//------------------------------// // The Dominator // Story: House of the Rising Sunflower // by kudzuhaiku //------------------------------// Sundance had never compared a mare to a living slab of chocolate before, but then again, he'd never actually ran into a mare that was, in fact, a living slab of chocolate. Pebble Pie was a mare hewn from chocolate rock and given life. Broad withers, legs like trees, a neck as girthy and as solid as his barrel—she was stunning perfection. At the moment, she seemed to be studying him, just as he studied her, but he did what he did for all of the wrong reasons. Before he could make a fool of himself, he gave himself a silent reminder that this was Sumac's wife—and just like that, the spell was broken. Freed, but not at all recovered, Sundance turned away to look at the statue of the two sisters instead.  Without a word, Vinyl Scratch departed.  So this was her. The mare that dominated the leaderboard. She embodied earth pony perfection. Awkwardly, Sundance hazarded another look at her and then had trouble tearing his eyes away. She wore a dark dull green smock that highlighted her dark-coffee chocolate brown hide in all the right ways. It wasn't the fancy sort of clothing that one might expect on a lady, but plain, practical garb. Before his brain could betray him, he took a deep breath and reined himself in.  "You're not what I expected," she deadpanned. "Both Sumac and Silver Lining have said so much about you. You are nothing like what I pictured in my head."  "Oh," he replied. This felt wrong however, and so he searched for something else to say. "Where is Silver Lining anyhow? I miss her. Would be nice to see her."  "She's with Sumac, in Canterlot. Hopefully, she's giving him a headache."  What a curious thing to say, Sundance thought to himself.  "Please, follow me," Pebble said. "Let us go somewhere more comfortable. This room is nice for setting a mood, perhaps. But it messes with me if I stay too long. While it is important for you to see this, I think it would be better for both of us if we talk elsewhere."  "Sure," he replied. "Lead the way."    The parlour—if it could be called that, Sundance could not recall ever sitting in a parlour—was cosy and comfortable. The Chapel of Night was connected to a shaped tree and the parlour was inside of the massive, bulbous trunk. It was much like Grandmother Oak back home. Sundance had questions—so many questions, such as how did a pony keep warm inside of a hollow tree in the middle of winter? Did it get cold in here? How would Paradox keep warm come winter? Trees shaped into houses seemed terribly impractical.  "So you came to learn how to fight," Pebble deadpanned.  "Yes." He offered up a polite bob of his head. "Um, Vinyl Scratch, she uh, she said that she would take me to see Megara."  "But now you're here with me."  "Um…" His attempt to speak trailed off.  "As circumstances would have it, not too long before you arrived, my sister went and picked a fight with a roc that's been causing some problems and poaching livestock. It was given a fair warning and was told quite plainly in roc-talk that if it continued to cause problems, it would be dealt with. Harshly. Right now, she's still probably scrubbing roc gizzards out of her mane."  Sundance's sudden swallow was quite audible in the intimate space.  "There'll be a feast tonight. You should stick around."  Something about this suggestion caused his stomach to lurch and he was quick to change the subject. "So… she just went off and picked a fight with… what's a roc, anyhow?"  "A big dumb giant idiot bird that I am told tastes delicious. And yes, that is what my sister does. She goes off and picks fights with things. It's something she gets from our father. Violence isn't always the answer… but sometimes, it is the only answer. My father and my sister are skilled at artistic response. And by artistic, I mean painting an area with blood and festooning it with guts. My father… and my sister… they have a reputation." "And you?" he asked.  "I choose to be diplomatic."  Ears pricked, Sundance assumed that this was a diplomatic response. The mare sitting across from him appeared to be more than capable of violence and physicality. He thought about her choice of words, the choice to be diplomatic, and it occurred to him that she had said quite a lot by saying very little. Perhaps he could learn something here, if he paid attention. He'd come here hoping to learn how to fight, but there were other lessons to be had. After a slight sigh, he allowed himself to be more at ease, and his muscles unkinked when he relaxed a bit.  Pebble shifted in her chair, pressed her front hooves together, and focused her deadpan expression upon Sundance. "You and I have much in common, I think. All of this"—she pulled her front hooves apart and gestured at everything around her—"has consumed my life. While this land might be my husband's, this is not his passion. Don't get me wrong. He contributes and does his part. I would never belittle his contributions.  "But this is my life. I can't imagine doing anything else. My every waking hour is spent trying to awaken the potential of this place. Yet, for all of my work, I am left unsatisfied. Do you want to know why that is?"  "If you'll tell me, I'll listen," he replied.  Her deadpan expression softened ever-so-slightly.  "Like the Royal Pony Sisters themselves, our lands share a bond. A connection. I am deeply unsatisfied with the state of your lands. Though, perhaps I should make clear that I bear no animosity towards you." She blinked and her stony expression further softened, like butter approaching room temperature, or chocolate ice cream left out on the counter. "Silver Lining and I sent gifts. We were rebuked by the previous lord of the land for doing so. But now that he's dead and gone… good riddance… we can get to work."  "You've built a paradise here," he said to her, and then he fumbled for more to say.  "It had a good foundation," she replied. "But like the shattered statue in the chapel, it suffers. This land will not be great until both lands are great. To that end, I am going to send my Manticore at Arms home with you. Not only will she teach you how to fight, but she will assess the situation so that we can sort out how best to help you."  "That's incredibly generous of you."  "It has nothing to do with being generous, and everything to do with necessity. I know all about your deal with Twilight. She sent delegates to speak with me about the matter. There's been some back and forth, and while no firm plans have been made, I can tell you that we're willing to help."  Overwhelmed at this point, Sundance sank back into his chair as his vision blurred over.  "Speaking of generous acts"—once more, Pebble pressed her front hooves together—"I understand that you've taken in River Raider. That was kind of you. Megara will be happy to see her friend and hunt-mate once more."  Sundance's response spilled out of him in a surprising way. "She never mentioned anything about friends. From what little I've been able to gather from her, she's something of a loner. She has friends? Is there more that I should know? How do I help her?"  "I suppose the friendship might have been one-sided." A soft sigh caused Pebble's barrel to rise and fall, while her nostrils flared from narrow to wide. She wickered briefly, blinked, and then tilted her head off to one side so that she might study Sundance better. "How is she, by the way?"  "She got mangled by spiders," Sundance replied without thinking about what he said. If Pebble was upset by this, she did not show it, and he could not help but feel a bit of guilt for his thoughtless response. "River is healing up nicely though. Her wings are slowly regenerating. Corduroy, my nurse, says that River is expected to make a full recovery."  No response, just silence from the dark brown mare in the tall-backed chair.  Almost squirming, Sundance attempted to recover himself. If he'd goofed, he'd have to make it up somehow. There was a chance that he hadn't goofed and this was just a garden variety awkward moment. Pebble's eyes were almost mesmerising and he found himself wondering how she saw the world as an earth pony. She could do more than merely speak to stone, he realised. This was a mare that could talk to the land itself, for what was land if not stone and soil? The sudden onslaught of distracting thoughts somehow made everything worse, and he took a moment to sort out his thoughts so that his mind might be quieted.  "I've tried to be River's friend… but it's hard. Not only does she push me away… but there are… uh… other complications that arise." He winced from his poor choice of words. Arise was just a terrible thing to say, given the circumstances. Even worse, this was surely something that would stick in his mind, like sidewalk bubblegum stuck to a passing pony's hoof.  River Raider would know.  It would be awkward.  "River has that whole, uh, uncontrolled telepathy thing going on and that makes things difficult. She, uh, well… she seems to know my thoughts better than I do and she's revealed a few things about me that I was unaware of. And there is, uh… well, there is the matter of…"  Pebble, almost smirking, gestured with her hoof. "Oh, do go on."  "Um… there is the matter of… uh…" Try as he might, Sundance could not bear to reveal the truth to Pebble, and he suspected that she'd already figured it out. Perhaps he'd spent too much time gawking at her. The intensity of the moment proved too much to bear and he wished that he could turn into a puddle so that he might vanish beneath his chair. "Perhaps some needs are more immediate. Do you have a type, Sundance?"  "I don't know what you mean!" he squeaked.  "Oh, don't be coy," she said with a dismissive wave of her hoof. "You need a baroness. I pay attention to the gossip. Not because I like it, but because it is useful."  "I don't know what you mean!" he squeaked again.  This time, Pebble rolled her eyes and heaved a sigh. "You acted like a lovesick colt the moment you laid eyes on me and you clearly have a thing for River Raider. That tells me a lot. You either have a penchant for unobtainable mares or we fit your type. Which is it?"  "I don't know what you mean!" he squeaked for the third time.  "Finding you a baroness is going right on the checklist. Denial is a clear acknowledgment of a problem."  After closing his eyes, Sundance hid his burning face behind his trembling wing.  