//------------------------------// // The Homemaker // Story: Mothering, Someday // by Impossible Numbers //------------------------------// Surprisingly, Derpy’s cottage looked perfectly ordinary. Velvet had half-expected a chaotic mess… and as soon as she thought that, she chided herself. Especially as they drew closer. The thatch on the roof couldn’t have been more finely smoothed down if a lawnmower had tamed it. The windows shone so brightly they were mirrors; Velvet saw her own astonishment gaping back. The walls had been painted over too. Either the house was new, or the coat was fresh again. Someone loved this house down to the details. Two exceptional things, though: first was a “Home Sweet Home” welcome mat, with three hugging ponies embroidered between the words. There was no mistaking Derpy’s gleeful mug holding court in the middle, and the two unicorns on either side must’ve been her daughters – one showing as much wide eye as grinning teeth, the other miserly with both and resigned to being dragged into this nonsense. It wasn’t exactly master craftsmareship. The stitching suggested jittery hooves, the muffins decorating it suggested an extremely incompetent and possibly blind baker, and the pony proportions suggested the residents suffered from dented skulls, bunny teeth, and bobble head syndrome. Against the tight care of the rest of the house, this bit of sloppiness drew the eye like a drop of toxic sludge on an otherwise immaculate dining jacket. Second was a cloud hovering over the house. Velvet hadn’t been sure at first, until they drew closer to the welcome mat. “That’s where I sleep!” said Derpy, pointing up. Velvet reminded herself she was dealing with a pegasus. “Oh, right,” she said. “I sleep up there every spring, summer, and fall.” “What about winter?” said Velvet before her brain woke up in time. Derpy gave her half a funny look – the other eye gave it to the cloud overhead. “Just because my thoughts are all muddly, doesn’t mean I’m that muddled.” “Well, what do you do when it rains?” “Move the cloud higher.” “So what’s so different about snow?” “Who said anything about snow? It’s winter. I only tried sleeping in boots and scarves once, and once was once too many onces.” Velvet wilted. Against all expectation, she was losing the “Don’t Be An Idiot” Contest against Derpy. More gently, Derpy pointed at the upper floors. “I got a spare bedroom when I don’t want to sleep outside. Honestly, I just don’t know how ponies do it. The bedroom always seems too cramped for me. Ah well, at least it’s somewhere out of the cold, right?” Bright-eyed, she added, “Come on, come on in! I’ll get the kettle!” Derpy unlocked the door on the third try and second fumble. “Head into the living room.” She nodded to her right. “I’ve just got to drop my things off.” “You’re back early,” echoed a muffled voice raised from the living room. Calm, mildly miffed, the voice a cat might use, wondering why its owner – nice as it was to see her owner again – had still neglected to let her out before leaving. “I’ll tell you all about it!” Derpy shouted back, and she winked at Velvet. In an undertone, she added, “That’s Ammy. Go say hello. I bet she’ll be so surprised.” As she hurried up to a flapping rush, she flew up the stairs immediately on her left and, in turn, left Velvet to step cautiously into the cool shelter from the spring sunshine. She dropped her saddlebag by the umbrella stand. At least now the thorny golden roses wouldn’t keep attacking her side. Same tender loving care, inside as outside. When Derpy had bounced, grunting, off the bannister, she had left a scuff on an otherwise perfect piece of patina-kissed woodcraft. Cramped – Velvet almost had to squeeze along the hall to reach any other doors – but oddly cosy and comfortable, as if the pale wallpaper wanted to give her a hug. The hall, despite its narrowness, held a little table to put the house’s heart on full display: a framed picture, standing up proudly, of three ponies and their various attempts at a smile. Velvet had never seen a table so free of dust. Such was its shine that she wondered if it had been caramelized. A thump from the living room. Curiosity tugged Velvet forwards as if by the whiskers. Her hoofsteps patted on the bare floorboards. She might have been on the deck of a family ship. “Only one message for you so far,” said the calm, mildly miffed voice. Velvet looked up. Between the sofa, the fireplace, the table, and the chairs, a unicorn dusted the upper shelves of a Squelch dresser. Yet despite the horn, she used her hooves to handle it. She had her back to Velvet, evidently focused on her task. The room