//------------------------------// // VIII // Story: Waxing // by Some Dickhead //------------------------------// “Prince Anonymous." The griffon shakes his hand, wide eyes betraying a hint of mischief. "Hello. You are … ?" "Gilda Sturmkralle, Chancellor of the Griffonstone Confederacy. I heard a lot about you from RD." "Who?" "Rainbow Dash, she said you lived in Ponyville for a while." "Oh, Blue Lesbian. Only good things, I hope." "Hah! I remember her calling you a 'radical alien monkey thing.' High praise, coming from her." "Didn't think I left that much of an impression." "In all fairness, she also called you a 'total ass,' but that's neither here nor there." Anon chuckles. "You're certainly more casual than I'd expect a Chancellor to be." "I'm kind of new to the whole ruling thing, if you can't tell. I won't bore you with the history lesson, but I was the only one who actually gave a shit about fixing things, so they put me in charge. Not my first choice, but better than nothing." “It's remarkable just how poorly everyone here chooses their leaders. Anyways, I'm glad you could make it." "Like I'd miss this—it isn't every day that an alien and alicorn get married." Gilda turns toward the sound of hoofsteps. "Yo, Thorax! Say hi to the Prince!" The changeling looks around in confusion before spotting them. “Oh, um, hey. Anonymous, right?” “Yeah. You?” “Thorax. Well, King Thorax, but, you know … ” The sapient gummy worm looks as if he's trying to dematerialize through sheer tyranny of will, wince barely concealed and ears pressed flat against his head.  “So, um, nice party? Congrats on ... getting married and stuff. Well, getting married tomorrow, but, heh, same difference, right?” “Right.” The two just sort of stand there for a bit, Thorax not knowing what to say, and Anon hoping that he’ll take the hint and leave.  "Nice … weather we're having?" Silence. “Ok, it was, um, nice to meet you. I guess I’ll see you around.” Thorax slinks off, leaving Anon and Gilda to resume their conversation. “Is he always like that?” “Yeah. He’s the red-feathered stepchild of the world leaders club, and no one has the heart to ask what’s wrong with him. My money’s on Asperger's. In all honesty, I’m not sure why Celestia chose him to be king, or under what authority she even did so, but Thorax hasn’t yet tried to kill everyone, so he’s pretty good by changeling standards.” “Are they that bad?” “Yes, or at least they used to be. Them acting like actual people is a pretty recent development.” “Huh. Well, have a good evening, Your Excellency.” “Likewise, Your Highness.” The Chancellor shoots a little grin over her shoulder as she walks away. Anon, for his part, spots Luna talking to some ruffled shirt over by the refreshments table, a plate levitating beside her. He slowly makes his way in her direction, taking the time to appraise the festivities.  Anon’s been to events like this before, and most all of them have this undeniable superficiality, feigned community for the sake of appearances. These dignitaries and socialites don’t really care about each other, and instead exist, atomized, in this materialistic haze of apathy and ambition. There isn't much underlying malice or hatred, mind you, just a lack of any genuine connection. It's a harmless soullessness, the kind that’s only noticeable through its comparative emptiness. And so Anon just grins and bears, knowing that, at the very least, things aren’t bad—they just aren’t good.  “ … can understand the practical benefits of these new machines, but I just don’t think that we should dive into them like this. Progress serves ponies, not the other way around, and I’d rather be cautious than destroy our society in the name of GDP. I’m not asking for cavepony luddism, but for … ” “Luna.” “Anonymous. Thank you for interrupting our conversation.” “Don’t mention it. What the hell are you eating?” The plate is piled high with various odds and ends, all of it mixing together into some vaguely multicolored slush.  “Food.” “In the barest sense of the word, yes. Why are you eating … that?” “I felt like it. Not entirely sure why, but I am enjoying it nonetheless.” “Right.” Anon turns to the stallion whose argument he just beat over the head with a 2x4. “Sorry about that, Mr. … ” “Aural Flash. I’m the provost of CSGU.” “Well, I’ll leave you to it. Trying to entertain myself, you see—I don’t really enjoy these sort of things.” “Perfectly understandable. Have a good night.” They part ways, and Anon starts walking, not particularly caring where he ends up. That’s the worst thing about these events: the directionlessness, the utter lack of purpose beyond eating and talking. He’s drawn from his thoughts by the clearing of a throat. "Prince Anonymous, it is a pleasure to meet you. I am Idube, Negus of Zebrika." He's a racist caricature given equine form, his neck enclosed by golden rings and nose run through with a chicken bone. Anon barely manages to keep a straight face as he reaches out to do an awkward hoof bump. “Charmed." -~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- Anon wonders how exactly these ponies know the Bridal Chorus. Is there a horse Wagner out there, happily writing operas about fat women and Jews? Is this planet some weird universal sinkhole of puns and pop culture references? Is it merely a bizarre coincidence? Whatever the case, it really weirds him out, and it took quite a bit of willpower to suppress his utter bafflement when the song started playing.   The hall is resplendent in the light of a midday sun, winter clouds cleared and sun perfectly positioned by Celestia herself. Blue and white banners hang from marble columns, the attendees clad in all manner of finery. If Anon and Luna actually cared about this sort of thing, they would declare it the perfect wedding.  As she walks down the aisle, Luna eyes the smiles of the crowd, the teary-eyed joy of her sister, the unrestrained joy of her niece. Even she herself has to admit a certain contentment, a deep happiness at the thought of what is to come.  Luna reaches the altar and positions herself across from Anon. Cadence steps forward, taking a breath as she prepares to read the vows.  “Friends, we are gathered here today to witness the union of our dearly beloved.” The two become lost in each other and feel at peace, feel hopeful, feel that their lives have finally found meaning. “Their love bridges worlds, and shines brighter than any star.”  While they wouldn’t use such poetic language, Anon and Luna well see the truth in it.  “May that love guide their actions, bring them peace and solace, raise them up when brought down.” She turns to Luna. “Do you accept this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to hold and support him, to live as one in harmony?” “Yes.” Luna’s always been direct like that. “And do you accept this mare to be your lawfully wedded wife, to guide and protect her, to live as one in harmony?” “I do.” She steps back with a giggle, wings fluttering in excitement.  “Well, go on then, kiss!” They lean into each other, each inch closer another excited heartbeat. They feel the warmth of each other’s breath, the parting of each other’s lips, the … Luna vomits. “Jesus Christ, it’s in my mouth!” Anon steps back as he coughs and sputters, desperately wiping the mess away from his face. Luna gently rocks as she flutters her eyes and catches her breath, assaulted by a sudden migraine. “Auntie, are you alright?” “Oh dear. That was … sudden.” “You ... all good?” Luna gives a weak nod to Anon’s query.  “Must have been that shit from last night. Fucking hell, do we kiss, or … ” “It isn’t actually the kiss that makes it official, it’s the response to the vows. You’re married … congrats. We should get a doctor for Auntie, make sure it’s nothing too serious.” “I’m … I’m fine. Just nausea. Been happening … often, but under control.” “Luna, seriously, you need to tell me about these things. Is there anything else?” “Beyond ... cravings, no.” Anon stares at her with growing dread. “Cravings.” “ … yes.” He turns to Cadence. “Is there a spell that … you know … ” She gives a slight nod, as if any sudden movements would cause the room to explode. Her horn lights up, and she develops an unfortunate grimace. “Um … Auntie.” Luna barely finds the strength to turn to her. “What.” “Well, um, congrats, I guess. You’re … expecting.” The crowd would gasp if they weren’t so uncomfortable. Luna’s eyes turn to pinpricks as she slowly turns to her husband. “Niece, can you repeat that?” “You’re expecting.” She slowly inhales. “WHAT DID YOU DO, ANONYMOUS?” “What did I do?” “YES. HOW COULD YOUR FESTERING SEED HAVE TAKEN ROOT IN MY BELLY?” “Don’t say it like that. How the fuck would I know, you’re the magical horse goddess!” “Must have been some dark ape magic, foul sorceries to produce an unholy heir. WE AREN’T EVEN THE SAME SPECIES.” “I’m as surprised as you are. Look, just calm down … ” Luna launches herself at him with a scream. And while Celestia and Cadence try to break it up, Discord laughs. He wouldn't stop for about a week.