The sun shone over a warm spring day in Ponyville. White clouds parted as a pegasus mare looped her way through the atmosphere. She smiled as the sun warmed her back, tickling the orange coat that covered her from nose to hooftip. Her purple wings—mismatched from her coat yet completely fitting with her tail and mane—flared and caught an updraft that carried her higher. Below she could see the marketplace, where numerous ponies were going about the business of buying, selling, and trading.
She unfolded the scooter from her back and set in in place just in time to catch herself on a rooftop. The shingles rattled her, but she continued to pick up speed until she could launch herself to the next house. Her stomach did flip-flops that tickled her tailtip as gravity played with her mane. She crested City Hall, rolling across the striped roof with a laugh of exhilaration. She left the skies and skidded to a halt on the ground just in front of the stairs.
Just a few months ago, the steps had been filled with protestors decrying the Applejack administration. Now, though, after the elections had concluded, it was bereft of anybody save for the office workers who called City Hall their workplace. One in particular caught the pegasus’ eye; a tan-coated earth pony mare. “Yo! Miss Mayor Merry Mare the Mayor! Can I ask you somethin’?”
Merry was just about to enter the front door. She waved her companion onward and walked towards the pegasus with a nod of the head. “Scootaloo. Pleasure to see you, my dear. Do you have business with City Hall or with me?”
Scootaloo leaned on her scooter’s handlebars and shrugged. “Kinda both, kinda neither. You know if the Ponyville barracks is accepting visitors?”
Merry’s eyes lit up as the dots connected in her head. She clicked her tongue and shook her head. “Well, I can’t really say so for sure, unfortunately. Military installations tend to be fairly exclusive in who they let in or out.”
Scootaloo sighed. “I was afraid you’d say that.”
“Still…” Merry offered Scootaloo a small smile. “You are a friend to the crown. You may just be offered special consideration.” She winked at the younger mare. “Say hi to Rumble for me, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am.” With that tiny bit of hope running through her veins, Scootaloo scooted with renewed vigor towards the edge of town. The Ponyville Army Barracks was a new installation, but one that most of Ponyville considered too long in coming. With the presence of the Everfree Forest being so close, and a princess of Equestria calling the city her home, an increased protective force was all but required at this point. Soldiers from all over Equestria had been reassigned to the city, some in hopes of becoming Princess Twilight’s personal guards, some with the hopes of seeing the legendary weirdness of Ponyville up close and personal.
A massive wall surrounded a series of buildings. The barracks sat between the Everfree Forest and the town square, while being just a few blocks away from Ponyville Castle. Three-hundred troops called the base their home, with more on the way. Scootaloo rolled up to the front gates and smiled at the gatekeeper. She didn’t recognize him, and he seemed to return the favor with full measure, sporting a face made from chiseled stone.
“Hi!” She said after a moment. “I was wondering if I could get in to see someone who just arrived. One of the new pony-at-arms. Ponies-at-arm? Gonna have to ask him the proper term, I guess.”
The gatekeeper glanced down at her skinny-yet-toned body, which was far, far below army regulation. “Official Royal Guard business only. If you have a problem, there are people on duty you can contact.”
“Yeah, but, like—” She jerked her head to the side in an attempt to see around him. It wasn’t quite working. The stallion was as wide as a carriage. “My boyfriend just got back home and I was hoping—”
“If he wants to hear from you, ma’am—” Scootaloo grimaced at that; she sure didn’t feel like a “ma’am.” “—he can send you his mailing address. Please move along.”
She tried to smile again, but she felt it fraying at the edges. “Would it change your mind if I said my name was Scootaloo?”
“No.”
“Scootaloo, one of the Cutie Mark Crusaders?”
“Is that a Filly Scout thing?”
“Friend of, not to namedrop, Twilight Sparkle.”
“Look, lady, just get lost.”
Scootaloo briefly considered flying over the wall, but one glance at the crossbows situated at regular intervals brought that little pipe-dream to a halt. She backed away from the gatekeeper with a growing pressure in her neck muscles. “Yeah, okay, Buddy. You’ve been all kinds of help.”
“Scootaloo!” Another voice, a bit deeper and smoother than the gatekeeper’s grating gruffness, halted her in her tracks and relieved the pressure in her spine. “What brings you to the barracks?”
