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// Prologue: The Incident 
// Story: Twins in Misery 
// by FlutterTank 
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The Incident



Lights flashed all around. The smell of smoke was thick in the air. Flames from the sweet shop bathed surrounding houses in a warm, orange glow. The roaring fire had engulfed the shop, creating a large beacon in the calm of Luna's night sky. Small bits of flaming sugar and frosting spewed from the broken windows like napalm, forcing the emergency teams to keep all unauthorized ponies at a great distance from the shop itself. Eventually, two large stallions sporting heavy boots, large, flame retardant coats, and red, plastic hats came rushing through the doorway of the shop. Either was carrying a small bundle that writhed and shrieked as they exited the building. The screaming was awful to listen to; onlooking ponies covered their ears and shed a tear for the poor infants. They had minor burns on their bodies, but those were the least of their problems. They were old enough now to understand things, and what they understood was that both their parents were dead. Their father had been engulfed in the flame that spewed from the oven, immediately set ablaze. His screams of pure agony had terrified them and woke their mother, who had been napping on the couch. She soon found her lungs were filled with deadly smoke and she died in a twitching heap on the floor. The two children were small enough that the smoke floated harmlessly above their heads, allowing them to be the only survivors of the terrible conflagration. But they were without parents and they were without a home, and for this, they wept.


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"What do you mean I can't have the kids? I've been taking care of them since the day they were born! I'm just as much their parent as the Cakes were!" The pink earth pony was livid. Her eyes flared in anger and fear as she shouted at the judge.

"I apologize Miss Pie," the judge returned, "but the Cakes never verified a godparent for the children. Therefore, by Equestrian law, they must be put in the custody of their closest blood relative, so long as he or she permits it. In this case, that relative would be Mister Cheaps here."

Pinkie Pie turned to glare in contempt at the shady character to her right. He was of regular stature, though slightly more portly than the average stallion. He had a waxed handlebar moustache that, under other circumstances, Pinkie would have found hilarious. He spoke with a conceited attitude and everything he said had a sort of sinister inflection to it.

"Please Mister Cheaps," Pinkie begged, "I have the responsibility to take care of these two. It would be wrong to take them away from their home. Please let me have them!" Pinkie was groveling at the pony's feet, her desperation making her unaware of how ridiculous she looked.

"Excuse me, Miss... Pie, was it?" The stallion removed himself from the chair he was in and stepped over the ruined pink heap on the floor. "I have no intention of leaving these children to a pony I don't even know. I would be much more comfortable raising them myself, and I'm sure Carrot and Cup would want the same. Now if you would please pick yourself up so I can sign these papers without any further interruptions, we can both part ways and move on with our lives." He grabbed a pen in his mouth.

Pinkie looked up as she watched him sign the paper, with each stroke taking Pound and Pumpkin, her two little angels, further and further away. Tears dripped down her face, matting the soft pink fur and reddening her eyes. As Cheaps set the pen down, Pinkie realized her family was gone. Her parents were dead, her sisters were dead, her adoptive parents were dead, and now she would never see her adoptive siblings again. And for this, she wept.