//------------------------------// // 2 // Story: The Inconveniencing Adventures of a Washout Kicker // by IC1s5 //------------------------------// Canterlot aristocracy obeyed one cardinal rule: where Celestia is, there you are. Even if this was an event limited to the Kicker family, find a way in, to see and be seen. A couple of faces Spray did not recognize were present, chatting with some members of his family, oblivious to their growing impatience. “...which was nothing like the works of Camera Obscura!” one blonde-maned pony said. He tossed his head back and laughed. “You don’t say,” Uncle Herald said through gritted teeth. He beckoned over a pony, tray in his mouth laden with tall drinks. He would need more than a few to get through this. It had taken a long four years to get here, Spray thought. He was very happy for himself, and for the happiness he appeared to have created in the ponies around him. It was worth it. All ponies in attendance had moved in from the palace gardens into the ballroom. Celestia had lowered the sun, Luna had raised the moon. Now the two princesses were chatting with the Elements and other assorted ministers and dignitaries. Attempting to mingle would result in bowing and obsequiousness. Two very stern ponies stood at either side of his painting, deterring anypony from lifting a corner of the veil and peering underneath. Until Celestia herself reverently lifted the veil, the painting was off limits. Ponies made conversation, which was about the guard, mostly, which sounded to Spray like the same words repeated over and over. Coral nuzzled him. “You should be so proud of yourself.” “I am,” Spray said. He smiled. He felt like they were back at school again, collaborating on their mural, laughing as they kissed for the first time, their fur flecked with paint. “I love you.” “I love me too.” Coral gave Spray a playful kick. “Me three,” a new voice said from behind is back. A familiar voice. “Cloud please,” a second pony hissed, hoping that not everypony around her had heard. Spray turned around to face the source of the noise. His eyes narrowed. “Hello, Cloud.” Cloud laughed, a pony with a streaked pink and green mane standing next to her looking increasingly nervous. “Thought I’d walk over and say hello.” “You have,” Spray said, turning his back on her. “Oh, come now, Spray,” Coral said. “Who is this pony?” “Who indeed?” Cloud’s look had become sly, almost predatory after seeing Coral. Tonight might have a more interesting ending that I thought it would. “Coral,” Spray said patiently, “my ever loving fiancee, this is my cousin Cloud.” Cloud like a little uncomfortable when the magic word fiancee was spoken. Oh yes, Spray thought, relishing Cloud’s discomfort at trying to seduce a pony who would in a matter of months become kin. Banging (to use her vernacular) was strictly out of bounds. “Well...you won the jackpot,” Cloud said. Then she turned to her cousin and sighed. “I’m sorry.” “About what?” “I realize my stunt at West Hoof might have knocked over some dominos I didn’t realize were stacked,” Cloud explained. “And I am sorry for the damage...extending to you.” “It’s fine,” Spray said. After a moment he gathered enough strength to compose himself. He owed it to Cloud. Yes, she exacerbated a tense situation, but she did not cause it, and everything (albeit slowly) worked out in the end. Four years at Art School had passed quickly. He met Coral and found work throughout Equestria. Projects that had been well received in the artistic community. Most of the clan had moved in from their initial hostility. They had dropped their nagging little suggestions to help out on their side projects. Some members were not present tonight, citing obligations, appointments and responsibilities. Well, Thunder thought, that was their loss. If there was one thing the clan was good at, celebrating their accomplishments was it. Spray would never fit in with his family, he understood on some level, but as long as whatever he did brought some form of glory to his family, it would be all right. “Well now!” Thunder Kicker came over. He smiled broadly. Two other guard ponies, their ceremonial armour chafing and restrictive, followed. “Coral, this is my Uncle Thunder.” Thunder gave Coral a respectful nuzzle. “You’ve found a very worthy colt,” Thunder said. She blushed. “Thank you,” Coral said. Coral had only met Spray’s parents and siblings so far. They were very nice and very eager to meet her. The reputation of the only pony to have escaped the Kicker’s family’s traditional obligations had made them very eager to welcome such a