Life required time in which to exist, and perhaps the opposite was true. Time wore away rock, shifted continents and allowed stars to dim -- but all of that took place while nothing truly noticed. The existence of living beings might have been nothing more than time's way of finding some means by which it could truly define itself. Start with the most basic measurements: breath and heartbeats -- but it was more than that. It was about having someone who could watch.
The unicorn stumbled through the barely-parted gap between the doors, the pegasus rushed forward to meet her, and the Guards found a means by which they could evaporate. Gave them privacy for a few minutes so that raw shock could finally overwhelm the taller mare: something which left her sobbing into soft coral as awkwardly-arched wings did their best to touch white flanks. Trying to explain, trying to apologize and trying to do all of it within the same breath. It meant the sobs wound up being most of it, and it didn't take long before the drain of so much emotion made the unicorn's knees weak again, but... the pegasus held her up. It was easy to do that, when somepony was so much stronger than they looked.
There were words. The majority of those which came from the unicorn's side were barely coherent. And it felt as if she had to say three of them, then she wasn't sure if she'd said them clearly enough or worse, there was a chance she hadn't said them at all. So she tried to make them come out again and realized the phrase was too weak. It could only pretend to summarize everything she wanted to express, overflowing from a soul which hadn't allowed itself to truly feel for a very long time.
Had she said them, or had she failed? Either seemed to explain why the pegasus was also sobbing.
The unicorn almost found herself stuck in a loop. Trying for the words, then searching for better ones, followed by wondering if any language was up to the task and then going back to whether she'd said anything, she had to say it and even then, the words didn't make her good enough. They didn't turn her into anypony who was worthy of hearing them said back.
But the pegasus nuzzled her, a nuzzle unlike any other. Said the words, because there was time in which to do so.
A lifetime.
Select portions of Canterlot took notice when they left the palace, because the world paid attention to beauty. In Fleur's case, she wasn't sure just what they were looking at, and there was a part of her which truly wished they would stop. There had been no cosmetics available, she hadn't been able to improvise with anything from the debriefing office, and she was out in the streets of the capital with no layers, no protection --
-- well, technically, she did have two things. There were elastic wraps around her legs, and she would need to continue wearing them for at least a week. And it was a cold day in the capital (although somewhat warmer than Ponyville had been), the palace kept a small supply of non-makeup items close to hoof for visitors who hadn't paid attention to the weather schedule, and that meant the mares were partially covered by inexpensive, moderately embroidered, and fairly warm cloaks.
It still left Fleur feeling exposed. She hated that. And if she was seen by anypony she knew --
-- actually, there was a question as to whether a few of those parties would even recognize her. Somepony like Polish would, but if they happened to encounter him -- well, then she was in the company of the Lady Fluttershy --
-- I'm just trying out the natural look. Something which was desired, and so it only makes sense to comply.
As the personal, exclusive, and permanent companion of a Bearer.
She could still have wished for both of them to have been fully dressed. It would have been more appropriate to having lunch in the Heart. A trio of species which spent most of their collective time covered by nothing more than their fur had, for the needs of maintaining restaurant exclusivity, come up with the concept of 'dress code' in what was probably less than a second --
-- but they were both beautiful. Fleur also knew how to wear her cloak for best effect, quickly showed Fluttershy the basics. Plus the pegasus was carrying a Royal Voucher to cover their lunch expenses, and that didn't exactly hurt.
They ate, but... Fleur, with every sense still overwhelmed, didn't truly taste much of it. The majority of the supposed quality was reflected in the bill. And they didn't talk much over the meal, because it was Fluttershy and you had to get used to extended periods of silence. Additionally, their table was a little too public to say much of anything real, and the same thing was going to be true of the train...
But they did eat. (It was a Royal Voucher: it would have been a near-sin not to spur the palace with one more expense.) After that, they made their way to the Grand Gymkhana so they could catch their train, trotted beneath the constellations which stretched across the domed ceiling -- and that was where most of the true communication took place.
Those passing through the central concourse saw two beautiful mares traveling together. It was something which tended to draw attention, pulling spectators in through the gravity of dreams. Hoping for a word, or a moment of contact. Anything which had the theoretical chance to make their impossible fantasies feel that much more real. But Fleur knew how to navigate the dance, had the experience which allowed her to both define and beat the borders, and...
...there was a word. For just about every language which existed, it had been one of the first words: in Equestrian, it was a mere four letters, because you often had to say it in a hurry. It was something primal, it could often be expressed through movement alone, and Fleur finally realized that on their first trip through the Gymkhana, she had been saying very little else.
Their relationship had changed. But that still left the need to say it, to protect. And so she established the borders, claimed her territory as shifts of hips and swishes of tail discouraged any who tried just a little too hard. Saying it over and over again, so that the world would know.
Mine.
And then she saw a yellow wing flare out at an earth pony who'd gotten a little too close to Fleur's right flank, giving him nothing more than a rather coincidental rib poke for his trouble.
Because Fluttershy was saying it too.
There was a certain difficulty in just getting out of Ponyville.
Scrolls had been sent from the palace to the other Bearers: something which had happened while Fleur had been trapped in the debriefing. The message had been simple: everything was resolved, everypony was tired, and the details could wait until the next day. Something which had probably been meant to let the mares go home in peace.
Go home.
There just hadn't been enough scrolls for an entire settled zone.
Ponies kept stopping them on the street. Because the carefully-planted rumors had arrived before the mares, and far too many locals wanted to hear the details. And no matter what was said (which couldn't be much, because Fleur wasn't completely sure as to what the full story had been), there just wasn't enough detail to satisfy anypony and Fluttershy couldn't even resolve the questions from the two who wanted to know why she'd changed her manestyle. But that was okay: even if one disappointed pony had to step away, there were at least six more right behind them and surely if the herd went through enough variations on the basic question, they would hit the right one eventually. And of course, once a given number of ponies had stopped in one place, anypony else who wandered by just had to find out what was happening...
It didn't take long before Fluttershy's personal limit was reached. Yellow wings flared out, flapped, the pegasus gained altitude with respectable speed and the locals, who were more or less used to it, simply used the extra space to crowd in on Fleur --
-- the pegasus stopped. Looked down at Fleur, lightly swished the incredible tail, and smiled.
The unicorn, even with all of her secrets out, needed a moment to reconcile the message. And then her horn ignited.
It really wasn't possible to call it a speedy getaway, even by the most generous definition of the term. The third of the crowd which could have attempted to follow through the air was simply too startled to try.
Eventually, they touched down on the path which led to the cottage: about a third of the way along, with Sun behind them. The orb was already close to the horizon: one of the shortest days of the year, to be followed by a long, cold night. It was the kind of environment which was best experienced with company.
Fluttershy's wings refolded into the rest position. Fleur's corona winked out.
"...you're horrible," the pegasus smiled. "I know bad fliers, but..."
The unicorn sighed. "I'm out of practice." Which was followed by something which felt slightly new: trying out Honesty for its own sake. "But I was always horrible. There's only so much self-levitation can do."
With open amusement, "...your turns..."
A little irritably, "I try to use my momentum. It doesn't change the fact that I don't have wings. I can't glide into a turn, and I just wind up pulling myself in a different direction. None of it is easy."
"...still," the bemused pegasus decided. "I never thought I'd fall in love with somepony who was worse in the air than me..."
Stopped. Looked up at Fleur, quiet and still, framed by setting Sun.
"...I never thought I'd be in love," Fluttershy softly said. "Going home with somepony I loved..." Which was quickly followed by "Fleur? You're breathing too fast. Maybe we shouldn't have stayed in the air for so long --"
"-- I'm going to see my parents," Fleur shakily cut in. "That's part of what it made me think about. Going home. Talons and claws, Fluttershy, what do I say...?"
"...that you love them," the pegasus gently suggested. "But you might have to wait a few minutes. They'll... need to say it a few times."
Hastily, "Did I say --"
With a smile, "...yes. In your own way. Maybe more than a few times."
Fleur managed a nod. The trip resumed.
After a few minutes, with the sky darkening overhead, "...it's a perfectly natural relationship between us, really. When you think about it."
A little shakily, because it had been a very long two days and even Fleur couldn't rebuild from this much debris quite so quickly, "Pegasus and unicorn? Mare and --"
"-- predator and prey."
Fleur considered it for just a little too long.
"Which of us is which?"
Thoughtfully, "...I think it's mostly going to depend on the day. You were still levitating for too long, though. I'll make you some dinner."
The reaction was automatic. "I'll pay for --" The sudden stop, however, was going to take some getting used to. "-- I can't."
"...you're broke?" was, all things considered, a perfectly reasonable reaction.
"No. Even with my savings -- brought down..." She understood why it had happened. She recognized that her actions had been wrong, although keeping a jaw grip on the why still took a little concentration. But she still couldn't watch that many bits vanish forever without wincing. "...I've got a decent amount set aside." With a sigh, "Well, you saw my old rental. I -- don't really spend much. I was just thinking that I can't invoice the palace for it."
"...most couples can't," Fluttershy calmly reminded her --
-- and then the wings trembled.
She instantly noticed: the concern was somehow quicker than that. "Fluttershy?"
"...I... know more about you now," the pegasus whispered. "And I know you can get better -- but I accept you, Fleur. You, and... everything which comes with you. But there's always something to be afraid of, always --"
The unicorn was rapidly closing in. Because the vibration had reached the legs, the mane was starting to shake forward, some of the features were being obscured --
"-- and this is the next thing," her guardian declared. "Maybe the worst. Because we're both different, and I accept the ways where you're not like anypony else. I do. But I'm so different, Fleur, and..."
