This Platinum Crown

by Capn_Chryssalid

Chapter Twenty Two : Deals, Regrets, Decisions

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(22)

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Scootaloo was worried and, willing to admit it only to herself, a little scared.

Hiding in the rushes of a bush, she followed the three patrolling guardponies at a distance, just like she imagined Ritterkreuz would have done. Unlike the behemoth of a mare, Scootaloo was just a little filly. This made the job of keeping out of sight much easier, but it did raise the specter of what could happen if she was found out. Probably, they’d only scold her, but…

“Stop right there, criminal scum!”

One of the guards had been gleefully practicing saying just that on the road to Fluttershy’s cottage, to the point where the other two had been barked at him several times to shut up. They were after somepony, and that somepony had to be Ritter. What would they do if she found out somepony had been helping her? What would her parents do? She’d probably be grounded for, well, forever! And no pony ever learned how to fly by being grounded!

“STOP right there. No. No. Stop right THERE! Criminal scum. No. Too much emphasis on there. What’s so important about stopping there? Is there better than here?” At the rear of the trio, a young pegasus stallion in steel cuirass and helmet tilted his head left to right, deep in thought. “Maybe ‘Stop right there… criminal SCUM!’ Big emphasis on the scum part. Stop, because you’re scum, you criminal. Yeah. That’s good.”

“Would you please just shut up with that?” An older pegasus stallion in identical uniform growled over his shoulder. “You aren’t going to be graded on how well you shout.”

“But, sir!” the younger pony protested. “We need a good shout in case we find the target, don’t we? The perfect shout can demoralize an opponent or even get them to surrender!”

“Say whatever you like,” the mare at the lead of the three said, facing forward as they continued their patrol. “I don’t think words will get the one we’re after to surrender.”

“But she’s hurt, isn’t she?”

“Aye,” the older male confirmed. “But even after the beating those Wonderbolts gave her, she still managed to give the slip to the two we had following her.”

“That’s why I’m here.” The mare at the front was a unicorn, and Scootaloo ducked deep into the foliage as she saw the long scar that marked her face. Just where the cheek of her helmet met the strap, a strange looking burn ran from the edge of her mouth back and beneath the metal, towards the ear. The mare was silvery coated with a mauve mane, and she did not sound very understanding of fillies caught aiding enemies of the state – or enemies of her Free Company.

“We’ll find her and bring her to Sir Germoglio and the Lady Baroness in chains,” she vowed. “Form up and look presentable, now. We’re almost to the next house.”

“The place that belongs to the pet store filly?” the younger pegasus asked, but fell in behind his seniors. “She’s a cute one!”

The older male of the group glared back at him before tightening the strap of his helmet. The blue of his mane slipped out from behind an upturned lip of steel in the back to fall freely around his shoulders, like a sloppy ponytail. The younger pegasus did the same with his forest green mane, the front of the helm dipping enough to make the previously somewhat goofy guardpony look threatening. Both stallions stretched their wings, and their feathers, revealing metal hidden within the plumage.

Scootaloo followed them.

Normally, she would meet back up with Ritterkreuz somewhere along the road to Fluttershy’s place. She’d give the signal, and steal a muffin if Scootaloo brought one for her, and the filly would do the ‘chasing chickens’ thing she soooo enjoyed and totally wasn’t sick and tired of. After a little animal catching acrobatics, and maybe a snack thanks to Fluttershy, they’d meet back up and Ritter would have some other crazy thing for her to do before (or during) school. Scootaloo still wasn’t sure it was all doing much to help her fly, but it had been sort of fun, and it did keep her on her hooves. She even found trailing the three guardponies pretty easy, and hardly noticed how she slipped through the bushes with hardly a scratch.

The three Free Company ponies finally came to Fluttershy’s cottage and knocked on the door.

“Open up!” the unicorn demanded. “In the name of Her Ladyship, the Baroness of Ponyville!”

Scootaloo crouched low, trying to vanish completely into the bushes overhead.

The unicorn knocked again, harder and louder. “Miss Fluttershy! We are guards in service to Lady Rarity! Open the door!”

A moment passed, and the unicorn raised her hoof to beat at the door again, when it opened a crack. Knowing Fluttershy, it was probably Angel Bunny answering the door first. By the reactions of the three guards, Scootaloo knew her guess had been correct. There was a short scuffle and some confusion, and then a mare’s voice could be clearly heard.

“Oh, sorry, um, he didn’t recognize you.” It was Fluttershy, though Scootaloo couldn’t see her. “Is – is there anything I can do to help you?”

“We believe a dangerous pony may be hiding on the premises,” the lead unicorn said, and held up a piece of paper. “Have you seen this mare? She goes by the name Ritterkreuz, or Iron Cross.”

“Oh. Um. No. I mean, yes, but… no…”

“What do you mean: yes, but no?” the unicorn asked, pointedly. “Have you seen her or not?”

“Y-yes, last night. I did.” Fluttershy pointed out the crack in the door in some random direction. “I think she flew off that way. Have a nice day!”

She tried to close the door –

Except for the purplish glow that kept it stuck in place.

“She may still be hiding on the premises,” the unicorn told her, in a tone that didn’t brook argument. “For your protection, we request that you let us search your house and other structures on your property.”

Even Scootaloo recognized when a ‘request’ was just a polite way of saying ‘it’s going to happen, so get used to it.’ Fluttershy stammered and insisted that there was no need, and then, that it was okay ‘if they had to’ but that they shouldn’t disturb any of the animals too much. Once the three were inside, Scootaloo emerged from the bushes and scrambled towards a low stone fence. It went around and to the back. She’d know what to do once she was there.

- -

Fluttershy tried to seem as un-intrusive and cooperative as possible, a state of being that was made a little easier by the company she kept at the moment. Her quiet little house was rather over-occupied at the moment with guests from the previous night. The guards had noticed this the moment they opened the door.

Three unconscious Wonderbolts were sleeping on rolls in the living room, bandaged enough to be mistaken for Nightmare Night mummies. Fleet Foot and Eagle Eye were both still asleep – Fluttershy hoped all the noise didn’t wake them up - but Overcast was already awake, the tough pegasus pony having been restless since they brought him in. Thank the Princesses, none of their wounds were crippling or life threatening, but they wouldn’t be up and flying for some time yet.

“Oh, wow! That’s Spitfire!” one of the pegasus guardponies stamped his hooves in excitement.

“Captain Spitfire, actually…” The peach and flame colored Wonderbolt was, like the others, out of uniform but still famous enough to be recognized in her natural coat. Besides the other bandages around her chest, she had a compress and enough cloth wrapped around her head to warp her normally upright flame of a mane. “What are you three doing here?”

“I’d ask the same of you, Captain.” The unicorn leading the company detachment wasn’t impressed by her celebrity. To her, the Wonderbolts were probably just another Free Company, and thus, more competition.

“As anypony with eyes can see, we are recovering from last night’s battle,” Spitfire replied, motioning towards her injured comrades.

“Really?” The unicorn mare asked, unconvinced. “Here?”

“Miss Fluttershy is actually quite skilled in first aid,” Spitfire explained. “Miss Cheerilee as well, and Lady Chalice has some medical magic.”

“Who?”

Spitfire turned her head, and Cheerilee and Chalice emerged from upstairs. The former looked utterly unafraid of the three guards, despite the unexpected exhaustion of last night and the fact that she had to be running on just five hours of sleep. Really, Fluttershy mostly knew how to treat animals, not ponies. Cheerilee and Chalice had done most of the real work, in her view of it. More timid, the unicorn of their group kept discretely behind Cheerilee. Chalice did look tired and she even rubbed one of her eyes with a hoof.

“I never got your name,” Spitfire observed, “Miss…?”

“I am Ser Gag Order,” The mare replied, emphasizing the feminine version of the knightly ‘Sir.’ “My companions are Sir Dart Thrower and Quiver, a squire in our company.”

“An honor to meet you, ma’am,” Quiver said, even though it earned a glare from his unicorn superior. “I’m a big fan!”

Spitfire rewarded the young stallion with a beaming smile. “I’m always happy to meet a fan, Quiver.”

The poor boy would probably have melted right then and there if Sir Dart Thrower hadn’t nudged him with a bladed wing. The younger male instantly stood up ramrod straight.

“As you must know, we are searching for the Wonderbolt Traitor, Ritterkreuz,” Gag Order said, no longer interested in formality. “Stand aside and let us be about our business.”

“You really think she’s here?” Spitfire asked, but stepped to the left to motion them past her.

“You fought with her last night, didn’t you?” Gag Order asked, and she and the other two began to fan out. “She was injured quite badly, according to one of our scouts. Could be, she hasn’t gone far. Could be, she’s lurking close by, thinking you’d never imagine looking for her right under your noses.”

“Could be, she’s flown off,” Spitfire argued, throwing the mare’s words back at her. “She was the only one who could fly, at the time.”

“All four of you, and you still couldn’t subdue her.” Gag Order scoffed, briefly inspecting the adjoining kitchen, looking for any place large enough for a pony to hide. She and the others were moving quickly through the house, convinced that Ritter wouldn’t be so bold as to try and hide inside.

