24 Hour Party Ponies
• • • •
Author’s note: Slightly changing the way I do third-person perspective. Those four colored dots above signal a change in perspective.
Joe’s apartment was not a large one. Squeezed between the fashion district and the market commons, his building was but one of hundreds that lined the narrow cobblestone streets of Canterlot’s residential quarter. With only a modest living room, an abutting kitchen, and a shared half-bathroom, it wasn’t much, but it was all the home he and his sister had these days. And it had been home enough.
Being siblings, Joe and his sister were used to sharing a single, moderately-sized living area. Joe made do with the couch, while Seraph hung in a hammock that dangled from atop the vaulted ceiling. During the daytime hours, Joe could hear his sister's distant snoring buzzing down from above the three large windows that ran across the entire rear side of the building. She rather liked that spot. Tucked away from the morning sun and Joe's daytime bustle, it gave her some much needed peace and quiet after a hard night's work (or a hard day’s drinkin’).
For his part, Joe adored the way those enormous windows welcomed in the calming warmth of Celestia’s sun each morning; bestowing a glorious, expansive view of the bustling city commons below. One could see right over the notched crenelation of the neighboring building, its base situated low enough into the recessed marketplace that they could even walk out of their window and onto its roof, using it as a sort of balcony.
Naturally, it being a party, they were doing exactly that.
The roof was completely packed with ponies and pegasi, a loud murmur of lively conversation and delighted commotion floating above the constant trickle of ponies moving in and out of the living room.
Joe smiled as he took a sip of ale. It was a good night for this. Warm, clear, and one of the biggest, brightest full moons he’d ever seen. He took a moment to just watch it all, with a broad satisfaction, before moving back into the living room.
With a long, bracing chug of his drink, Joe wound his way to the center of the living room and pulled himself on top of his coffee table. Raising his mug into the air, he spoke to the room. “Gather ‘round, everypony!”
The roar of the crowd settled as dozens of friends and neighbors squeezed around the table and over his couch, beaming jubilant smiles.
Joe pressed a hoof to his chest with mock regality. “Now, I know what you’re all thinking. Believe me, I thought the exact same thing when I heard the news: How in the hoof did my sister get promoted to the Royal Guard? Of all the ponies in Equestria, they’re entrusting the life of the princess to the same mare who got her freakishly huge noggin stuck in her headboard for two hours last week!” The sea of ponies erupted into laughter, clapping their hooves against the floor.
A light blush and a bemused smirk washed over Seraph’s face as she hovered over from the kitchen, drink in hoof. “Weh!!” She thrust a foreleg at her brother as she drew near. “Hey I can’t believe they still let Chef Frankenstallion here run a dang public diner after the horror show he held in our kitchen trying to imitate Quarray eel.” she made a dramatic gagging gesture, much to the delight of the party. “Also! There’s Quarray eel in this kitchen if anyone wants any.”
With a booming laugh, Joe wrapped his foreleg around his sister and squeezed her tight. “Well Celestia help us all, ‘cause public safety be damned, my little sister stuck with it all the way to the top! I’d like to say I’m surprised, but, well, I know her too well for that. Once she puts her little bat brain to something, there’s no shaking this mare until she gets what she wants.” he turned to give Seraph a spirited sideways grin. “I owe an awful, awful lot to that stubborn little heart of yours, sis. I think I speak for Dad and I both when I say I’m proud as buck.”
Seraph squirmed through an affectionate nuzzle, squeaking out a big, fangy smile. “Awww...” she looked up at him with two wide, adorable yellow eyes. “...thanks big bro.”
The crowd cheered, holding high their drinks. Seraph and her brother toasted to their guests before clinking their mugs with a splash of ale, drinking deep. With a rumble of applause, the rooting partygoers followed suit.
With a startle, Joe planted his mug on the table and rose his hooves into the air. “And! Before I forget! There’s been a royal decree to remove all imported sugar from the city — something about a ‘public health risk’ — so we’re in the process of baking replacement goods using my maple syrup instead.” he gestured toward a closed hooflocker to his flank. “Pretty sure I’ve gotten rid of everything that might be contaminated, so in the meantime, we’ve got ale, roughage, and my first glorious attempt at portobello burgers in the back!”
There was a murmur of agreement from the crowd before the party began to build back up to speed. With a firm pat on his sister’s back, Joe climbed off the table and squeezed his way toward the rear of the apartment, ducking under a large group of chattering moori hovering by the entry way and cantering into the kitchen.