The nuzzle darted in, with Fleur trying to hope it was the right one --
-- the trembling slowed. But it didn't stop. Neither did the words.
"...you have to know all of it..."
The unicorn listened.
The pegasus talked.
They were trotting again. Fluttershy, stilled wings radiating the calm of fresh acceptance, was smiling. The unicorn's expression still held traces of stun, and she tended to list slightly to the right.
...she'd accepted it.
All of it.
After all, from the Equestrian perspective, Fleur was a little bit strange. So Fluttershy was just... similar.
Which didn't mean there hadn't been an impact...
"But..." Fleur was having trouble finding the right words. Or the concept of 'right words'. Language itself seemed to be attempting retreat. "...you never tried it on me? That -- stare?"
The smile became slightly wider. "No. You'd know, Fleur."
A few more hoofsteps.
"It's a little like griffon magic," the Protoceran said. "Force of personality..."
"...I guess." The pause stretched out. "But... not quite the same." Thoughtfully, "Griffons -- you've had that used on you, right? In the gangs?"
Fleur reluctantly nodded. "It was one of the usual tests. See if you could hold out. I could. Practice is part of it." Of course, some of the gang members hadn't wanted those who could resist. Usually the weakest ones, those who held their position on posturing and bluff. "But my parents never used it, because it was considered a failure to let things go that far. And with my sister..." Her lips quirked. "It never got past a threat. Do this or she'd try it on me. But our parents would have been angry, and taking a bath by herself was enough of a threat to start with. To both of us. Getting all the hot water first..." And you couldn't have a splash fight with no one to splash --
-- I haven't thought about those baths in years --
"...Fleur -- what was your sister's name?"
The Protoceran stopped trotting. The Equestrian automatically paused to match.
"...I know why it's a hard question to hear," her love gently perceived. "But you said all that to Miranda. And to me, even if you didn't know it. But you never said her name, because that's the part which brings the rest of the pain back. Pain you... need to let go of, Fleur. As much as you can. So this is the time when I have to ask." Placidly, with every feather at full rest. "What was her name?"
The unicorn's heart contracted. Stiffened, refused to beat.
I killed --
"...please," the pegasus softly told her. "But only if you can. If you're not ready --"
"-- Gratia." It had just barely reached the level of whisper, but -- Fluttershy was used to that. "In Equestrian... Grace."
"...Grace," Fluttershy carefully repeated. "And... what's yours?"
Sun got that much lower.
"...I'm not going to use it much," Fluttershy decided. "'Fleur' is how I met you, and... I think that's a lot of who you are. Most ponies don't get to choose their own names. Hardly any. I think a name which gets chosen means a little more. But I want to hear it, Fleur. I want to know about all of you..."
The unicorn's eyes slowly closed. Looked within, to where the ghost of a dead filly asked for just a little more attention.
"They usually called me Culi," she quietly told the world. "But that's just the shortened form. The full version is -- a lot more awkward, and my birth mother... I'm not sure what she was trying to do..." She swallowed. "It's -- Peculium --"
Species taxonomy was traditionally recorded in Griffonant.
"...'treasure'," the pegasus softly translated. "Or 'treasured' if the context calls for it. But most of the time, it implies... a possessive. So 'my treasure'..." And smiled. "...yes. I think that fits. But we should probably be careful about telling Spike..."
Eventually, "Why?"
"...because he's a dragon." Fluttershy sighed. "It's a dragon joke. And not a very good one, because it's Spike and he'll do anything not to be like that again. I shouldn't have said anything at all. I'm sorry..."
All things considered, asking Fleur to currently manage sentences of a single word was still pushing the limits. "Again?"
That story got them to a bend in the road.
"...I try not to tell anypony," Fluttershy softly stated. "Especially the ones who are... new. I don't want them to ever think of him that way..."
"I've heard of it happening," Fleur told her. "I've never seen it, but -- we have dragons. If the adolescents try to dominate through gathering a hoard, it can... set them off." It was part of why she'd been -- she could admit it to herself now -- nervous about the idea of having one in town. But with Spike, who'd already beaten it...
"...what brings them back?"
"Family."
They rounded the turn --
"...we'll get a cleanup crew soon," Fluttershy quietly offered, yellow hooves carefully trying to work around debris in the near-dark. "They're... used to this sort of work. You won't have to look at it for long."
The unicorn was silent.
I'll always have to look at where it isn't.
"...come on, Fleur," her guardian gently suggested. "Let's just... go home."
The palace air carriages took off, carried temporary caretakers away. The mares went inside --
-- the rabbit reached Fluttershy first, because he knew exactly where he had to be standing in order for his jump to do that. The rabbit fought for that spot. But there was room within that little radius for some exceptionally small company, and Fleur felt tiny claws scrambling up her right hind leg: something which had her fighting the urge to shake the minimal weight off --
-- the minuscule mass reached the small of her back. Curled up, began to fall asleep as the other cottage residents crowded up to them (mostly towards Fluttershy, but there were a few for Fleur), and that was when the unicorn rather belatedly realized that the third charge had assigned itself to her. She'd had no choice in the matter whatsoever. But... that was how it could be with animals.
By the time they reached the kitchen, she'd decided to name the shrew Katherine, if only so she could tell it to get down with a given set of syllables. Fluttershy started to prepare dinner, Fleur managed to move just in time to prevent the fast-cooker from getting involved, and then there was a general status check on the health of the cottage, trying to see if the temporaries had done any accidental damage. Plus there had been Bearers before that. If Rainbow had been directly involved with any part of cottage operations, you had to check the grounds --
-- they mutually cleaned up the crash site. Then there were feedings, examining a few patients to see how their recoveries were getting along, two dressings were changed, Fleur didn't realize that the entire day had finally caught up to her until the knot on the last one formed a rough triple-bow, and then Fluttershy was carefully pushing her up the ramp.
Topology spent a few minutes conferring with pony jointing, then went to allied war with the bed: the logistics defeated them. No matter how they contorted, there was enough room on the horizontal for one pony. Fleur sleepily suggested that the vertical had a chance to work out, Fluttershy promptly decided the unicorn had been through more than enough, and blankets were shifted to the floor. Chipped white hooves instinctively prodded the fabric configuration into something more like a circle.
The mares huddled together.
I'm dreaming.
This was all a dream.
The worst dream of my life.
I'll wake up in a cell. In Protocera, on the day of my execution. I'll remember everything I dreamed, because I always do. And I'll have to think about it all the way to the podium.
It's just a dream...
She was too tired for true thought. Exhausted on a level which reached a wounded soul: something which would be slow to heal. And all she wanted to do was stay in this part of the nightscape forever, to never slip back into the cold of reality again. A near-winter night with feathers caressing her flank. It was all she could ask for, and far more than she deserved. So she fought...
But she was tired, and pale violet eyes slowly closed.
There is a filly moving down the corridor between firewalls. She knows nothing of what is about to happen. And there's a glowing line on the massive door --
"I would wish you a good evening," the powerful voice says, and there is so much power in that voice. It's something which hasn't been restrained: simply held back until the time is right to fully release it. A voice which contains a constant reminder of what the owner could accomplish -- and is simply choosing not to. At least for now.
The voice is strong, and the power in it makes the filly stop moving. Freezes individual sparks of glow from the line, even as the mare becomes aware of herself. Of a much taller body which never stood here, never had the chance to exist in this part of a life. Staring up at a carefully-descending beautiful alicorn, one whose magnificence of mane and tail are filled with soft-twinkling stars.
"I would wish you that," the dark Princess repeats. "But the circumstances of the meeting -- that would turn the words into something cold and cruel. So instead, let me offer you this, Fleur Dis Lee. My... apologies."
She touches down in front of the mare. Cool eyes patiently regard the white face. Wait.
"...how," the mare finally manages. "How are you --" and then, all at once "-- I don't want you here! I don't want anypony to be in my --"
The dark eyes slowly close, open again. The very powerful left forehoof, however, scrapes against the ground.
There is now a trench in the corridor. It's about a hoof-height deep, and filled with glistening ice.
The mare stops talking.
"I recognize your desire for privacy," the Princess states. "In fact, it would have been impossible to ignore. You guard your inner self with some ferocity, Protoceran. It took me a moment to enter, and that represents one moment more than most can ever enforce. But we still begin with my apology. It is, in part, a simple matter of numbers. I may only dreamwalk for so many hours in any given night. Factor in the sheer number of those who could be visited, and then add your own need to guard. Something which places a notice in the nightscape: one which states that no matter how much pain emanates from within, the dreamer desires privacy. Given the sheer quantity of those who might be helped, the limited time I have for doing so... I tend to approach those who are more open to my arrival. Who actively call for aid, and that is something you are only now learning to do. And yet I apologize. Because with somepony in this degree of pain -- I should have been there."
The alicorn slowly shakes her head, and then the strength in that dark gaze focuses.
"You fight against intrusion. You see this as a level of violation, one which reminds you of what had come before. I understand, Fleur Dis Lee. But you did sign your paperwork," the Princess reminds her. "Although I was told you read all of it first. Something rather rare. But the signed terms included you giving consent for therapy. And this is part of that treatment." Completely cutting off the rising protest, "But I will not proceed with your feeling that you have been tricked. I cannot truly assist you unless you permit it."
There is something old about the dark eyes. Ancient and... patient.
"What is your word?" the alicorn asks, and waits.
