//------------------------------//
// 37 — Feeling Filly I: Bakery Surpises 
// Story: Ms. Glimmer and the Do-Nothing Prince 
// by scifipony 
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I remembered the bakery I'd led Blueblood into that first night fondly.  Well, maybe not so fondly as what followed in the subsequent hours. I trotted into the Pâtisserie la Reine, tail high. 

Oblivious while healing myself the second time, somepony had helpfully washed the blood off and brushed my fur and mane.  I looked more presentable now than I had with the sweat-matted fur and bed-head I'd treated Celestia's captains to this morning.

Maybe that was why they hadn't taken me seriously?

Nah. I trusted they had some professionalism. 

The chief baker recognized me instantly, though I didn't recognize her. The powder blue pegasus flew around behind the counter. She hadn't served us, or even been here the other night. Judging by how packed it was, word of my visit had traveled throughout Canterlot.

A tan unicorn bakery assistant floated a white porcelain plate with an extra special sliced loaf glistening with honey toward me.

A royal guardpony had joined us as we reached Palisades Park. The yellow mare shot out a pink hoof to stop the potential threat, such that it was. My nostrils reflexively pulsed, recognizing the offering.

Butter pumpkin bread!? My foalhood favorite. I didn't recall mentioning my preference, but maybe I had!

Yes, I'll admit it: I squealed. My little brass horseshoes clattered as I danced a little filly dance.

Everypony certainly noticed after I'd stuffed two luscious, caramelized cinnamony slices into my mouth. I savored the honey-butter that made it so moist I almost didn't need a drink to wash it down. I didn't prove my assessment by speaking and sputtering crumbs. With all eyes on my chubby cheeks, and their owners realizing now that I'd noticed, the chatter in the restaurant bakery resumed, everypony looking toward the glass display cases, then crowding them.  

I hoped the baker baked extra.

My initial hunger satiated, me licking my lips without thoughts of propriety, Proper Step levitated over a glass of seltzer. The fizz-burn felt good going down.

I said, "Homeroom has started by now. Wonder if Cadance told everypony what happened?"

"I'd wager she's as tardy as you."

"I really said 'kiss and make up,' did I?"

"Yes. Yes, you did, Ms. Glimmer."

I pursed my lips, then licked them, smiling, remembering the flavor of the browned honey-glazed loaf that tantalizingly floated just out of reach. "You know, I shouldn't be such a food horse."

My advisor tilted his head.

"Pig. Whatevs. I'm bringing treats for everypony! Probably eaten breakfast, but there's always room for pastries, am I right?"

He grinned. "Undoubtedly."

I snagged another pumpkin bread, which now sported a scrawled Royal Pumpkin on the card in the case. I figured I'd engulf the one I had all by myself. I selected croissants, tricorn pocket pastries filled with apricot, raspberry, and milk jam, and a glazed fruit custard tart piled high with strawberries. I happily consumed each cookie sample. I got chocolate, brown butter, and toffee that way, along with the Prench bread (slathered with butter) offered me. It took the edge off the enormous hunger healing caused. 

It did one other thing: It weighed down on my stomach.

As the baker personally boxed my selections with twine, and Proper Step paid, I looked around. My body recalled Singe, puffed-up with attitude, in the bathroom this morning. My orange juice fiasco had vanquished all thought of typical morning pony rituals. Worse, twenty minutes ago, Proper Step had given me a tall drink of water.

This posed, let's say, multiple issues needing immediate attention. My guard pointed a wing. A sign read, "Loo." I waved off the guard in my urgency. I didn't understand the tendency for fillies to herd to the "powder room." I passed pony kegs of sugar and flour stacked to the ceiling around a bend illuminated by reflected sunlight. The door to my left was the room I needed, but—

A door opened to the alleyway. Backlit, I saw a pony silhouette. I squinted. A breeze tussled a periwinkle mane. Pink fur. She said, "The prince was right to expect you. Hurry."

In the alley? I thought. He was somewhat eccentric; he wouldn't want to be recognized. My knees knocked together, now, my bladder having informed my hindbrain that my destination lay within sight.

"Um," I said, beginning to sweat. "Um."

"He's waiting outside."

I peered into the glare, then at the porcelain trough in the shadows to my left— "I need to go."

She nodded rapidly. "There's facilities where we're going—"

I ground my teeth, my front knees wanting to join the dance my rear legs had begun. "Not going to make it!" I shouted. "Tell his Royal Highness he can flapping wait!" I slammed the door. 

Yeah. Barely made it. I lit my horn; I hadn't seen the switch. I saw the requisite pail and dipper, a sink with a square block of milled soap, and plenty of hung towels. I sighed for multiple reasons. The baker kept proper hygiene; no smells.

Hoof steps approach the door. Ears, attuned to threats, heard the tinkle and pop of magic sparkles. Relieved I had a spell spinning, instinct transformed Illuminate to Shield, leaving me in darkness. 

A heartbeat later, retreating hooves clattered. Heavier hooves banged down—a pegasus landed with the shish of wings furling.

"Ms. Glimmer?" my guard asked. "You okay?"

"Be right out!" I sang.

I swatted the light switch, a wired lever that swished a flask of magic pebbles. A minute later, refreshed, relieved, hooves scrubbed and a missed few flecks of blood flicked from my shoulder, I re-entered the hall.

The guard met my gaze. I blinked at the bright sunlight flooding in from the left. No shadow in the doorway. No Singe.

The pegasus fluttered into the doorway a stepped toward. I followed and looked both ways down the alley, squinting again in the light. I glimpsed a brown-furred, red-maned nopony turn the corner at the end of the alley. No sign of the Prince's bodyguard.

I huffed.

Annoyed, I stomped back into the bakery. Even the fond smells of yeast and butter didn't vanquish the feeling. My mood had been broken. I thought of the times I'd spent enjoying the white unicorn with the limp blond mane—how I'd opened my heart, and more, to him. Anticipation of a replay of the best parts had filled my subconscious. Disappointment flooded into the sudden void.

"Horse apples!" I muttered.

"What, ma'am?"

I shook my head. I'd have choice words for him about his secretiveness!

Ponies saw me re-enter the restaurant, saw my face. The crowd parted as I headed out the door to the Strand.

Yeah, I'd have choice words for him... Assuming I didn't melt in his presence—as my body wanted to. The warmth that flooded through me at the thought of him, proved it. 

I hated this change. Stupid pony friendship reflexes! I was so much better without them!

In the doorway stood a young stallion my age. He had yellow fur that bristled with masculinity at the sleeves, waistband, and neck of his army uniform shirt. A lemon meringue mane framed his smiling face. I imagined a spark from his white teeth dazzled me to explain why I halted so suddenly that I slid hoof lengths.

Sadly, I knew why I stopped. I remembered how he'd kissed me deeply, and amazingly, just before supporting me against cursed-Celestia, laying down his life to protect me. It didn't hurt that my former mob teammate had become handsome, having grown into his hooves. Unconditional support is sexy. He was sexy.

An older part of me groaned, ready to throw in the towel. I was hopelessly broken.