Pinkie Pie was firing on all cylinders; a roaring bubblegum hurricane of cracking eggs, whipping batter, and billowing flour. Having balanced herself on her nose, all four legs were busily attending to four separate tasks along the countertop. The sheer ferocity of it all would be terrifying if it wasn’t so spectacular — the little mare was mixing up fresh maple pecan turnovers and cupcakes with fuguelike intensity. Joe had frankly never seen anyone work so quickly. He had been staring into the whirling chaos for a few surreal moments before he came to notice the long, uninterrupted stream of high-pitched gibberish erupting from Pinkie’s mouth, seemingly directed at nopony. He scratched the back of his neck, genuinely unsure if he dared disturb her. She was getting an enormous amount of baking done.
“You uh... you holdin’ up alright there, gumdrop?” Joe leveled a steady gaze at the pink pony, watching her wind a string of cupcake batter around the greased tray with dubious precision, her hooves trembling erratically with excitement. Pinkie’s eyes were wide, bloodshot things, locked onto the task at hoof with ballistic determination. They tore away from the pan for a fraction of a second to meet Joe’s concerned gaze with a lightning-fast squee before darting back to the pan.
“NOPE nooo no no problemo here Joe!! Me and Commadore Snugglebug have been splitting the baking right down the middle! He’s g-g-getting getting ge-pouring the cupcake batter and I’M getting the fritters ready!!” She leapt into the air with the tray in hoof, colliding the top of her head into the cupboard that hung overhead. The cupboard rattled and clinked, jostling several mugs off the shelf and sending them crashing to the ground. Joe startled, raising his hoof in concern, but the mare had already begun simultaneously sliding the tray into the lower oven and twisting the egg timer with her mouth. He wasn’t sure if she’d even noticed.
In a moment of pure terror, Joe watched as a tightly gift-wrapped coffee mug teetered on the edge of the shelf, having shimmied loose from the impact. It hung for a weighted moment, tipping one way, then the other, before seeming to settle. Joe let out a long sigh of relief, lowering his guard at the exact instant the wrapped mug decided that, you know what, yes, it would be plummeting to the floor tonight. Joe’s mouth fell open, his eyes went wide, and he dove, dropping his drink and sliding across the flour-dusted hardwood to catch the mug between his hooves, inches before it shattered against the ground. For a few moments, he just lay there, rigid with shock, until his heart finally resumed beating. He deflated with a sigh. It was safe.
Rising to his hooves, Joe slid the item carefully back into the cupboard, giving Pinkie a chastising glance. The mare gasped in horror, turning to a small stuffed bumblebee she had sitting on the countertop. “Commadore Snugglebug!! Look what you almost did to poor Joe’s mysterious gift!! You should apologize right now!”
With one foreleg still wrapped around a mixing bowl, Pinkie darted behind the stuffed bee, pressing at its back with her hoof and pantomiming a low voice out of the side of her mouth. “I don’t give two shakes of a donkey’s tail about smelly ol’ Joe, Pinkie Pie! We’ve got a job to do and we can’t get distracted by such rigamarole!”
Pinkie gave Joe an apologetic look. “Sorry about him, Joe! Snugglebug means well, but he can be very pushy!!” Without a second glance, the mare had vaulted over the table and began trouncing on top of a wad of dough, flattening it out at fantastic speed. Her squeaky voice wavered as she worked. “I thi-in-ink y-ou-ur d-do-nu-nu-ts are-e d-don-ne!!”
Joe shook his head lightly as he cantered over to the double oven. That mare was off the walls tonight. Pulling open the top door, he glanced in at the tray of perfectly brown maple cake donuts. They smelled heavenly.
Grasping a potholder between his teeth, Joe reached into the oven and pulled out the tray, sliding it along the counter to cool. With a nudge of the hind leg, he pushed shut the oven door, turning to take another long look at Pinkie Pie. He watched intently as she stamped out squares of flat dough by pogo-bouncing on the side of a thin pan, each bounce leaving behind one long line of cut dough. She twisted at sharp, ninety-degree angles to etch out the squares she needed. It was rather uneven, if you noticed that sort of thing.
Joe swallowed, removing a brush and dustpan from under the sink. “Pinkie, really, I can’t thank you enough for doing this... you’ve been a huge help.” The mare seemed oblivious as she frantically folded a row of maple fritters, hammering the edges shut with her hoof at a speed imperceptible to the equine eye. Joe shakily placed a hoof on her shoulder. “So... listen, I’m gonna pop these bad larries into the oven, and I think we should be all set.” He gave her a reassuring pat on the back. “You should get out there and enjoy yourself! I’ll finish up in here.” He held a smile as Pinkie rolled her head to the side, giving Joe a rather intense, removed stare.
