Fine stepped out of the door, his tongue running along his teeth to catch the last of that delightful hot chocolate. Upon hearing the door close, he turned around to find it gone entirely. This didn’t surprise him in the least. With a snort of satisfaction, he marched into the hallway and knocked on Fleur’s door.
“It’s open.”
He opened the door, but didn’t step inside. “Fleur. I need you for a meeting with Luna immediately.”
The mare glanced up from the letter she was writing, her face set in a scowl and her horn glowing dimly. “You sure it can’t wait? I’ve got another hour of stuff to do and an airship to catch for Draigon.”
Fine shook his head, making sure to keep his manner as businesslike as possible. “This overrules everything.” Then, as an afterthought, “You’ll probably still want to go to Draigon. Stopping Haywire’s research is a priority. But this may alter how you want to approach the task.” He made a sharp gesture with his head, prompting her to follow him. “My apologies, Fleur, but you’ll want to be there for this.”
Sighing, the mare abandoned her work and followed him into the hall. “I still owe you an ear-full.”
They trotted side-by-side, their hoofsteps loud in the deathly quiet hallway. “I know you do, Little Miss. Actually, this relates to that.” He caught her skeptical glance out the corner of his eye, but didn’t lose his firm expression. No matter how much he wanted to smile.
It took mere minutes to reach Luna’s office again. Fine was pleased to note that he hadn’t been led astray: he’d exited that door at roughly the same time he’d entered it, as promised. It was perfect timing, as Luna would be going to get some sleep in another thirty minutes and was likely finishing up the last of her morning duties.
“Enter,” came the response to his knock, and he wasted no time. To his mild surprise, not only was Luna still behind her desk, but Celestia was standing next to the window.
The elder princesses greeted Fine, her expression grim. “Good morning, Fine. I was just about to ask for you.”
Luna had a curious expression. “Did we miss something in the meeting?”
Fine waited until Fleur was in the room before turning to Celestia. “Let me guess: weird magical anomaly? Centered in the palace? May have something to do with warping time and space?”
Celestia’s eyebrows shot up as she shared a look with her sister. “Do you know something, Mane Archon?”
Ignoring Fleur’s dumbfounded stare, he nodded and grinned. “I just got a very personal visit from someone who is, most decidedly, ‘out of town’. What she can do is far beyond my abilities to handle. That said, I can report with absolute confidence that she is not a threat to us, so you can both relax.”
“You don’t understand what you encountered,” Luna said, incredulous, “but you expect us to merely drop it?”
He shrugged. “Unless you have a means of crossing dimensions and the flow of time in an instant to catch up to an interdimensional bar with a mind of its own, then yes.” He tapped his chin as though considering what he’d just said, though only for effect. “Come to think of it, I did learn a couple of things.”
Another uncertain look shared between the princesses. It was Fleur who asked, warily, “And what is that?”
“First.” He pointed to Celestia. “I'm told you may have a journal going to one Miss Shimmer. Write in it, she probably misses you.” Ignoring the way the alicorn’s wings went as limp as her jaw, he turned his hoof on Luna. Her eyes went cross as she followed its motion towards herself. “Second: I would like to retire.”
For a brief second, all was quiet. Luna, clearly the least impacted by his declarations, was first to recover. Confusion and patience met halfway on her features as she asked, “Immediately?”
“Oh, no.” He shook his head, kindly removing his hoof from her immediate vision. “Two weeks. Should be enough time to get everything transitioned to the new Mane Archon.”
Understanding and acceptance gradually took over Luna’s features, shifting her to a warm smile. “And that would be…?”
“Fleur, of course.” He looked to his apprentice, who by now was sitting on her haunches and appearing as dumbstruck as Celestia. “Assuming she wants the job.” As if he didn’t know already.
Sure enough, the mare was back on her hooves in an instant, nodding frantically as if scared the offer would pass her by if she didn’t react fast enough. “Yes. Yes, absolutely, immediately, soon as we can, I thought you’d never ask!” The elite agent and fashion model renowned for her seductive, ever-calm, and at times even austere manner began bouncing on her forehooves while her hind hooves started a silly dance. “Oh, Goddess, I’ve been wanting this for so long!”
Grinning, Fine opened his arms wide, and Fleur wasted no time embracing him, her hold nearly taking his breath away. “I can think of nopony who deserves it more. This has been coming for a long while, Little Miss.”
Fleur stepped back. Fine was mildly surprised to see tears on her cheeks. She rubbed them away, giggling as she did. “I bet ‘Little Miss’ is the entire reason for this sudden decision. Thank you, Fine.”