“The Wonderbolts have truly lost their mettle,” she remarked, smirking at Spitfire’s resulting scowl. “When I was a little filly, Commander Bora killed the Pony-Eater of the Two Temples and single-hoofedly destroyed the Pirates of the Red Eyrie. Now, you cannot even handle one of your own, gone rogue.”

“Your concern for our reputation is duly noted,” she current Wonderbolt Captain replied, her tone frosty.

“I consider it an honor, actually, to be hunting down Commander Bora’s daughter,” Gag Order went on, magically opening the shutters and window curtains. A squirrel jumped out, suddenly, and she brushed it aside with a crackling magical field. “This house is infested with vermin. Are these really the sort of sanitary conditions you injured ponies should be in, right now?”

Fluttershy caught the squirrel in her forelegs. Gag Order had not been as gentle with her magic as Twilight or Rarity would have been, though both tended to startle if animals jumped at them. She cooed to the poor creature and quickly let it back outside. Turning, she saw Gag Order inspecting the ceiling, and began to frown.

“Please…”

“Eh?” Gag Order turned, noticing her again. “Oh, you. What is it?”

“Please be more careful with the animals here,” Fluttershy insisted, and almost said ‘if you can.’ She steeled herself just enough to get out, “They’re my animals and my friends.”

Gag Order’s nose flared, and she snorted, dismissively.

“Anything?” she asked her two subordinates. Dart Thrower and Quiver, both returning from upstairs, both shook their heads.

“You do know Fluttershy here is a personal friend of Rarity, don’t you?” Cheerilee asked, upset by the intrusion and whatever had happened upstairs. “It isn’t very smart to upset ponies, especially when they know your boss on a first name basis.”

“Nothing upstairs,” Dart thrower answered, giving Cheerilee a wide berth.

“We’ll take our business outside, then,” Gag Order decided, shooting a scowl at Spitfire, and then, Cheerilee. The Wonderbolt Captain followed close behind, but Fluttershy lingered by the window, breathing heavily as the guardponies left. Cheerilee trotted over, resting a hoof on her shoulder.

“You okay, Fluttershy?” she asked, worried.

“N-no. Not really,” Fluttershy admitted. “We have to follow them. If – if they find…”

Cheerilee nodded. “Out back, right?” She glanced back at the stairs. Chalice had come down again, and her head was turned towards the back of the house as well. The timid unicorn’s eyes were narrowed, and there was something stormy in them. “Chalice?”

“If they find her,” she said, quietly, but enough for the other two mares to hear. “Then what will we do?”

On the floor, two Wonderbolts remained unconscious and unaware. A third heard, but already knew. Overcast closed his eyes and said nothing, while Cheerilee and Fluttershy exchanged worried looks. They quickly headed out back after the guards and Spitfire.

“She’s one of us,” Overcast spoke up, just as the mares left, leaving only him and Chalice behind. “We have to be the ones to bring her in.” His eyes opened again, and he looked back at the unicorn noblemare. “Your family understands that sort of thinking, don’t they?”

Chalice dipped her head. “More than you know.”

- -

The three guardponies were searching everywhere.

Scootaloo, for all her efforts, couldn’t remain hidden for very long. One moment, she had been secure under the branches of a thick bush, and the next a force pulled at her tail, yanking her up and into the air. It really was not the sort of “flight” she had in mind.

“What’s this?” Gag Order’s magic was vice-like as she floated the filly closer. “I don’t think you’re the pony we’re after.”

“Scootaloo!” Cheerilee exclaimed, running over. “She’s one of my students!”

“Do your students often hide in the bushes and spy on ponies?” Gag Order asked, but released her hold. Scootaloo fell back on her tailbone with an ‘ooph.’ The tactless unicorn then went on with her search of Fluttershy’s many animal enclosures and sheds. This, despite Fluttershy’s meek insistence that they not go into her shed.

“What was in there?” Gag Order demanded, as Quiver emerged from the forbidden hutch.

“Nothing of note,” the squire replied, shaking his head.

“Scootaloo…” Cheerilee checked on the filly, lifting her back up and onto all fours. “What on Equestria are you doing here?”

“I was just,” Scootaloo paused, trying to think up an excuse. “Just, looking… for… things… that would be… at Fluttershy’s place! That’s it!”

Internally, she face-hoofed. That was as bad an excuse as Sweetie Belle would come up with! Cheerilee frowned, sternly, wanting a real answer.

“Maybe I was going to let the chickens loose so I could catch them.” Even then, it wasn’t really the truth, but it was something Cheerilee would buy. In Scootaloo’s experience, nothing made adults more proud of themselves than when they caught somepony doing something bad.

“Why would you even do that?” her teacher asked, upset, but glad it wasn’t something worse. Like, say, trying to rendezvous with a wanted criminal…

“I was trying to learn to fly.”

“Scootaloo. Chickens don’t fly.”

“Yeah. I know.” Scootaloo rolled her eyes.

“Scootaloo,” Fluttershy said, trotting over even as she kept an eye on the guardponies going through her back yard. “I know the truth.”

“You… do?” Scootaloo asked, instantly wary. Which truth? What truth?

“Check the coop!” Gag Order commanded, and the three guards converged on the henhouse. It was the only large, or semi-large, enclosure left. A pony could fit inside without too much difficulty. Scootaloo ignored Fluttershy for the moment and rushed over. She had been around and even in the henhouse enough times to know that Ritterkreuz could be in there. It wouldn’t be spacious, but it was possible.

Chickens clucked angrily and fled as Gag Order opened one of the doors while Dart thrower covered the other exit. The unicorn balked at the feathers and smell but entered anyway. Quiver covered her rear, alert for any potential ambush. Scootaloo held her breath, wincing in expectation of the sound of a scuffle.

A couple seconds later, and Gag Order emerged, annoyed but empty-hoofed.

“Nothing?” Quiver asked, dejected. “I was so looking forward to saying, stop right there, c-”

“Shut up,” Gag Order growled, a burst of magic sealing the stallion squire’s lips closed. She motioned to Sir Dart thrower. “Let’s go. She’s probably in the forest somewhere.”

Scootaloo watched them go, confused, but relieved. Had she been wrong? Maybe Ritter wasn’t here at all? Fluttershy and Cheerilee both saw the three guardponies off, wishing them luck in their search elsewhere. Their words didn’t sound very genuine, and when the two mares came back, they were both visibly relieved.

“Miss Cheerilee? Miss Fluttershy?” Scootaloo asked, not sure what to think anymore. “What’s going on?”

“Just a moment,” Fluttershy answered, spreading her wings to take off. Scootaloo knew she wasn’t much of a flyer – it was town gossip among pegasus ponies even today – but when she put effort into it, Fluttershy had no problem leaving the ground. Unlike some little fillies. Her wide, butter yellow wings flapped just two times before she was airborne. Gracefully, Fluttershy landed on top of her roof, raised a hoof to shield her eyes against the sun as she looked out, and then flew back down.

Scootaloo didn’t like to admit it, but she was a little jealous of ‘Ponyville’s worst flyer.’ It was better to be a timid flyer than none at all. In fact, Fluttershy had very nice wings.

“They gone?” Cheerilee asked, guessing what the kindly pegasus had been checking into.

Fluttershy nodded. “Everypony always checks the shed.”

“What do you mean?” Scootaloo stomped a hoof, sensing she was being left out of the conversation. “Hey! What the heck is going on? Do you two know about… about…?”

“About Ritterkreuz?” Fluttershy asked, and nodded slowly. “I take it she was the one letting the chickens out every morning?” She sighed, as if expecting the news.

Without another word, Fluttershy led them back to the chicken coop, mindfully closing the fence behind them. Then she took them inside. It was just like Scootaloo remembered. The coop was a rather simple wooden enclosure with perches for the birds and nests along the walls. The floor was covered in straw and freckled with droppings. Needless to say, it didn’t smell all that pleasant inside, not that the chickens minded or even noticed.

Cheerilee looked up and made a sad murmur. “I was sort of expecting her to be hanging from the ceiling, like a ninja or something. Like Daring Do did that one time. Are you sure she’s still in here? Maybe she left this morning.”

Fluttershy didn’t reply.

Instead, she wiped her hoof against the thick mat of straw and bird droppings. Scraping, she began to part the fodder, revealing wood and stone beneath. After just a moment, Fluttershy found a leather strap, and pulled at it, sliding back a large section of the floor, like pulling away a mat or rug. Scootaloo amended her earlier thought. That was a lot of stone. From beneath the drawn away bedding, the filly and her teacher could see an iron handle set into a heavy cellar door.

“Everypony always checks the shed?” Cheerilee joked, laughing. “Fluttershy, you magnificent b-” the schoolteacher mindfully bit back what she was about to say. Probably Ritter’s favorite b-word, Scootaloo guessed.

“You magnificent pony,” Cheerilee settled on. “A trap door! What’s down there?”

“Oh. Um. Nothing big,” Fluttershy replied, blushing at the praise. She reached for the handle. “Just my root cellar.”