“OKAY!!” In a blur of movement, Pinkie stuffed the plush bumblebee into her mane and scrambled over the countertop, leaping head-first into the crowd.
Joe surveyed the disaster zone that was once his kitchen. Globs of dough hung from the ceiling, broken egg shells lay discarded along the flour-drenched countertop, and strings of batter coiled along the floors like a Jackson Foallock painting. Still, the donuts were done, the cupcakes were halfway finished, and the turnovers were well on their way. He nodded to himself as he dumped the last of the shattered ceramic from the mugs into the trash. He could clean the rest later. Not bad.
Pulling a serving tray from the cabinet, Joe arranged the warm maple cake donuts into a neat grid, painting the tops with a thin layer of glaze and lightly dusting them with cinnamon. He took a moment to drink in the savory display, swelling with pride.
Of all the hundreds of flavors Donut Joe had perfected over the years, this one held a special place in his heart. There was something so fundamentally, uniquely donut about these little beauties. The weight, the simplicity, the melty sticky-soft sweetness... they made every other flavor seem somehow misguided, like drowning a mediocre salad in dressing. Honestly, he’d probably have used the maple cake as the template for all of his pastries, had the syrup not demanded so bucking much time investment. You had to tap a dozen or so trees, collect gallons upon gallons of the watery sap, boil it all down for hours, then filter the resulting syrup. As far as simple pastries go, it was rather complicated.
Truth be told, he hadn’t planned on making them for Seraph’s party at all, at least at first. They were meant to be sold at the diner, for twice the price of a regular donut. But, after Sunny’s reaction the previous night (and, naturally, the small matter of the city-wide imported sugar ban), this had been his real only option if he wanted to do this shindig right. Joe supposed that if Sunny still got to try one, it didn’t matter much where she ate it.
Delicately balancing the tray on his head, Joe cantered out of the kitchen and up to the living room table, sliding the platter between the portobello burgers and the wooden keg of ale. He took their dwindling portions as a good sign.
To his right, a familiar one-eyed, hulking moori was refilling his drink. Blind Dive plonked a heady mug of ale beside Joe, picking out a fresh cup from the forest of wooden steins and filling himself another. Joe accepted the drink with a mock salute. “Appreciate it, Cap.”
“Hey, it’s your beer.” Plucking a maple donut from the rack, Dive absently dipped the pastry into his ale before taking a bite. Joe screamed internally. “Your sister pick out this brew? It’s good stuff.”
Joe swallowed, almost physically in pain at the sight of his precious creation so casually defiled. “Y-yeah... it’s from... from the...” he clenched his teeth in a full-body cringe as Dive gave the remaining half of the donut two lackadaisical dunks and popped it in his mouth, swallowing well before the sensation of taste could possibly have entered the equation. Joe’s brain shut off for a moment as he subtly weathered the blinding offense.
Dive waited a few moments for Joe to finish his sentence, then took a long sip of his beer, donut crumbs and all. When it became clear that this was not going to happen, the towering moori gestured toward Joe’s bandage-wrapped flank. “So. I heard about your little run-in with Her Highness.”
Joe frowned, craning his neck to stare at the still-healing bite mark. “Ah... sissy told you about that, huh?”
Dive chuckled. “Oh she told everyone about that, kiddo.” With a subtle, disinterested roll of the head, the moori glanced around the immediate area, then motioned for Joe to move against the wall, away from the crowd. Joe’s ears fell flat against his head. He knew that look. Dive pulled close. “So? Did the spell hold?”
With a sigh, Joe pushed down the wrappings like he was dropping his drawers, showing the top half of his cutie mark. Peeking out from the under the taut bindings was a simple image of an equine eye, half-open, with Joe’s emerald coloration at the iris. Along its fringes, the slight flicker of a fraying illusion spell tried and failed to cover over the mark with Joe’s usual pink donut. “Don’t know what in the hay she did to it, but it’s been getting worse every few hours. At this rate, the spell will probably fry itself out in... I dunno, a day?”