The gatekeeper snapped a smart salute as an armored bat-winged pony trotted up to the gate with a few other soldiers—folks Scootaloo recognized as some of Twilight’s Personal Guards. She threw a casual salute to the bat pony, albeit a loose one with the wrong hoof, and stood at a kinda-sorta attention. “Commander Skyhook, pleasure to see you, sirrah!”
“Mm, hmm.” Skyhook’s piercing yellow eyes glanced at the gatekeeper. He returned the soldier’s salute, then did the same to Scootaloo. “For future reference, she’s allowed on base. At least until lights-out.”
The gatekeeper cleared his throat. “Yes, sir.”
“And I expect good behavior,” Skyhook continued with a smile. “Don’t bother Rumble while he’s on duty.”
Scootaloo nodded maybe a bit more than was necessary. “Don’t worry about me, sir. I know better than to make myself a nuisance. Most of the time.” She sucked her lips in and tilted an ear down. “Is he on duty right now?”
“Actually, you just missed him.” Skyhook pointed behind her, towards town square. “He just went on leave for the next few days. He said he was going to visit family in town.” The commander chuckled briefly and shared a glance with one of the guards. “I think he was planning to surprise a certain someone.”
“Trying to pull a fast one on me, eh?” Scootaloo rubbed her chin and climbed back onto her scooter. “Two can play at that game. Thanks for the info, Commander. See you around.”
“Take care of yourself.” Skyhook waved as she sped away. “And Rumble.”
She rode swiftly through the highways and byways of Ponyville, paved to a smooth, high-quality surface by Applejack’s years of work as mayor. The very budget adjustments she had championed had resulted in a Ponyville that was a good ninety-percent less likely to break your ankles just walking down the street. Tax-payer money well-spent, if one was to ask Scootaloo. Not many people asked her in the first place, but the opinion was there to be offered.
The house she rode towards was a hybrid pegasus-earth pony style, having much of the structure constructed from cloudcrete, but located on the ground to accommodate the two young toddlers who lived there. Thunderlane and Cloudkicker had made quite a life for themselves in Ponyville, and even from here, Scootaloo could see that they were doing everything in their power to give their young twins a fighting chance. Scootaloo parked her scooter beside a hibiscus bush and walked towards the front door. She could already hear familiar voices laughing and talking back and forth.
She paused there for a second, her hoof hovering over the knocker, just listening to the sound of happiness. Sometimes it seemed so foreign to her, if she really let herself think about it. Sometimes the world really seemed to laser-target her with its suckyness. There was no way to know who her biological parents were. There was no way for her to fly with her original wings, thanks to a birth defect. The last colt she thought she loved had cheated on her.
She banished the thoughts with a shake of her head. Her adoptive parents were the best anybody could ask for. Her new wings, the result of Discord’s meddling with his friends, had enough strength for her to fly freely. Her boyfriend was just beyond the door, having a wonderful time with his brother’s family. She had everything she needed.
Everything she needed.
She gave the door a soft knock and waited. The voices died down, but only for a moment. The pitter-patter of tiny hooves clambered for the entrance, accompanied by the heavier footsteps of an adult. The door opened, and before she knew it, she was practically bowled over by two little fillies who were just learning to walk.
“Scoodoo!” Dovetail said.
“Scooloo!” Summer Wind said.
“Ach, get yer hindquarters in the door, ye barmy filly!” The adult, a strong pegasus mare by the name of Cloudkicker, grabbed Scootaloo in a rough half-hug and all but dragged her inside. “I told that fool colt he should’ve invited ye straight away, but he got such a head full o’ fool ideas he can’t but cause a ruckus at every turn.”
The twin fillies clung to Scootaloo as she was led into the house. It was warm and inviting, as all cloudhouses tended to be. The architecture was all billows and swirls, moved by wind and gently eased into place. The furniture was a mixture of cloud structures for softness, and a few enchanted wood-workings for aesthetics. The stallion of the house sat in one such particular rocking chair, turning down the music volume on the radio as she approached.
“Scootaloo!” Thunderlane said with a mischievous smile. “Cloudkicker and I were taking bets on whether you would show up before Rumble was ready for you.” He rolled his eyes and helped one of his daughters climb onto his lap. “She wins the pot of course…”
Scootaloo laughed as she entered the living room; the first person she looked for was the last one she found. Rumble sat opposite his older brother, dressed in a pretty silly-looking black bowtie. Still, that was the guy’s style, and Scootaloo wouldn’t change it for anything. He was twice as tall as her, twice as wide as her, all muscle and no confidence. He looked at her with wide eyes, swallowing hard, and trying to speak without making a dolt of himself.
