The record on Vinyl’s sound system crackled from the blank void it was needling. The Summers album she’d been listening to had finished a long time ago, spinning endlessly on nothing. The record’s static, coupled with the burning firewood, filled the empty air of her room, allowing thoughts to swim freely through her head. Usually she drowned it out with music, but for once, Vinyl simply wanted to exist.
It was late. She didn’t know how late, but it was late enough. She should’ve been helping set the Showcases stage for tomorrow, but Tavi wasn’t having any of it. After her mentor caught wind of Vinyl fleeing up the stairs in what was accurately described to her as a “blind panic,” DJ Pon-3 had been dismissed for the night. She bumped into Athena and Fancy again on her way out. They’d invited her to join them for a drink, but she refused. Vinyl needed to be alone tonight.
A long walk home, a swift shower, and a quick change into her sweater and socks later, Vinyl found herself laying in bed, staring at the ceiling. It wasn’t the first time today. A few hours ago, she woke up in the same position, stressing about the upcoming concert. She almost preferred that passing dread to the stress that was keeping her up now. Music was difficult, but familiar and workable. This, however, was completely new to her.
The firewood’s pop and the record’s crackle flowed underneath the fizzly ambiance. It was a contained, but flickering ember upon a static-filled soundscape. If she didn’t feed it, eventually, the flames would die out, leaving only the lonely record spinning forever. Part of her wanted it to die, but Vinyl liked the warmth of the fire.
Turning her head to the firewood cupboard, she levitated another, unscented log from the stash and threw it onto the lit pile. Why the rich and fabulous had to have five different types of wood was beyond her. Lavender might be nice though. She watched as the regular log slowly sparked to life, giving her bedroom’s fireplace renewed vigor and overpowering the idling record.
Her bedroom. Vinyl had caught herself thinking that more often. This was Fancy’s guest room, not hers. She’d gotten too comfortable, too complacent. She was living in a fantasy world. All around her was the gold-trimmed opulence of an overly lavish lifestyle that reflected its true owner. She existed by the mere graciousness of a stallion who could afford letting it sit unused without a second thought. The pile of luxury, scented firewood was likely worth more than all of her worldly possessions combined. The Kingmaker could take the illusion she lived in away on a whim and throw her on the streets. Part of her wished he would, but Vinyl knew Fancy wouldn’t do that to her.
What was she supposed to do? She’d already gotten Summers’ musical prognosis of how everything would play out, at least if she was normal. Nothing was ever normal for Vinyl Scratch. It wasn’t for lack of trying. Despite her wild line of work, she was always chasing after the normalcy everypony sang about. It just never worked out, always falling out of reach, leaving her hollower, colder, and lonelier every time she tried to make that connection.
She wanted to be normal. She wanted to be normal so badly. But Vinyl Scratch wasn’t allowed to be normal. If she was normal, why wasn’t it Fleur that made her feel this way? They’d been best friends for years, but despite Fleur being the beautiful, wonderful, and exhausting mare she was, Vinyl never felt anything beyond that. She should’ve, right? All the pieces were there. Why didn’t they fit?
In comparison, she barely knew Fancy Pants. Sure, she’d known about him for years, just like everypony else. It was impossible not to when working in Canterlot. She’d talked to so many fake ponies, flaunting their wealth to hide the predator underneath. Vinyl never trusted any of them. Somepony like him was supposed to be the worst of all of them, the source of all the troubles of the Canterlot nobility. But then she actually met him.
Fancy Pants wasn’t like the others who thought she was some cheap talent for a fun time. He just wanted to know she was okay.
“Nopony should be miserable at a party if I can help it.”
He didn’t judge her when she messed up.
“There. Another glass down. Still with us, Miss Scratch?”
He respected her, even when she refused his kindness.
“Fine, I’ll withhold my compliments in the future. How do you feel?”
Even when she’d hit her lowest and chased everypony else away, Fancy found a way through.
“I know you won’t let me help you, so let me hire you instead.”