Dive grumbled, putting a hoof against his forehead. “That wasn’t an easy spell to put together, you know. Your dad had a real talent for illusion magic. Expected that thing to hold your entire life.” He frowned, glancing out at the crowd, spying several members of his Night Guard as they chattered and laughed amongst the festivities. “Suppose we could ask Pixie to give it a whirl. You’ll understand if I’m not eager to let any more ponies in on this than necessary.”
Joe nodded, pulling the bandages tight. “Figure I can just leave the wrappings on for now, while we figure this out.”
Dive took a sip of ale, staring at the jagged crack down Joe’s horn. He seemed distracted, visibly mulling something over in his head. After a few moments, he sighed, looking Joe in the eyes. “Been feeling more honest than usual tonight, kiddo. A lot more. Any idea why that might be?”
Joe’s eyes widened, glancing at his horn for a moment. “I... I don’t think so, no.” his ears fell flat against his head in dread. “Are... are you sure?”
Dive glanced to his right for a moment before meeting Joe’s gaze again. He held a slightly suspicious look. “Could be the ale, I suppose.” he took a sip, looking off at the party. “Could also be you.”
Joe put a hoof behind his neck, staring at the ground. There was no way, right? His magic didn’t work any more. It was over. It had been over for years and years. He met Blind Dive’s lone eye with a wash of fear. “You think... I mean... that’s not possible, right?”
The immense moori’s mouth smoothed into an irritated frown. “You’re the first unicorn that I know of to ever survive a shattered horn, Joe. There isn’t exactly a book on it.” he pressed a firm hoof against Joe’s chest, narrowing his eye into a piercing draconian glare. “You’d better not be lying to me, son. I don’t need some second sight to know a liar.”
Joe swatted the hoof aside with a wave of his foreleg. “I don’t lie, you know that.”
Blind Dive scoffed, shaking his head in cynical amusement. “There is literally nopony on the whole of Equestria who knows more about deceit than you!” He flicked Joe’s horn with his hoof. “By the stars, kid, with that thing you must’ve seen a thousand and one ways to spin a lie!”
The baker felt an ugly rage fill his chest. Of course he had. He couldn’t help it. He’d felt all the ways in which all of the world lies and deceives and fabricates, the selfish fictions they wove for the stupidest things. Clenching his teeth, he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and held it until the anger passed. This was something he never could quite do before. Close his eyes and, for a moment, shut the world out. Everypony needed that from time to time. To turn it off.
He opened his eyes and gave the moori a defeated look. “You’d be surprised how enormously appealing that makes it all.”
Dive held an appraising look on the Joe, the way he did when he was running through every possible reason not to trust somepony. He had always been this way, as far back as Joe could remember. Vigilant, brash, more than a little paranoid. As much he hated the implication, Joe needed ponies like Blind Dive in his life. To keep him honest.
Placing his hoof on Joe’s shoulder, Dive gave him a resigned tilt of the head. “I really want to believe you, kiddo.”
Joe’s ears perked up as he returned a desperate, pleading expression. “I swear to Celestia, Dive, it’s gone! My magic is gone!” Joe sighed, his face falling in gloom. “...You have to believe me.”
Dive looked him in the eye. “Well, you tell me. Do I believe you?”
“I mean it. I swear. I can’t tell.”
The moori just stared, waiting.
Joe dropped his head, putting a hoof to his forehead. “No. No you don’t.”
Dive loudly slapped a hoof onto the ground, giving Joe a shove with his shoulder. “Hah! Guess you can’t tell, then.”
The baker looked up at him with surprise, then slowly, drew a long, wide smile across his face. “You mean it?”
Blind Dive gave him a shrug. “I do. But if you feel any of that blasted second sense coming back, you tell me, or by the moon and the bucking stars I will kick your sorry flank from here to Cloudsdale.”
Joe stretched, cracking his neck. “Pshaw, I’d like to see you try, you old sod.”
Dive chewed on the thought for a moment, giving Joe a once-over. “Certainly surprised you haven’t gone soft yet, boy, packing away all those donuts. Been keeping up on your regimen, I see.”
Joe grinned. “What can I say? Doesn’t hurt my chances with these delicate Canterlot mares.” Plopping his mug on the ground, the stallion braced himself for a lunge. “How about it, then? Or is Princess-sitting making you fancy?”
With a bold cackle, Dive slid his drink to the ground, giving Joe an expectant grin. With a sharp, momentous lunge, the two clashed at the shoulder, hooves scraping against the floor in a tense contest of strength. Blind Dive was quite a bit larger, no doubt about that, but Joe was more than a decade younger. Shifting his weight to his left side, he forced the Dive into the nearby bookshelf, giving him the leverage needed to overturn the colossal pony.