“H-hay, Scootaloo, just—” His smile was lopsided as his wings shivered behind him. “I was totally planning on surprising you, but I guess Cloudkicker told you I was coming h—”
She jumped forward with wings spread and wrapped him in an embrace. As his warmth met hers, she felt like, for this precious moment, all was right with the world. “’Bout time they let you come back home.”
“Yeah.” He returned the embrace with a small laugh, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing in front of him either. “I’m sorry it’s been a year.”
“Almost a year.” Scootaloo grinned up at him. “I haven’t been kidnapped in a while, so I guess you’re off the hook.” She looked over her shoulder to see four pairs of eyes watching them with various types of smiles on their faces. “You guys enjoying the show?”
“Actually, I was just about to put corn on the grill.” Thunderlane stood up from the rocking chair and set his daughter on Cloudkicker’s back. “You’re staying for supper, right?”
“Sure!” Scootaloo pulled a letter from the bag slung over her shoulder and presented it to Rumble. “Hay, how long is your leave?”
“A couple weeks.”
“Because check this out.” Scootaloo opened the letter and sat beside Rumble, holding the letter over her head as she read. “Dear Scootaloo, Princess Celestia cordially invites you to the christening of New Cloudsdale on the last of the month. There is to be a royal banquet and dancing to follow on Prince Blueblood’s airship, the Sky’s Limit. You may bring a ‘plus one’ with your ticket.” She leaned against his chest and grinned his way. “Dancing, feasting, and Cloudsdale finally being rebuilt after all these years? Sound like a party?”
Rumble nodded, his swept-back mane bouncing like cloudstuff. “If it’s with you, Scootaloo, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Sweetie Belle danced alone in the Ideas Room of Ponyville’s Carousel Boutique, singing to herself with a song that may or may not one day grace the airwaves. She marked off a stray chord in her notebook with a glimmer of her horn, even as she pulled a roll of fabric from one of the many cupboards around the room. The ponnequin in the center of the room was bedecked in a haphazard array of cloths and colors, but she had confidence that before the due date, it would come together into a lovely party dress.
All messes, if given the proper care and attention, tended to come together in the end.
She pulled a cracker from a box with her teeth as she tromped her way through the shop. She had switched the sign out front to say “closed” today. It was a special kind of day, she had decided; one where Button Mash would be debuting his newest show. Aside from that, intriguing though it was, was that she had received a special notification in the mail that would no doubt be of particular interest to the young stallion. She set a small pair of frameless glasses onto her nose and left the dress unfinished, but not forgotten.
She trotted down the street with a spring to her step. She had a letter tucked in a small bag at her side, bearing good news. It was no doubt a sign that the hardships of the last few years were finally passed. The restoration of Cloudsdale. A reason for everyone in Equestria to celebrate.
Town Square was just ahead. She saw Scootaloo performing tricks as she rolled across the rooftops. Sweetie waved, but went unnoticed. That was fine; they would have plenty of time to spend together later.
At one end of the square, down the street from the fountain and two doors away from Sugarcube Corner, was a little café that saw regular customers during lunch hours. Button and the owner had worked together for many years now; Button would hold puppet shows to draw crowds closer to the café, and the café would give the young stallion free meals.
She frowned as the café and the small puppet stage came into view. It was the only payment Button ever received for doing his shows, and even then it hardly counted. She had asked once or twice whether he would consider charging admission, and his reply was that he didn’t think it was that kind of show. It was just for fun, he said, something for the local kids to enjoy without emptying their pockets.
Even at her distance, she could see Button and his helpers for the day—Pound and Pumpkin Cake—setting up and arranging the puppets backstage. Some shows would have more people helping out: Spike playing the piano, Dinky making sure the puppets were functioning properly, Pipsqueak providing additional vocals… but today seemed to be a smaller show. None but the stallion himself was available to perform.
She saw the café’s owner in a heated discussion with Button Mash. That was strange in and of itself. Button rarely raised his voice to anybody (who wasn’t some sort of dark god or ancient evil). As she neared, the topic came clear. They were arguing over the subject matter of Button’s most recent show, one based on what they had learned during a harrowing adventure just last year.
“I don’t see the problem!” Button said, gesturing to the puppets set up around the stage. “We’ve done dozens of shows about the changelings.”