Scootaloo knew a root cellar was a place where ponies kept vegetables. Apple Bloom’s family had a few of them, built into the side of a hill back at their farm. A root cellar kept veggies from freezing in cold months and from going rotten in summer and spring. Fluttershy did have a garden of her own, and she must’ve needed a place to store food for all her animal friends. She didn’t keep tons of food in her own kitchen or pantry after all. It made sense she would have a cellar somewhere.

The trap door opened, revealing a staircase down.

Scootaloo followed just behind Fluttershy and Cheerilee. It was dark in the cellar at first, but then Fluttershy pulled down a lever on the wall. It clicked, and lights flickered on, making it much easier to see. The walls leading down were cut stone placed meticulously close together, and the steps were wide and broad so it was easy to move up and down while carrying things like boxes or barrels. A winch and rope ran down the side of the stairs, too.

They had gone maybe twenty hoof-lengths down into the earth when the stairs ended. There, Scootaloo could see the cellar itself. She had been expecting something large, and it didn’t disappoint. Rectangular and open, except for a few square support pillars, the walls were lined with shelves of stacked preserves, barrels and crates. Most of the labels indicated they were the usual stock of vegetables: turnips, carrots, potatoes, squash, melons, cabbage, apples, beets, onions and even pumpkins, but there were other things, too. There were salted fish, for some of Fluttershy’s more picky eaters – like that bear she hung out with – and even barrels of fresh water and alcohol.

Then there was the part of one wall with no foodstuff. That wall sported a rack with assorted nets, a few spears of various designs including one with a strange collar-like circle at the end, and a desk with some newspaper clippings hanging from a corkboard. Cheerilee whistled, appreciative of the sight, but Scootaloo ran over to the desk, instantly curious about its contents. Besides, everything else was just gross old vegetables.

Jumping up onto the desk, Scootaloo got a look at the newspaper clippings.

One old black and white picture was of a pegasus stallion posing with a massive, white bird. He stood off to the side of it, holding the beak open with one hoof. Scootaloo could see inside the bird’s cavernous maw; it looked big enough to swallow a small pony in one bite. A caption above the picture told the tale.

“Sir Bora Brings Down Pony Eating Roc,” Scootaloo read it aloud.

Another picture showed the same stallion with another giant bird, but this time he was surrounded by several huge buffalo who helped to hold up the dead monster. One big one, looking like a chief with his feathered head-dress, shared a smoking pipe with the pegasus, now sporting a bristly moustache and twill safari hat.

“Monster Hunter Saves Buffalo Tribe. Slays Thunderbird.”

Looking to another newspaper, Scootaloo recognized the monster in that one. It was a huge hydra.

“Giant Hydra Relocated to… Everfree Forest?”

Scootaloo shook her head. It couldn’t be the same one, could it? She leaned in close, and sure enough, there was the same pony, with the moustache and hat, surrounded by a few others in familiar blue uniforms.

“Hey, kid?”

“I’m not a kid!” Scootaloo turned around at the voice, and smiled at the sight of her stupid, careless criminal of a flight instructor. Ritterkreuz was leaning against a pillar, looking like she’d gotten in a fight with a landslide. Brown-stained bandages covered parts of her head, chest and legs. The filly smiled, but tried not to let the big, dumb mare know it.

“So you were down here,” she said, trying to sound disinterested.

“Yeah. Haven’t hidden in a basement in a while,” Ritter explained, and Fluttershy and Cheerilee walked up to the filly to pick her off the desk. “It’s better than fighting with a bear over a cave, though.”

“You leave poor Harry alone,” Fluttershy admonished the big gray mare. “He’s worked very hard on his den, and I don’t want you messing it up.”

For a long, long moment, Scootaloo could only stare at the two ponies. Next to her, Cheerilee was also looking amused at the sight before them. Fluttershy, with her smooth pink mane and soft yellow coat, and Ritterkreuz with jagged lime green mane and gray coat, wrapped in dirty bandages, one more than a head taller than the other.

“You said, your father…?” Scootaloo began to voice the insane thought that had taken root in her mind.

Fluttershy and Ritterkreuz glanced at one another.

“Our father,” the two mares said at the same time.

The little filly’s jaw went slack. She couldn’t imagine two more different ponies. “You’re SISTERS?!”

Fluttershy looked down at her hooves, shaking her head. “Oh, um, no, not - not really.”

Ritter snorted. “Same cock, different hens.”

“Hey!” Cheerilee objected, pointing over at her student. “Language!”

“What’s wrong with saying cock?” Scootaloo asked, staring up at her teacher for a second. “A cock is a rooster, right? So they have the same dad but different moms?”

“She – she!” Cheerilee stammered, “W-what she meant was – I mean, she – she was talking about – about…!”

Ritter snickered. “What was I talking about, teach? What time do they start sex ed these days?”

Cheerilee glared at the big mare. “Cocks and hens. Of all the analogies.”

“We’re under a henhouse, so it seemed appropriate,” Ritter explained, and pointed across her chest and over to Fluttershy. “She’s Posey’s brat. Bora was her sire. Old Posey’s even in some of those articles and pictures over there.”

“Please be careful with them,” Fluttershy asked, trotting over to make sure the newspapers and other memorabilia hadn’t been damaged. “Many of these are my mother’s. She’d be very upset if something happened to them.”

“Even I didn’t know you had a half-sister,” Spitfire said, walking in from behind the group. Ritter smirked at the fiery pegasus, an expression Spitfire returned in the form of a scowl. “But then, famous stallions don’t often advertise who they sire.”

“I take it the local mercenaries have headed off to chase geese in the forest?” Ritter guessed, accurately, and her smile became vicious, teeth bared in challenge. “You wanna finish our fight, Sparky?”

“The thought does appeal to me,” Spitfire admitted, slowly spreading her wings.

“It’ll be hard avoiding your fire in here,” Ritter replied, starting to laugh. “But a couple more burns won’t hurt me any!”

Fluttershy poked the big mare in the side, and a painful shiver ran up and down her body, from the tips of her hooves down to her tail and back again. Scootaloo could almost see the hairs of her coat stand on end. For a second her hooves left the floor as she kept from howling in pain.

“Ow.” Ritter turned her head to the shy animal lover. “That really, really hurt, you know.”

“No fighting,” Fluttershy commanded, and both former Wonderbolts drooped a little, admonished. Fluttershy’s turquoise stare froze them both in place. “You really should learn to get along.”

“But she-” Spitfire tried to object.

“No buts,” Fluttershy cut her off. “Ritterkreuz helped you and your friends last night, even though she was wounded and exhausted. She flew back and brought them here, one by one, and the moment she did, she collapsed.”

“Ha.”

“And you!” Fluttershy whirled on the battle crazy mare. “As long as you’re staying here, you’ll behave yourself, and that means no picking fights. Not with the animals and not with other ponies. I’m taking a very big risk to myself and my friends helping you.”

“You could always just kick me out,” Ritter grumbled, shying away from the smaller pony.

“I’ll admit I wasn’t happy to see you show up,” Fluttershy told her, and Ritter’s eyes drew down into a scowl. “But since you’re here, you may as well stay a while until you heal up.” She touched a hoof to the wounded mare, but it was a gentle touch. “We are family, of sorts, and we protect each other.”

“Miss Spitfire will leave you alone if you’re here, won’t you?” Fluttershy asked the Wonderbolts Captain. The titian mare frowned, but seemed resigned to some sort of compromise.

“Even if we don’t come after you here,” she growled, “it doesn’t matter. This isn’t over. We will take you down, sooner or later.”

“I wouldn’t expect any less,” Ritterkreuz replied, glad to have a target to direct her ire at again. “Though if you think that Rainbow Bitch can pull it off where you failed…?” She laughed, a single barking, mocking chuckle. “Heh! You just watch. I’m going to destroy her Sonic Rain Boom. That’s a promise. Even if it kills me, that’s a promise.”

Spitfire’s jaw clenched, but she held herself back.

“You came back for Fleetfoot, Overcast and Eagle Eye. You pulled me out of the smoke.” She needed to know. “Why?”

Ritter scoffed at the very question. Scootaloo had to admit she was a little curious herself. Surprisingly, it was Fluttershy who provided the answer.

“Mercy and compassion,” she told Spitfire. “Only a strong pony can be merciful. That’s probably what she’s thinking.”

Spitfire narrowed her eyes at the two mares, but after a moment searching for the lie in Fluttershy’s words, she sighed, relenting. “You’re both nuts. Everypony in this town is nuts!” She stamped a hoof down onto the hard stone floor. “And I guess I’m nuts, too. Fine! The Wonderbolts will honor this place as neutral ground.”

Spitfire turned her glare on Fluttershy.

“I just hope this is a deal we both don’t end up regretting.”

- - -

Twilight Sparkle hadn’t eaten much since her conversation with her brother. Shining Armor had painted a flattering picture of his foalhood friend: Lord Alpha Brass had been his senior in birth if not in age but had treated the Canterlot Rare kindly, generously and fairly. More importantly to the selfless Shining Armor, Alpha Brass had been a friend and confidant to Cadance when Blueblood had returned from Crown Roc to find his mother dead and an adopted sister expecting to touch base. The Prince had not been accommodating or kind towards Cadance, a fact Shining Armor still held against him years later.