Bracing his hoof against a shelf, Blind Dive gave two powerful beats of the wing and pulled into the air, hovering over Joe just long enough for the unicorn to slide under and faceplant into the wall. Not missing a beat, the moori pulled a sharp loop overhead, coming down hard on Joe’s side. The baker staggered backward with an invigorated laugh, scraping forward against the wood in an attempt to break his inertia. As his hind leg came down on the corner of the throw carpet, Joe lost his footing, skittering to a crash next to the front door and falling hard on something soft. Joe heard a surprised, feminine yelp from under his flank. Terror washed over his body as he turned to look at the enormous, brilliant-white alicorn he’d just collapsed onto. Princess Celestia.
• • • •
For a single, flabbergasted instant, Celestia just stared up at Joe in shock. The first thought that went through her head was how much heavier the bulky unicorn was than she’d expected. She wasn’t sure what she expected, exactly, but goodness.
Her second thought was that if anypony saw the two of them right now, as they were, they would see the princess of the sun wrapped around some stallion in a door frame, up to who knows what. She silently pleaded that this exact thing did not happen, to which the universe brought swift and delicious retribution. Across the room, Pinkie Pie pulled in a gasp so loud and intense she hovered above the crowd, drawing a hundred sets of eyes upon the two interlocked ponies. Fevered murmurs of shock and concern fluttered from the legion of partygoers as they drew closer. Celestia could only roll her eyes as she waited for Joe to snap out of it.
She didn’t have to wait long. In a blink, Joe had scrambled onto all fours, frantically stammering out apologies while he helped his queen to her hooves. “Princess! Oh! Okay! Uh! Wow! Okay!! Um!! Sweet Harmony I am so sorry about that! Are you okay?!” The stallion darted around his princess, frantically searching for some sign of injury.
With a flustered smile, Celestia stood and waved her hoof, trying to calm him down. “No no! I’m quite all right! I was—” she cleared her throat, regaining her composure. “I was... just dropping by. Please, no need to... stand on...” she trailed off with a frown as Joe fell into a deep bow, sending a wave of ponies to the floor in similar submission. Utter, crushing silence befell the room. Where once there had been a lively, bustling celebration, now there were rows upon rows of ponies pressed to the beer-stained hardwood in sober reverence.
Across the apartment, suddenly completely exposed to the room, stood Gilda, frozen like a statue with her talon wrapped around the keg spout. With glacial speed, the griffon creaked the nozzle open, silently filling up her stein while keeping an alarmed eagle eye trained on the princess. The mousy squeak of the spout closing shut echoed against the crushing silence. Celestia sighed.
Donning a warm, polite smile, she spread her wings and gave her subjects a deep nod. “You all do me a great honor, and I thank you. Please, as you were. I am here as a friend.” she held the pose for a few moments, until her ponies felt comfortable standing up.
Her eye drifted to the plate of donuts beside the wooden keg, sending a chill of alarm down her spine. Her ears flattened as her turned a cold look to Joe.
"Tell me those are not what I think they are." She glared.
Joe swallowed. "Oh! No no! No, those—" he gave a strained, nerve-wracked smile. "—those are made from my own supply. Don't worry! Here!" he retrieved a maple cake donut from the tray, sliding it into a small plate with a napkin. With a strained smile, he offered the pate between heavily shaking hooves.
Celestia squirmed against the knot in her throat, staring dubiously at the pastry in hoof. She remembered all too well how fragile the baker's pride could be when it came to his beloved donuts. If the princess of the sun couldn’t choke them down after what he’d gone through with Luna and Sunny, just yesterday, the poor thing might very well have a heart attack. With no small amount of hesitation, she brought the sticky pastry to her mouth, taking the tiniest of nibbles. Her eyes clenched shut in anticipation of an onslaught of revulsion. This was it.
At first, she felt nothing. Then, the bite seemed to melt against her tongue, the syrupy sweetness becoming ever-so-slightly moist in the heat of her mouth. She chewed, feeling the pastry fall apart into fluffy wisps with only the slightest token resistance. Before she knew it, the taste had spread all across her tongue, wrapping her taste buds in a wonderfully light blanket of savory smoothness. She sighed in delight, licking the remnants off the back of her cheek.
Opening her eyes, she turned to the baker sitting beside her. Joe was staring up at his princess with big, eager, fearful eyes. Celestia smiled. “My goodness, Joe, these are wonderful.”