He made her feel stronger.
“You should never feel trapped, Vinyl. You always have a choice.”
He made her feel warmer.
“I want for you to be happy and enjoy your time living and working here.”
He made her feel…
“For all of my wealth, power, and prestige, there’s only one pony standing in this room that’s worth anything.”
Against her better judgment, Vinyl tossed one of the lavender-scented logs onto the fire. She didn’t know how much such a lavish wood cost, but she needed something to calm down. The thoughts were speeding up again, and she couldn’t see any of them clearly. She took a deep breath, trying to steady the ocean swimming above her. There were so many ways ponies had described what she was going through. The songs had always made it so fun and cute. She’d never given the word “crush” much thought. If this is what one felt like, its overwhelming weight was terrifying. She curled tighter on the bed around the dreaded desire.
Vinyl had floated by herself for so long, trying to make something by herself within her sea of static. Only now could she see how far she’d sunk into the depths. After years of struggling, there was finally a spark, but it wasn’t hers alone. Holding onto the foreign light could only spell disaster, but still, she couldn’t help herself. Now, there were so many things that Vinyl had learned to want.
She clutched onto the heavy flicker in her heart. It popped and fizzled in defiance of the freezing waters. Within its miniscule glow shone a world of possibilities, revealing a place she wanted to go. A yearning stirred within it for connection. However, thanks to the light it cast, she could finally see the thick sheet of ice she always knew was there. It stretched across the surface in a crystal clear barrier, blocking her from the warm world above.
Vinyl stopped floating and swam against the current, searching for a way through. She focused on the sights she could see just beyond the frozen depths to a land dotted with all she ever wanted: a life full of life. She wanted to have close friends that understood her. She wanted Fleur to be her sister. She even wanted Éclair to be her mother. They offered it freely. She could see them. They were all right there waiting for her, wanting her to join them. It was everything.
But she just couldn’t.
The ice refused to yield, spanning endlessly across the expanse in an impenetrable wall of her own design. A few ponies had noticed her banging on the other side. They asked how they could help, but she couldn’t answer them. Her screams were drowned out by the static rushing into her mouth. Nopony could understand her, not even herself. The only thing she had was the spark that somehow found its way to her.
The little light was cruel in a way. If not for its presence, she’d never have realized how deadly cold she was. It was stupidly dangerous to hold onto it. All of the alarm bells in her head blared around her, telling her it would burn her in the end. It’d just be another disappointment. The primal fear urged her to stamp it out and forget about it. She could just go back to her listless floating.
But the light was warm. It was so warm within the static’s chilling bite. She didn’t know if she could forget how warm it was if she put it out. She wanted again in a way she didn’t know what to do with. The heavy little spark was so terribly precious.
Vinyl turned away from the fireplace and returned to staring at the ceiling. She’d been with ponies before. Various attractive flavors had presented themselves, and her little bit of fame had paired her with amazing stallions and stunning mares in their prime. She’d been with them, even had a bit of fun in different ways, but even the best of their brief highs left nothing but an empty afterglow. No matter what she did, it just never clicked. It’d be normal to click, but she wasn’t normal.
On the opposite end of the spectrum, there was Sir Fancy Pants. She’d always found the stallion to be traditionally handsome in that properly public way. The suave exterior was wrapped up with everything she hated about Canterlot. When she peeled away the shell, she thought nothing would be inside, but she couldn’t have been more wrong. Underneath was somepony completely different in that he was almost exactly the same. It didn’t matter whether he was suited up, sweatered out, or wrapped in that bed robe of his, the stallion always shined the same way he did whether he looked like two bits or a million.
It made no sense. Fancy Pants reality was a glittering realm where nothing could escape his reach if he willed it. He was born into wealth beyond consequence, bestowed with a powerful cutie mark granting him favor with the highest powers in Equestria and around the world. Manifesting just a fraction of his riches would bury her alive under an avalanche of gold. Produce the whole thing and it’d crush the lower quarter under the sheer weight of his coins.