Fine’s grin only broadened. “You got that right. And you’re welcome.” He turned to look at Luna, who hadn’t lost any of her warmth. “Any objections, Princess?”
Luna shook her head. “None, whatsoever. To be honest, I was wondering how much longer you’d wait. You’ve devoted most of your life to the Archons. It would be cruel of me to force you to sacrifice anymore of it.” Leaning forward over her desk, she asked, “Do you intend to retire from your advising position in the Order as well?”
Ah, he hadn’t thought of that. He allowed himself a moment to consider as Fleur struggled and failed to clean her face of tears. “As long as it’s just an advisory role – no more death-defying adventures? – then I’m alright with keeping that one. For now.”
“Then I accept your resignation. Thank you, Verity Fine, for all the hard work you put into the role in the last thirty years. You’ve truly been an excellent Mane Archon.” Her smile turned sheepish as she added, “I do hope you won’t mind the occasional visit to escape any of Tia’s more boring social events.”
Fine couldn’t resist a laugh at that suggestion. “You’re welcome anytime!”
“Wonderful.” An expression of mock seriousness came over her, her tone becoming clipped and commanding. “Then I expect your office cleared out in exactly two weeks’ time. Anything left behind I may feel obligated to confiscate. I can’t guarantee you’ll get any of it back.”
“You can have all of it.” He turned to the white, winged elephant in the room. Celestia, who had spent all this time stuck in what might have been a memory lane coma, was staring at nothing, her wings still limp and a distinct look of loss in her gaze. “You alright, Princess?”
Celestia’s eyes went to him, but her stare only passed through him at first. Gradually, as if coming out of a trance, her body lost its stiffness and her wings folded back at her sides. Yet there was an almost desperate plea in her expression. “You… Did you…? Is she…?”
“She wasn’t yours,” he replied. “I’m certain of that. But the one I did meet… She left me with the impression that the both of you would like some closure. I’m only passing the message along.”
The princess, normally so hard to read, shifted anxiously on her hooves and avoided his eyes. “And the one you did meet. Is she happy?”
To that Fine could only smile warmly. “She seemed like it to me.”
A gentlecolt never makes a mare wait for a date, which was why Fine arrived at Gustave’s a full twenty minutes in advance. He was in his best black vest, the one with the red accents. He’d worn something similar off and on for formal events ever since he became an Archon, and Rarity had been more than happy to update the style to something that didn’t look like he’d just come out of a teenager’s angsty self-insert. Getting it to go well with his mane’s natural red rather than the black he’d used to dye it was a nice bonus. He rather liked it, even if he didn’t wear it so often. But more importantly…
“Oooh, somepony’s dressed to impress.”
Pinkie liked it. He grinned as he turned to face her approach from across the street. He wasn’t the least bit surprised to find her nice and dolled up in a lovely blue dress with tiny peridots adding an eye-catching sparkle. She even wore earrings with the little gems and some dress shoes. Her mane was at that pleasant half-curl that she very rarely wore in public, with that grey lock curling near her right eye. It was, as she liked to call it, his mane, because he had been the first to coax it out of her.
“I’d say you look lovely,” he replied happily as she reached him, “but I’d be stating the obvious. How was your day with Rarity?”
She gave him a light peck on the lips. “Charmer. It was nice. Got a full makeover out of it, but we all saw that one coming. She told me to tell you…” Rearing her head back slightly, she set a hoof to her chest and tried out Rarity’s most posh tone. “Treat her like a lady, darling.”
He chuckled, offering his arm. As they walked together for the restaurant, he replied, “Only a lady? Her standards are going down. For your birthday you deserve nothing less than ‘princess’.”
They chatted idly while waiting for their table, which didn’t take long as the reservation had been made a week in advance. As they walked and talked, Fine paid close attention to his mare’s manner. Despite being well into her middling years, Pinkie still had all the energy necessary to literally bounce off walls. Yet she was not boisterous or trying to talk to everypony in the immediate vicinity. Tonight she was calm, calm like very few knew she could be. This was his favorite Pinkie Pie, the one that appeared only for those she trusted most, and he relished every second that he got to witness it.
Still chatty, though.
“—which was when Rarity got into an argument with the manedresser over why I’m perfectly capable of handling my own mane and it was rather sweet of her to come to my defense but then the hairdresser saw me switch from curly to flat and I think I broke her she kept muttering something about earth pony magic which is just silly but it’s not like this is anything new she should have known that a two hour job wouldn’t last with me and even Rarity’s used to it by now anyway I felt bad after she did all that hard work on my mane so I put the hair back how she had it and that only made her start crying so Rarity—”
He wouldn’t have it any other way.