With an enormous sigh, Joe clutched a hoof to his chest and dropped his head back, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. The rugged stallion looked as if he’d just woken from a nightmare, with all of his worries vanishing into thin air. Returning his gaze to the princess, he levelled a polite smile. “Your Highness flatters...”
Celestia waved a hoof with a chuckle. “Oh but I mean it, I truly do.” She took another, much larger bite, a wide, satisfied smile drawing across her face. “Simply wonderful.”
“Hooh! Thank the STARS.” Joe let out a booming laugh, shaking his head with elated relief, “I think I would have died, right here in my living room, if you’d felt any other way.”
Celestia delicately wiped her mouth with the napkin, hiding a relieved smile of her own.
With a start, Joe sprang to his feet. “Drink! You need a drink! Let me get you a drink! We have—” Joe surveyed the unsavory entourage of moori huddled around the keg, rowdily swinging about their mugs as they muddled through an old griffon folk song, vaguely led by the visibly inebriated Gilda. He began to sweat, scouring his apartment for a single thing fit for a princess. His was not an apartment well-stocked with things fit for a princess.
Joe’s eyes locked onto the staircase. “—Wine! I have a bottle of Caberneigh from the old house! Stay right here, I’ll get you a glass!”
Celestia raised a hoof to object. “Oh, really, you mustn’t—”
Joe waved her words away like parasprites. “I won’t hear it! Be right back, princess!” Without a second glance, he took off into the crowd. Celesta facehoofed. All she needed to do was say hello to Pinkie, and she could be on her way. She could practically feel Joe’s anxiety from here. The last thing she wanted was to ruin this night for him.
With an agitated twitch of her ear, she surveyed the apartment. It did not take long. By Harmony, was this really it? Joe’s diner was at least twice as big as this tiny little house. Property values must’ve been creeping up again. Celestia scowled at the thought of having to once more ward off urban gentrification. Every century, it was the same blasted thing in this city. Next week. She’d do it next week.
As she turned to face the rear wall, she saw a familiar, one-eyed moori fluttering to the ground beside her. “Glad to see you out and about, Your Ladyship.” The imposing commander Blind Dive gave a short, respectful bow, to which the princess returned a warm nod. “I get worried about you two, cooped up in that castle. The weight of the world riding your saddle.”
“This has... certainly been one of those weeks, hasn’t it,” she muttered, placing her napkin on the coffee table.
A sudden thunder of cheering erupted from across the room as Seraph leapt onto Joe’s back, covering his eyes with her hooves and barking directions. The chuckling stallion feigned a few bucks for effect before intentionally plowing into a wall, trying to shake off the giggling passenger.
“Dive I... I have to ask, are you quite sure about that one?” Celestia frowned. “She’s nice and all, but... I am not sure I would have chosen her myself.”
The commander gave a relenting shrug. “I know, I know, she’s more than a little rough around the edges. But Princess Luna just adores the little scamp, and... well... that counts for quite a bit. Her Highness is withdrawn enough as it is without us sticking her with another couple of mute statues.” He absently swirled his drink, chuckling at the display of sibling horseplay before him. “I wasn’t much better when I was her age, if you’ll recall.”
Celestia hid a smile behind her hoof. This was quite true. An ornery half-blind flyer with no depth perception. The only reason he’d made it as far as the Night Guard was because they needed to fill the ranks after... troubles.
Dive gave his princess a troubled glance, noticing a distant look in her eyes. “...Ma’am?”
Celestia lowered her gaze to the floor. “Was... just remembering. Those two moori we lost routing Rustwing from Hollow Shade... they were her parents, were they not?”
“Aye.” Dive nodded, staring into his drink. “Poor thing was just old enough to hate the world for all that.” He shook his head. “She put Parish through all seven circles of Tartaurus after he took her in, I know that much.”
Celestia frowned. Magister Parish. It seemed obvious now, but she frankly never would've guessed that he had been Joe’s father. He’d been a composer for the Royal Guard his entire adult life, stationed at the Archives. A proud, devoted, handsome stallion, even in his later years. Fifty-five was not a bad run, for a unicorn.
Thinking back on it, she’d always rather liked that one. Perhaps a bit coarse and stubborn at times, but... a soldier of rare capability. She had felt genuinely protected when he was near, a quality that was actually quite uncommon. The Guard wasn’t really there for her protection, when you got down to it. They were far more useful as facilitators and sentries. Ultimately, like all of her ponies, they were hers to protect.