was so devoid of dust, blazing with polish, and guarded by a garden of carefully arranged floral scents – Velvet noticed a couple of rose vases keeping watch on the windowsill – that Velvet herself felt she’d be brushed, broomed, dusted, and swept out of the room at any moment. Dutifully, the unicorn continued talking. “Golden Harvest was here just now, but I told her you were out. I don’t suppose you spotted her?” Velvet said nothing. She’d never seen a more ruthless dusting stroke. Dirt was too terrified to stay on the shelves. “Before you ask, Mom, I’ve nearly finished. I would have had the kettle boiling, but since you’re back early…” This must be the one called Amethyst, thought Velvet; from the way Derpy talked, I can’t imagine a “Dinky” accusing someone of being early. Mischief prompted her to remain quiet. Amethyst’s ear twitched. “Something wrong, Mom?” Then excited voices ran out and gambolled upstairs. Through the ceiling, the unmistakable Derpy shouted, “Yes! I brought a friend home, Dinky!” Amethyst stopped dusting. She rounded on Velvet’s mildly amused smile. Which dropped, caught by surprise. A couple of pictures did not compare to the real deal. For one thing, Velvet had somehow expected someone like Amethyst to be much darker, more brooding. That didn’t naturally come with a face that was pink, and blushing pinker under a morning’s spring cleaning. Violently violet manes, though, especially one with a royal streak of purple over an ear as if tucked away for a later coronation, would do the trick. Only then did Velvet find herself staring into the buzz-saw eyes of dark purple, and the buzz-saw eyes stared back. Dark and brooding enough on their own. Velvet’s gaze jumped down. Amethyst wore an apron. Frilly. Pinker than pink. With a golden heart right in the middle. To her credit, Amethyst unfroze fast, but only from one ice to another. She followed Velvet’s gaze, iced up sharp, ripped the apron off, and cracked. “Who exactly are –?” In that split second, Amethyst and Velvet caught the same realization in their stares together. “You!” Amethyst’s voice broke. “What are you doing here?” Velvet stiffened, half-reined in by the equine instinct to back away skittishly. “I’m here for Mare’s Day. Derpy invited me over.” “What? Why? You’re not part of –” But Amethyst’s mind could outrun Derpy’s even if delayed by half the course. “No, wait, let me guess: you just met her today.” “Er, yes.” “While you were out visiting Twi–” “Someone else,” said Velvet. The momentary lapse of anger chilled: Amethyst’s glower swung from Velvet to apron and back like a cocked crossbow. “I know you. Twilight Velvet,” said Amethyst as though reading off a police file. “Dame Twilight Velvet, former professor of history and literature at the University of Canterlot. And Twilight Sparkle’s mother.” And Twilight Sparkle’s mother, thought Velvet gloomily. “Of course,” muttered Amethyst darkly, as excited voices competed with hoofsteps thundering down the stairs. “Ironic.” The “ironic” stung Velvet into life. “I’m sorry if I disturbed you,” she said, and offered the olive branch between her beaming lips. “You’ve done amazing work on this house. I wish my Shin– my son could’ve taken tips from you.” The ice completely failed to break in Amethyst’s face. Derpy collapsed into the room and flopped over Velvet’s shoulder. “Ammy! This is my new friend Velvet. She’s lovely.” Amethyst snatched up the scrunched-up apron. With her hooves, Velvet noticed again. Not her horn. “I know who she is,” snapped Amethyst, brushing past them with offended tail rising. “I’m not blind.” The two of them watched her kick through another door. “Er…” said Derpy. Worried, Velvet turned to her. “Did I do something wrong?” “No! No, never, no. Don’t you worry about her. Ammy’s a good soul deep down. She… just… doesn’t like surprises sometimes. She’ll warm up soon. Give her time.” A grim thought bubbled to the surface. There had been loud excited voices, but… “So you know each other?” said Derpy. “Sort of. You didn’t hear what she was saying just now, did you?” said Velvet. “Not really.” Derpy shrugged. On Velvet’s shoulder, the catching skin almost made her shrug in turn. “Oh. Right. Excuse me one second, please…” Velvet broke away, pushed through to the kitchen, pushed the door shut behind her, and before Amethyst could round on her, hastily whispered, “I’m sorry if I offended you just now, but could I ask for a small favour?” Amethyst looked her up and down. As a professor of history and literature, Velvet had been familiar with various ancient myths and legends, and most of the more gruesome had come from the afterlife beliefs of