//------------------------------//
// Ch5 Walking Goose Home [edited] 
// Story: Jake and the kid 
// by peter 
//------------------------------//

{apologies. This chapter takes place at the same time as chapter four, and is concerned with fleshing out the original Character of Goose. Jake and Curry will be back next week. On the plus side, I did manage to squeeze Molestia into the story^_^}




Jake and the Kid
Chapter 5
Walking Goose Home



‟Plum, Corporal of the Royal Guard reporting for duty! I am ready to relieve you, Optio Pumpernickel!” snapped the Day Guard with a sharp salute as he arranged himself for the ages old tradition.

“As Duty Guard, I stand ready to be relieved. There are no issues currently with this station to report!” snapped back Pumpernickel Rye with a near-identical salute of his own.

‟I hereby relieve you of the watch, Optio Pumpernickel!”

‟I stand relieved Corporal Plum.” 

The heavily built, yellow-eyed, dragon-winged, dark grey Nocturne pegasus turned and marched away leaving the critical job of guarding Princess’s Luna’s currently vacant quarters in safe hooves. The same scene was being repeated all over the castle as the Night shift passed to Day, exactly the same as it had been done twice a day for centuries.

Pumpernickel kept up the parade ground stride until he turned the corner and was out of sight of the day-guard. Only then did he allow his legs to bow slightly and his back to sag. He was never going to get used to being the superior officer after being a low pony on the buffalo pole for his entire, admittedly fairly short at this point, career. Technically his rank as Optio may not have been very high, but as one of Luna’s personally selected guards, he was somewhat out of the normal chain of command and had far more power than he was really comfortable with.

For one thing, back when he was just another guard, there had never been any danger of the Princess’s hoofmaiden calling him into the royal presence so she could use him as a dress dummy to show off some new creation to the Princess. And the Princess still displayed a startling tendency to parade around in next to nothing while in her personal chambers. It was one thing for most common ponies to walk around without clothes, but when the Princess of the Night discarded her shoes and neck regalia after a long session at Night Court, the cognitive dissonance of 'Naked' and 'Royalty' was nearly more than his simple male mind was able to handle. It wasn’t as debilitating as it once had been, but he still grew greatly flustered at those times, which amused the Hoofmaiden greatly. Maybe because she knew the best way to calm him down once they retired to their own chambers. 

Pumpernickel often mentally referenced the Bearers of the Elements of Harmony when he started to get a bit overwhelmed by his new status and the potential influence. Their reputation from defeating Nightmare Moon gave them great temporal and political power and not one of them seemed to care in the least. Regardless of their level of ambition, they relied exclusively on their own natural talents and efforts, frequently treating their new found status as more of a hindrance than a benefit.

Circumstances had placed him where he was now, only because of the pony he had been when those circumstances arose. Just as with the Bearers. And just like them if he let his position alter the sort of pony he was, he would no longer deserve the position. 

In some ways, he had to be even more diligent than the Bearers. It was quite likely that if they betrayed their basic nature in the pursuit of power, their element would abandon them. He had no such fail-safe. It was up to him, and his loving wife, to keep his ego in check. Fortunately, or not, depending on how you looked at it, she was proving extremely adept at the task. 

Still, there were some perks he could quite get to enjoy. He no longer had to worry about his off duty hours being spoiled because some superior, and everyone had been his superior, had a hankering for some of Pony Joe’s coffee and doughnuts. No more snapping to attention and being sent off on wild goose chases at a superior officer’s mere whim for him stars forbid! Now he was only sent off on wild goose chases by Princess Luna and her Hoofmaiden, who seemed to collude on the best quality of wild goose that needed chasing at the moment.

‟What sort of posture do you call that, Soldier?” a voice that sounded like the owner gargled with gravel snarled out behind him. 

Pumpernickel’s back snapped straight, his legs stiffened, his head lifted high on a suddenly stiff neck. ‟Sir! No excuse, Sir! Won’t happen again, Sir!” he snapped out in a conditional reflex.

‟What the hay are you doing, Mister? You’re an officer now. You don’t sir a sergeant, even if this particular one had the misfortune of being saddled with your poor pathetic carcass and given the impossible task of turning you into something that at least looked like a guard!” 

The voice softened, slightly, as the all too familiar shape of his old Cadet trainer walked around in front of the still at attention Pumpernickel. Sergeant Shadow Dash stared at him with his deep yellow cat eyes, one great dragon-shaped wing snapping up in a formal salute as he went to attention. ‟Pleased to see my efforts were not a total waste, Sir! If I could have a moment of your time, Sir?” 