“Your wine, my princess.” Glancing to her left, she saw Joe, standing firm by her side with a serving tray across his back. Just as he had with the coffee. She wasn’t quite sure how he’d managed to cross the entire party without some errant flank sending the quivering glass crashing to the floor. It was rather impressive. She kept forgetting that the stallion couldn’t simply float it over with his magic.
With a smile, she graciously accepted the glass, giving Joe a nod as he bowed out to return the platter to the kitchen. Through the windows, she caught sight of Pinkie Pie springing about on the balcony, evidently... talking to herself. Now was her chance. One quick, polite conversation with that mare, and she could duck out for a quick ‘change of clothes.’
• • • •
Gilda quaked with laughter as Seraph chirped out the delightfully embarrassing ending to her infamous Las Pegasus story.
“I cannot believe they did not kick my flank out of the Guard for that. And Pixie—!” Seraph giggled with a scratchy, squeaky cadence. She waved a hoof excitedly at Pixie, who had already gone from orange to a deep, cherry red. ”—she kept asking me where I was hiding all the stallions, like I’d shoved them into the closet and under the bed!”
Pixie’s cheeks puffed in indignation. “Well I don’t know what you get up to! I thought you’d had some kind of depraved four-way! How do two mares make that much of a mess in one room?!”
Seraph and Gilda shared a hearty laugh, the moori waving a dismissive hoof over Pixie with a jovial ‘baaah!’ She shook her head, giving Gilda a smile. “Alright, jeepers. I should probably thank the dang princess of Equestria for coming to my party, shouldn’t I.” She nodded toward Celestia, who seemed to be trying to hold a conversation with the erratically leaping mile-a-minute mare on the balcony.
Gilda gave her a curt nod and a slight smile, turning back to the crowd. She could see Joe coming out from the kitchen with a tray of cupcakes balanced on his back, and another of turnovers gripped in his mouth, both rattling with tenuous grip. Her first instinct was to avert her eyes from what was doubtless to be certain catastrophe. If Joe was going to make an idiot out of himself, that’d be his doing. It would be pretty insulting to go swooping over to save him from himself like he was some inept hatchling.
Her second instinct was, well, screw it, it’s Joe. She walked over to the stallion, grasped both trays in between her talons, and slid them beside the donuts, giving him a roll of the eyes.
“Thanks.” Joe smiled as he pulled himself onto his hind legs and arranged the treats as best he could. Gilda couldn’t help but notice they seemed unusually haphazard for the meticulous baker. The turnovers were all different sizes and angles, and the cupcakes were weirdly shaped. Maybe he was drunk.
She clasped one of the turnovers between her talons, eyeing it suspiciously. It looked normal enough, but every time she’d tried some new kind of pastry at Joe’s diner, it always turned out to be this cruel trojan pony full of weird seeds or fruit or whatever. It drove the griffon crazy.
Joe futzed with the display for about a minute before dropping back on all fours, evidently satisfied. He grabbed his drink off the table and turned to Gilda, just in time to watch her take a large bite. She chewed once, then froze, her eyes wide. Slowly, she opened her beak, and pulled out a pecan from the half-chewed mush. She held the nut up to the baker while she closed her mouth and choked the rest down, leveling a murderous glare.
Joe burst out laughing, holding a hoof over his eyes. The griffon frowned, flicking the pecan across the room and into the overfull trash bin. She took a long gulp of her drink in an effort to wash out the texture.
The unicorn chuckled. “Come on, you gotta eat the whole thing at once. It all mixes together. It’s good!”
Gilda’s feathers stood on end. “Blech! Gods, I’ll never get used to this stupid country.”
“Aw, hey. You make a great Equestrian! You're practically one of the ponies by now!”
Gilda stared at him like he’d just invented a new slur.
Joe shook his head with a wide grin. “Eheh... what I mean is...” He gestured toward her chest with his drink. “...you’re a lot nicer than you were, when you first started showing up. That’s a good thing! Nice is good.”
Gilda looked away, flattening her beak into a grimace. For Zu knows what reason, she felt an overwhelming desire to tell Joe everything about what had happened at the castle that day. She knew all too well that the red lights weren’t the kind of thing you were supposed to go around babbling about to every Joe and Jane in Equestria. Even so, the simple fact remained that it was what she wanted. Maybe it was the alcohol. More likely, it was the naked fact that Joe and his sister were pretty much the only friends she had in this ridiculous country, now that she’d screwed things up with Rainbow. Gilda didn’t mind being alone. She’d always been alone. But it was just... nice, to have someone give a damn. Someone she could actually talk to.