“It would be strange, but not in a bad way.”

That was how he had described his little sister marrying his friend and family ally: strange, but not in a bad way. He didn’t object, like Twilight imagined he would to most stallions she could have been with (she could only imagine how he would have blown his top if she had gone through with her original plans with Blueblood). To Shining, Alpha Brass wasn’t below her station, he brought the family as a whole wealth and prestige; he was in Shining’s view honorable and a friend to the family. The biggest objection had been over the timing.

“It is expected to at least grieve for a year before remarrying,” he had said. “Moving too quickly gives the impression of not properly honoring one’s vows.”

Twilight still wasn’t convinced, but then, she suspected she wouldn’t be until she heard back from her parents, her would-be suitor, and maybe most importantly: Princess Celestia. This was more than just a friendship report. This was accepting a pony she only knew in a vague way into her life. This was the future of her line’s material investment in her, if her family name – an important thing among unicorns – and it was the future of her experience in what ponies called love.

Twilight Sparkle already loved her friends, she loved her family and she loved Spike, and maybe, in a shockingly short time, she could love a husband. Maybe, it was more her struggling with that concept rather than her reservations over Alpha Brass that continued to niggle at her sense of doubt. Maybe, she had reservations about accepting a pony into her life in a way that would inevitably conflict with the life she had.

How could she continue to live in Ponyville, if she married Alpha Brass? Rarity was fortunate, in that Blueblood was already Duke of Canterlot and all the surrounding lands. It might have been inconvenient for him to build a new home outside Ponyville, but he had done it all the same to be with her. Rarity didn’t have to be away from her home or her friends. Twilight didn’t expect Alpha Brass to do the same. He was Marquis of the Colonies and the Frontier, and she would be Marquesa. She doubted Equestria’s borders could be ruled from a castle or tower in Ponyville.

It had been a leap just for Twilight to find true friends. That had only been a year and a few months ago. Before moving, she wouldn’t have considered a marriage to be anything more than a financial and political arrangement, but now, she expected there to be at least as much affection between wife and husband as there was between her close friends. If and when there was, would it compliment her relationships or strain them? It wasn’t just Alpha Brass himself – it was how to keep her life intact after such a momentous occasion.

Those thoughts at the forefront of her mind, Twilight approached the Apple Farm.

She needed advice. Without Spike’s dragonfire, and without Spike’s unfiltered, candid wit, it could be days before she heard back from the Princess, her parents or her suitor. Rather than wait around the library and let her worries and concerns consume her, she decided to ply her friends for their own thoughts and advice. She couldn’t be the only one of them to have thoughts like this, jumbled and difficult to order as they were.

The Apple Farm was still in cider season overdrive, fighting tooth and hoof with the Flim and Flam brothers in town. Entering their property, Twilight waved at Caramel as he began lugging a cart stocked with cider barrels into town. The shy stallion blushed and waved back, very nearly tripping on his own hooves. Saving what would have been a small disaster for the Apple Family despite his oft-lamented clumsiness, he squared his shoulders and continued down the road. Elsewhere, farmhands were helping with the two cider presses while Granny Smith ran quality control all by herself. Twilight recognized Big Mac on one of the press-powering belts, but not the other stallion. In fact, two of the stallions there were unknowns to her.

The one really missing was Applejack, and on seeing Twilight, Granny motioned her back towards the house. If Applejack was indoors, then Twilight wasn’t about to complain. It would make talking to her about things a little easier if there were fewer physical distractions.

Her earth pony friend wasn’t hard to find, but when Twilight did see her…

She couldn’t help but snigger at the sight of Applejack, hunched over a table, staring forlornly at a stack of papers and books. Band aids covered her like spots, more numerous than freckles, along with a wrap of white bandage around the barrel of her chest. Twilight recognized a slipper-sized hoof-cast correcting what had to be a split hoof: a painful injury when ponies had to walk on all fours. It wouldn’t be life threatening in the least, but like a sprained ankle it would be keeping the hardy apple farmer away from any strenuous activity for a while.

“Heya, Twilight!” Applejack greeted her, proudly patting the worn Stetson on her head. “How do Ah look?”

“You look happier than I’d be with all those cuts and bruises,” Twilight replied, but laughed when Applejack broke into chuckles herself. “You look much better with it back.”

“It was a close thing, though,” the farmer said with a rueful shake of her head. “Ah tell ya, Twilight, ah still can’t believe some’ah what I did. I’m just counting myself as pretty darn lucky.”

“So this pony you fought, he had the hat with him?”

“Funny you should ask that.” Applejack self-consciously ran her good right hoof against the rim of the Stetson. “He didn’t have it on him, but later, when the party came around and all the folks showed up to watch the fireworks and stuff, he and that Euporie gal had it with ‘em. Ah guess they must’ve found a way to get it from, well, wherever it was at.”

Twilight filed that bit of information away for later. Meeting Euporie was on her list. “I’m surprised you aren’t still relaxing in bed.”

“Now, don’t you go tryin’ ta pamper me like Big Mac and Granny,” Applejack protested, turning her eyes back to the papers on the old wooden desk. “Ah may not be able to work on the presses or with the barrels or even buckin’ trees, but ah can still make mahself useful goin’ over the books.”

“I thought Big Mac handled accounting?”

“Ah can’t let him do all the work. Besides, maybe there’s somethin’ here that’ll help. At least, maybe it’ll get mah mind off… this.” She waved her wounded hoof up in the air. It was also pretty obvious she wanted to get her mind off of other things, too.

“Is it still looking bad?” Twilight asked, edging closer to see for herself. Big Mac had very neat hoofwriting, but he used a lot of shorthand. He was a lot like Spike and herself in that respect, though he didn’t adhere to the traditional pictogram scheme that unicorns were taught.

“Actually, that’s somethin’ funny, too,” Applejack admitted, scratching her head. “Ah work up this mornin’ expectin’ the worst, but ah guess Mac did some tricks with the numbers last night. He’d got us in the black come the end of the season. Thing is, ah can’t rightly figure out how he’s doin’ it.”

“Does it matter?” Twilight asked. “That sounds like just what you needed.”

“It is, but ah still want to know how he’s doing it. Or, heck, how we’re doing it. Why don’t you have a look?” she asked, scooting over to make room. “You’ve got a good eye for this kinda stuff. You can also tell me what brought ya over.”

“I’d be happy to take a look, though I’m no accountant.” Twilight sat down next to her friend and started looking over the accounting ledger in a more systematic fashion. It was a very large ring binder full of stamped papers rather than a notebook, and thick as a magical tome. It probably went back more than fifty years, but the important and relevant stuff was up top in the last couple pages.

“Thanks a bunch, Twi.”

Identifying some of Mac’s symbols for various expenses took a little time.

“Applejack,” Twilight said while working. “I actually came over to ask you something.”

“Fire away, sugarcube!” The farmer was sitting very close, and Twilight shifted a bit, growing uncomfortable with the topic she meant to broach.

“Well…” Twilight hesitated, licking her lips and taking a deep breath. She had thought it would be hard to bring this up with one of her friends the first time. “Applejack, have you ever thought about settling down?”

“Ah am pretty settled down already, in case ya didn’t notice.”

“I meant… marriage.”

“Oh.” Applejack’s mouth froze in an ‘o’ for a little while before turning into a widening grin. “Twilight Sparkle, do you have your eyes on some lucky pony? It isn’t Caramel, is it?”

“No!” Twilight objected, not that she disliked the poor guy.

“Big Macintosh?”

“No!”

“Princess Luna?”

“NO!”

“Trixie?”

“Double NO!” Twilight slammed her hooves down on the desk, blush tinting her cheeks and nose red. Applejack, meanwhile was laughing heartily.

“Aw, ah’m sorry, sugarcube.” She wiped away a tear. “Ah just couldn’t resist!”

“Trixie.” Twilight scoffed. “Why her, of all ponies?”

“You two did have some chemistry and that beautiful magical rivalry, didn’t ya?”

“We definitely had nothing of the sort, ever.” Twilight used her hooves to forcible push the flush from her face. “If we can be serious for a moment?”

“Yeah,” Applejack relented. “Sorry again. But you really are fixin’ on some pony? Is he cute?” The farmer then added, more slyly, “Is she cute?”

“You’re really enjoying this,” Twilight observed, deadpan before returning to normal. “It’s a stallion…”

“Figures, but then, ya’ll are a noble, and ya did say ‘marry,’ so ah guess it’d haveta be.”

Applejack rested her cheek against one of her hooves, elbow propped up on the desk. She made a point. A titled pony married to pass on her title and her property to a legitimate heir. Equestria had more mares than stallions, but mares didn’t often marry one another formally. It didn’t bring much to the family in terms of material gain. Most mares, in relationships with other mares, kept the arrangement informal and therefor flexible. The exception was again nobles, who having more to lose – even second or third daughters – would generally turn even mare-to-mare relationships into political alliances, usually involving a shared sire for their foals.