Pinkie’s tale of adventures in makeovers came to a close by the time they were seated and had their menus. Fine ordered for them both an extravagant wine, waving off Pinkie’s protests. As a self-made mare with her own baking and party business, Pinkie had learned the value of counting bits. She tended to get anxious when he spent extravagantly on her, even if he could easily afford it.
Still, once the wine had been poured, Pinkie hadn’t lost any of her anxiety. “You’re planning on breaking the bank on me tonight?” She almost twiddled her hooves with her delicate-looking shoes, but stopped herself at the last second. No doubt she’d realized what Rarity would think.
With his magic, he raised his glass to her. “It’s your night, birthday filly. Ah—” He wagged his hoof before she could get anything out of her open mouth. “Tonight is a very special night for a lot of reasons, not just your birthday. I’m going all out.” Giddiness bubbled under the surface, making him giggle. Oh, but it was a good feeling! He’d intended to wait until after they’d ate, but just the thought of what was coming spurred him into action. After taking a sip, he turned to the kitchens where a server in a white tux watched the floor.
Tapping the side of the glass with a fork was enough to catch the mare’s eye. She approached at a quick but easy trot. “May I help you, sir?”
Ignoring Pinkie’s curious look, he answered, “Indeed you may. Please bring out the lady’s petit gâteau.”
The mare’s brow furrowed as she took in his words, but then awareness flashed across her features. Her “Of course, sir.” was accompanied by a wry, knowing smile.
Pinkie cocked her head. “You got me a cupcake? No offense, Fine, but you know I’m the best at cupcakes, right?”
Not the least surprised she understood his Fancy, Fine chuckled and said, “Trust me, Little Miss. You’ve never had a cupcake quite like this one.”
“Uh-huh. Well, if you’re trying to underwhelm me…” She struck a haughty, faux-posh pose.
“I wouldn’t dare,” he countered with equal pomp and aplomb. “It may not meet your standards in terms of flavor, oh Princess of Pastries, but you wouldn’t deny that taste is only one part of the gift. There’s also the garnish.”
Pinkie eyed him, clearly making sure he knew she wasn’t convinced. “True, but I wouldn’t put the garnish over the flavor. There’s a proper balance.”
He put his hooves together as if to make a promise, still smirking. “This one’s a really good garnish.”
She pointed at him. “It had better be, buster. Oooh!” Her eyes widened as they fell on her menu. “They have Rockstead Ravioli, with optional rocks? If Gustave weren’t in the kitchen I’d kiss his beak. I didn’t know anyone outside Rockstead knew how to serve proper granite.”
To that, Fine could only shudder. “I think I’ll have one of the white wine pastas, thanks.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing.”
“Ignorance is bliss.”
Pinkie stuck her tongue out at him. He returned the favor. The two were reduced to giggling fits, not caring remotely about the curious or disdainful looks they were getting from the other clientele. Even as he tried to get over his laughter, Fine couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that he could have a giggling fit. There was once a time when he was so harsh and dour. But Pinkie…
As she scanned the menu with newfound curiosity, he let his eyes roam her face. Her soft, ever-smiling features. Her reality-defying mane that tonight seemed more alluring than her usual mess of curls or the occasional silky straightness, that lone grey lock running down her neck on the left. Her blue eyes that sparkled for everypony, but held a different glint when sent his way. Pinkie was so… unique. Unique enough that she could love someone who once hurt her so deeply, both physically and emotionally. More than once, at that.
Pinkie Pie was unique. His eyes drifted to her dress, but his attention wasn’t on the blue fabric or the peridots sparkling in the dim lighting. No, his thoughts were on the flesh below. He knew, from over a decade of close examinations, that there was little smoothness under the lovely pink fur. Pinkie’s skin was a mess of scar tissue. His scars, as she’d once told him. He had hated himself for those. Sometimes, on his bad days, he still did.
Pinkie Pie was unique. She didn’t hate him for giving her such scars. Only a creature as lovely in heart as she could look upon such tortures as a gift, a mark of her devotion and love. She told him, over and over again, that they were worth it. For the laughs they shared. For the pain they’d endured. For the trust they had. For the nights they kept one another awake.
Pinkie Pie was unique. Her eyes met his from across the table, and she smiled. It was a slightly lopsided thing, one corner turned higher than the other, eyelids lowered, one eyebrow raised. But it was the extra dimple that did it. It always appeared on her cheek when she got that peculiar expression, the one that said she was reading his thoughts and liked them. “And what is that look for, mister?”
As much as he wanted to answer, it would have to wait.
“Are you ready to order, Madame and Sir?”