She took another long sip from her ale. She wasn’t nearly drunk enough for this.
“So... yeah.” Gilda put a talon on the back of her neck, turning a little red. “You know that huge, awful drawing I’ve been working on? At the diner? I kind of had to do a presentation on it yesterday.”
Joe scoffed, shaking his head wistfully. “I cannot imagine you in front of a group of businessmares, giving some lecture on... what was it, farming?”
“It was just one pony.”
“Oh, well, that’s not too bad, I guess.”
Gilda nervously rubbed her claw over her upper arm. “...that pony was Princess Celestia.”
Joe snarfed his drink, tumbling into a fit of coughing. Gilda felt a wave of dread pass over her as several sets of eyes fell on them. She rose a claw, her gaze darting around the room, trying to quiet the unicorn down.
Joe gave a loud, clearing hack, then rose with a hoof over his nose. “I would be so bucking positive you were joking if I didn’t know you better.” Reaching for the table with his free hoof, he grabbed a napkin and wiped his snout. “What the hay did the ruler of our entire country want with you?” His face fell. “Oh no. Gilda. What did you do?”
She frowned. “Nothing! It’s my...” Gilda swallowed. “...that’s my job.” She snuck a glance at Joe’s expression. She couldn’t read whatever emotion was writ across his face, but she was pretty sure it was some mixture of disbelief and flabbergasted shock. “I’m supposed to be an emissary for Elpithasus.”
Joe narrowed his eyes, half smiling, like he expected her to throw him the punchline any second. “You. You’re who they picked. Gilda.”
Gilda scowled. “Hey I can be diplomatic if I want to be! I do a great job!”
Joe rose a hoof to his forehead for a few moments, doubtlessly trying to wrap his mind around the very concept. With a relenting shake of the head, he lowered his hoof. “So... so how’d it go? Well, I hope?”
Gilda gave a strained, toothy, nervous smile. Joe knew that look.
“Gilda.”
“It... it went okay! Kind of! I’m...” She couldn’t believe she was telling him this. “I’m honestly kind of freaked out by how close I came to just flipping out on her, at one point.”
Joe’s face contorted in horror. He swallowed. “Are... are you allowed to... flip out? At the princess?”
The griffon bit her claw with her beak, giving him a look that said ‘nope.’ “She’s pretty forgiving. I...” She scoffed, playing it all back in her head. “I genuinely have no idea why.”
Joe leveled another incredulous look at her. “...seriously, you’re who they picked.”
She sighed, staring into her drink. “It’s... kind of complicated. I kinda volunteered.”
“...Why?”
She felt the words tumbling out of her beak before she even had begun to think about whether or not she should tell him. This was way personal. Gods, she must be more drunk than she thought. “I was mar—” Was all that escaped her beak before she clamped two claws over it, holding it shut. This was weird. This was really scary weird. It was like she couldn’t stop herself, like her mind was railroading her life story out of her brain without a moment’s consideration.
She stared at Joe with a wide, panicked look. He swallowed, looking to the side in confusion, before furrowing his brow and holding up a hoof. “Eheh, well, I guess that doesn’t matter, right?”
Gilda looked away, with a sick expression on her face.
“Gilda, look... they wouldn’t have let you do this if they weren’t at least somewhat sure you could.” He gave her a smile. “People get angry. It’s normal. I kind of wish politicians did it more, to be honest.”
The griffon turned back to look at him, still a little pale. “...Really?”
“Well, yeah... I mean, I’m about as far from one as you can get, but... they’re so used to spewing out whatever manure gets them what they want that — especially here, in this city—” He shook his head. “—If I had to deal with them every bucking day, like the princess does, I’d take any shred of honest emotion I could get.”
Gilda rubbed her upper arm, glancing out the window and to the balcony. Celestia had vanished. “Yeah. Yeah I guess she would.”
“Course, I could be wrong. In which case, for the love of Celestia, lie your furry flank off.”
Gilda smiled, and let out a short, but genuine, laugh.
Wow. She... felt a little better. She wasn’t expecting that. A tiny part of her wanted to thank him. A much larger part chased that thought out of her head like a gazelle.
She could think of one thing he might like.
“Dude.” Gilda’s grin grew impish. “Your goddess has the hots for you.”