Pumpernickel knew exactly how the rule book instructed him to reply to the sergeant. The thought of telling his former drill instructor, who was more than twice his age, to stand at ease and explain his needs caused his tongue to stick to the roof of his mouth. He urgently tried to work up enough spit to at least free his dried tongue, all too conscious of the sergeant standing at rigid attention in front of him. In the end, it was only the barely discernible twinkle in the sergeant’s eyes that loosened his mouth enough to get words out.

‟What can I do for you, Sergeant?” he asked in a voice that contained a touch more strain than he would have liked to display. 

‟Have a bit of a personal problem, Sir! Was hoping you could maybe give me some assistance, Sir!”

Pumpernickel winced with each deafening shout, resisting the temptation to fold his ears flat in order to preserve his hearing. That habit had been ruthlessly drilled out of him by the very same pony that now stood in front of him. ‟What is the problem, sergeant?” Pumpernickel asked in a soft voice, hoping to lead by example. The continued twinkle in the Sergeant’s eyes did not bode well for his hopes, as was soon proven. 

‟Was suppose to escort my little sister home from work, Sir! Unable to do so, Sir! A small bit of trouble with two of my cadets, Sir! Was hoping you could lend me some assistance, Sir! As you are now an officer and a gentlecolt, Sir!” 

By this time Pumpernickel was just about ready to offer his first born if only the sergeant would moderate his tone slightly. His eyes were starting to water from the stentorian flood of words, but one part of the sergeant’s remarks did filter through the aural discomfort.

‟You have a sister?” he asked, in much the same tone with which he might have asked, ‘You and the grandmotherly head librarian are having a torrid and illicit affair?'

‟Yes, Sir! Several, Sir! This is the youngest, Sir!” 

By this time, Pumpernickel was desperate enough to actually snap out, ‟Please, less with the sirs, and more with the explanations, if you would sergeant.” His ears flattened slightly when he heard himself say those words. 

The sergeant gave a grunt, and the twinkle in his eyes increased, turning his expression into something that might almost have been described as 'only mildly disgusted. ‟I was rather hoping that you would see yourself clear to see my little sister home! She has just started her employment and our mom does not like the idea of her walking the streets alone at this time of the day, sir! No, she does not! Very protective of our little Goose is our sweet mother!” 

Pumpernickel was trying to come to grips with the sergeant not just having a sister, but a mom, but the name registered and his eyes widened. ‟Goose? The new maid trainee? The one with the great big–” Pumpernickel got a look at the sergeant’s eyes, which were no longer twinkling and hastily changed his words. ‟–eyes. Very lovely they were. Noticed them last night when she was looking at Princess Luna, outside the princess’s private room. Where my wife was. Just on the other side of the door. Just a couple of feet away. Really.”

The twinkle didn’t return to the sergeant's eyes, but at least they no longer promised imminent bloodshed. He gave a grunt, and said, ‟Yes, our Goose has very nice. . . ‘eyes’. Have caused the poor thing a bit of trouble from time to time. Some as would look at those ‘eyes’, and get all sorts of wrong ideas. I knew you’re not the sort to make such mistakes. Which is why I know you’ll see her safely home.” 

‟And I’m sure my wife, having the ear of the princess, and being rather notorious in her own right, would have nothing to do with your confidence, sergeant,” Pumpernickel groused, quietly. 

But not so quietly that the delicate shell-like ears of a practiced drill sergeant would miss them. ‟Could not say, sir!”

Pumpernickel gave a resigned sigh. So much for having a relaxing morning and a cuppa before bedtime. Just him and Lamina, no Princess, no sergeants, no guard duties. Ah well.  ‟I’d be happy to see your sister home, sergeant. Where might I find her?”


*****************


Goose sat quietly to the side of the palace’s main entrance. She was well back from the large open doors that led out into the courtyard and from there to the street. The nocturne mare was wearing a dark shawl draped over the top of her head and back, covering her wings. The small mare was pressed back against the wall her bench was set alongside while she held her furled black umbrella tightly between her two forehooves, held it in front of her like a shield with the tip pressed firmly against the floor. 

Goose was doing her best to ignore the looks she was getting from all the day ponies who were walking in and out of the palace. Seeing a nocturne in public during the day was rare, even rarer when the pony in question was a mare. Most of the Night Guard, Goose knew, flew home by exiting out of one of the upper windows. She envied them.