“Button, Button! Please, listen to me!” The café owner rested his hoof on Button’s shoulder and gave it a soft shake. “Those were socially acceptable portrayals of changelings, my friend. The kids loved your recounting of the Invasion of Canterlot. With the nice special effects with the love spell and—”
Button huffed and just barely held back from gritting his teeth. “What’s your point?”
“My point is your show is about the changelings secretly being the first Bearers of the Elements of Harmony!” The owner pointed at the café and tossed his mane. “Monsieur Mash, I’d be thrown out of town for letting that show play in front of my café. And for the children? You can’t be serious.”
Sweetie decided it was finally time to intervene. “With all due respect, sir, with all the artifacts being collected in the Everfree and Felaccia recently, there is plenty of evidence to suggest that this is true.”
“Yeah.” Pound finally put in his two bits, setting down a hydra marionette. He hovered on magic-powered wings, keeping himself at eye level with the adults. “I mean, if the story’s true, then you gotta tell it like it is, right?”
The café owner rubbed his eyes. “Try to understand, Pound. There are still so many people who remember the Changeling Civil War. And the Invasion of Canterlot before that. Those both happened within your lifetime.” He turned pleading eyes to Button. “It’s only been a year since the changeling attack on the Canterlot Castle—”
Button spoke quickly, his patience visibly fraying in the way his ears drooped. “The changelings weren’t attacking, they were being attacked.”
Sweetie Belle walked towards the stage, where the marionettes and set dressing were laid out. Pumpkin Cake was poking and prodding at the stars of the show: six changeling marionettes, each one distinct and detailed, hoof-carved by Button Mash himself. Sweetie paid special attention to the leader of the six; the first Bearer of the Element of Magic, River Cicada. The first queen of the Ancient Changeling Empire. The poster-child for a hero becoming a villain.
“If you want to do a show about the Elements,” the café owner said, “just make it about River again. The kids love the story about the First Bearers.”
“That’s exactly the story—!” Button threw his forelegs out and stalked away from the café owner. “Whatever! I don’t have a backup show prepared. Most of my puppets are under maintenance.” He sat down on the stage and threw his forelegs out. “I haven’t had a problem with content before today, so…”
“I’m sorry, Monsieur Mash.” The café owner bowed his head to Sweetie belatedly, then walked back towards his restaurant to prepare for the lunch rush.
“Just goes to show you, Pound,” Pumpkin said as she started stowing puppets away in a case. “Don’t get involved in arguments with adults. They don’t listen. They don’t reason. They just ‘know what they know.’”
Pound shrugged and went about the business of tearing down the stage.
“Yeah. Thanks for all your help, guys.” Button Mash rubbed the back of his neck and offered Sweetie a rueful smile. “And thank you for sticking up for me.”
“What else could I do?” she asked before giving him a peck on the cheek. “He’s being completely unfair.”
“Is he? It’s his store.” Button cast a longsuffering glance at the café. He picked up the River Cicada marionette with one hoof and turned it over in his hooves. “And I have to admit… he’s having the same reaction I did when I found out about the bearers.”
He set the marionette down on the stage and strapped a plus-shaped object to his hoof. He tilted the device, and the puppet moved to match. A faint hint of magic glowed within River’s joints as she took a few trembling steps towards the case she and her fellow bearers would be traveling in.
Sweetie Belle lowered her eyebrows as she watched the young stallion drag his dream back into the shadows. He had been far more melancholic of late, ever since their adventure in Felaccia. For all the fun they had together, for all the smiles she’d seen on his face since they’d started dating, there was still a deep-seated sadness that sank down to his bones. A touch of innocence lost, she thought, having watched his own personal hero commit atrocities the likes of which few had ever seen.
But they had overcome River Cicada together. Ahuizotl, as well. That knowledge helped her move on day by day.
“This was going to be your pallet cleanser, wasn’t it?” She watched River’s marionette climb into the suitcase, helped along by Pumpkins hoof. “Telling the thrilling tale of the heroism River had accomplished before she lost her way.”
“It’s a story that needs telling.” Button removed the puppet controller and set it in the foam lining of the case. He closed the case, clasped the latches, and set the whole thing on a cart that made up the base of his stage. “It’s a story that I need to tell, if only to remind myself that there’s more to it than the ending.”
“It’s a pretty awesome one, too!” Pound held a hoof over his chest and grinned wide. “I was gonna play the part of the Lord of the Sky, Master of the Unseelie Court.”