“This some kinda arranged marriage?” Applejack guessed, serious again.

Twilight put her attention back on the accounting books, but nodded in the affirmative. “I’m the one arranging it, but yes, it is.”

“Who is it?”

“You wouldn’t recognize the name, but… Alpha Brass.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” Applejack conceded and sighed. “Ta answer yer question before ah got a little carried away, yeah, I’ve thought about it. Ah’ve met a lot of great ponies at rodeos and farmer meet ups. Typical, a lotta the best ones are taken.”

“What kind of pony do you look for?” Twilight asked, not mentioning that Alpha Brass was also ‘taken’ in a fashion.

“Well,” Applejack began with a fond smile. “Ah don’t have too much of a preference for stallions or mares. What matters ta me is that the pony I’d want to be with is strong and hard-workin’ an’ interested in the sorta’ stuff I am. Somepony who ain’t afraid ta work all day… and still have energy once the sun sets, if ya get mah drift.”

Twilight blushed again and coughed. “I think so.”

“That same pony should be courteous and good with a family, an’ loyal to his family, or hers, but kinda funny and fun lovin’ too,” Applejack continued, happy to narrate her ideal mate. “An’ honest, of course. We’d never have any secrets and there’d be nothing we’d be afraid ta’ talk about, no matter what.”

“Alpha Brass is supposed to be very handsome,” Twilight shyly shared, and this one aspect of him she didn’t have to rely on knowledge first hand. “He is handsome. But… his family is… different.”

She remembered Antimony, stern and commanding and uncompromising. Even with her eyes at half mast, there was a threatening, mesmerizing power to the way she carried herself. Twilight didn’t relish having to fight her, if it came to that, and even if she thought she could win. Antimony wouldn’t make it easy, and she wouldn’t underestimate her the way she had Rarity. Twilight couldn’t remember meeting Polished Jewel before, or Chalice, but she had met Cruciger as a younger pony. She had seen him again at the duel, in the form of a magical projection. He had always been scary: big and unflinching and the color and coldness of black granite.

“I don’t really know how loyal he is to his family. The situation is so complicated,” Twilight admitted, hanging her head. “I’m doing this to help my family, and I think he wants to help both our families, but parts of his family would disagree. What does being loyal even mean in a situation like that?”

“A pony’s family tells the story of who they really are,” Applejack replied, resting her injured hoof on Twilight’s shoulder. “And ah know you wouldn't be… how’d you put it? Arranging yer own marriage? If it wasn’t rightly important.”

Twilight gently touched a hoof to Applejack’s, glad for the gesture of solidarity. “It is.”

Drawing back her hoof, however, she moved it over to the accounting book.

“What’s that mean?” she asked, pointing to one of the pictographs. It appeared over and over.

“Ah think that’s a loan,” Applejack said, leaning in for a good look. “It is. Yep.”

“But look back here,” Twilight said, flipping back a couple pages to a similar pictogram of a book with a bit-symbol on the front. It was the same, except for a line underneath it. “There’s no line.”

“So… he just did somethin’ different lately?”

“Possibly, but…” Twilight turned the pages back to the most recent date. “Big Mac’s notation was very meticulous before this. And… here! This one was the old symbol, but it got crossed out and replaced by the new one. Why do that if they mean the same thing? It can’t just be a change of style, too, because at the top of this page, one of the old loans is written in the old way. It had to mean something different.”

“Well, ah’ll be.” Applejack leaned back, and tilted her hat back on her head. “Ah didn’t even notice!”

“Is that’s a loan, then… ah HA! Eureka!” Twilight pumped a hoof at having uncovered the puzzle. She pointed down a line of numbers at the right side of the page. “Interest rates! They’re the same, but deferred! It looks like you aren’t paying any interest for the next six months. That’s what’s changed!”

“But… but how’d Mac manage that?” Applejack gave the ledger a hard, long look. “Did he renegotiate the loans or somethin’?”

“These remind me of subsidized loans, like for students in the Academy.” Twilight Sparkle quickly moved on from her uncovering the secret in the numbers and now started brainstorming on the means behind the methodology.

“What do ya mean?”

“Basically, the Canterlot government covers the cost of the loan taken out by a student, so they don’t pay any interest until they begin repaying it after graduation…”

“The Canterlot government… covers the cost?” Something clicked then for Applejack, and her confused expression gave way to sudden comprehension and then a deepening frown. “Oh, she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t!!”

“Who wouldn’t?” Twilight still hadn’t worked it out. “Applejack? Who…?”

“Rarity,” Applejack roughly pushed away from the desk, nearly spilling over the stacks of papers. Even injured, even with her hurt hoof, she made for the door outside and all but kicked it open.

“BIG MACINTOSH!” she yelled, turning her head to the left and right, like a searchlight. “You get over here right now! Don’t you try and slip away! I see you! You get over here right now and explain what in tarnation you’ve done!”

“Applejack?” Twilight asked again. “What’s wrong?”

“Twilight…” The earth pony’s blonde mane all but bristled with anger. “When you asked before, what a pony should look for in a mate…? It’s honesty. There’s nothin’ more important ta a relationship than honesty. An’ right now, there’s a certain something mah sweet brother and my old friend are tryin’ ta keep from me.”

“Somethin’ I’d wager they also want to keep from every other hard workin’ pony in Ponyville who ain’t gettin’ special treatment thanks ta some back room deal,” she snapped, before Twilight could say a word. “And Celestia help her if anypony else gets wind ah this. Every farmin’ family in the county will be after her for the same.”

- - -

“He. He. He! Oh. I think I just had a nice little chill run down my spine!” Euporie licked her lips in a way that had very little to do with food, a wistful sigh following soon after. “I do love getting chills, don’t you, Pinkie?”

“I sure do! Though usually I get twitches and itches and funny little tremors…!” Pinkie joyfully bounced up and down as she mixed in another scoop of flour. “Chills are usually bad stuff.”

“That’s why I like ‘em.”

Euporie and Pinkie were in the Cake’s kitchen, though only the latter was doing any actual work. The eccentric noblemare had come by to check on the progress of her “Pretty Pony List,” but while Pinkie prided herself on knowing everypony in Ponyville, she hadn’t had the time to actually a make any lists of them. Usually, her invitations went out to most anypony she could reach or sometimes just her super-duper close friends for very special occasions. It was all mostly based on whatever entered her mind at any given moment in time. Lists and stuff that made sense was really more Twilight’s thing.

“Anyway,” Euporie continued, finding her way back to the earlier topic of discussion. “You’ve given me a lot of fillies for the list, but not a lot of colts.” The blue-maned unicorn frowned at the half curled roll of parchment that floated like an ensorcelled snake around her shoulders. “The gender imbalance in this town totally blows.”

“Hoofington has it worse,” Pinkie assured her, hunched over a pot and mixing frantically. Splatters of goo flew in every direction. “Right after I finish up, I’ll double check who we’ve got down already. I bet there’s plenty of great colts we don’t have yet!”

“That reminds me, I checked one of the names you gave me, one of the mares, and she was very much not a pretty pony.” Euporie floated the list over so Pinkie could see it. ‘Matilda’ was crossed out, rather vigorously. “This one was a hideous, crusty old donkey.”

“Matilda’s supposed to be very pretty!” Pinkie objected, pushing the list away with a hoof.

“In whose opinion? A blind, horny wrinkle-monster?”

“Pretty… by donkey standards...”

“Donkeys have no standards. They have no taste,” Euporie cut her off. “They’re barely even equine. No donkeys, no Jacks, no Jennies, thank the Princesses I didn’t see any mules in town, but none of those either. Basically: no disgusting creatures unless the point of the party is shock value. Okay?”

“I don’t see what’s so bad about donkeys,” Pinkie argued, but ears dropping, she didn’t belabor the point. Partly, it was because she had her hooves full working, too. “Rarity doesn’t like them that much either. Is this some sort of unicorn thing?”

“It’s a civilized pony thing,” Euporie informed her with a chuckle. “Trust me; you won’t want any of your donkey friends at this party.”

“If you say so. Though I still don’t know what’s so different about this party…” Pinkie gasped, spinning around. “I know! You’re putting in a mosh pit!” Donkeys probably wouldn’t enjoy a mosh pit, since they were smaller than most ponies. “Oh! Or a limbo bar! Is this a limbo party?!”

She tried to imagine Matilda inching under the bar – the daydream ended abruptly with a loud, painful CRACK as her back gave way.

“I hadn’t planned to put one in… until now!” Euporie giggled, kicking her back legs as she reclined on a two bags of flour. “Oh, this’ll be fun!” But, just as quickly, she frowned and glared at Pinkie. “But what isn’t fun is waiting for you to finish all this lame baking.”

“It’s fun, too!” Pinkie told her, holding up batter-drenched pink hooves. “You should give it a try! Just imagine how happy everypony will be eating these super soft, monster sized cookies!”

“Hey, I like sweets as much as any other pony, but you’re going about this the wrong way. Here! I’ll show you!”