Goose darted a look toward the large open doors. She focused on the building opposite the entrance and slowly let her eyes rise. A sliver of deep blue sky became visible and her guts clenched tightly at the sight. Fighting down nausea she hastily averted her gaze. Even more, eyes glanced her way as she panted heavily while trying to suppress the sudden panic attack.  

‟Are you okay, Miss?” a polite voice asked from a few feet away. 

Startled, Goose flinched slightly and darted a look at the speaker. Her eyes widened as she recognized the nocturne Royal Guard she had seen in front of Princess Luna’s chambers. She flushed slightly and looked away. ‟I’m fine. I’m just waiting for someone,” she said, throwing the last bit out defensively as if he had implied she had no right to be where she was. 

‟That would be Sergeant Shadow.” the stallion hesitated, and then added. ‟Your brother,” in a tone that indicated a certain amount of disbelief at the concept. 

It wasn’t the first time Goose had seen that reaction. Shadow was nearly thirty years older than she was, having been adopted into the family at the age of ten. She didn’t get to meet very many strange stallions, but a few of her other brother’s friends had visited while they were on leave. They had all displayed rather dismayed expressions at seeing her oldest brother looming up at the huge dinner table. She nodded, looking at him with a bit of worry. ‟Is something wrong?” she asked. She wasn’t afraid for her brother. He was the sort of person who happened to others. Instead, she was a bit fearful that something might have happened in regards to her new job. 

‟Nothing serious. Apparently an issue with some cadets. He didn’t go into detail. Just asked if I’d oblige him by showing you home.” 

Goose’s expression froze, while inwardly she used words that would have meant an appointment with a bar of soap if her mother or aunts had heard her say them out loud. The general tone and subject had to do with what idiots young stallions were.

The slightly older, and therefore, hopefully, not such a total idiot, stallion in front of her frowned at her expression. ‟Is everything all right?” he asked carefully choosing his words with great care. Much as a pony in a minefield might tiptoe around potentially explosive traps.

Goose plastered a bright smile on her face and said. ‟Everything is fine. Just peachy. Could not be better. I love my new job. It’s going well. I get to come back tomorrow, and I got to see Princess Luna.” As she said the last bit Goose’s smile turned genuine, as her face fairly glowed with wonder and joy. 

For a moment Goose merely sat still, remembering her first up close and far too brief encounter with Princess Luna. It wasn’t until the guard stallion let out a little cough that she came back to herself. ‟Oh, sorry. I don’t really need any help getting home. My family is a little . . .” She ran words through her mind trying to find one that was both accurate and could be used in polite company. Hidebound? Old fashioned? Misogynous? No, that last wasn’t really fair. They didn’t dislike females. They just had strong views on a mare’s proper place in the world, which did not include working outside the home. It most certainly did not involve joining the guard. Which is why she had been forced to sneak out of the house on the day registration was suppose to take place. She sighed at the memory of that chaotic day. It had worked out so well, until she’d found herself in the wrong line, filling out an application for the wrong job. It would have not been such a problem if her head hadn’t been so far up in the clouds she hadn’t even noticed until it was too late.

Goose was so depressed she just wanted to curl up in a comfortably dark closet somewhere and have a good cry. She brightened as she remembered an important fact. On the upside, she had gotten to meet Princess Luna, which was something she would be willing to bet none of those featherbrained young twits who signed up for guard training would ever be able to say. 

Princess Luna, Goose sighed internally in reminiscence of those few memorable moments with the fabled Princess of legend. She had been every bit as magnificent as Goose had dreamed. So regal, so beautiful, so in command, so graceful, and so much faster than she had ever expected.

Pumpernickel was starting to become very conscious of the eyes that were being turned his way as the young mare in front of him seemed to shift from one extreme of emotion to another in the blink of an eye. She might not be vocalizing what was going through whatever young mares used for a brain at that age, but between her heartfelt sighs and those overly expressive eyes, she might as well have been singing an operatic aria.

Swallowing nervously, he coughed again, while nudging the tip of her umbrella with his hoof. ‟Well, best if we get going. Don’t want your old mom getting worried about you.” 

Goose woke up from her Princess Luna day-dream and directed a look loaded with all the annoyance she could manage at him. ‟I don’t need any help walking home!” she repeated firmly. 