All of that power, all of that obscene wealth; he’d called it all worthless.
Unimaginable treasures rotted in heaps of useless gold. Immense power atrophied from disuse. A mountain of prestigious accolades amounted to absolutely nothing. Fancy had even entertained the idea of having a different cutie mark, a winemaking one of all things. The king wanted to throw away his crowns to become a farmer? It was the dumbest thing she’d ever heard in her life. Just what was that stallion thinking? Better yet, what was stopping him? Even if it wasn’t the “right choice” to his sensibilities, it wasn’t like it’d put him under. He had everything he needed to do whatever he wanted until the day he died, but he just… didn’t.
More questions swam through her head, demanding her attention, but they were silenced by the sweet aroma of lavender from the fire. Vinyl breathed in the calm, and the waves stilled, allowing her mind to wander back to her head. The rush of the day had finally caught her, draining what little energy was left. There was a school of questions wanting more answers, but they’d have to wait until her mind wasn’t a stress garbled mess. She didn’t even bother to take off her sweater before pulling the covers over her as she turned back to the fireplace.
The flames danced with a soft, orange and purple glow. Vinyl chuckled to herself. Of course the scented logs were enchanted to burn a different color. Only the best for Fancy’s fanciest guests, not that she was one of those esteemed individuals. After all, Vinyl Scratch was just some loudmouth DJ from the Drive.
“And she is priceless.”
Vinyl bit her lip, scared of what that meant to him, but more than that, what the spark meant to her.
Fancy Pants sipped his cooling morning tea next to his untouched bagel as he reread the paper. He’d flipped over to the entertainment section to see what had made the news. As expected, it was abuzz with the surprise revelation of the diarchy’s royal attendance to the often overlooked ESPA Performer Showcases. The sight of a strangely large minotaur accompanied by the former ambassador was barely a footnote in comparison. Several well-known ponies had given their impressions of the unexpectedly important show. A few even gave their thoughts regarding their favorite performers instead of talking solely about the princesses.
One found the Pony Tones to be “quaint,” adding they were “pleasantly surprised” to see Lady Rarity of all ponies singing along with her fellow Ponyvillians. Another made remarks about an up-and-coming solo concert violinist that would make a fine addition to any soiree. The article even made mention that Princess Luna’s favorite was the final show of the night, though instead of detailing her response, they followed the news up with a quote from another noble who praised the amazing duet sung solo by Fleur de Lis. To them, the first night came to a close on a royally high note.
Fancy growled in anger and tossed the whole lot of it in the fire. There was just no appeasing any of them. Vinyl Scratch didn’t exist except to deface Canterlot’s beauty.
“Confound this nonsense!”
“That’s my line, Pantsy.”
Fancy turned around and gasped at the sight of an utterly exhausted Fleur de Lis stumbling towards him. “Merciful heavens, Fleur! What in the world happened?”
“I just woke up.”
“Now?” Fancy checked the clock, seeing it was almost ten. “Weren’t you already asleep by the time we got back?”
“I ‘slept’ for twelve hours, forty-four minutes, and twenty-one seconds,” she rattled off as she collapsed forward onto the couch. “It’s a fun number when you write it down.”
“And an oddly specific one at that,” Fancy added.
“It’s how long it took me to fill a hundred chalkboards with ‘I will not impersonate a princess with the intention of issuing a royal decree’ by hoof.”
“Oh. Oh dear.”
“At least Princess Luna was ‘nice’ enough to give me a pair of wings so I could fly up to the higher boards. For nearly thirteen glorious hours, I dreamed I was the Alicorn Princess of Chalk.” Fleur twirled her hoof in the air with the enthusiasm of a depressed cat. “Woo. Hoo.”
Thinking back to last night, Athena and him were wondering why Luna seemed so distracted. Every-so-often, the princess asked them to wait a moment and would close her eyes. After the fourth time, he finally asked what she was doing.