Euporie’s magic kept the snake-like scroll resting sleepily across her shoulders, even as her horn levitated a hoof-full of burned scraps out of the trash bin. Still giggling mischievously, she bounded out the kitchen window like a cat. Curious, Pinkie trotted up to the window to watch.

Outside, ponies were trotting by Sugarcube Corner’s small flower garden. The Cakes kept a water trough by the side of the store, just like some other places kept public fountains. Euporie took a few seconds to look around before picking a target - predictably, given her words not more than a minute ago, she motioned over one of the town’s few donkeys: a long legged young jack who worked as a farm hand half the year. Pinkie knew his name, too. Lanky. It was an odd name for a pony, but donkeys used their own sort of funny names. Euporie smiled and floated over the burned crusts she had magiced out of the garbage.

Pinkie wasn’t sure what to expect: most ponies didn’t want to eat baked bads. Not if they could help it. She had learned that the hard way. She had expected Lanky to make a screwed up face and shy away from the crushed together ball of black crusts, except he leaned in, smelled it, and nodded excitedly. Like it smelled like flowers and cupcakes!

“What the…?” Pinkie could only watch, in morbid curiosity, as Lanky haggled with Euporie over the ball of crusts. Despite saying that she didn’t like donkeys, Euporie had no problem drawing things out with this one, chatting to him and even batting her eyes flirtatiously. Pinkie wasn’t the only confused pony to see the transaction. A few other ponies also stopped to watch.

Euporie lead Lanky back to the window outside Sugarcube Corner.

“See, Pinkie?” she asked, snickering. “You don’t need to work all day in the kitchen to make sweet treats. Mister Lanky, take a bite and tell my friend here how good my cooking is.”

“You betcha!” Finally taking the crust-ball in his hoof, the poor donkey bit in –

And smiled, licking his chops like it was the best thing he’d ever eaten!

“It’s so-oo good! And really moist and soft, too!” Lanky complimented, and Euporie’s smile grew, revealing pearly white teeth. “I really love pumpkin flavor, but we’re still a month from harvest time! Where’d you get this?”

“Artificial flavoring,” Euporie told him, winking at a gob smacked Pinkie Pie.

“You actually like it?” Pinkie all but cried out. She hung, her hooves on the bottom frame of the window, one eye narrowed and the other wide. “But – but, how….?”

“Like I said, never underestimate the power of artificial flavoring.” Euporie chuckled, a quiet ‘He. He. He!’ sound.

“I don’t much care if it is artificial!” Lanky quickly finished off the crust-ball, seemingly either unaware or unconcerned that it had come from the bakery’s garbage can. “That was de-licious! Here ya go, Miss!”

He tossed Euporie four bits for the trash he had just eaten and skipped off, happy as you please.

“How…?” Pinkie repeated. “I don’t understand.”

Lanky was gone for all of a few seconds before Euporie’s smile turned into a sneer, and she tossed the four bits into the street. The noblemare didn’t bother to explain why she threw the bits away. They may as well have been trash themselves. It wasn’t long before less picky ponies noticed the free money and scooped it up.

“See how easy it is to make a pony happy?” Euporie asked, leaning calmly up against the side of the candy store. “Well, not a pony, in this case, but close enough. You don’t need to go through all this trouble, Pinkie Pie. If all you want is to make ponies smile, I can sell the gunk off the floor and ponies will eat it up like ambrosia.”

Pinkie blinked a few times as she stared at the grinning unicorn mare.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” she finally decided. “That was a mean prank.”

“He. He. He! Was it?” Euporie asked, amber eyes meeting Pinkie’s blue. “That fellow got what he wanted. To him, that was one of the tastiest cookies he ever ate. And to everypony else, it was funny watching him eat something gross. Everypony wins, right? Where’s the harm?”

“I… I don’t know,” Pinkie admitted, as she tried to put her distaste into words. She was hardly the pony to complain about pranks, after all… and Lanky hadn’t even known he had been made fun of at all. He had left smiling. He had left happy. Euporie had pulled a prank on him and he hadn’t even known it. In fact, Pinkie suspected he would even come back for more.

Was that it?

Was she uncomfortable with what she had seen because only she and Euporie really knew the truth? Was it the fact that Lanky had experienced one thing, and she another. Or… or was it just a twinge of jealousy, that ponies could prank other ponies and have a laugh without their victim getting hurt or even knowing about it? Was she a little jealous that Euporie could do something like that and she couldn’t, or wouldn’t?

‘Everypony wins, right? Where’s the harm?’

(I still don’t like it)

“How did you do it?” Pinkie asked, staring hard at her new friend.

“Didn’t I explain it already?” Euporie asked, rolling her eyes. “If you’re worried about him, don’t be. Taste? Smell? The delectable, sinful squish of a fresh cookie yielding to that first wonderful bite? He experienced it all, just like he wanted. I wanted him to taste and smell something good, and so he did. That’s all there is to it.”

“You can… make bad things taste good?” Pinkie asked, though Euporie had already said as much. It just didn’t seem, well, fair. Could magic really make something taste different?

“He. He. He!” the unicorn mare continued to laugh, more loudly than just her earlier giggle. “My special talent is like yours, Pinkie Pie. We both make ponies feel good. Or would you rather Lanky there left with a frown instead of a smile?”

“No!” A frown was always a bad thing. “I just… I don’t know what to think.”

“Thinking deeply is overrated anyway,” Euporie argued, shrugging. “Go with what feels good. Now, about that list?”

“Oh. Oh! Just as soon as I finish!” Pinkie promised again, but still looking out the window, she soon saw a familiar face. “Oh, hey! It’s Twilight!”

“Ohhhh?” Euporie’s own expression was similar, but more amused than joyful. Her sandy amber eyes drifted over to the crowd and the approaching librarian. “So it is. I think I know why she’s here, too.”

“You do?”

“Mm-hmm!” She pushed off the side of the store and trotted backwards. “I’ll see you later, Pinkie. Oh, and one other thing for the party: bring a cute date.”

“A date?” Pinkie asked, but Euporie vanished with a soft ‘pop.’ Her grin lingered in midair behind her for just a moment, an arc of white teeth that faded away a heartbeat later. Pinkie shook the cobwebs out of her head and hopped back down and into the kitchen, closing the window behind her with a flick of her puffy tail.

Euporie was a… funny pony.

(A date, huh?)

“I guess I could ask Pokey,” she said to herself, quickly trying to get the cookies shaped and close to ready for the oven before Twilight came inside, if she really was headed for the Corner. If Pokey was busy, though, then she could probably ask Noteworthy or… or Soarin! She giggled at that thought, alone in the kitchen. Wouldn’t Dashie be super jealous if they went to a party together?

(Why not take all three?)

Hey, why not take all three?

Pinkie rapped her hoof against the side of her head. That sort of stuff, she could deal with later. Cookies first, crazy head full of thoughts later! Humming a song and a set of half-finished lyrics to herself, Pinkie Pie went back to work. On the baking sheet, the already two-hoof wide cookies would expand even more, so she had to remember to give them extra space. If they were too close, they’d mash up together like some kind of cookie…

Some kind of cookie…?

Cookie pile-up? No. Cookie car crash? What was a car? Oh, like a big, sloppy cookie orgy!

“What a funny choice of words, brain-o-mine,” Pinkie told her head. “Do you know something I don’t know?”

Nope.

(Maybe, maybe not)

“Well, if you do get any funny ideas, be sure to let me in on ‘em!” Pleased with having resolved that situation, Pinkie Pie finished forming up the cookies and placing them on the baking sheet, leaving more than enough room this time to prevent any spill over. It took two sheets rather than the usual one, but they were all ready by the time Twilight peeked her head in the kitchen.

“Pinkie Pie?”

“Hiya Twilight!” Pinkie hopped over and shook her entire body, expelling a cloud of flour and sprinkles in every direction. Snapping her tail, a trio of large chocolate chips tumbled through the air, up and over and down into her waiting mouth. Snapping them up in midair, Pinkie noisily munched away.

“So what’s up?” she asked, wiping her mouth with the back of her hoof.

“Well, I sort of wanted to talk about something,” Twilight began, stepping aside as Pinkie headed for the sink to wash up. “Um… relationship advice, sort of?”

“Sure thing!” Pinkie replied, water streaming over her sticky hooves. She was fully capable of just licking her entire body clean, but for some strange reason Mr. and Mrs. Cake objected to that particular brand of hygiene in the shop. They were probably just jealous that they had to lick each other clean. Not everpony could have a super long, super dexterous, super friendly tongue like hers!

“I know all about relationships!” she reached for a towel and gave Twilight an encouraging smile. “Tell your Auntie Pinkie Pie all about it.”

Pinkie listened intently as Twilight weaved a tale of family intrigue and court politics.

Needless to say, most of it was in one ear and out the other.

What she understood was that Twilight was looking for a pony to help her out, and among fancy noblepony unicorns, that was often somepony to marry. Who else could you trust to have your back more than your partner, after all? Mr. Cake would do anything for Mrs. Cake, and while her own parents had not been very openly affectionate, Pinkie remembered her mother and father sharing a few quick nuzzles from time to time when they came back from the rock fields. Whenever either of them had been too down under the weather to work, the other would put in twice the effort without complaint.