The mare forces the dream self to breathe. It takes much more strength than it should.
"...yes."
"Then we begin."
The alicorn looks at the tiny filly. Caught between ticks of the clock, a few moons before her death.
"I had to shape your nightscape into the configuration for a meeting," the alicorn quietly says. "Something else for which I offer apologies. But this exact moment -- that was not my intent. I simply attempted to bring you home. I doubt you would have come to this instant naturally while in Miss Phylia's presence. But there will be nights when she is away, and so the core issues must be dealt with. Especially when a thought of home takes you here."
She approaches the frozen child. Looks down at the little body.
"It required very little effort for you to send yourself here," the Princess observes. "How often do you return?"
"...too often."
The alicorn calmly nods. Looks up at the glowing line.
"This will be a relatively brief session," she tells the mare. "In some ways. I do not wish to take you into the heart of the matter, not in a single night. Additionally..." The line is inspected more closely. "...I read the full transcript of your confession."
Several of the tail stars dim.
"There were several -- annotations," the alicorn adds. "Some of which were added by a party whom you would be unlikely to trust. And I could show you here and now, in dream -- but I can already guess at your defense. That it is only a dream, where so much more is possible. That I am, to use the vernacular, taking the easy way out. Conning you. So that proof waits for the waking world. Tonight..."
The left forehoof comes up. Shifts forward, almost touches the tip of the filly's small horn --
-- sinks back down.
"...tonight," the dark alicorn continues, "we do not discuss it. Not until you have seen, and that may take a few cycles to arrange. For tonight, I ask for a tour of your home, Fleur Dis Lee. Show me where the other memories reside: the things you have buried, because you wished to believe that pain was the whole of what you deserved. Show me the best of you."
She takes a step back, and the mare watches as the filly begins to move again. Moving in reverse, backing past them with fully natural movements, time rewinding until the child has left. Taken into a time of peace.
"Your home?" the alicorn suggests. "I have not seen a proper ranch in..." The dark eyes briefly close again. "...some time. Enough for the standards to have changed. This will be something of an education."
The mare just barely manages to nod. The alicorn returns, aligns herself at the mare's side, and the trot begins.
After a while, as they approach the exit, "Fleur Dis Lee?"
"...Princess?"
Coolly, "I am rather aware of your gaze. The exact direction and focus. Along with when someone is forming a dream within dream."
The unicorn winces.
"You are hardly the first to display attraction," the alicorn calmly announces. "And I do not ask you to control every moment of your nightscape. You will be fully loyal to Miss Phylia in the waking world: I do not doubt that. But escorts -- even those who have, shall we say, recently retired -- can have standards which the majority of ponies would treat as nothing more than fantasy. So should I appear in your nightscape as an aspect which you conjure... I shall not be offended by the role which your mind assigns to me. I have seen far too much for that." And as frost begins to glister upon the firewall, "But when it comes to the voluntary, fully-willful, 'threesome' of your growing fantasy, Miss Dis Lee... only in your dreams."
Eventually, Fleur woke up. The nostril-clogging smell would have made it impossible to remain asleep, especially with so much of her body having already decided she needed to be making a run for it.
"...I tried the pancakes again," Fluttershy awkwardly said.
She didn't even need one guess.
"With the fast-cooker."
"...yes." A fully-exposed face made it all the easier to see the blush which was underlighting the fur. "I should... probably stop doing that."
And that was how a life of love began: with the little things. You got up, you helped to bury the pancakes (and at some distance from the original site because that way, if either effort reanimated, it would take time to find reinforcements), and then there was an attempt at what felt like a good-morning sort of nuzzle.
That went on for a while.
But there were feedings to sort out. The day's schedule had to be examined, because the new vet wasn't in place just yet. The cottage had a hundred little things which needed to be done every morning, all of them took time, minutes and hours which no one could ever get back, and...
...you did them together.
Would it have happened, without the attack? Might they have come together fully on their own? Fleur wasn't certain. She felt that her own denial would have been much stronger, and -- she had to make an effort to keep from lying to herself -- there might have been at least one brief thought of exploiting the situation. But she wanted to believe that would have fallen apart quickly, and...
...she wasn't sure if it would have worked out. If it was going to work out now. But --
-- give me what I want, and you don't get hurt. That's what extortion is about.
He gave me what I wanted. His pain. And someone got hurt.
(She could justify the terminal syllable. 'Somepony' didn't fit a monster.)
I could have died.
I should have...
...I didn't.
I'm here.
There's at least a little time...
Life was the things you did to fill the time.
Love was who you spent it with.
Of course, there were all sorts of demands on her time. Some of them came up to her at the cottage and demanded more time, or that she move up the appointment they already had. Fleur typically used the chance to explain how veterinary schedules worked: in theory only, subject to the world openly laughing at them. And if anypony was truly rude -- well, she still had the field strength to lift the typical adult pony, and Fluttershy could afford to lose a few clients now. Especially when most of them repented before they got to the door.
Of course, some of those ponies were stressed. A number even had legitimate reasons for it. Fluttershy asked her to be more patient with the ones who had true problems, and Fleur did try. But she was learning how to see 'pony' instead of 'annoyance', or at least to reconcile the two. When it came to veterinary work, that might be the hardest part...
But on the second day after her trial, when the cottage was just getting ready to close the doors, one last mare slipped in. Moved in exactly the wrong way past one of the lighting devices, and produced a moment where all Fleur could do was blink away dark blue.
The Protoceran glanced up from the desk, and the only pony in the waiting area looked away. Sunlight-yellow eyes studied the numerous animal cubbyholes in a nearby wall.
"I thought you were cheating on her."
White ears carefully focused forward. Waiting for the rest to emerge from one of the few direct witnesses.
"Try that again," Fleur slowly offered. "While speaking up."
"I don't want --"
"Fluttershy's in the attic, checking the herb supply. She won't hear you."
The metallic managed a bare nod.
"I... thought you were already together." The young-seeming words were roughly aimed at Fleur. Most of the metallic's attention had been turned towards a slow-moving mouse. "It felt like... the flirting was disrespecting her. Doing it right in front of her, when you already had somepony. That's... part of why I was so mad. I --"
The wide rib cage just barely shifted.
"-- I'm sorry."
It was interesting, watching a metallic blush. The fur did curious things to the rising red.
"I -- I get it, okay?" Joyous hotly declared, even as the obsidian tail started to lash and she continued to look at anything which wasn't Fleur. "Feeling like you're not good enough for somepony... I get it. I know. There's some things you can't ever have. Some ponies..."
"A mare who could have anypony she wanted," Fleur calmly observed, "feels like she can't get --"
"-- I don't use it!" emerged with off-course fury. "And you don't -- you don't know what I want! Who...!"
The Protoceran, with a little more time in which to do so, finished examining the metallic's puzzle.
...oh.
There was a little pity in the thought.
Oh, even for you, that's a longshot. These things are categorized as 'alicorn fetishes' for a reason, Joyous. It's the shorthoof for wanting what you can never have.
...and just when and how did you ever meet Princess Luna, anyway?
-- which was when she saw that the metallic was crying.
Fleur slowly got up. Took three steps forward, and then stopped. Letting the other mare set the rest of the boundary.
Angry yellow eyes glared at her.
"It's hard," Joyous half-whispered. "To make sure they're interested in me. I know when my talent is turned off, because that's just about always. That night, with you... it was the first time in moons. Without my talent, it should just be about who I am. But then my looks still get in the way, I'm never sure it's me that anypony wants, and... I don't trust easily. I don't. And... after -- that day..."
Both forehooves awkwardly scraped at the floor.
"...maybe it's the same for you, a little. But you have Fluttershy -- now. I don't have anypony..."
You and Fluttershy could have a long talk. It might take hours to get you both on the same page, but... you'd understand each other, in the end.
It doesn't make you a good candidate for a threesome, even if she takes to you. With inner sarcasm, As long as I'm thinking about things which won't happen, worse for a group marriage.
You're still learning how to be happy with yourself...
"I just wanted to apologize," Joyous said. "That's all."
The metallic turned, and the red of her mark flashed into Fleur's eyes. Started to leave --
"-- wait."
Paused in mid-step. The trailing right hoof slowly came down -- but the pegasus was still facing the door.
"You need to find someone you can trust," Fleur quietly observed. "A relationship where you can be sure they love you. Why don't we start small?"
The bitter laugh contained at least half of a snort. "Someone, huh? Ponies aren't working out for me, so it's time to try a short zebra? Maybe you really don't understand --"
"-- Joyous," Fleur softly asked, "have you ever had a pet?"
The next blink shed twin drops of water. One of them hit the fainting couch, but... Fleur knew how to get those salt stains out.
And then the metallic turned back.
The client flood began to ebb. But it still took four days before Fleur could safely get away from the cottage early on an exceptionally cold morning, because there were things which had to be done in town. Two were scheduled, one supposedly-crucial meeting had been royally ordered, and all of them wound up delayed because shortly after crossing the border, she passed the freshly-opened candy shop -- the only candy shop, because the door on the other building had a sign announcing Investigation In Progress and nopony wanted to buy any -- and with the lone employee late to his shift, was spotted by its owners. The earth pony mare aggressively shoved mints and chocolates at her for fifteen minutes before Fleur managed to escape.
A near-overwhelmed field managed to pull most of it all the way back to her rental. It wound up forming the majority of what she had to pack.
"I said I didn't need the help," Fleur stated from her position in front of the entrance. "There just isn't that much." Most of what she had to do for the move-out was inspect the place. She was also planning on using her borrowed camera, because she wanted her deposit back and the best way to avoid fines for claimed damages was by displaying pictures of perfection.