“Not to worry, my friends,” Luna answered, her fang-filled smile savoring the mushrooms she was devouring with gusto. “I’m simply helping somepony with a little nightmare.”
Fleur’s loud yawn brought him back to the present. He added one more check to the mental list of reasons to never get on Luna’s bad side.
“You know what the best part is, Pantsy? I get to do it all over again to dismiss my second felony count. ‘I will not falsely issue royally sanctioned schedule changes to city-wide weather patterns.’”
“To be fair, I did warn you about impersonating royalty.”
Fleur only groaned as she followed her sinking mood deeper into the couch.
Fancy leaned lower in his chair to catch the mare’s tired eyes. “I assume you’ll be in for a rough night tomorrow then?”
“Ha! I wish. But no, I need to ‘reflect on my actions’ first before she strikes again.”
“Strikes, you say? That seems rather… sinister for her highness.”
“Yeah. That’s the point. How did she put it again?” Fleur pulled herself up and cleared her throat, adjusting a pair of unseen glasses. “Fool! A prank is best delivered when it is least expected! For now, dwell upon the night and sleep lightly, for this will not be your last nightmare!”
Fancy could hear the undertones of Luna in her impression, but dark authority stirring around it felt completely off. “That doesn’t sound like the princess to me.”
“Neigh, daywalker! For it is I, Professor Nightmare Moon: Queen of Demerits. Your detention shall last forever!” Fleur cackled madly as she made her dark voice grow more distant. “Cue thunderclap, whisk away in a plume of shadow, and… scene.”
Fancy balked at the thought. “She appeared to you as Nightmare Moon?”
“Not at first. She tried to step up the fear factor by summoning that evil mare. I might’ve been scared if she hadn’t immediately softened the blow by dressing her up. That white button up, a midnight blue blazer, and half rim starsilver glasses?” Despite her fatigue, Fleur gathered enough energy to chef kiss into the sky and count her blessings. “Luckily Princess Luna didn’t catch on. She might’ve changed whatever it was that kept an eye on me into a real nightmare, like Coach Longview.”
Fancy slowly raised an eyebrow at the thought of anypony enjoying the presence of one of Equestria’s most fearsome foes.
“What? It wasn’t like Nightmare Moon was really there or anything. Besides, behind every good hero is a great villain, so I’ll take the sumptuously wicked stare of an evil mare over being loosely monitored by lumpy, three-chinned hoofball stubble every time,” Fleur answered with a shrug. “Oh, and if I see his pudgy face instead of that sultry villainess next time around, I’m blaming you.”
While problematic in its own way, hopefully this meant Luna was working through her history with Nightmare Moon in a healthy way. By the sound of it, she was getting more comfortable with her past, despite Princess Celestia’s outright revulsion at merely mentioning the old villain. However, that didn’t mean Fleur should embrace the darkness so readily. He couldn’t help but laugh.
“Glad you’re having fun at my expense for once, Pantsy,” Fleur joked as she tried to shake herself awake. “I’m just trying to find a silver lining in the most restless sleep I’ve ever had. I didn’t even know she could turn lucid dreams against you.”
“Dream magic is a fickle thing for sure.”
“And how would you know that? You’re not exactly—” Fleur bit down on her snide temper and cleared her throat. “What I mean is, you’ve never really shown an interest in specific fields.”
Fancy blinked as Fleur turned her attention to her messy mane. She was never one to pass on an opportunity for a joke, especially one directed at him. He nearly forgot to answer the question. “Oh, right. I guess I never mentioned that. Luna is both my friend and mentor. She sometimes teaches me how to control my dreams when she’s not too busy. Apparently I have a certain knack for it, unlike my real-world magic.”
“Really?” Fleur perked up and cradled her head in her hooves as she idly kicked her hind legs. “What can you do in your dreams?”
“Impressively little, I’m afraid. I’d always heard it gets easier to do what you want when you realize you’re asleep, but it’s when I’m aware I’m dreaming that I completely lose control.”