At the moment, all he could remember was Skyla suggesting that he try dating Nutmeg and it was right now, at this very moment that his brain connected all of the dots. As his brain screamed out a warning, he sat in total silence, uncertain of what to do or say. He was about to meet Nutmeg, also known as Megara. The Manticore of Lulamoon Hollow. How could he be so oblivious? When his stomach lurched, he gulped, but this did not stop his tummy from doing flip-flops.  Explaining his obliviousness was easy: when he got scared, he got stupid.  So what was it about all of this that scared him so?  When he stopped to think about it, it didn't take long for all of his thoughts to come spilling out in a halting confession: "Finding a baroness… that's scary… it means facing my insecurities head-on and doing something about them. If it was just me… just me in my old life… I might have been fine alone. Or I might have found somepony. The cities are a lonely place, at least from what I've seen. If I did find somepony… I might have settled down with anypony with a pulse and said it was better than I deserved.  "Going that way… we pegasus ponies call it flying with the breeze behind you… means never having to face my own inadequacies. But finding a baroness is flying into a headwind. Constant effort. It means I have to be picky. And being as insecure as I am, it means trying to find a girl that my mind will tell me is way out of my league. I've only had some recent successes just talking to mares and other females. The very idea of having to up my standards for the sake of the barony scares me to death."  "So let me get this straight," Pebble deadpanned. "You're willing to learn how to fight so that you can pick fights with strangers and potentially kill them… but girls scare you?"  "Um"—he hesitated to answer, but his mouth betrayed him—"yes?"  "Fighting will have to be our secondary objective," she said to Sundance. "First, we need to sort out your confidence and deal with those insecurities of yours."  "Uh, well, I… that, um, well, that's just—"  "Look… I was a fat filly. I was a fat filly who felt sweaty and gross all the time. I didn't make peace with myself and my body until just recently." Eyes now narrowed, there was expressive emotion to be seen upon Pebble's face, though what it was remained unknown. Something fierce and warm though. "And Silver Lining… oh goodness, you have no idea. Crippling shyness." As her head turned from side to side, she clucked her tongue, the sound of which almost echoed in the cosy room.  "Crippling shyness?" he somehow managed to ask without any hesitation.  "Now, she's the heart and soul of this place. The warmth. She's the sunshine." Pausing for a moment, Pebble's face scrunched into an expression of wizened, wrinkly worry. "Meg can sort you out. She's good at that. It's like she has a knack. She somehow knows how to help a pony find their confidence. Maybe it happens when she teaches them to fight. But she's helped others… others not interested in fighting. She's good with foals. My father"—she sighed and suffered a slight pause—"has an ego made of glass. Meg is very, very good at putting all the little pieces back together when he shatters."  He thought about how his lack of confidence led to the shouting match with Hollyhock and winced. Foolhardy bravery was not confidence, not at all, not even in the slightest. It was just magically enhanced idiocy. While he could ride on his foolhardy bravery like a tailwind, at some point, probably when it mattered most, it would fail him. Possibly at a time when it would be downright disastrous. Getting himself sorted out would be giving those in his care the leader they deserved. So this was no longer about just fighting, but more about self-improvement.  "I think you're beautiful," he blurted out without thinking.  In response, Pebble offered a perfunctory nod of her head and a pricking of her fuzzy brown ears. "So I've gathered. That is kind of you to say. I've learned that in the wide, wide world of Equestria, I am bound to be somepony's type. So are you. Just something to keep in mind."  "But meeting them is the trick, ain't it?"  "I suppose it is," she replied as she lapsed into thoughtfulness. "There are matchmaker marriages in the Crystal Empire just for that purpose."  Without a thought for his words, he found himself asking, "Do those really work?"  "Astonishingly well," was Pebble's response. "Princess Cadance has it down to a science. She can't guarantee a soulmate, but she can typically manage to find a pony a surprisingly tolerable best friend that is remarkably easy to spend the rest of your life with."  Love or friendship? Sundance thought to himself. Distracted, he thought of Twilight, and what she'd said on the matter. Maybe settling down with a friend was enough. Friends could be physical, if they so chose to do so. Surely, love was something that came with time and familiarity. It wasn't a whirlwind romance, but rather stolid practicality. As his thoughts became increasingly scattered, deep furrows appeared above his brows, and crinkles in the corners of his eyes.  While searing-hot romance would be nice, perhaps a quiet friendship would do.  Such a thing might suit him.