"Yeah," the huge stallion agreed. "You said that. But this way, you can wrap up stuff in town while I'm hauling it back." Half-amputated wings flared out, somehow brought him aloft and let him peer into a cart which had a current load capacity of seventy percent air and twenty percent sweets. "Not that this qualifies as much of a haul."
It had been easy to balance the minimal load, to make sure the vibration of the trip did no damage. They both seemed to understand vibration.
He landed again. Trotted around the cart, came to a stop in front of Fleur and looked up at her from the street.
"It was a pretty exclusive club," the stallion quietly offered. "Ponies Who Date Bearers. I've been... kind of waiting on a second member."
And the first two inductees stood at opposite ends of the appearance curve. But there was something strange about Snowflake's features. He could be easily argued as ugly, but... it was the sort of ugliness you got used to.
"Makes you wonder if white fur is a requirement," Snowflake awkwardly added.
Fleur's lips briefly quirked.
"Probably not," she decided. And even if it is, Celestia still isn't getting in. She'd assembled that much of the alicorn's puzzle before everything had -- changed.
She briefly glanced down, examined the titanium which still adorned her right foreleg. Of course it was still there: the first foal hadn't been born yet. Besides, she and Fluttershy had been talking. Some minotaurs liked to display their union through wearing matching rings. Links of an unbound chain, showing that they were together because they wished to be. There was something about that...
About... knowing where the other is.
Location. But not status. And never risk.
She looked at Snowflake again.
Slowly and carefully, speaking as an equal to the only other pony who understood. "How do you deal with it? The stress? When she's on a mission, and you don't know what's happening? If she'll make it home?"
Red eyes closed, and stayed that way for a little while.
"I work," the stallion offered. "Or I work out. Sometimes it helps."
"What about talking?"
"Like I said," Snowflake softly verified. "First new member of the club. Mac and I try to talk it out sometimes, but... that's been about the whole of it." Most of that tremendous strength was used to force his eyelids open again. "If you want to talk sometimes, then... I get it. I'll try. I'm just not much of a talker."
You're better than you think you are.
And you're not that hard to get started.
"How about singing?"
He winced. "AJ's been trying to get me into a chorus. It's not easy. She says I'm a natural tenor. With some bass notes. But just -- out in the open, where everypony can hear..."
So they talked about that for a while, until the cart was finally pulled away towards the cottage. Fleur took pictures, started off to close her rental account.
The building hadn't been haunted. It just held memories, and some of them had been things which ponies didn't want to think about. In that sense, just about every place in the world had its ghosts --
"-- Miss Fleur?"
She looked down. Fleur had heard the approach, and it had said 'child': somepony small, not too heavy, with some unsteadiness in the tread. But her talent had been active, and... the pieces were rather familiar.
A little tinge of jealousy on that one. She knows I'm taken. It's helping the crush to fade. But she's deciding on her tastes, and... pieces linger.
There was nothing to be done about that. All Fleur could hope for that was that the filly would learn to look beyond fur and skin. Some adults never got that far.
The filly took a slow breath. The fog of her exhale worked its way into the scarf, and the two-tone mane uncertainly bobbed from sheer nerves.
"I'm supposed to say thank you," Sweetie shyly offered. "Because you did something. You made sure I didn't get hurt." And then Fleur finally saw it, the smallest display of a suppressed temper expressed as a tiny stomp of the right forehoof. "But nopony wants to tell me what got stopped. They said I'm too little...!"
It made Fleur smile. "You are."
With sudden hope, "You could tell me."
The mare sedately shook her head. The filly immediately pouted.
Innocence always dies.
"You're not wearing all that much makeup," the filly abruptly observed. "Not as much as you usually do. But you're still pretty. Just... not in the same way. And your winter cloak is nice." The light green eyes filled with hope again. "Rarity says I'm too little to learn about makeup. But you're really good with it. Better than she is. Do you think you could --"
-- Fleur paused in the middle of the second head shake.
"Make that 'not yet'," she offered. "When it's time, Sweetie. But for now... 'not yet'."
And the filly managed a smile.
Innocence always dies.
Naturally, in its own time.
Until then... let it go on.
She was supposed to have a meeting after that -- the first of two -- and of course she got delayed again: if not in the most annoying way possible, then certainly by the single least necessary source.
"Hold up." And it was an order, because it came from somepony in law enforcement and it couldn't be anything else. "Stop, Fleur! I just need a minute!"
The taller mare irritably paused, turned away from the mailbox. (She expected the apology to the Algonquin committee to arrive in two days, and she fully expected an invitation for next year.) Checked the street for witnesses. Nopony else around.
Figures: the forecast chased everypony inside. Blame the Weather Bureau.
"What do you want, Miranda?" With open annoyance, "If there's some obscure traffic regulation which you've just decided I've broken --"
The dark unicorn came up to her. Closed to within a body length, then stopped. Looking up.
"-- you don't like me," the police chief stated the obvious. "I'm --" and stopped, just long enough to take a chill breath. "I'm still trying to sort a few things out. But we're pretty much stuck with each other, Fleur. You live here. And if anything else happens..."
This breath was deeper. The too-square jaw set.
"...we have to work together," the dark unicorn finished. "Whether you like it or not, you're in law enforcement now."
Fleur blinked. The smaller mare stared.
"I see a camera's outline in your saddlebags," Miranda stated through the smirk. "Can I borrow it? Before your expression -- oh, there it went. Well, I'll just have to save my memory for the permanent record. Sun's spots, you really didn't let yourself think about that one until just now, did you? I can probably find a badge --"
"-- what. do. you. want?"
The officer's lips slowly relaxed, even as her shoulders joined the angular parade.
"I don't know if we can ever be friends," the smaller mare unnecessarily observed. "But we have to learn how to live with each other. And I know where you're going later. I don't want to hold you up too long. So..."
She looked to the left. Then the right. A nation which included pegasi also required a sky check.
"...your mother's recipe," the dark unicorn softly said. "The one where you soak vegetables in meat, and that changes their flavor. I... want to try it -- okay, now you're staring." With just a little more volume, enough to carry the growing frustration, "My father said that part of our family tree has roots in Protocera. I don't know if there's anypony still there, because we don't exactly have reunions. But it got into the naming. I mean... Miranda." And now the tail was lashing. "What kind of name is that? I don't even know how I wound up as an officer, with that kind of name to not guide the way..."
Fleur, with great effort and some fast-spreading muscle cramps, very carefully kept her mouth shut.
"I'm asking if I can come to the cottage in a few nights. Try it out," Miranda finished. "Can we at least do that?"
I am going to zirolak rib cut you into the ground.
...or a food bliss coma.
Whichever comes first.
"Yes. Just send a note ahead with the date. And get ready to have me send a correction back, because things can be hard to schedule."
The other unicorn nodded. Turned, began to trot away --
-- glanced back.
"There's going to be a notepad," she added. "And I'll be in the kitchen, using it. Just in case I need to replicate everything at home." A little more softly, "So I'll be watching you..."
The second interruption was almost a welcome one. Because it was too cold a day for Fleur's taste, and while you could always blame the Weather Bureau for the stupidity of their scheduling --
"Hey!" came from overhead, and the brashness of the syllable gave away the speaker before the height did. "Hey, Fleur! Slow up!"
-- it could be a lot more fun to glare at the weather coordinator for having enforced it.
Rainbow carefully descended, and did so to what Fleur recognized as an unusually low height. Not quite landed, because this particular pegasus seemed to do so only under duress or at the end of a crash -- but just barely above the street. Just about on Fleur's eye level. Well, that was going to make the glaring somewhat easier...
"...yeah," the sleek mare began, and the sheer awkwardness of the tone was enough to momentarily kick Fleur out of the plan. "Yeah. So." The right foreleg came up, roughly rubbed at the fur over her own sternum. "I was by the cottage earlier. Getting some advice on a heat lamp for Tank. You haven't met Tank. Um. Anyway, Fluttershy talked to me for a few minutes, and I got some stuff before that. From the Princess. So. Um. I don't have all of it. I'm pretty sure about that. But I think I got a pretty important bit, and..."
Cyan fur creased across the full breadth of the wince. Fleur impatiently waited for the point, and all the pegasus did was work her jaw a few times. It was like watching somepony go through a warmup exercise --
-- lips stiffened. Teeth parted and when they came together again, they clacked.
"Quomodo sentis?"
The accent was atrocious --
"-- how am I feeling?" Fleur slowly repeated. "How -- how do you --"
The forehoof was awkwardly rubbing against the now-relaxed jaw.
"...yeah," the weather coordinator said. "I haven't done that in a while. It probably sounded really bad --"
"-- where did you learn Griffonant?"
In contrast with Fleur's wide violet eyes, both magenta specimens were almost winced shut. "I had a friend. Maybe I still do. I... we haven't spoken since --" And nothing would have prepared the unicorn for the sigh. "Her name's Gilda. We met at Junior Speedster flight camp, because her parents wanted her to pick up some other-species tricks. They thought it would give her an edge. And we kicked it off. I mean, big-time kick. We hung around each other all the time at camp." The prismatic tail managed a rough sway. "I think she made me sort of competitive. Anyway, it got to the point where all of our parents thought we should spend some summers together. So there were two years where I visited her at her family's ranch --"
-- she didn't know when she'd reared up to place her forehooves against the sleek shoulders. She was just aware of the pegasus dropping across the minimal distance to the cobblestone, landing out of sheer shock as Fleur shifted down with her, holding the position --
"-- you've been on a ranch?"