“So what you’re saying is, you can’t break into detention, unseal my horn, and let me fill in all the chalkboards in one go?”
“Unfortunately for you, no. Getting a grip on my own dreams is difficult enough. I’m getting better at it, but it’s still a struggle. Perhaps I simply lack imagination.”
“I don’t think that’s it.” Fleur’s eyes shot to his cutie mark. “You’ve never really had issues when you’re problem solving. Just think of this as helping me with a really big one.”
“I don’t think I’d ever manage to do what Luna is able to in my lifetime. Even if I could, I know better than to choose sides in their eternal prank war.”
“You wouldn’t have to choose between them if you’re my double agent.” Fleur’s grin grew conspiratorial as she wiggled her eyebrows.
Fancy shook his head. “Royal tea time is interesting enough without an undercover operative making a mess of things. Besides, you’re the actress here. I’m better at showing I have cards rather than keeping them under the table.”
“Fine,” Fleur groaned without her cheeky smile faltering in the slightest. “So outside of tea time, you also get some one-on-one dreamtime with the lunar princess?”
“I suppose that’s one way to phrase it.”
Fleur’s ears perked up as her lips puckered. “Oh-hoh? Perhaps I’m not the only pony in this room that fancies the fair Princess of the Night?” she remarked with a flutter of her long eyelashes.
Fancy sighed into his hooves. He was so tired of that blasted rumor. Why had this sparked around his relationship with Luna? He didn’t remember having to deal with the same scandalous gossip with Princess Celestia, and it surely wasn’t helping anypony involved. The only thing it would have potentially been good for was infecting the zeitgeist enough to drown out the Vinyl Screech, but it didn’t even manage to budge the needle against that nonsense.
“What? She’s a beautiful, star studded princess. I say why not shoot for her? Even if you miss the heavens, you could still hit the moon.”
Fancy pulled his face from his hooves. “For the love of—It’s not like that at all! We’re friends, Fleur. Just friends.”
“Would you be against being a little more than just her friend?”
“Please. This is not up for discussion, Fleur.” Fancy kneaded the base of his horn. He’d left the quartz in his room. He wasn’t close to needing it, but Fleur did have a way of trying his patience when she grew out of control.
“Why not?”
“It just isn’t, okay? Drop it!” Fancy flared back in frustration.
Fleur recoiled from the heat. Instead of roaring back, she faltered and slunked onto the couch. “I’m sorry.”
“No,” he said more to himself, regretting his failing temperament as of late. “No, I shouldn’t have snapped like that. I’ve had a lot on my mind recently.”
“Yeah,” Fleur laid her head down. “And I’ve just been making it worse. Sorry about that, too.”
“What? No you haven’t. Where did you get that idea?”
Fleur kept her eyes away from him, her tired focus looking at nothing in particular.
“No, Fleur.” Fancy’s heart sank and he wasted no time in getting out of his seat. He wasn’t about to have a repeat of last night if he could help it. “You haven’t. Really, I’ve always enjoyed your company. Having the infamous SchlurrVivyl duo has certainly livened things up around here. I know your mother misses you terribly.”
He began trotting over to the couch and saw Fleur’s eyes shoot back at him. He paused his steps seeing the mixture of fear and sadness, but that wasn’t what stopped him. She was draped with sheer exhaustion, not from the sleepiness of a rough night, but rather a somber prediction of what he would say. Fleur buttressed herself to brace for what she knew was coming.
The words in his mouth, denying her reality, telling her she was wrong about it, they were so ready to sound off in an uncaring slew of platitudes and excuses. How many times had she looked like this, but his nose had been buried in papers or he’d been pouring over useless letters? He’d never meant it that way, but he couldn’t help dwelling on his callousness. Not with last night still swirling around in his head still. Fleur wasn’t a measly afterthought.
Fancy slowly approached her, but instead of talking above her, he knelt down, resting his chin to meet her where she was. Her fear melted into confusion at the sudden closeness she wasn’t used to.