Her pique bounced off harmlessly. Goose’s glare was a firefly compared to the blowtorch-like glares he'd endured from his wife, or the literally blistering intensity of Princess Luna's displeasure. ‟That’s fine. I won’t give you any help. I just happen to be heading in that direction. Shall we go? Or, do you wish to provide a bit more entertainment for the morning shift?” Pumpernickel was a bit proud of that last bit. Maybe those lessons in diplomatic speak had actually done some good.

Goose gave an exasperated sigh. She got up off the bench and gripped the handle of her umbrella between her teeth as she popped it open. The bell snapped open revealing the large size and unusually deep nature of her protective cover. The rim extended a few inches below her eye level leaving most of her head up inside the curve of the dome. She could see fairly well for about thirty feet in front of herself, but no more than that. ‟Let’s go,” she snapped. Without waiting for Pumpernickel she trotted off in a huff, her short tail twitching in annoyance. 

‟We’re not flying?” Pumpernickel asked with a bit of surprise. While pegasus tended to walk while shopping in Canterlot, they did not usually do so when they were only going from one place to another with no need for sightseeing in between. Nocturne were even more inclined to fly than their feathered brethren. 

‟No!” Goose said in a muffled voice around the handle of her umbrella. Despite the speech obstruction, she managed a flat tone that invited no discussion on the topic. As an old married stallion of two months duration, Pumpernickel knew when to hold his tongue. 

Pumpernickel shrugged, slipped on his over-sized extra dark sunglasses and followed her out into the bright morning sun. He made a mental note to bring up the topic of sunglasses with her brother. There was no need for her to go around lugging that enormous sun shade. He didn’t really blame her for not wanting to cope with it while trying to fly. 

Goose’s mouthful of umbrella gave her an excuse for not indulging in small talk. She might have regretted that if she had thought she could have kept the topic of discussion focused on Princess Luna. The large guard likely had all sorts of stories. She knew from experience that was not going to happen, however. She came from a royal guard family; her father, two uncles, three brothers, and six cousins all were, or had been, in the guard. While they were perfectly prepared to talk in generalities, they avoided specifics about the royals like the plague. If her own brothers would not talk about their experiences with Princess Luna, rare as they were, she could hardly expect a complete stranger to be any different. He’d be just like the stallions in her family. He’d try to deflect her questions by talking about her day, her experiences. How was she doing? Was she getting any better? She gave an angry snort. No, she wasn’t getting better. Did they think it was a phase she was going through, that one morning she’d wake up and the total terror she had of the wide open sky would have simply vanished?

Tears tickled the corners of her eyes and she gave a quiet sniff and a shake of her head to dispel them. 

To distract herself from her own well-known limitations and the frustration inherent in them, she mused on the two idiot cadets who were likely the reason she was walking home with a strange stallion. 

A few hours ago, she and Miss Grace had been cleaning the wing of the castle art gallery that extended into the Night Court. It seemed familiar to her even though she had never been inside before, and after a few minutes, she realized just why. It was 'That Gallery,' of which her relatives had spoken of in hushed tones of gleeful horror from their cadet days. Sure enough, it took only moments to spot the centerpiece mural that enjoyed the primary position of dishonor and confirmed her location beyond a doubt.

Superficially, while not exactly great art, there was nothing wrong with it. It was large, six or seven foot high, and maybe ten or twelve across. The subject matter of the mural was innocent enough at first glance. Celestia kneeling in a sun-drenched meadow while surrounded by dozens of frolicking fillies and colts, with representatives of all three types of ponies, but no Nocturne. 

Not that this was any great surprise. You could count the number of significant public paintings that featured Nocturnes on one hoof, with space left over.

In addition to the foals cavorting around and above the mother figure of Celestia there were several nuzzling up against her side half-covered by her mantled wings. A bit heavy-hooved with the imagery, but that was not unusual. Where this artist had really made his mark, however, was the expression he had given Celestia. Somehow he had managed, in the tilt of Celestia’s eyebrows, the way the light hit her eyes. . . well, it was no wonder that the nickname the guards had given this particular work was ‘Molestia Among the Flowers.’ The way she was looking at those fillies in the picture had nothing motherly about it.

It could not possibly have been intentional, after all, he had lived to a ripe ripe old age outside of any prison or asylum.

Goose had been so horrified/fascinated by her first glimpse of this legendary, in guard circles, art, that she hadn’t noticed the two senior cadets who were guarding the gallery: Both a nocturne and Pegasus. They, however, had very much noticed her. The nocturne had given her an all too familiar look. The look that said, what the hay are you doing out of the kitchen, girl? Shouldn’t you be at home? Where you belong?