"Yeah!" Huffily, "I even did some feedings! At the start. Eventually. As one of the bets. Gilda even lost a few. But we had to keep going for shark so I'd have something to bet with. And she needed to buy mangoes. In public --"
-- and then they were talking, and it was monster pens and processing, then it was about that one stretch of crossing the border where you turned west and skirted the mountain range for an hour, they were mutually complaining about the Bureau, that moved onto the beauty benefits of naps and at some point, one of them had started laughing, which became both...
...and just like that, Fleur had a friend.
Caramel looked utterly miserable, and it wasn't because she'd been late. According to Bon-Bon and Lyra, Caramel was late all the time.
The stallion had spread out the papers on his sitting room floor, then lowered belly and barrel to the wood. Every moment since then had been spent in a race. The papers had a significant head start, but it was only going to take a few more strategic uses of ink before the crushing weight of despair rendered him two-dimensional.
"Fleur --"
Who was also resting on the floor, directly across from him. There was about a body length of space between the two: more than enough room to give Caramel some safety when it came to her horn. Not that he'd noticed her courtesy, as his flattened gaze was mostly interested in the papers. Or his own forehooves, for when looking at the harshness of the ink slashes got to be too much.
"-- it's gone," Fleur peacefully said. "Deal with it."
She still had a charge. There was a certain obligation to make sure he wound up happy, and simply dropping advice on what to do in the presence of an interested green pegasus mare (one who, so far, was resisting all the gossip until she saw for herself) wasn't going to manage all of it. So a mare who'd spent two security-building years in keeping her expenditures at the minimum was going over the multiple-page written joke which passed for his budget. Without mercy. And they were going to talk about the chronic lateness, but only after he'd already been mostly broken. Six more slashes would probably do it.
"But I use --"
"-- we're putting you onto another soap," Fleur firmly said. "One bottle lasts three moons." The field-held quill, with point exposed to keep the ink from getting entangled, made a note. "And somehow, we are still going through the Personal Grooming section --"
Fleur squinted.
"-- is that decimal point in the right place?"
Caramel visibly forced himself to focus. The panic arrived a half-second behind.
"NO! Fleur, that's my manestylist! He's the only one who knows how to keep it going! Sure, it's twice a week for a full-service personal hour, but I need -- Fleur, don't -- !"
Earth pony strength pushed at the floor, sent the stallion into an all-out death dive, trying to save what had already been lost. A unicorn corona casually split off an extra bubble, which projected forward and knocked him off to the side.
The resulting thud shook most of the little house.
"No...!"
He begged. He pleaded. He also whimpered, and he was rather good at that.
The quill claimed its next victim, then went on the hunt for more.
We're going to talk about that whimpering.
...except for when you're in the bedroom.
She wasn't quite sure how to tell him about the rest of what the green mare liked...
Rarity met her outside the library or rather, the pacing back and forth in front of the doors stopped when the designer finally spotted Fleur.
"I'm sorry about being late --"
"-- Ponyville happens," Rarity calmly stated. "In any case, Rainbow dropped by earlier and explained her part in the matter. Would you come inside, please? As this chill is not scheduled to go anywhere for a few moons?"
Fleur moved towards the entrance. "Is Spike in?"
"Huddled by the fireplace," the designer sighed. "As he tried to go outside earlier, without being covered. The first few days of the season are hardest on him. His inner flame has yet to reach a temperature where it fully protects him, and... he remains young enough to spend a week insisting that he doesn't need his jacket any more. If you wish to speak with him, Fleur, you may. After we conclude Luna's business. And..." The elaborate curls shifted. "...that of another. Shall we?"
They went inside. The library was warm enough for ponies, but the little dragon was huddled within a hoofwidth of the fireplace. Even his scales were shivering.
"No patrons at the moment," Rarity whispered. "We were prepared to shut down for this, but -- it will only be a few minutes more, and then Spike will recover sufficiently for the operation of a checkout stamp. This way to the basement, Fleur..."
She followed the designer, noted the thinness of the International Literature section with some disdain. Went through the double-doors at the back, and then it was down a long ramp into a room full of equipment and beakers, heavily-protected private bookshelves and devices she'd never seen...
The majority of Fleur's education in magic had been self-taught. But she'd been an escort for multiple Gifted School graduates, because intellects which advanced the cause of thaumaturgy often had trouble with How Do I Get A Date? It had let her learn a little more, especially for when it came to dealing with those graduates -- some of whom genuinely felt that the best way to wrap up an evening was through showing her around their laboratory. Followed by demonstrating whatever they'd been working on.
Rule Two was 'The less you recognize, the more advanced it is.' Rule One concerned knowing where every exit was at all times and getting a good head start. Rule One was currently working with a ramp.
The little alicorn was looking up at Fleur, and doing so from a rather uncertain position next to a frame shaped like the outline of a pony's body. There were multiple nervous twitches in the tail, and the manestyle had been caught in the middle of finding a new way to come apart.
Fleur knew what was happening. Her talent was now being treated as something along the lines of a state secret -- but Fluttershy still had permission to brief the others, and that meant Twilight had recently learned exactly what Fleur was capable of. According to her love, the librarian was caught between the desire to understand exactly how that magic worked and a fear of being on the receiving end. Because there had been... something which had ended badly, a matter which Fluttershy wouldn't talk about without Twilight's direct permission.
The former escort hadn't used her talent on the librarian: fear of what that one had been told, combined with the twin aspects of alicorn and Magic. But Twilight was apparently in a position where she didn't want anypony to understand what she might want. Anypony at all... including herself.
It would have to be fixed eventually. But this wasn't the day.
"...okay," the little mare nervously began. "Just -- stand over there, Fleur -- no, not there! Keep your tail away from that plume before it -- okay, we're safe. Over there. By that portion of the wall. With the scorch mark -- the -- other scorch -- okay. And just keep facing that way while we set up Luna's experiment."
"Something to do with my trick," was Fleur's first guess. She glanced at Rarity --
"Don't look!"
-- the designer's horn had been lit. Probably helping with the setup.
"-- thank you," Twilight said. "And -- sort of. Um. I do want you to show me how that works, Fleur. I can't always duplicate a trick, but... sometimes I can manage that, after I study it. For a few days. Weeks. Through personal direct observation. Over and over. And with yours, I could use it for blending certain mixes. Unless the quickened agitation made them explode. Again. So... we won't go that far today."
Twilight knew that much and since Fleur's talent wasn't involved, she was curious. Rarity, who had been listening in the police chief's office, knew everything and -- kept her silence. Generosity's partial restitution. Fleur respected that. She was still expecting to be blackmailed into a fitting at some point, especially since she'd been told the designer needed models and putting Fleur in a dress would draw some attention -- but for now --
"-- all right," Twilight announced. "It's ready. Face us, Fleur. Come about ten body lengths towards us, then stop."
She turned. Alicorn and designer were standing on opposite edges of a long lab table which currently bore three beakers. The contents of each shimmered oddly, as if they were reacting half a beat behind the basement's lights.
"Can you split your field when you use your trick?" Twilight asked. "Multiple targets?"
"If they're small." There was very little point to making one milkshake at a time. "This qualifies." She approached, stopping about four body lengths away from the indicated table. Ready to move for the ramp.
The designer nodded. "Very well. Split, then project."
"But nothing more than a projection," Twilight hastened. "Make contact, then surround. Your starting level of energy. Partial corona. So I can observe from base state."
It was an order from the palace, being enforced by a second alicorn. Fleur's horn ignited. Three small bubbles emerged from the core of that light, moved forward at the same pace, came close to making simultaneous contact with each beaker --
-- the glass winked out.
The table was empty. There had been three beakers and at the moment before Fleur's field had truly touched them, that number had gone to none --
-- Rarity exhaled.
"As a unicorn of rather average strength," the designer announced, "who has a decidedly exceptional friend --" a glance at Twilight, and the alicorn blushed "-- I often find myself thinking of my raw potential in rather disparaging terms. However, having had to lower myself to such a level of weakness..." The curls twitched with bemusement. "That stallion, Fleur. Did you ever see him do so much as levitate a full mug? I imagine it would have wavered all the way to his snout --"
"-- what is this?" It was half a demand, and rather closer to being a full shout. "The palace wanted me to break something? Experimental glass, made to evaporate whenever a field gets close --"
"-- it was an illusion, Fleur," Twilight softly broke in. "The weakest illusion possible. Rarity cast it, because she's always been better with illusions than I am. It's one of those magic categories where personality plays a part. Imagination can mean more than strength."
"An illusion I created to be self-sustaining for a time, so that my horn could go dark," the designer added. "But I did so at the lowest level of exertion which would allow the effect to exist." The tail was lashing now. "The level where I suspect that stallion lives. Something where mere proximity to an active field of more significant strength... disrupts the effect."
"Erases it," Twilight finished. "Permanently."
The Protoceran didn't understand why her knees were starting to shake --
-- and the other two mares were moving. Coming towards her.
"He never charged the door, Fleur," Rarity quietly told her. "He was too tired, too weak. And he would have never admitted to that. So he used what must have been the last of his strength to create the illusion of a full charge. Perhaps he was planning on sneaking back later to finish the job, and counting on luck to save him until that happened. Or... as with so many monsters, he simply didn't care..."
"All you did was disrupt the effect," Twilight softly added. "Miranda's the one who thought of it, because she's seen bad illusions. Ponies trying to cover things being stolen with a phantom replacement. They're easy to break. And, if it was something weaker..."