“You know I love you, right?”
Fleur shrank back, rolling her legs under herself and her lips into her mouth as she looked down and away from him. She said nothing, but it told him everything.
“I clearly haven’t said it often enough. I do. You and Éclair both mean so much to me.”
“Mhmm.” Fleur nodded along, risking the briefest glance his way.
“And you’re so talented. So much more than me. I thought your performance was amazing at the showcases. I’m so proud of you. I’ve never stopped being proud of you.”
Fleur crossed her forelegs and buried her muzzle into it, trying to hide. “I-I know.”
“No, I don’t think you do, and it’s my fault for not taking the proper time to do so. I love you so much. I’m so lucky that I’ve been able to see you every day since you’ve been staying here.”
Fleur turned her head down and dug deeper into her hiding place.“Would you stop that already? Why are you and Vinyl always so quick to blame yourselves when I’m the one that's wrong?”
“What do you mean?”
Fleur poked her head from under her legs, meeting Fancy with a conflicted frown. With pent up anger, she pulled herself up and motioned over Fancy. “This! You’re never like this! You’re supposed to be confident and commanding. You’re always the most important pony in the room without trying.”
An amused snort escaped Fancy’s nose. “Let’s just say I’m trying something different after reality checked up on me.”
“I know, I can tell. It’s my fault and I’m sorry, okay? When we ran into you on your jog that one time. I didn’t mean—” Fleur stopped herself and flopped back down with another groan as she crossed her forelegs in front of her eyes. “No, I did. It was a lie. I knew it was a lie, but I wanted to hurt you. And the worst part is, I got what I wanted.”
“I’m afraid I don’t quite follow.” Fancy rolled his head to the side in thought. “As I recall, you were absolutely right about nopony helping Vinyl.”
“Don’t play dumb, Fancy,” Fleur muttered as she peeked over her wall of fur. “That wasn’t what set you off and you know it. I don’t want to say it again.”
While true, the better question was what hadn’t. Thanks to Luna’s eldritch concoction, he could clearly remember everything about that terrible party. It was so clear in his head, he could barely remember anything before that. Thinking back, he went for a jog, got caught by a surprise Éclair breakfast—which immediately undid any gains of said jog, met the girls on the way back for a rushed conversation…
“You’re not referring to the blueberry pancakes breakfast I missed, are you? Even reheated, they were delicious.”
The walls fell in shock and Fleur stared him down, her glare melting into disbelief. “You really forgot? B-but how?”
“You know me,” Fancy said as he laughed heartily. “If not for Dapper and Fluffer Duster, I’d have already misplaced my own head by now. Though I haven’t been much of anywhere lately, I’ve had a lot more on my mind as of late.”
“But Vinyl said I triggered some kind of weird episode!” Fleur sunk down in shame. “She was so mad at me for it.”
“Now, now, don’t worry about that, Fleur. Whatever you said to me, it might’ve been said harshly, but I think you were right.”
“I said your cutie mark was the worst,” Fleur corrected quickly.
“Oh. Is that all?”
Fleur stammered incomprehensibly before recapturing her words. “Yes! And you’ve been acting weird ever since and it’s all my fault!”
“Where in blazes did you get that silly idea?”
“Just—just look at yourself!”
Following her orders, he leaned off the couch and inspected his rough shape. “I know it’s been a bit of a battle for me trying to shed the excess holiday weight…”
“No, the sweater! You’re wearing a sweater!”
Fancy blinked as he pulled on the collar of his black turtleneck to look inside. “Is this a problem?”
“Is it?”
Fancy quirked his eyebrow as he thought about it more. “Would you prefer if I wore a suit instead?”
“No!”
“Just plain fur then?”
“No, no! Just shut up! It’s not about the stupid sweater!”
