Twilight and I… we're working on the future. Not just for earth ponies, but for all ponies. For everybody. She and I, we might be doing the most important work ever done. I've been given an impossible task, a job so big that I can't even understand it. I need helpers. What I need are ponies like you. If you come with me, I will put you to work. Important work. Like I said, it might just be the most important work of all. I need envoys. Diplomats. I need ponies that can talk to and read others. Come with me, and that's the sort of work that you'll be doing." 

Pluck somehow remained dubious. 

"Look… envoys and delegates and those types keep showing up at my door and I am at a severe disadvantage because I really don't have any of my own. What I need is a smooth talker that will treat the whole of the barony like their little sister, and do what is right and necessary for all of us. That's the future I'm offering. I can give that to you. If I don't step up my diplomacy game, I'm boned. And if I'm boned, then all I provide for, they're boned too. You think it's hard to look after your little sister? You should try my job. If I make a mistake, I could ruin lives. Maybe even end lives. I need somepony that understands that to help me. Are you that pony? If not, tell me no." 

"Pluck, it is time to go on an adventure and—" 

"That's funny advice, Captain Barf Buzzard. You're the one that tells me I need to stop daydreaming and get my head out of the clouds." 

A feathered head poked out of the alphabet block fortress. It wasn't a bald vulture as Sundance expected, but something else entirely. His beak almost seemed fuzzy, furry even, and his red-gold eyes darted to and fro as he emerged. Gerard was big—imposingly so. Griffons were larger than ponies for the most part, and Gerard was no tiny tot. Sundance couldn't tell how old the griffon was, but he wasn't young. If anything, he was on the verge of adolescence perhaps, or was. Sundance understood right away the trouble that Gerard faced; he wasn't small enough to be considered cute and desirable, but he wasn't old enough to be truly on his own. 

Gerard had a bearded beak; it was fascinating. 

"Pluck… I'm only going to say this once. You want to grow up and be the next Daring Do. Well, that's not happening. This is the next best thing. If you turn this down, you're an idiot, and we'll all suffer for that." The griffon's long, delicate talons twitched and tapped against the carpet. "You will never get an offer like this ever again from anyone. A baron is offering you a position in his court. Don't be a moron." 

Rolling his eyes, Pluck huffed out a sharp exhale. 

"I get that you don't trust him," Gerard continued, his red-gold eyes still darting about in every conceivable direction. "And if it were anyone else, I would say that your lack of trust is justified. But I trust him… and you, you should trust me. Don't be a moron, Pluck." 

"You know, Gerard… if you keep this up, you might just find yourself working alongside him." As Sundance spoke, the griffon's piercing eyes focused on him and it was almost a distraction. "I was told that you're the voice of reason." 

"I had no other choice but to become that," the young griffon replied. 

"Care to explain?" asked Sundance. 

"I'm a big scary griffon," Gerard replied. "Keep me away from the foals, because I'll eat them the first chance I get. I'm dangerous. Practically a monster." Again his talons twitched against the carpet. "Reason hasn't helped me as much as I'd've liked, but I'll not abandon it. Got me this far. I am a griffon the same way that Pluck is an earth pony. The world will always see me as a griffon, and he'll always be an earth pony, and Flax will always be a donkey. Assumptions will always be made about us. Reason is all I have… it was choose reason or violence and anger, and violence makes me queasy. So reason it is, then. And I've been trying to teach Pluck and Flax to also choose reason. Anger isn't going to get them anywhere." 

"And what about Silent Thunder?" asked Sundance. 

"What about him?" replied Gerard. "He's the angriest of us all. All mute fury. I am trying to stay his anger. For Flax, Pluck, and myself, we struggle to be heard because of who and what we are. Thunder, he can't be heard at all. I know exactly how that feels. I do, I really do." 

After he lifted his head, Sundance rose into an upright sitting position and then made himself comfortable. Head tilted off to the left, he carefully considered the young griffon for a short time, and then turned his attention to Silent Thunder. After some time in thought, he studied Pluck all while he reconsidered his promise that he made. These four were whatever they were because they were together. However broken they might be, they made one satisfying whole—just like the rest of the residents in his barony. 

"Actually," he began, "after some reconsideration, I think I need to change my promise—" 

Pluck sighed and looked away. 

"—because all of you are at your best together. Sending Pluck off alone to be my voice would be a mistake, I think. It would be for the best if you all worked together, I think. Even you, Thunder. I am almost pretty positive that having a mute delegate would be a statement on its own. To be a voice for those who have none. I understand that you're young, and that maybe all of this is confusing… but it could be something we work towards. A goal. If it doesn't work out, that's fine. But my gut says to keep you together." 