They were, indeed. While they were doing so, Fine noticed the serving mare from near the kitchen, carrying a covered silver plate and looking as though she’d just won the lottery. Grinning, he shared a nod with her before refocusing on their waiter. Once the meals were ordered – Pinkie did indeed order the granite-based raviolis – the serving mare outright pranced to the table. “For the Lady,” she declared, depositing the silver plate before a curious Pinkie Pie. The lid was lifted, revealing a dark brown cupcake with frostings of mixed browns and pinks.
Pinkie eyed the confection critically. “What flavor is it?” She didn’t notice how the server, though now keeping a safe distance back by the kitchen, was watching the scene with a look of giddy excitement. Fine did, and he also noticed the aging face of the proprietor himself, Gustave le Grand, watching through the kitchen window and making no attempt to hide his eagerness.
“I recommend you try it for yourself. But—” his warning tone brought her lovely eyes to him, “–definitely eat this one slowly.”
She hummed at him, then reached down to pick up the cupcake. Her eyes widened. “Is it supposed to be hard?” Fine’s only response was a Cheshire grin. Cautiously, Pinkie licked at the frosting on top. “Hmm… Strawberry, some chocolate, and… Do I detect hazelnut?” Another lick. “Yep, definitely hazelnut. Oooh, this is an interesting combo! But then…” She smirked at him. “Garnish. The real test!” Her mouth opened wide to take a bite, her teeth crunching into a corner.
Up went the eyebrows yet again. A small chunk of cupcake disappeared between her lips as more curious, fascinated humming purred out of her chest. “Oh, wow, it’s hollow! Kinda like the edge of a brownie that dried up, but without the burned taste. This is neat! I don’t know how—”
Fine had never known the urge to bounce in his seat, but right now he felt like a foal waiting for his birthday present. His lips were spread so wide he wondered if his cheeks would be sore later.
Pinkie peered at the cupcake where she’d bitten it. Carefully, she reached the tip of her hoof through the hole and lifted. The top of the cupcake rose easily, and her ears shot up. “It’s a box. It’s like a present, but you can eat the wrapping paper! This is ingenious. I’ve gotta ask Gustave how he made it.” She flicked the top off, caught it in her tongue, and crunched it down with a grin. As she did, she looked inside the hollow remainder of the cupcake-box.
She froze, and Fine’s heart began performing a drum solo in his ears. His hooves trembled under the table while Pinkie stared wide-eyed at the contents of the confectionery container. She swallowed the chunk already in her mouth, her gulp audible over the soft conversational buzz of the restaurant. At last, her eyes met his, and now he really was bouncing in his seat. “Are those what I think they are?”
He shuddered at how quiet and unbelieving her voice was. “You bet your pretty blue eyes they are.” Then, cheekily, “How’s that for a garnish?”
Another swallow from Pinkie. Carefully, she set the container down and reached inside. Out came a small, clear plastic box, from which she brushed off crumbs. Opening it up, she got a closer look at two gleaming silver earrings. From them dangled three balloons made from sandstone, each balloon a slightly different shade of brown. She studied them, ignorant of Fine’s heavy, eager breaths and fluttery heart.
She peered at them, then at Fine. “They match your coat colors. They… You’re…” Then, as if full awareness was finally dawning upon her, she began to smile. Eyes glistening with moisture, she quietly asked, “Are you sure?”
“I put in a two week notice this morning. Luna’s accepted it. I’m retiring.” The press of the table told Fine he was leaning forward. Closer. He needed to get closer. He stood and walked around the table. “I don’t need to watch over Equestria anymore.” He accepted her trembling hoof in his own and dropped to one knee, gazing into her perfect blues. “I’d much rather spend my time watching you. You’ve been patient with me for over a decade, and I’m sorry it took me so long. I just…”
He licked his lips, savoring the moment. Her hoof in his, her gaze set upon him, his heart thundering. The sheer excitement, an exhilaration that only one pony in all the world could give him. He wanted to taste those lips then and there, but no. He had to finish.
“I want to spend the rest of my life with you as the center of my universe. Pinkamena Diane Pie, will you marry me?”
She didn’t rush him, or shout, or any of a hundred things ponies might expect Pinkie Pie to do. She moved slowly, gracefully, face aglow with warmth, to press her lips against his. It wasn’t a long kiss, but it was every bit as strong and passionate, with all the same power to defy Fine’s literary capacity. There were no words so evocative, so visionary, so dynamic as to capture the sheer spectacle of something like this. Not that Fine had the presence of mind to try. Pinkie Pie could render him powerless and dumb with naught but two lips, and he would never stop loving that.
And then, to his dazed frustration, it ended. He blinked a few times, well aware of his dopey grin. Once able to focus on Pinkie properly, he said, “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.”