Pumpkin rolled her eyes at her brother. “Bro, there ain’t a voice changer deep enough in the whole country to make you sound like an ancient fairy edgelord.”
“And he still does it better than me,” Button said with a laugh.
Pumpkin covered her mouth with a hoof, but her smirk was still clearly visible. “If you wanna out yourself like that, be my guest.”
Button Mash locked the cases and the stage dressing in place on the cart. He leaned his back against one of the wheels and rubbed the back of his neck. “This is the only spot I have a permit for, sooo… I guess we all have a free afternoon.”
Pumpkin poked Pound in the side—a little more roughly than was strictly necessary. “If it’s all the same to you guys, I think we all deserve some ice cream back home, whadda ya say?”
“Sounds like a plan to me.” Pound leaped into the air and spread his wings. “Sugarcube Corner ice cream, on the house.”
“Thanks, Pound. Pumpkin.” Button Mash hitched himself to his cart and gave Sweetie a small, sincere smile. “Would you care to accompany me to Sugarcube Corner for refreshments?”
“Of course I would.” Sweetie walked alongside him as they made the short trip to Sugarcube Corner. She nudged him with her shoulder and pulled the letter from her saddlebag. “Here’s something on the other side of the good news, bad news spectrum. I’ve been formally invited to the christening of New Cloudsdale, and they said to bring a plus one.”
“New Cloudsdale?” Button’s ears perked up. “They finally finished construction? The refugees are going to have a home again?”
“Exactly!” Sweetie Belle held the letter in her magical grip, holding it in front of his face so he could read it. “Princess Celestia and Twilight will be there, and they’re be food, music, dancing… And a view worth dying for. What do you think?”
He laughed as they reached the Cake Family’s bakery and sweet shop. They linked forelegs as they walked in, hoof over hoof. “I think it’s time for me to rent another tux.”
Apple Bloom shut herself away in the Apple Family Farm’s barn, huddled over a series of beakers and vials, all containing various chemicals and potions. She checked the temperature of one that she was heating over a burner, found it satisfactory, and turned down the flame. She tapped a hoof against her heavy-duty goggles, looking around for the next chemical to add to the compound.
This was perhaps the most important potion she had ever brewed. It was also therefore the most dangerous. Stories of horrific accidents and miscalculations rampaged through her head, but she quieted them with a focus only the Apple Family could truly call its own. Others would say she was bullheaded, but she knew it was just a matter of single-mindedness.
That same singlemindedness also tended to blind her to things around her. Such as the arrival of another person to the barn. She eased the next chemical into the vial and watched the reaction change its colors over and over, one after the other. It settled on an unsettling green, just a few shades off from Spike’s scales.
“Gotta say, that might be the scariest-looking potion you’ve ever brewed.”
She let out a yelp as she jumped in place. She spun around with a growl, pushing her goggles up onto her forehead. “Spike! I was like to spill somethin’ with you sneakin’ around like some kinda ninja dragon!”
The dragon in question was a handsome specimen of about twenty-two years old, just like Apple Bloom. Hard-earned and harder-won battle scars bedecked his chest and arms, but otherwise his scales glinted a brilliant purple and green in the lantern light. He crossed his arms over his chest, and the muscles beneath the scales flexed ever-so-slightly. “I waited until you put the test tube down. I’m not crazy.”
Apple Bloom grimaced. “I might just be,” she muttered to herself. She gestured to the potion and spoke in a voice Spike could actually hear. “I think it’s stable, anyhow. Your timin’ is as spot-on as ever.”
Spike narrowed his eyes at the strange brew. He scratched at his scarred forearm with a sharp claw, knocking loose a single dead, flaking scale. “Looks like that one brew I saw you making.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “The secret one, right? This numero-dos?”
Transmogrification potion. Those were the words she had buried in her notebook when no one was looking. The ability to change a creature’s form, not just in appearance, but down to its very cellular structure. To wholly unmake and remake a thing. Magic on a level even Twilight Sparkle didn’t have much knowledge in. Spike might’ve been able to help, if he wasn’t the subject of the experiment.
Apple Bloom just… wasn’t ready to explain it to him. “That’s the one. I’m not sure what’ll come of it… the last one wasn’t promisin’.”
Spike nodded and took a step closer to the workbench she used as a potion brewery. “You want me to take a look at it? I have a theoretical knowledge of potions, at least.”
She closed the notebook before he could get any closer. She shoved it away and sealed the newborn potion with a cork. “I’m done for the day. And, you know, secret.”