Now, after all that was said, Pluck's attitude had changed somewhat. While his expression was difficult to read, he no longer seemed as hostile. In fact, he was almost receptive, though still guarded and doubtful. Sundance knew that he had his work cut out for him, but the work would be done because he would return home with four more lives than he'd left with. In the back of his mind, a small voice suggested that it wasn't Twilight Velvet who'd sent him here, but the tree itself. Through the tree, the barony was securing its own future. 

Sundance was proud to be its agent. 

"The last time I was adopted, I was promised that it'd be different," Pluck said. "A nice ranch. The earth pony way of life. I would be happy, they said. An awful lot of promises were made." 

After hearing this, Sundance was left at a loss for words. 

"What I got was sun-baked work from sunup to sundown. If you didn't work, you didn't eat. Mostly, I was just ignored. There was no love there. No sense of family. I lived in a hot bunkhouse with all the others. So much for promises. Now, more promises are being made. Really big promises." 

"This is a different situation, Pluck," Gerard said to the earth pony colt. "The ponies here are trying to make sure that those mistakes aren't repeated. We should trust that." 

"But what if I get hurt again?" Pluck demanded. "The last time promises got broken, it cost me an eye. What about—" 

"Pluck, I'm sorry to do this, but you cost yourself an eye. You were reckless and brash. You were careless. The neglect was just an excuse to escape into fantasy. But the reality didn't work out. If you say no right now, you're just running off into the cactus patch again. What's it going to cost you this time? What are you prepared to lose? Are you going to take us with you when you go? What will we lose? We all promised to make sure that Flax got a good home. Are you going to keep your promise?" 

All of Pluck's defenses crumpled. Sundance saw it plain as day. The colt slumped over, shrunk down, and turned away from Gerard's piercing gaze. He even seemed younger somehow, smaller, more vulnerable. All of the confidence that made him seem older and canny was gone, just like that, and Pluck was stripped bare. It all came down to promises. Life was full of promises and your goodness, or lack thereof, was all about the promises you kept—or failed to keep. 

Beyond that, life was also about the risks you took. 

After all those broken promises, Pluck was stuck with risk. 

Risk was something that Sundance had an innate understanding of, his exciting landings were proof of that. During his stint as a medical courier, he flew on days when other couriers refused. Why, he was practically a postpony. While he liked to tell himself that he did what needed to be done to keep the lights on and to keep the rent paid… all of that was bogus. He did it for the thrill and not because he was responsible with a sense of duty. 

Now, he found himself in quite a different space. 

To be responsible and because of his sense of duty, he had to take incredible risks. 

"I made promises to Princess Celestia," Sundance said, his voice wavering in pitch and tone. "And promises to Princess Twilight Sparkle. If I'm honest, I don't even know if I can keep those promises… but I plan to try. What else can I do? The promises I make towards you are no different than the promises I made to the princesses. The consequences are no less real. If I fail you, then I fail them, and that's a heavy thing. A promise is a promise is a promise. It doesn't matter who you make them with, or how, or why… all that matters is that you keep them. I've almost died trying to keep my promises. One day, I might actually die trying to keep my promises. Odds are good. I have no idea where I'm going with this." 

"Pluck, I want to go home." Gerard's scarlet and gold eyes focused solely upon the earth pony colt. "It's a place I've never been. This place, as nice as it is, isn't it. I've been in a lot of places, just like you, and this place is the nicest. But we can't stay here forever. One day, I'll be too old to stay here, and I'll be out on my own. Thunder and Flax, they're little. We have to get them out of here and into someplace normal. You remember what our therapist said about becoming institutionalised. Look what that's done to us. Do you want that for them?" 

"No," Pluck whispered. "I don't." 

"They can still be normal even if we can't," Gerard said to Pluck. "Now, can we end this and go back to pretending that we're kids again? This is stressful and I already feel queasy. I'd rather be a moon pirate." 

Defeated, Pluck sighed, shrugged once, and then stared down at the floor. "Fine. We'll go. I don't feel great about it, but you're right. You're always right. I can't even remember a time when you've been wrong, Gerard. But you'd better be right about this, or you will never hear the end of it. There's a reason I'm called Motormouth. I will never, ever let you hear the end of it if you're wrong. We're putting Flax on the line and she'll pay for our mistakes—" 

"No, we're not. Pluck, we're giving her a life. That's what we promised to do. We're keeping a promise. Things might not turn out like we hope, but I don't think things will turn out wrong. We can't look at every snag and hangup as betrayal, either. Flax and Thunder can be happy. They're still young enough to recover from all of this. You and I though, we'll have to make do. But we could be happy with what we do for them. We could be happy." 

Sullen, Pluck sighed but said nothing to refuse. 

"We'll come with you," Gerard said to Sundance. "Try not to worry about Pluck. He'll come around and the happy act will return. One day, it might even be real. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to bring Flax out so that you two can get to know each other." 

"I'd like that," Sundance replied. "Really glad we settled this. I was starting to get pretty stressed out myself…"