“There’s not enough ‘yes’ in the world for the amount of ‘yes’ I have for that question,” she replied sweetly. She raised her hoof, the two earrings on display. “You gonna put these on me, or am I gonna be putting them on you?”
Chuckling, he took them in his magic and carefully started on her left ear, slipping the earring she wore off. “I like my ears unpierced, thank you.”
“You never know, they might look good on you,” she teased, holding still and not taking her gaze from his face.
One earring applied, Fine focused on the other, Pinkie turning her head slightly and flicking her ear towards him to accommodate. He removed the earring already there, then paused, staring at the small hole and the little metal piece that was to go in it. Once he slipped it through, they really would be…
“It’s okay.” Her words drew his attention. Her eyes, confident and heavy-lidded, drew his breath. “We’ve both wanted this for a long time.”
“It’s not that,” he whispered. “I just can’t believe it’s finally happening.” Another laugh slipped its way out of his throat, uncontrollable and giddy. Without wasting any more time, he put the earring in its proper place.
A tingly static ran through his body as she pulled away, shaking her head so that the earrings danced. The lone grey lock over her forehead flicked his muzzle playfully. Batting her eyelashes in a way that most ponies would never associate with her, one shoulder raised and lips curled alluringly, she asked, “How do they look?”
Fine could be nothing but honest. “You make them look so much better. They were but baubles before, and now they shine almost as gloriously as your eyes.”
“Oooh.” Pinkie shivered slightly. “You are flattering tonight.” Leaning in close, she patted his cheek. “You’re gonna spoil me, Peepee.” A peck on the cheek punctuated the remark.
This was countered by a peck on the tip of her muzzle, earning Fine the adorable squeak-nose-wrinkle combination he loved so much. “I like spoiling you, Sugarflanks.”
Their little back-and-forth was interrupted by a quiet clopping from all around. At last, they remembered that the entire scene was set before the happy eyes of the other restaurant goers and the staff, who all collectively offered the closest thing Canterlotians had to a standing ovation in such a setting. Sharing blushing grins, Fine helped Pinkie up so that they could take flamboyant bows, Fine ending the moment by giving Pinkie one last, not-so-short kiss that earned a whistle or two from the less uppity parts of the crowd.
“Magnificent! Simply magnificent.” The famous Gustave himself appeared, somehow managing to get Fine’s hoof and pump it up and down with a sparkling grin. “Congratulations, my friend! I was wondering who had won Miss Pie’s heart.” He released Fine’s hoof to give a giggling Pinkie a bear of a hug. “And you, Pinkie! I expect a proper critic’s feedback on my latest invention.”
Not to be outdone, Pinkie returned the hug with all the strength her earth pony legs could muster, earning a surprised squawk from the chef. “ ‘A’ quadruple-ruple pluseriffic, Gustave! You have to get me the recipe.”
“Before the National Dessert Competition? I think not!” Gustave freed himself from Pinkie’s grasp, taking a moment to thoughtfully stroke his impressive white mustache. “Perhaps after I’ve won the competition, hmm?”
Pinkie’s eyes narrowed. “That sounds like a challenge.”
“You are free to compete, my dear.” With a grin, the old griffon stepped back and raised his talons high. “Ah, but what am I doing? This is a special night for you, and I have a kitchen to run. I simply had to come out and congratulate one of my favorite rivals on this most delightful milestone. It’s on the house tonight, my gift for a friend on this happiest of occasions!” He elbowed Fine in the ribs. “Treat her well. I can think of a small army of creatures who would love to visit you otherwise.” With a last laugh, he turned for the kitchens. “Foot Loose! My esteemed guests require their meals.”
Pinkie and Fine shared a grinning glance before resuming their places at the table. Not a second later, their meals were delivered. As they savored the flavors (and crunch), Fine reflected on his day. Retired, and ready to spend the rest of his life with the perfect mare. Not the sort of mare he’d imagined in his youth, which just went to show how ignorant youth can be. Fleur would take over the Archons, he would live in Ponyville proper, almost certainly moving into Pinkie’s shop. Which wouldn’t be a big change; they stayed at one another’s places all the time.
But this would be different. This time, her home would be his. They would sleep together, wake together, dine together, plan and joke and age together. Maybe in the near future, they would even have children. Foals. What a delightful prospect. It felt… fulfilling. Warming. He would be… They’d be…
“Fine?” Pinkie’s hoof atop his drew him from the quiet, powerful awareness. “Are you okay?”
He met her blue eyes and realized how watery his own were. He rubbed them, unhurriedly, and grinning for her.
“I’m looking forward to having a real family.”