The mares were jumping about in her sight. The entire laboratory was being jolted, over and over, and she didn't understand why --
"But she didn't believe you would have listened, if it had come from her," Rarity finished. "So she provided her suspicions to the palace. Luna asked us. To make the attempt, so that you might finally gain back the price of guilt. Refunded as innocence."
"It wasn't you." Twilight was less than a body length away now, and the nervousness had vanished. Replaced by fear. "Fleur, please, you have to stop rearing back, tossing your head, we know this is a shock, but it was him, the device's failure was him. It was just bad timing and horrible luck and it wasn't you..."
Her forehooves crashed to the floor again, and the mares lunged before the rest of her body hit.
It was a rather uncertain sort of nuzzle, even when it was twinned. There was one meant for friends, and... that wasn't what they were to each other. Not yet, and it might take a long time before any such designation became true. They just knew she was hurting, they wanted the pain to stop...
So they stayed with her, as she huddled on the floor. And they refused to break contact until the tears stopped. The moment when the next part of the healing finally began.
She'd mentally upgraded the meat broth's base material three times before she finally got the chance to speak with Spike. Something which, as far as the schedule was concerned, could take all the time which was needed.
They were given privacy, to talk quietly by the fireplace. And he was bright. He'd taken on too much for his age. Looking after a sibling who'd spent too much time following her graduation in treating him like a piece of mobile lab equipment, because she'd forgotten how to connect with others and he was hoping for any chance to get his sister back.
The griffon in a pony's skin. The dragon who'd learned to have a pony's heart.
It had taken them moons to talk and almost from the instant it started, they understood each other.
"I look at other dragons," the little bundle of scales and warmth said, huddled tightly in a curl of tension against her left flank, "and... it's like they're something else. Garble was what I'd wanted to be, and then -- he was alien. I didn't understand him. Then I thought he might be the one who was right, and I just didn't know who I was really supposed to be. What..."
Fleur sighed.
"Nature versus nurture," she told him. Which was immediately followed by "That's when --"
"-- I know."
She blinked. "Really?"
"Twilight went to the Gifted School," he sighed. "I pretty much took all of the courses with her."
The fire was getting low. Fleur levitated a few more logs onto the flame, and the little dragon turned his head just long enough to speed the ignition.
"But I wonder," Spike said. "Even now. If there's something greater that I'm missing, if being a dragon is more than they thought it was. Because no matter how I feel inside... the first time anypony sees me, that's all they see. A dragon. I just... want it to mean something good..."
A griffon in a pony's skin. A dragon with a pony's heart. Both forever caught betwixt and between.
"It means what you want it to mean," Fleur offered. "You're the only dragon most ponies will ever meet. The chance to take them away from stories, and the things they tell themselves. You can set the definition, Spike."
He curled up a little tighter.
Fleur sighed.
"You're the lucky one."
Crests came up. Green eyes stared at her.
"How?"
"You look different. But you act the same." Fleur sighed. "It's the opposite for me."
"You can pretend," he insisted. "That everything matches. Every minute --"
"-- and it makes me tired," she told him. "And scared, because the mask gets heavy. I keep waiting for it to slip. And if anypony falls for it... that just makes it worse, when the illusion breaks. I couldn't keep it up forever. Just... long enough to retire, if I was lucky."
When her looks were gone.
With enough money to buy true security.
Ready to be alone.
Because once her beauty faded, no one would want to be with a monster.
"I wasn't," Fleur finished. "And... I want to change, Spike. For her. I'm trying. But I'll always be a griffon in my heart. I don't know any other way..."
She could see him thinking about that. It was a surprisingly intense process, one which let her feel the solid mass of his tail as it twitched.
"But that's what she loves," the little dragon decided. "And if I get to define what it means to be a dragon -- why can't you do that for being a pony?"
Her answer was immediate. "You're the only current dragon citizen of Equestria. There's a lot of ponies --"
"-- so who said they had their definition right?"
She blinked.
She thought about it.
He curled up a little tighter, sighed softly as he basked in twin sources of warmth. And she looked at him, then checked his puzzle again. Saw the same pieces in an identical configuration, and kept her own sigh fully within.
In some aspects, it was likely too late. Too young for anything more than a crush, but -- some pieces formed early. There were ways in which he'd made his decision, and it was unlikely to change. Not impossible, but... at least for today, there was a dragon who dreamed of ponies. Based on the exact configuration, of one particular mare...
It was a crush. It wasn't his fault. Crushes just --happened. Nothing about it could ever be his fault.
On the whole, Fleur considered, he could have done a lot worse.
On the way home, she was waved down by a stranger. Examination of the mare's puzzle revealed no primary reason for it, and Fleur trotted over.
"Hello!" the breathless young earth pony declared. "I'm just glad to see anypony out in this cold!" The rather cute mare shivered.
Fleur offered a small smile, and patiently waited.
"So I just moved here," the mare offered. "I really wish I'd picked a warmer day! Because you're the first pony I've seen. And I don't have a map, and I could really use some directions..."
"I've only been here a few moons," Fleur told her, and watched the hopeful expression not quite collapse. "But I can try. Where are you trying to go?"
The needs turned out to be basic: a warm place to eat, and a hotel in which to stay until the mare's place was ready. Fleur provided both, offered a warning about Mr. Flankington's, and began to move away --
"-- there's one more thing," the mare timidly asked. "If you've got a minute."
She had a lifetime. She just had to decide how it was going to be spent.
"What is it?"
"It's my first day," the mare said. "And... this is the settled zone where the Bearers live, and... I was just wondering... if I wanted to see one --"
"-- welcome to Ponyville."
"Um," the mare awkwardly considered. The forest green tail twitched a bit. "...thank you?"
"And if you're really planning to stay," Fleur finished, "then don't bother them. Give it enough time, and they'll meet you." With a quiet laugh, "You can't avoid it, really..."
I could mention the party.
...I'm not going to mention the party.
Let it be a surprise.
She basked in the warmth of the mare's confusion, and proudly trotted away.
The Cumulus arrived on a day when Fluttershy had been singing, on the same night as the first letter from her parents. International express, with government stamps representing six Presidents across a period of four years. Fluttershy went to the upper level and set up the cloud, then returned and stayed next to Fleur through twenty pages and three small panic attacks.
"'Come home'," Fleur finally finished. "All of that, and... come home. I have to write them back. What am I supposed to say...?"
Feathers brushed against her face, absorbed the tears.
"...that you love them," Fluttershy suggested. "I think that's enough to start."
After a while, they both got up. Fluttershy led the way up the ramp.
"...the bed is -- nice," the guardian evaluated the most expensive mattress in the world. "I like the nest shape. And the support. Clouds always feel a little tacky to me, but this one is just soft. I guess when it's been soaked with enough magic to support anyone..."
Fleur smiled. "I was hoping you'd like it."
"...so let's go to bed."
But that was followed by a worried glance down towards the sitting room clock. For Fluttershy, who slept so little, this counted as early. "Are you feeling all right?"
"...I'm just going to bed. All right, everyone: no following us into the bedroom. You two, please go ahead and clear everyone out. I want the entire area empty in two minutes..."
There were times when Fleur had to be direct. "You never go to sleep at this hour --"
Fluttershy glanced back. The incredible tail lofted, slowly and inexpertly swayed from left to right. Brushed against Fleur's forelegs, and did so under the considerable weight of intent. And also of tail.
...oh.
Fleur took a breath. On the fourth attempt.
"Fluttershy," she carefully began. "I've been trying not to push you --"
"...I know," the pegasus declared. "You've been very good about that. Even when you're making all of those interesting movements in your sleep. And stay in the bathroom for a very long time, followed by using a lot of soap. You've been so good that it could be moons before you said anything. So I thought I'd go first. I'm..." She swallowed. "...I think I'm ready -- no, I'm ready. Or at least I want to try..."
Six attempts.
"First times usually aren't very good," Fleur cautioned her. "No matter what the stories say --"
"-- you were an escort," Fluttershy pointed out. "I'm sure you know what to do. And you'll teach me."
Hastily, "I didn't say you wouldn't be good. Just that it might not match what you were expecting --"
"-- I've been expecting you. And when it comes to what you want to do..." Simply, "I trust you, Fleur."
The unicorn managed a smile.
"Do you know one of the side effects of having a tail that full?"
"...hitting things with it," Fluttershy decided. "And I feel all of them --"
"Because you develop a lot of extra nerve endings along the dock," Fleur softly told her. "Let me show you..."
"Fluttershy?"
Which, from the depths of the soft nest, pulled up a somewhat sweaty "...yes?"
With what might have been excessive patience, bordering on the heroic, "This is a first time."
"...yes."
"I'm trying to work out what you like."
"...Fleur, you of all ponies -- I want you --"
"-- which, oddly enough, doesn't give me much about what you enjoy sexually."
"...oh."
"Clients are supposed to tell escorts what they like. So are lovers. And you're quiet," the unicorn accurately accused. "You wriggle, and you're sweating. But you don't talk. I need some feedback, Fluttershy. For you to tell me how something feels. If you want more of it, or want me to switch to something else, or stop."
"...oh."
"So after I put my tongue back where it was, you're going to do all the talking. All right?"
"...okay."
Movement happened. Sped up. Intensified...
"...yay!"