“But you said—”
“I know what I said! Even if you forgot, I can’t stop thinking about it!” Fleur tried to calm her unsteady breathing as she vented palpable anxiety. “This isn’t you, Fancy. The Fancy I know dresses to the nines, goes all over Canterlot, and makes barrels of bits just by talking to ponies. He doesn’t sit quietly at home in comfy clothes and throw papers he doesn’t like into the fire. He corrects problems, especially the ones I cause.”
Fancy sighed. “I suppose you’re right about that one. But I see that I might’ve been causing problems as well. I’m doing my best to make up for it.”
Fleur pulled back, shrinking back behind her forelegs to brace herself again. “Is it a good thing?”
“I’d like to think so, but you’re going to have to be the one to tell me if I have.” Fancy reached over and took ahold of Fleur’s untucked fetlock with his hooves as he lowered himself back down. “Sometimes something hurtful from you is just a poorly worded bitter pill to swallow. I know you’re always good for an apology later if you ever say anything that you feel was undeserved.”
Fleur’s eyes were drawn to her hoof as she fought back a smile. “I specifically told you that I wouldn’t after ripping a pillow over your horn.”
“Then you should probably stop telling me when you’re having second thoughts, silly filly.” Fancy ruffled her mane with his free hoof like he used to do when she was younger. “You learned far too much compassion from your mother for something like that to last.”
Finally, the bulwark collapsed as Fleur giggled in agreement. Her face glowed behind her mess of hair that she didn’t bother fixing. Instead, she adjusted herself on the couch to get a better angle on Fancy’s hoof and wrapped her forelegs around it. Fleur cuddled it close like one of her dark dragon plushes and smiled sweetly as she held on tight. He couldn’t remember the last time she’d seemed so at peace. The happiness rang bittersweet.
“Hey Fancy?”
“Yes?”
“Do you love me?”
Fancy chuckled at the foalish question. “Of course. I couldn’t stop if I tried.”
“In what way?”
“You’re family, my dear.”
Fleur’s smile faltered as her grip loosened. “But is there a better word for it maybe?”
“I don’t believe so.”
The melancholy returned as Fleur’s head flopped to the side. Her frown deepened as she kept her eyes locked onto Fancy’s hoof. Unlike before, it only took a few seconds for it to click what she was referring to. It was the one roadblock he couldn’t overcome, and family wasn’t going to cut it for Fleur.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you again.” Fancy began to pull his leg back to his side, until he felt panic shoot through Fleur’s body. He froze as she immediately seized the leg and yanked it back before he could take it any further away. She wrapped her body around it, refusing to let go.
“No! No, please! I’m sorry! This is enough. It’s more than enough.”
Fancy steadied himself, looking at the filly buoying herself with his useless leg. “You have no idea how important it is to me for you to know how much I love you. I love you so much, Fleur. I always have, from the moment your mother told me about you.” He could feel the joy welling up inside him as it escaped with a smile on his face. “And when I finally got to meet you? I knew I could never let you go. You’ve always reflected the best in her.”
Fleur smiled sadly as he looked back into Fancy’s eyes. “What about Daddy?”
Fancy reinforced his warm smile. He stroked her loose mane out of the way so he could see her whole face. “Not to worry. He showed up eventually in a way I know all too well. Despite your mark, you were blossoming more into a sunflower than a little lily.”
She giggled at the cheesy pun. “What can I say? I had big shoes to fill.” Fleur turned her nose up at him and tousled her mane with a shake of her head. “I never envisioned Lady Faire as a pétite role.”
“You certainly grew into it splendidly. To be perfectly honest, there was a moment I thought I’d have to inquire where the castle staff ordered alicorn mattresses.”
Fleur looked back down at him with withering confusion. “You thought I’d be princess-sized, and you still forgot to update my room?”
“A little bit of an exaggeration as well as the wrong location,” Fancy clarified. He propped his head up by resting his chin on his free leg. “Why do you think you and your mother swapped rooms at de Lune?”
“Maman’s not that small.”
“Yes, but you were simply that large.”