He nodded and walked back to the other side of the barn, where he took a seat on the cart Apple Bloom had specifically made for the Cutie Mark Crusaders: The Crusadermobile. He lifted a lunch box he had set down and jiggled it at her. “So? How’s about it? Feeling a little peckish?”
“Starvin’.” Apple Bloom shed her white lab coat and goggles, hanging them on a stall door. She made sure to wash her hooves of any trace of the strange chemicals she was using to craft her specific brand of magic. She walked over to Spike, rubbing muscles in her shoulders that had gotten sore while she hunched over her work.
She couldn’t help but smirk as she towered over the dragon, her Apple Family genes putting her height on par with Big Mac or her father, Bright Mac. “When’re you gonna get that dragon growth spurt? Ain’t proper goin’ out with a shrimp for a boyfriend.”
“Ho, ho, hee, haw, ho.” Spike managed to keep his face straight-laced, but only just so. “Don’t worry, I’m counting the days until I can carry you off in the palm of my hand.”
“Off to your hoard of gemstones.” She sat beside him with a sigh and stared into the middle-distance. “And we’ll live happily ever after.”
“Or near enough.” He opened the lunchbox and handed her a juice box. “At least, as happy as possible until we get the whole ‘interspecies’ thing worked out.”
She glanced at the potion, then tore her eyes away. It wasn’t time to bring it up. It wasn’t ready. It probably didn’t even work. She took the juice box and took a sip, steering the conversation as far away from their shared problem and its potential solutions as possible. “I’m surprised Applejack let you bring outside food onto the farm. It’s a bloomin’ miracle you weren’t swarmed with a cartload of apple pie the instant you set foot on Apple soil.”
He set a dandelion sandwich beside her and gave himself a dandelion-topaz sandwich on wheat bread. He chuckled at her perplexed expression. “Young dragons cannot live on apples alone. I suspect ponies are the same way.”
“Still didn’t answer my question.” She took a bite of her sandwich and let the wonderful flavor wash over her tongue. Spike had layered in a few apple bloom petals, just how she liked it. “She’s become an apple zealot after the elections ended last week. I half-expected her to hop down from the rafters the instant you opened the box.”
“Told her it came from City Hall,” Spike chuckled. “After that, she wanted nothin’ to do with it.”
Apple Bloom laughed at first, but it faded after a moment. She took another bite with a deep frown, one that felt at home on her face more and more recently. “That brings up another topic. With her back to work on the farm… I’m ready to leave.”
Spike bobbed his head. They’d talked about it before, but now it actually seemed real. Like something she could actually plan for and work towards. “Starting up your potion brewery and repair shop. Like you’ve wanted for a while.”
“I even got this place picked out downtown.” She hefted herself from the cart to grab a map of the City of Ponyville. She carried it back to him and pointed out a vacant storefront a block-or-so away from Town Square. It was just right for a single young pony starting out as an entrepreneur. “Saved up enough bits to buy it outright, so no debt to pay off. Just gotta move my stuff in there and let ’er rip.”
“It’s perfect, Apple Bloom!” Spike’s smile turned mischievous, bearing several razor-sharp teeth. “I can’t help but notice it’s pretty close to the library.”
“Close proximity to your abode was, in fact, a factor.” She nudged his shoulder with hers. Rather than pull away, she decided to stay right beside him. “For what it’s worth.”
The mischief fled, but his smile remained. “I told you once, and I’ll tell you again; you’re worth waiting for.”
“So are you.”
She finished her sandwich and glanced into the lunch box to see if he’d snuck in any sort of dessert. Rather than that, she saw an envelope with a royal seal. “Huh. That looks important.”
Seeing that she was done, he rapidly snarfed down the rest of his lunch. He cleared his throat and picked the letter out of the box. “Apple Bloom, it is my personal delight to invite you to—”
“—the christening of New Cloudsdale?” She laughed and leaned her cheek on a hoof. “With a royal banquet and dancing to follow on Prince Blueblood’s personal airship?”
Apple Bloom received the rare treat of seeing Spike completely speechless. It was almost as rare as her not having a million different things to say. She trotted over to where she’d hung her lab coat and pulled a letter from a bag sitting beneath it. She waved it at him, taking care to let him see the royal seal on the back. “Yeah, just got this last night. Applejack got one too, ’cept she doesn’t have a ‘plus one’ she wants to bring. Figured you might wanna try to spring this on me last minute, so good for you stayin’ ahead of the curve.”