the great desert empires. One such belief held that, on reaching the end of a post-death journey, a pony’s heart would be weighed against a feather. Any heart much too heavy to trouble the blessings of paradise with would be turned over to a monster, whose metaphysical diet had devoured many a sleepless night and victim dream. Amethyst could have left that monster whimpering under its blankie. Eternal heartlessness was a nap in bed compared to the split-second damnation of her eyes, those underworld lakes where even the ferry pony wouldn’t give you tuppence for your chances, however much you begged and bribed. She wouldn’t bother with your heart. She’d go straight for you. Eventually, she said, “What favour?” “I’m Velvet. Just Velvet,” she added, when Amethyst’s gaze narrowed in snap judgement. “No one else has worked out I’m Twilight Velvet. I want to keep it that way for as long as possible. Please? For today?” Amethyst jutted. Her jaw leaned away from the rest of her face, her eyes were slits in the cracks of a glacier, and her head turned aside slightly as if to better scrutinize Velvet by sidling up to her. “You’re avoiding something,” she murmured. Velvet heard the question behind the statement, and the army of accusations waiting for a signal behind that. “I don’t want to make a fuss,” Velvet said. The stare was weighing parts of her she barely wanted seen, let alone put on scales. Nerves compelled her to add, “How did you recognize me so fast?” “I used to study at that university,” said Amethyst. “What? When I was there?” “No. After you left. One of my tutors mentioned you and showed me a photo. And I’ve seen you long before anyway, when I was applying for Celestia’s School.” Then Velvet remembered. Yes, that was it. That must have been it. One of Twilight’s… “friends”, if that’s what you could call another face in her class. Further back than that, Velvet had accompanied her little Twilight for the entrance exam, the Draconian Test. She hadn’t remembered much else; Twilight’s magical surges, when excited, tended to make any other details a bit beside the point. But of course there would have been other students trying their luck, wouldn’t there? No reason for them not to see her coming or going. And looking at Amethyst right now, there was no doubt she’d have been practically taking police notes. “I recall you were a big name in Canterlot early on,” said Amethyst thoughtfully. “Till a bigger one took over, I’ll bet.” “I didn’t get out in Canterlot much.” A worried thought occurred to Velvet. “How about in Ponyville? Does anyone know me here?” Amethyst said nothing. Neither did snipers on the brink of firing. “Uh… huh?” said Velvet, trying to sound neutral and not like she was rubbing it in anyone’s face at all. Yet Amethyst’s face crystallized sharply. “Trying to be humble, are we? Making up for something?” Uh oh. That’s what she’s getting at, Velvet realized. “No, no,” she said quickly, “I don’t mean that! It’s just…” There was no point lying to that stare. It could think up a dozen crimes before Velvet had worked out how to protest her innocence. “I just don’t want to be ‘Princess Twilight Sparkle’s mother’ for a while.” She dragged the confession out of herself and threw it, and who cared by now if it was spared or devoured? The scales in Amethyst’s eyes dipped warningly. Then, gently, calmly, with the inevitability of mass and gravity, they rose back up. Edges and jutting became straight and steady as Amethyst awarded her a full head-on gaze. “Don’t take it the wrong way.” Velvet fumbled around her own words. “I do love my girl. Only, after so much has happened so fast… Well, you can imagine. I want to be… well, me… for a change. Just Velvet. You understand? Right?” Nor was that hard to believe: Amethyst had a calculating look that owed nothing to Night Light’s giddy passion around complex equations but was indebted to several blades’ worth of incision. And true to catlike form, she suddenly pretended to be bored by the whole thing and turned tail. “Go sit down, Miss Velvet,” she said carelessly. “I’ll put the kettle on. I take it Mom invited you to tea, coffee, or hot chocolate?” Miss Velvet. So far so good. “Thanks. Cappuccino, please, if you have it, please.” “Cappuccino. Right. I’ll bring it in directly.” Velvet sensed a reprieve and backed out of the kitchen as politely as desperation would allow. She still noticed Amethyst used her hooves to manage the tea things, but at one point her horn did light up to catch a falling teabag. So… voluntary non-magic? Velvet pushed through the door to the hall and had it rebound in her face. Someone on the other side said, “Oof!”