“I know,” Fleur sighed with a knicker as she relaxed back on the couch. “I hated it so much at first. I felt like an awkward balloon on stilts, and even now, I’m still always the biggest pony in the room. Even stallions look up to me.”
“Well, after the growing pains, the height does have its advantages.”
“Yeah, but sometimes I’d rather be small like Maman. You know what the worst part was?”
“What?”
“I couldn’t ride on your back anymore.”
“It’s not like Éclair could do that either,” Fancy chuckled knowingly. “Besides, it certainly didn’t stop you from trying even now.”
Fleur’s head slid further as she cuddled Fancy’s leg for warmth. “I miss it.”
“Well, we all grow up sometime, Fleur.”
“I liked pony-back rides,” she whined as her eyes glistened with nostalgia. “You and Daddy always gave the best rides.”
“And you always said he did a much better job at it,” Fancy reminded her.
“That’s because Daddy gave it his all every time,” Fleur countered, turning her eyes up to him while keeping her face close to his captured leg. “You never played rodeo right.”
“It was for the best. You don’t want a ‘clumsicorn’ like me trying to catch a flying filly like a hoofball.”
“Nah. I’d have been fine. I’d never lose the bronco-buck to you. Daddy rarely knocked me off, and he usually threw his back out trying.” Fleur giggled as her eyes flickered through their shared memories. “Remember when he did win? He’d catch me and ‘claim his prize’ by tickling me until I got the hiccups.”
“I seem to recall one instance of being enlisted to try scaring them out of you when you had a case that lasted a whole afternoon.”
Fleur started giggling as she remembered. “Oh yeah! And your lame excuse of a jump-scare just made them worse? Classic Pantsy move.” Her laughter grew louder as she gripped his leg tighter.
“Acting was always your gift, Fleur. I did refer him to the best pediatrician if they didn’t go away. Luckily Dapper came along and banged two pans next to your ears.”
“Yeah! But then, Maman was so startled, she started hiccuping instead!” Fleur’s raucous laughter grew as she couldn’t contain herself any longer. She pulled his hoof even closer as she laughed so hard she started to cry. The laughter died to the sorrow as she clutched Fancy’s leg as she sobbed loudly in mourning.
“I miss him, Fancy! I miss him so much! I miss riding on his back. I miss being ‘Daddy’s little filly.’ I miss his singing when he’d tuck me in at night.” Fleur stared deeply at Fancy’s fur with a desperate, unspoken desire. He knew what she wanted to say, but she didn’t want to risk destroying what she had by uttering its name. “But, you know what I really miss the most? I miss us being happy. Everypony was so much happier back then when we were all together.”
Taking a patient breath to power through the guilt, Fancy freed his hoof. She tried to grab it again, but Fancy moved to caress her cheek instead to wipe her tears away. “I’m here now, Fleur. I’m so sorry I haven’t been.”
Fleur leaned into the tenderness, savoring what little she could from the distant closeness. He couldn’t give her what she wanted. What he wanted to give her belonged to Suede.
“Don’t you miss him?” Fleur asked between hiccups. “He was your daddy, too.”
“Of course I do, Fleur.”
She choked back another sob at his white lie and pressed forward, “Then why don’t I believe you?”
“We simply grieve in different ways.”
“No we don’t. I don’t believe you. Why can’t you tell me the truth?”
Fancy sighed, trying to find the right words to say. “Grief isn’t a competition, Fleur.”
“Right. Sorry. You’re right. It’s alright,” Fleur said, trying desperately to trick herself into believing his deflection. Cheap words didn’t make it past Fleur. She was too smart for that.
She wrapped her hooves around his foreleg, and leaned her head into it trying to channel strength and support. Her breathing steadied as she tried to calm herself, but Fancy could still feel new tears wetting his fur as she hid behind it.
“This is enough,” she whispered to herself. “This is more than enough,” she repeated the mantra, trying to color it into reality.
“I’m sorry.”
Fleur shook her head trying to disagree, but ultimately yielded to the truth while desperately clinging to his comforting lies. “Me too.”