It was funny thinking of Twilight like that, though. She was the smartest pony Pinkie had ever met and she was super strong, too! Plus, she spent all her time with her books. What did she need a stallion for? Well, there was that, but ‘that’ didn’t require a stallion for more than a few minutes (on a bad night) or a few hours (on a good one!).

On the other hoof, Twilight’s foals would look super cute, and if she married some rich pony, they could have super awesome parties every year for their birthday! And there would be parties for when they first walk, and then when they learn to run, and then when they get their teeth and then when they lose their teeth and then when they get their teeth after losing their teeth and then when they’re weaned and when they first went to school and when they graduated and…

And there would be parties.

Lots of parties! Even before they were born! A baby shower was one of the few types of party Pinkie hadn’t been to, yet! OH! And a bachelorette’s party before the wedding! And then another party at the reception! And a honeymoon party! Was that a legitimate type of party? Would Twilight mind if she tagged along on the honeymoon?

“Pinkie?” Twilight asked, watching her with a hooded expression on her face. “Are you listening?”

“Sure I was!” Pinkie giggled, hugging the lavender unicorn and squeezing her tight enough to elicit a surprised squeak. “You can name your first colt Star Sprinkles and the second one Whipped Cream and the first filly can be Twilight Zone because she’ll be just like you and…!”

“That wasn’t what I was talking about at all!” Twilight teleported out of Pinkie’s grip, prompting the party pony to fall flat on her face. Luckily, she bounced right back up.

“I know!” Pinkie said, bouncing back onto her hindquarters. “You wanted to know if I thought you were making a HUGE-” She spread her forelegs comically wide. “-mistake!”

“Am I?” Twilight wondered, pleading with her eyes for Pinkie to be at least semi-serious. “Pinkie, you and Rarity are really the only ponies I know who have even been out on dates before. Is it… is it hard to get used to being with somepony else like that?”

Pinkie lowered her legs and thought, sort of, before answering.

“Twilight,” she said, tilting her head slightly. “Stallions are like chocolate. Sometimes they’re dark and sometimes they’re light, and sometimes they’re hard and brittle and sometimes they’re soft and squishy, but in the end they always melt in your mouth. Do you see what I’m saying here?”

The librarian’s mien was decidedly deadpan. “… Not at all.”

“What I think I mean is that ponies can change,” Pinkie explained, raising a hoof to lecture the poor, befuddled unicorn. “And that you can help them change, at least a little bit, for the better. Chocolate will always be chocolate. You’ll never be able to change it into vanilla or strawberry or mango or that sorbet with the swirls in it, OH! Or mint crunch or, or, or pistachio! I love pistachio!”

“What was I talking about again?” She rolled her head around on her shoulders. “Oh yeah! Stallions! And how they’re like chocolate! So chocolate is basically always going to be chocolate, right? I guess unless you use mind altering MAGIC, but let’s not go there. So even though you can’t change what chocolate IS, you can rough out the edges and get the chocolate to take a shape and form and taste that is better than when you first found it.”

“I still don’t follow,” Twilight admitted, still deadpan. “Are you saying that I can have a hoof in making Alpha Brass into a better pony than I found him? That I have to make things work, and not just expect them to by default?”

“Huh?” Pinkie drawled. “I was saying I want to marry chocolate!”

Twilight hung her head with a groan.

- - -

The signature woosh of a camera’s flash highlighted the pair of royal ponies relaxed by the pool, Blueblood lounging on his side in profile and Rarity in a two piece red bathing suit. The ambiance was relaxed but sophisticated, evoking the brightness and color of Equestria’s youthful new and future nobility. Innovative, fresh, haute couture lines were cut into the Baroness’s bandeau style bikini with satin highlights. Together with the gold and ruby bracelet, both made in Prance, it really was… magik!

Four thousand bits of pure magik!

Another flash, and another scene to capture for artistic posterity. The couple posed, walking down a marble rubble path with the villa in the background, shadows playing across statues of ponies flanking the walkway in contrast. The Princes’ wool felt sports jacket alone cost more than two thousand bits. Rarity’s ensemble of bitalian silver necklace, performance t-shirt and skirt, plus black bold laced boots went for more than twice as much.

“Nein! Nein! Tze umbrella! Give her the umbrella, and get me some veather here! Tze scene needs more energy!”

The pair relaxed, groaning, as an assistant ran into give Rarity a black umbrella to tilt back and over her shoulder. Photo Finish motioned them closer, and threw in one of the white mini-flap hoofbags. One of her pegasus assistants whipped up a little wind and cloud-shadow, giving the appearance of an ironically more ‘natural’ outing with a little artificial weather.

“Closer!” Photo Finish urged, waving a hoof behind the camera and then pacing over to the duo. “Closer! Be natural! You are walking and in tze conversation! Smile and pretend you are talking! Herr Blueblood, be more passionate vif her! Respond! Und you, Rarity, closer und a little behind! Yes!”

She ran back over, adjusted the camera some, and WOOF!

Magiks!

“This is exhausting,” Rarity muttered, standing still on a changing mat as Photo Finish’s assistants removed one outfit for another. Since she didn’t technically have a business anymore, she wasn’t even able to model her own tastes in fashion. Every picture they had of them wearing some designer’s clothing, from Prance or Bitaly or Manehattan, was another way to offset the staggering costs that characterized her brief administration as Baroness of Ponyville.

It may have been entirely practical, but it was still galling. She had often dreamed of being a model, but in those dreams she had been wearing her creations and showing the world her creative talent. To be so close to that, but so far removed? It was like a hoof to the gut, reminding her of what she had lost.

Not that she had gotten too far into actually achieving that particular dream…

“Now I know how Fluttershy must have felt,” she said, rocking back and forth as Photo’s assistants pulled a gorgeous red and black mid-length dress over her head, securing it around her waist with a large, glossy three-buckled leather and brass trim belt. Puckered black lace on cherry red stood on raised fabric over the dress, giving it a dramatic depth that couldn’t be achieved with flat, more two dimensional knitting. Photo Finish trotted around her while the finishing touches were being put in place, brusquely demanding that a velvet shawl be added over the shoulders, and then throwing one and then another off until one clicked just right to her.

“Give the impression of cold, und warmth!” Photo insisted, and there was no arguing with her. “Ve must have more contrast!”

“Is this ermine?” Rarity flinched slightly from the soft under layer and edging of the shawl. She distinctly recalled a noblemare who had visited her boutique, not too long ago, who only wore real fur.

“The color of the hems and collar...? So very realistic I...”

“That's because it is real,” Antimony explained, smiling as she continued. “Genuine sable from Castle Roc. I noticed you didn't have any.”

“Does it matter?” Photo Finish asked, and nudged her forward with the side of her head, her signature violet tinted glasses adding a little jab to the physical encouragement. “Come now! We have just the place for tzat and tze magiks do not make tzemselves!”

The stirrup buckle-boot hoofwear was only slightly uncomfortable.

She met back up with Blueblood, in a white cashmere double breasted coat. One of Photo’s fillies, the one who looked to be Neighponese – for a moment, Rarity imagined she could be an undercover ninja working for Lady Yumi, but dismissed it as too silly for even her life – was fussing over the Prince’s blond mane. Photo Finish came over, demanding, “More body! More waving! Can you not make it wave more?”

“What…? Like Auntie’s mane?” Blueblood asked, a little aghast.

“Ja! Ja! Can you do tzat?”

“I – I can, but… really, must I?” The Duke of Canterlot and Prince of the Realm shied back as Photo Finish leaned in, nodding excitedly. “If I must. One moment.”

Horn glowing a soft gold, his brows knitted in concentration. Rarity winced as one of Photo’s assistants picked that moment to tighten the belt and make sure it none of the dress below had gotten bunched up on the walk over. Shooting the earth pony mare a look, Rarity turned back to where Blueblood was releasing his spell, bit by bit. He shook his mane, and the golden locks began to grow translucent. Then, hints of shimmering light and muted tiny glittering lights emerged within the follicles as they began to melt into a single sinuous river of color.

“My word, that actually looks quite stately!” Rarity told him, trotting over as a leisurely pace. She reached a free hoof up – the boots only constricting her back legs – and gently poked the strange substance that his mane had become. Her hoof passed clean through with little resistance, as if his golden mane was now more smoke and mirror than actual physical filament.

“And it feels like I’ve been shaved bald,” Blueblood replied, but smiled a bit at how fascinated she was with his altered mane. Rarity poked her hoof in and out, and then tried to grab some of the waving color, but it slipped through every attempt to capture it.

“I can’t imagine how Auntie, how either of them really, go about all day feeling as breezy and barebacked as a randy schoolfilly.” He frowned for a moment, seeing the one upside. “Even if it does look rather dramatic.”