It was rare, for Fleur to be the only one awake in the middle of the night. Even more so for Fluttershy to be asleep while the unicorn ventured towards the lower level, with a few curious animals trailing in her wake and Katherine curled up in the small of her back. But it had been the first time for the pegasus, and... then it had been the second time. They'd made it all the way to seven before her guardian's burgeoning curiosity had been overcome by the need for recovery, and now the beautiful form had slightly-oversized wings half-unfurled across a soft cloud, while the tail was simply going everywhere and was apparently rather proud of that.
For this, Fleur's endurance was the greater. And she didn't want to sleep just yet, because doing so meant potentially meeting Princess Luna in the nightscape. She knew the alicorn was going to smirk...
So she went to the ramp, headed down to see if there was anything which needed to be taken care of. And in doing so, had a different meeting.
The draconequus got up from the couch.
She watched as the long body unfolded itself, found its uneven footing, slowly strode towards her...
Fleur didn't move. There was no retreat, because there was no point. They had a truce: that was the claim. She was just hoping that he didn't ask what they'd been doing and Moon's craters, how long had he been on the couch and just how good was his hearing --
-- but he just stood in front of her for a moment. Looking down, and she absently wondered just how much he'd warped the ceiling to allow the assumption of his full normal height.
Silence for a few seconds, with each simply regarding the other. And then his upper limbs stretched out towards her. Fleur noticed a hint of something dark on the paw --
-- the talons snapped. Light flashed.
"I was told these are yours."
Technically, the appearance of the two objects was the only change. Feeling as if her eyes could never close again was purely coincidental --
-- he put the limbs a little more forward. Waggled them, as if trying to draw attention. The deep red box balanced upon his paw rattled somewhat, while the journal clutched in his talons was still.
"She won't allow me to create anything more than trifles," the draconequus irritably reminded her. "But restoration... that can be another matter. And when she actually asks for something... well, consider all of the effort involved in bringing back that which was so thoroughly broken." In a mutter, "Which, incidentally, she implied was my fault -- oh, look, just take them. It's not as if I have nothing better to do than stay here all night. There are other appointments --"
Her mouth opened, just enough, and she took the box from his paw. Gently carried it to the nearest bench, set it down because she had to do something while her mind reeled and spun and waited for the moment when she finally woke up...
He noticed the single collection, huffed a little and placed the journal on the couch while casually ignoring every law of distance which said he couldn't do that. Stared at her again.
"I have been trying to find some way to think about you which doesn't lead to irritation," he told Fleur. "Currently, I regard you as her -- pet. Something half-feral, barely tamed, which might turn on anypony except her mistress. But..." Carefully, as the thick eyebrows knit themselves with a double-purl pattern, "...that's protective, isn't it? And you can provide. You give her security..."
He turned his body on the tip of a single claw, then absently returned it to the proper foot. Started towards the door.
"You make her happy," he decided. "I suppose that would be what's important." The uneven shoulders shrugged. "Restitution for damages, Fleur. And as for the rest... if trifles are what she permits, then that is what she shall receive. What's outside is for her."
He looked back over his shoulder, and partially through. Proudly displayed the worst smile in the world.
"But you could take a few," Discord considered. "After she says so, and only when you've been good." With a surprising lack of snideness, "I understand that pets are trained more efficiently with rewards..."
Light bloomed, and he vanished.
Fleur stared at the box, which let her spot the rabbit standing next to it: she glared at him until he moved away. Her horn ignited just long enough to let her look inside, and then she was crying again. She'd cried more in the last few days than she had across several tear-free years. That was what being around ponies did to you.
The journal was checked. All of the pages were there.
...it's not mine.
He said something about outside...
She took the mourning box with her.
The soil didn't match.
She wouldn't have trusted anything he created. Not yet. But restoration was another matter, and in this case -- he'd just performed a transplant. Taken the date palm from somewhere else, and the question of whether it had a previous owner was promptly tabled for another moon: in any case, that party was rather unlikely to show up.
He'd moved the tree, included the soil surrounding it, and just -- swapped it all onto the cottage grounds, about twelve body lengths from the entrance. But he'd done more than that, because a date palm couldn't survive in Ponyville's climate, not in winter...
The branches were heavy with fruit. And when she got close enough to count them, the air became warm with a promise of spring.
She looked at the tree for a while. Breathed in its scent, told herself it was a preview. Went back inside.
The rabbit looked at her as she closed the door. Glanced at the box which was floating at her side, then scurried up to a wall. Jumped up, used multiple ledges, landed at the entrance to one of the largest, deepest holes. Thumped a back paw against the entrance, stared at Fleur...
"No," she gently told him. "Thank you, but... no. It'll be safe enough in the bedroom, I think." She reconsidered that. "Once Fluttershy sets the boundary." Or in the sitting room, on a high shelf. Somewhere which offered a good vantage point. "But..."
She trotted over to the couch. Looked at the journal again.
"This isn't mine," she told Angel. "I know why Fluttershy asked to get it back, but... it never was."
There was no point to restoring the mill. The dead remained so: it had just taken that particular corpse a long time to fully stop moving. But with the journal...
She thought about it.
She fell asleep thinking about it, with a shrew on her back and a rabbit stretched across her forelegs. And she dreamed of a stallion's life, something seen through cold words reborn as light and laughter and pain...
The somewhat overweight unicorn merrily waved the four mares on their way, and then closed to the door to the bird sanctuary. They'd had to go a little further out in order to check on Kori, but -- there had been time to witness the joy as that first tentative flight gained more strength.
Bluestocking had stayed behind, and it had been understood from the start that it would happen that way. Audu Bontemps lived on Canterlot's absolute border, along a personal fringe. The true destination was somewhat closer to the city -- but still represented something of a hike. They were going to visit on the way back.
"We're right on time," Pinkie announced. "But we'll only be able to stay two hours once the visit starts." The somewhat rounded face shifted into a rather rare frown. "That feels rude. There may not be many visitors, and to just say you can only see somepony for so long each day --"
"-- probably got a schedule t' keep," the farmer sighed. "Routine can become really important, for some of 'em. It's... a lot of what they follow. When it gets that bad..."
Even within her winter garment, the farmer shivered.
"...Applejack?"
"Jus' thinkin', Fluttershy." Another, deeper sigh. "And before y'go an' ask 'bout what -- Ah had t' ask Granny a lot of questions, last couple of weeks. That's what it took t' get this far. An' it was a couple of weeks 'cause Ah can only ask the questions on the good days. If there's good days, then there's bad ones. It... still leaves her better off than a few. An' Ah've been thinkin' that Ah have t' ask more of those questions." Her head dipped. "Only so much time left t' do it, an' -- shadowlands don't answer."
"I'm sorry," the tallest mare said. "For putting you through that --"
"-- Ah'm glad, Fleur."
With open shock, "You're --"
Fluttershy gently brushed a wing against Fleur's jacketed flank. The unicorn stopped talking.
"Went over this first night, remember?" But the farmer was smiling. "Heard some stories Ah wouldn't have otherwise. Read one. Granny's the last link to those days -- well, the last one in Ponyville. We've gotta get those stories, while there's still a chance. Get the stories, an' --" the nod was directed at Fleur's saddlebags "-- drop one off."
"It's still too short for a good visit," Pinkie grumped. "If he wants us to stay. I don't care if it's more than two hours. I don't have to visit that music store before the train back."
"Still don't know why y'want t' check the international section --"
"-- music comes from everywhere, Applejack! You can't discriminate!"
Sixteen hooves picked out a beat on the road. The university's towers were starting to come into sight. And there was a much smaller building beginning to appear on the horizon, something exceptionally low and spread out.
"Pinkie?"
"What?"
"Ah know for a fact that y'hate, what, seventy-five percent of all buffalo music?"
"There's only four beats! And the wedding one isn't bad." Pinkie's features lightly scrunched, and the curls swayed. "At least until it hits the third hour."
You had to take something from the moment...
"Pinkie?" Fleur asked.
"Still here!" the baker chirped.
"You had Lyra playing Protoceran music. During that first party. Why?"
The pink legs slowed their pace somewhat: the other three mares dropped back to match.
"I'm not sure," Pinkie carefully admitted. "I just get -- feelings. Things which feel like they come from my mark. If I'm planning a party, and trying to make somepony comfortable... there's -- something like a whisper, only a little more quiet. I'd heard an album, and I didn't know where it was from. I just thought it would suit you. So I gave it to Lyra, and asked her to practice. That's really all it was, Fleur. Something which felt like it could make you feel at home -- well, that and the bobbing tub." The baker smiled. "I thought you'd love a bobbing tub! But you didn't go near it all night --"
"-- I had makeup on," the unicorn defensively stated. "And..." She hesitated. "...it was a pony bobbing tub."
"Of course it was! Because we're all ponies -- oh..." Pinkie winced. "Um... Fleur -- what's in a griffon bobbing tub?"
Evenly, "Raw meat."
Two mares swallowed. The pegasus and unicorn didn't.
"Ponies go in on a dare," Fleur admitted. "But cleanup is easier with the apples."
They trotted on for a while. The building was getting close.
"This is partially 'bout havin' a kid, right?"
Fluttershy nodded.
"Snowflake an' me ain't got that far."
I saw your puzzle. You've gotten that far. You're just using protection.
With a grin, "Can't ask him this question. Who's carryin'?"
Fleur softly groaned. "Me." The Most Special Spell allowed the participants to determine that much, and Fluttershy might need mobility on every mission. Fleur was trying not to think about what it would do to her own figure, mostly because there were exercises designed to help restore the body after pregnancy and Snowflake was going to put her through all of them.