The pegasus had given her a very different look, that was also more familiar than she would have preferred. His eyes were running across her wings as if picturing them spread and fully exposed. There was a certain glassiness in his expression that told her she really didn’t want to know what he was thinking. 

They hadn’t said anything to her, but she had a feeling that had more to do with Miss Grace than any great devotion to their duty. She had felt their eyes on her the entire time she’d spent polishing the hallway floor. Blushing furiously, she had turned around so she was faced toward them and worked down the hall backward. 

Hardly a second after she and Miss Grace turned the corner, she heard a muffled comment. She was able to make out ‘wings’ and ‟I’d fly that,” before the sounds of a violent scuffle began.

Miss Grace had shaken her head and given her a pat on the shoulder. ‟It’s not you, girl. It’s them. Don’t you for one single instance think you were in any way responsible for what is going on back there.” 

Goose had flushed in mingled embarrassment and anger because Miss Grace had very nearly hit the nail on the head. She had been thinking that it was her fault the two colts were trying to buck each other’s heads off. The anger helped to burn away her self loathing very effectively as she instantly rejected the very idea that she had anything to do with why those two complete idiots were going at it hammer and tongs. 


************


Goose’s home was not that far from the Palace. Nothing in Canterlot was, really. She and her unwelcome escort reached her dwelling after only fifteen minutes. Her mother must have been waiting, because the door opened before she even reached the stoop and she found herself looking up at her mom and the crowd of aunties hovering behind her. Six pairs of glowing yellow eyes looked at her, and then shifted to the muscular stallion beside her and back again.

‟So, and who is this, then?” Her mother asked with a suspicious lilt in her voice. ‟And I was after thinking your brother was going to be bringing you home!”

No fool, him. Pumpernickel replied in the same manner and tone he would have used to a superior officer. One known for his questionable temper. "Pumpernickel of the Royal Guard, Optio of the Night Division, Personal Guard of the Princess reporting! Sergeant Shadow was unfortunately detained with additional duties he could not avoid, and requested that I escort Goose home as a personal favor to him!"

Goose felt a shiver run up her back as her Mom’s eyes took on a new look. ‟Ach did he now. And did he by chance, maybe promise you a wee bit of dinner for your troubles? A big colt like you. I’m sure you’d be after enjoying a good home cooked meal.” 

Goose, really, really, didn’t like the way her mom was talking, or the way her eyes were shifting back and forth between the handsome stallion and herself. She had recognized Pumpernickel’s name, Goose was sure of it, so this invitation had nothing to do with maybe letting him get to know Goose in a comfortable family setting. She knew her mother’s matchmaking ways far to well to believe she was just being polite. So, she was up to something. 

‟Believe me, I’d like nothing better,” said Pumpernickel nervously, obviously lying through his teeth. Apparently, his diplomacy lessons had not fully taken hold yet. "I really need to be getting back to the castle. My wife will be looking for me."

Goose watched her mom’s eyes and saw that she was about to try another direction of attack. Maybe offering to make up a basket the Optio could take home to his wife. It was clear now to Goose that her mom was angling for access to all those well-connected stallions Pumpernickel no doubt dealt with on a night to night basis.  Goose had two sisters who were as yet unmarried, but she had a feeling that her mom’s end goal was herself. Which was why she hastily stepped in to deflect her mom’s attack. ‟We need to let him get back, Mom. He went out of his way to do a favor for Shadow Dash. Princess Luna might be needing him even as we speak.” 

At the mention of Princess Luna, her mother’s eyes brightened while her aunties started twittering in the background. A few even commented on the need to lock Goose up at home before she wound up shaming the whole family in front of the Princess.

With her Aunties, there was only one Princess. 

The majority of the female members of her family present, however, seemed impressed that Goose had met someone who saw the Princess on a daily basis so soon after starting her new job.  They were all for letting her continue. That was a good thing.

What was not such a good thing was the general consensus that they’d better give Goose a crash course in ‘proper’ deportment so she didn’t shame the family when she met the princess in a more formal manner than being almost run over in the hallway.

The guard stallion who had escorted her to her door bid her goodbye and beat a hasty retreat, the coward, leaving Goose behind under the eagle-eyed scrutiny of her mother, aunts, and a few cousins who had now stuck their noses around the door and had joined the rest of the female members of her family in staring at her in judgement. 

Ah, home sweet home, what would she do without it? Oh, how she would love to find out.