Blueblood’s horn glowed, and he toned down the Royal Mane effect. A ripple ran through his mane, then, and it became more substantial. Rarity squeaked in surprise as the hairs around her hoof suddenly took form, teasing her sense of touch. He then asked Photo Finish if it was enough “effect” and she gave it a curt and demanding, “Ja! Now, to tze positions! Ve vill use tze fountain background.”

“I’m still mad at you, you know,” Rarity felt the need to remind him, even as the camera captured them frozen in place before a green garden backdrop. Behind them, two stone seaponies squirted water out of their mouths.

“I don’t understand,” he feigned innocence with a gasp. “How can anypony stay mad at ME, the one and only Prince Blueblood?”

“Because you are immeasurably vexing.”

“That’s not a good reason.”

“Did it even once occur to you to discuss things with me before making this deal with Twilight?” she asked, adjusting her pose a bit to show off her shoulders more. “And then bringing it up during a tennis match?”

“I wanted to win the match, and I needed to tell you, so I just captured two birds with the same net,” he explained. “So to speak.”

“We don’t even have foals, and you’ve bartered one of them away.”

“Only their love life.”

Rarity took a second from the photo shoot to glare at him.

“I’m not happy about it,” he told her, uncomfortable at her gaze: it was more upset than angry at this point. “But necessity sometimes requires us to do things we would rather not have to do. Besides, Twilight’s foals will probably grow up as very nearly part of the family anyway with how close you ladies are. Am I proud of taking this choice away from our firstborn foal? No. Was it the right move to make to secure a future for that same foal? Again, yes. So I did it.”

“Assuming we have any foals in the first place,” Rarity quickly identified the weak spot in his strategy. The two posed for another picture, smiling and holding hooves, and then returned to their argument. “Which as I see it is entirely in my court.”

“Until I learn the secret of getting mares pregnant just by entering a room and striking a pose,” he said, straight faced. “Yes.”

Rarity sighed, positioning herself for another picture.

“If you really are against it, I will tell Twilight things have changed; that we have to call it off.” Blueblood stared forward at the camera as he said it, but Rarity felt him draw her in a little closer. “I was wrong to make this deal without you, but I won’t go through with it without you either. I’ll be going back on my word and Twilight will probably want to turn me into a frog but…”

“You big idiot.” Rarity gently poked him in the chest and he paused to look down at her. “You really can be charming when you want to be. Or when you absolutely have to be.”

“So you’ve come around?” he asked, chuckling.

“I can see why you and Twilight made the deal, and if I was there, I don’t think I would have objected. Much. I think you know me well enough to guess when I’ll be truly upset.”

“I would have called it ‘ballistic.’”

“You’ve never seen me go ‘ballistic.’”

“Haven’t I?” Blueblood wondered, and there was a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Perhaps if I were less afraid of getting dirty?”

“I don’t think so,” Rarity replied, and slid up closer to him… before slipping a leg between his hooves and pushing. With a whoop of surprise, he fell back and into the fountain, landing on his butt.

“Oops.” She raised a hoof to her mouth to conceal her grin. “How clumsy of me.”

“Clumsy of you? How clumsy of me, I’m all left hooves!” He reached for her, and with a yelp, Rarity ended up pulled back and into the water next to him. Her leather boots went along for the ride, getting soaked, to say nothing of the bottom of her dress.

“My tail!” she cried, and flicked it towards him, splashing his face and semi-transparent mane. In contact with the water, it took on a rainbow-like sheen.

“My tail is just as fabulous as yours, and just as soaked!” He returned the favor, and Rarity gasped in shock.

“Some Prince you are!”

“Some Duchess you’ll be!”

“Ja! Ja! Passionate! So passionate! So unrehearsed!” Photo Finish cheered, as the two continued to playfully bicker in and then out of the fountain pool. “Yes! What magiks! VAIT!!”

Blueblood and Rarity froze at the sudden shout, her hooves tangled in his translucent but tangible blond mane and his holding her down by the waist. The pair turned to stare at the famous photographer.

“Tze lighting is a wee, lee-tle bit off,” Photo Finish explained, and one of the assistants adjusted a reflective mirror. “Perfect! Now! Go on! Continue with tze spontaneous magiks!”

Blueblood and Rarity stared at her.

“Go on,” Photo urged, making kissy faces. “We must capture tze passion!”

The still kept staring.

“Pretend I am not here. Oh, wait, how is that even possible? I am Photo Finish!”

“I think we’re done,” Rarity said, giving Blueblood’s mane a little pull.

“I believe the phrase is: ‘we go?’” he suggested.

Rarity liked it. “We go!”

- -

It was something of a surprise to see she had somepony waiting for her when Rarity returned to the manor house. Changed out of the long line of dresses she had worn for a morning and half an afternoon of photo shoots, Rarity was back in just her natural coat. Her mane and tail were still a little wet, but back in her preferred style and shape. Photo Finish had insisted that they try and recapture more ‘magiks’ later, but for now, she was fine with just the planning of what was to come.

“Applejack!” Rarity greeted her foalhood friend, taking a seat on a pillow in one of the manor sitting rooms. The apple farmer seemed comfortable enough, despite the bandage around one hoof that had to make putting any weight on it painful. “What a surprise!”

“Rarity.” Applejack’s tone was businesslike. “We need ta talk.”

The friendly smile slowly began to dissolve on Rarity’s face.

“About… what?” she asked, polite.

“Ah think you know what,” Applejack said with a calm in her voice that only hinted at the storm to come. A large grandfather clock ticked slowly, the only sound in the room for a few pregnant seconds. “Ah know what you and Big Mac were doing, schemin’ ta subsidize our loans.”

“Scheming?” Rarity asked, growing a little irate herself. “I was helping you out.”

“Then why didn’t ya tell me about it? Why’d you go behind mah back?”

“Frankly,” the newly titled mare replied, holding her chin high, “I went behind your back – as you call it - because you would have been too proud to accept my help then, just like you are now.”

“It ain’t helpin,’” Applejack argued. “Not if the only one gettin’ it is me. It’s a hoof-out. A free meal! Gettin’ somethin’ fer nothin’! Ah’ve never accepted help like that in mah life, and ah ain’t gonna start now!”

“All I’m doing is assuming responsibility for some of your family’s-”

“What? Our loans? Or our mistakes? You gonna bail us out no matter what we do?” Applejack took off her hat and put it aside with due reverence. Without it, she seemed a lot angrier than before, her blonde mane whipping behind her as she shook her head. “Ah run the Apple Family Farm. Not the Rarity Belle Family Farm.”

“You’re being ridiculous!” Rarity had to work to rein in her temper, it was starting to fray. “Absolutely, positively ridiculous! And ponies call ME a drama queen?”

“Oh.” Applejack leaned in and craned her neck, just a hoof or two from Rarity’s face. “Ah suppose you’d be doin’ the same if this were Carrot Top’s farm havin’ trouble?”

Rarity balked a little at the insinuation. “Applejack, we are friends…”

“Yeah, we are! But ah don’t expect mah friends ta bail me out with-”

“You keep calling it a bailing you out or a hoof-out or a free meal, but it isn’t like that-”

“It is! It is! This sorta special treatment n’ favoritism! Yer being corrupt just like the worst nobles out there! Don’tcha know what this sorta thing leads to?” Applejack let her voice raise a decibel, impossible to ignore even to those outside the plush sitting room. “Who were ya gonna tell about this, huh? Not me! Did Blueblood know? Did you even tell him?”

“Of course not!” Rarity raised her voice to match Applejack’s. “I am no foal, you know! I know very well that what arrangements I had with your family could not go beyond that. Do you even understand how difficult it is for me to be paying for the Apple Farm on top of everything else? I’ve had to all but beg Filthy Rich for money to finance everything I want – everything I need – to do in Ponyville! What do you think I’ve been doing all today? Half my time is spent trying to deal with my own debts, much less your own!”

Applejack surged off her seat, poking a hoof to Rarity’s white chest. “And ah never asked fer yer help, not if this is the kind yer gonna give!”

“Better proud and on the street, is that it?” Rarity batted her hoof away and also took to her hooves. “Does your great grandfather’s farm mean so little to you? I’m sure your pride will be a comfort to Granny Smith and Applebloom when they don’t have a home!”

“You take that back!” Applejack bulled forward, all but butting heads with the other mare. “You take that back right now!”

“I will not!” Rarity yelled, not intimidated by the forceful Element of Honesty. “And I will not see the Apple Farm fall apart while I have the power to save it! Not when I am Baroness!”

Applejack stiffened, her breathing shallow and fast.

“I guess, in that case, it ain’t mah farm anymore anyway,” she decided, and spun around to stomp to the door. “Ah’m sure mah brother will run it real nice for ya, so good luck with that.”

“Applejack!” Rarity yelled. “Applejack!”

The slamming of a door was her only response.

Slumping down, her legs weak, Rarity fell onto her stomach, emotionally spent by the exchange with her oldest friend. Before Pinkie Pie had moved to town, before Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash had come down from Cloudsdale, there had been just Applejack and Rarity. They hadn’t always seen eye to eye, but there had never been anything like this between them.

“Applejack…!” she pleaded to the door, left ajar in the farmer’s hasty exit. “I just wanted to help…”