The spell didn't guarantee pregnancy, though. At most, it provided the same chance to become gravid as might be present between a mare and a stallion on the same night. And as with a heterosexual encounter, that pregnancy required having sex.
Once the health screening was cleared and the government casting application went through, they were potentially going to be having a lot of sex. Fluttershy was trying to bring her bedroom endurance up.
"Got a name picked out?" Casually, "Since y'know it's gonna be a filly."
"...I think so," Fluttershy softly offered as they approached the door. "Fleur said I could decide, for our first. Whenever she comes. But we talked about it, and I've been thinking about... Grace."
Griffons understood. You did the job, you stepped down from your link, and then someone would take care of you. Perhaps that was why Fleur saw three of them working at the Pasture Home For The Aged, gently tending to their charges. The ones who couldn't fully look after themselves any more.
It was rare for a pony to reach this kind of place. A certain amount of luck was required, and not all of it was good. You had to live for a very long time. There were probably a few health issues trying to prevent you from getting any further. And... everypony around you had to be gone.
No family. No friends. Perhaps there hadn't been children, or... they didn't want to remember you. Or there had been foals, they had grown up, and -- you'd outlived them, too. Something you tried not to think about, which never should have happened and for the pony they had come to see, that was the case.
There was no mourning box for Equestrians. His would have been the size of a bench.
The mares moved quietly, because there was a routine in place for so many of the residents and their arrival could constitute a disruption. One resident ignited her horn, flashed a weakened red signal, then spent a happy ten minutes telling her daughter everything about her day. The young mare listened, smiled at all the right times, laughed freely, and then Pinkie went into the restroom for three minutes and didn't emerge until the tear tracks had fully dried.
Their quartet was led around the vast perimeter, because the building had but a single level: you couldn't ask the aged to climb. And the hollow center was filled with a year.
The palace gardens operated on a similar principle. Pegasus and earth pony magic worked together to micromanage the environment, taking heat from one place and giving it to another, keeping everything going. In the great hollow, there was a section assigned to spring, another matched the outside winter, and the residents could freely wander between every season because they all had to be available. Not when you didn't know if anypony would live to see another.
Applejack had asked her grandmother questions. Things only Granny Smith could answer, as Ponyville's last living Founder. But there was more than just Ponyville.
They went into the center. Moved into summer, for they had contacted the home in advance, asking for this chance, and he would only allow himself to be found in the heart of summer.
Four mares trotted down narrow, perfectly-level trails. Tried not to look at the poorly-hidden medical supplies among the flourishing plants as they breathed in the scents of a false rebirth. And finally, they came to the core of the season.
The heart of summer, and a stallion in the winter of his life.
He had been strong once. Powerful enough to venture into the wild and carve out the new, so that those who followed might live in safety. Years had been sacrificed to that, and... it could be argued that the mares represented part of his legacy.
But his bloodline was gone. His name was etched on a plaque attached to a fountain, and it was read out once per year. His fur had gone scant and strange, because age could do odd things to those rare ponies who sported the metallic hues.
It was possible, if the dreams were strong enough, to briefly imagine what he had been. Hearty and powerful, with a booming laugh. But there was a stallion on a soft bench, bones and tarnish and a few clinging mane hairs which had been brushed by a nurse for the occasion. His eyes were barely open and as the mares approached, he did not look up.
The quartet stopped. Fleur, looking at what felt like a new kind of nightmare, forced herself to go on.
"Sir..." she tried as she stepped closer, and still he did not look up.
I have to --
"They said -- you were told why we were coming." But not if you understood... "I just thought..."
Her horn ignited. The saddlebag opened, and a very old journal floated out. Came to a stop in front of where his lowered gaze might have been resting.
"He would have wanted you to have this," Fleur told the last known living stallion Founder, and her field turned the pages. "He said -- you were his best friend."
The stallion might have been reading the words which echoed her spoken ones. Or he might not have known there were words at all. That there was a mare, or a false summer, or anything other than a nurse poorly concealed on a side path. Monitoring.
"Sir...?"
He breathed, and that was all.
"You can keep it," Fleur said, and did so at the same moment her heart tried to break. "It's yours. We'll... we'll just leave you be..."
She started to turn. Fought back the urge to run, to fly...
"Look at me..."
And she looked back, just in time to see the aged head come up.
The stallion squinted. Stared at her, with a gaze which was beginning to clear.
"You have his eyes," Brass breathed. "Exactly his eyes..."
She wished, as the others slowly came closer. She longed for it to be true. But... perhaps it was nothing more than a delusion, the years having their way with his mind. Something he wanted, in the face of the impossible. One last connection to what had been.
And perhaps lies had their place (and she could think that without irony, as Applejack approached on her right). There was something in the pony mind which needed a few of them in order to exist. The falsehoods which suggested wishes could work, and miracles happened: the reasons to keep going.
She had a griffon's heart. But she would spend her life among ponies, because the one she loved had just stepped up to her side. Brushed a gentle wing against her, offering support. A griffon's heart, one which could love... but a pony's body. Perhaps there was a part of her which needed both, to exist as the twinned sides of her heritage. Which wanted to believe a lie, just for a little while. Even if there was no miracle and it wasn't true, had never been possible at all...
It might have been a delusion. But he needed it. And love could be darkly described as a delusion. 'Mental illness' was also an option. You could live without it and as Fleur had aptly demonstrated, trying to find it could make you a little crazy. Still -- delusions might have been something ponies needed.
A griffon's heart. But perhaps there were ways in which all hearts were the same. The needs of those souls. The warmth of a lie.
And you always gave to those on the last links.
She lowered herself to the warm ground, felt Fluttershy match her. Looked up at brightening eyes.
(Or it might even be a truth. You just didn't know that you were telling it.)
"Tell me about my grandfather."
The nursery had been rather hastily remodeled, and none of that emergency redesign had accounted for the fact that doubling the number of foals would require some degree of increase to the amount of space. He felt as if he should have been offended by that. Bad enough that he had to come in after the adults were asleep, but to curl his body up in what, even for him, represented some rather odd contortions...
Still, it made the foals giggle. Or maybe it was more of a burble. True giggling was probably a few moons off. There was probably a developmental guide somewhere, and... he preferred to watch it happen naturally. That particular plot, even if read off to him, felt as if it would be rather predictable.
There were two foals. One of them was awake in the soft pen, staring out at him through the bars. (Apparently children were meant to start their lives in prison and if any of them had wings, then the cell came with a roof.) That was the one who had arrived in the world by more conventional means, and he had started to pay her some attention. After all, growing up with such an interesting sibling just had to result in a life which tilted away from the boring. Additionally, if you were going to be a godfather, then you clearly couldn't look after just one foal.
Responsibility was transitive. That was... oddly interesting.
One foal was in the pen. The other had curled up on his soft paw, which had been carefully upturned and balanced. Offering perfect support.
(He would hold her sister later. That felt right.)
The filly he held had fur of a deep, rich reddish-brown, and that was normal enough. But he hadn't been able to resist a few personal touches, such as the white mane and tail which had threads of thin, curving gold worked through them. And he hoped that she might turn out to be a storyteller, with a talent which let her read any language in the world. But... he couldn't control the mark. That form of magic was just a little too orderly to touch. All he could do was provide what he felt was the right environment. That meant visiting regularly and, until she was a little older and her parents had been in Ponyville long enough to potentially not scream and slam the door in his face, in secret.
He would approach openly, in a year or two. But until then...
"A story tonight, I think," he told the siblings. "And you pay attention," was directed at the one in the pen. "There may or may not be a review later. And a test. But not a numerical score, because those are boring. Now, let me see. What kind of story would fit..."
The sister in the pen yawned. The one upon his paw curled up a little more tightly, and sleepy eyes blinked up at him as her head lowered itself to the soft fur. It put her chin near a small dark spot. Something which had been lingering through all of the changes, which -- didn't want to leave.
He was learning to live with it.
Responsibility was transitive. There were two foals, where there should have been one. It felt as if he owed something to the other. And he'd made sure that the filly on his paw would grow up to have the fullest tail in the world, because as far as he was concerned, that was beauty. The rest of the planet would simply have to recognize it.
She would be beautiful. That would inevitably lead to dating. (He would need to make sure the sibling got some attention there as well.) He knew something about dating. And he reserved the right to screen her suitors...
But she didn't remember him. Not as she -- as they had been. It would have been too awkward for a newborn. She only recognized him as something warm and careful, which spoke to her with words of promise and protection. Beyond that, a foal had no knowledge of anything, and that meant there was an obligation to teach.
"A story," he mused. "What about -- the story of how the world was made?" And the smile was a little less horrible. "I'll try to skip over the boring parts. Which is quite frankly most of it, at least until I come in..."
She curled up a little more tightly, looked up at him with innocent, sleepy eyes. After a moment, he softened his talons and let the other fraternal twin rest there. It seemed only fair, plus there was probably some kind of opportunity to be explored through laps and at some point, he would need to give himself one.
He spoke in the nursery, deep into the night. And because they were young and didn't really know how to pick out the good parts, the fillies inevitably fell asleep.
It was amazing, what he had to put up with. But... this wasn't too much trouble. It was a decent enough story, at least once you got to his bit. He could tell it again, when they were a little older. Say, in two weeks. And normally, the repetition would have grated at him, doing the same thing instead of putting fresh chaos into the world...
...but children were chaos. Tiny breathing bundles of endless possibility. So really, it was about educating the next generation, while trying to make sure the resulting adults didn't turn out boring.
And besides, who said a story had to be told the same way every time?