Spike tilted his head and tucked his letter back in the box. “My days of plying you with nearly-expired tickets are behind me. I’m taking no chances these days.”
“In any case.” She placed a soft kiss on the tip of his nose and sat down beside him. “I accept your invitation.”
He looked at her letter with one lowered eyebrow. He set his gaze on Apple Bloom and she found herself unable to look away. “Kinda feels like a waste for both of us to have a plus one that doesn’t come.”
Her ears perked up. She tapped the letter against her lips. “I guess we could invite friends… probably folks who wouldn’t have the occasion normally.”
“Maybe a couple, so we’re not just entertaining our plus ones without spending time together?” Spike’s tail waved behind him as the gears in his head turned. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”
She patted his shoulder and bobbed her head. “I think so… Pipsqueak and Dinky?”
“Exactly!” He leaned close and whispered behind one of his claws. “Between you and me, Pip’s been looking for a chance to propose. Where better than a royal banquet?”
She snorted and lowered her muzzle to his filmy green ear. “B’tween you, me, an’ the hay bales, Dinky’s been lookin’ for a chance to propose, too.”
“Of course she has.” Spike snapped his claws and let out a chuckle. “Those two are always tripping over each other. I don’t think they’d have it any other way.”
“It’s settled, then!” Apple Bloom trotted back to the bag and secreted away her invitation. “I’ll invite Dinky, you invite Pip, an’ we watch the fireworks go off!”
Spike stood up and brushed himself off. “I take it Sweetie and Scoots are inviting their beaus, too?”
“I know Scoots is,” Apple Bloom said. “Ain’t talked with Sweetie in a bit, but we’re havin’ dinner together tonight. Thought about invitin’ the boys, but—”
“Girls night out’s important, too.” He gathered up his things and headed towards the barn’s door. “I guess I’ll see you later, then. Don’t work too hard.”
“Same to you, Spike.” She leaned her forelegs on the desk and smiled his way. “Love you.”
“I love you, too.” Spike paused with one claw on the door handle. He turned back to Apple Bloom with a small frown. “And Apple Bloom… you should talk with Applejack. About moving out. If you give her some time, she’ll come to terms with it. It won’t be as rough as you imagine.”
“I’ll take your words into consideration.” She waved him off and watched until the door had completely shut behind him. She waited a few minutes more, just in case he had forgotten something, or had something else to say.
When nothing else came, she went back to work.
She threw on her lab coat and tightened the protective goggles over her eyes. She had taken careful measure of just where Spike’s loose scale had landed on the ground. She scooped it up and cleaned it of dirt, sweat, and any other impurities. She set it on the desk, in a shallow tray. It was purple for the most part, but faded to a shade closer to gray. Still, it was unmistakably Spike’s.
Interspecies relationships had never gone smoothly, she knew. Biologically, their relationship didn’t make much sense. He was warm-blooded, but far closer to reptilian than her own mammalian. Dragons laid eggs, ponies gave birth. He ate gemstones, she was an herbivore. He could bench-press a full-sized carriage, while the most she could do was buck apples from trees. He would crush her with anything more intimate than a gentle embrace.
They couldn’t be together like they wanted to. It just wasn’t possible.
Yet.
She took the vial of green liquid and popped the cork. She held it over the dead scale, trying and failing to ignore the tremble in her hoof. She sucked in a breath, let it out halfway, and poured the concoction onto the scale. It fizzled and sparked as the magic within the scale reacted to the potion. Bubbles filled the tray, obscuring the scale from view. Apple Bloom held her breath for what seemed like hours, though mere seconds passed while the transmogrification took place.
When the reaction stopped, and the mixture became stable, all that was left of the scale was a pool of thick, green sludge. Primordial Ooze, she had decided to call it. The result of a failed transmogrification. Lifeless and worthless paste. The exact opposite of what she hoped to accomplish with her experiment.
“Rut!” She slammed a hoof on the desk. “Rut everythin’!”
She flipped through the pages of her notebook until she reached the formula for today’s failure. She marked the equation as the bunkum that it was and proceeded to flip to the next blank page. She scribbled the title of the page as fast as her lips could write.
Experiment for the Transmogrification of a Young Adult Dragon into a Pony, Attempt #32
“One of these days, Spike,” she whispered to herself. “One of these days we’ll figure it all out. I promise.”