wonderful filly into their family. “Are these some distant relation?” Coral pointed in the direction of Mace and Pinion. Thunder sighed. “They’re my right hoof ponies,” he explained. “I tend to keep them close by.” Mace and Pinion fidgeted. “Never liked these wine and stinky cheese events,” Mace muttered. “Couldn’t they have at least one pizza or something?” Thunder glared at him. Mace sheepishly backed off. No Ursa Majors had descended upon Fillydelphia, nor griffon hordes, nor packs of vicious dragons. Thunder had not needed to stand strong, stare deep into the eyes of Mace and Pinion, and order them to make the supreme sacrifice for Equestria. More’s the pity. “It is so good to see you,” Thunder said. “And it will be good to see you at Fort Lancer with Mrs. Twilight Velvet.” The mare was standing with her son, the captain of the Royal Guard, who was standing chatting with his sister. One of Equestria’s most popular authors, looking ideas for her next book. Spray laughed. “You act is if I’m one of your guards!” “For two months you will be,” Thunder said. They laughed. “Seriously,” Spray replied, “I am looking forwards to embedding with you.” “It’s not the glamorous side of the guard, I’ll admit, and we’re certainly looking forwards to getting some commemoration. The Long Patrol could use some romance, anyways.” The idea had come to Spray while he was finishing this painting. He had spent a goodly amount of time commemorating his family’s past. Not that he had ever regretted his decision to abandon West Hoof, far from it. Thunder had grown exasperated with the Fillydelphia Gendarmerie. He wanted to be in the field again, and the Long Patrol, while hardly the most glamourous assignment, was perpetually short of ponies to serve as commanding officers. Spray owed Thunder so much during those days when he stood on shaky ground with his family. Commemorating his time at the fringes of Equestria was the best way he could think of repaying his debt. The Long Patrol “recruited” from plenty from the Equestrian Royal Guard. However, one of Guard Captain Shining Armour’s priorities had been to increase the numbers and, above everything else, the quality of the ponies who would have elected to serve in the guard. Sending writers and artists to glamorize the branch had been one of his brainstorms. “...pansy wannabe,” Herald growled as he walked past. “Herald!” Thunder barked. “You’ve met Coral? Spray’s fiance?” Herald came over, a charming smile on his face. His muzzle was grey, clearly worn. “Very delighted, my dear.” Coral nodded. She smiled politely for Herald, whose focus fell on Spray. “I do wish that you had considered one of our family’s more...dedicated stallions.” “Herald,” Thunder said calmly, “we are leaving this behind us. At any rate, you must admit he turned out a lot better than Cloud did.” Herald locked eyes with Cloud. She did not appear repentant, or appear to owe Herald anything. Herald grumbled in reluctant agreement. “Perhaps. I do wish, though, that when it came to current events Spray would fall more in line with his family. Spray seems to think we should concede half the kingdom to the Silver nation.” “That’s not what I meant, uncle,” Spray grumbled. He had been asked (an out of place thing to have been asked, but it was not a high quality interview anyway) what he had thought about the recent border dispute. It was a long standing dispute, threatening to boil over into open war, as it did every twenty years like clockwork. It would have been unwise to mention what he really felt, which he endured bitterly. Maybe we shouldn’t treat every pony staggering in from the Silver nation as the enemy, or have spent so many millions of bits on the West Desert Beam. “Oh? Please explain what you did mean?” “I merely stated that I wished that Equestria and the Silver Nation reconcile their differences peacefully,” Spray replied. “Nothing more.” “The entire family hopes for that, Herald,” Thunder added. “Well, if you weren’t going to follow in your ancestor’s footsteps, I do wish that you would have at least agreed with your family’s sense of priority and...” “Noted, Herald,” Thunder said. His eyes narrowed; a Kicker-on-Kicker argument was notorious for getting quite heated. This was not the occasion where it would be tolerated. “Very well. As you were, Thunder. Coral. Spray.” Herald stormed off. Thunder weakly smiled. “Every family has a grump,” he said. “It’s all right,” Coral said. “I understand.” “You’ll get used to us in good time, my dear,” Thunder said, nuzzling Coral one last time before he walked away. Thunder whispered into Spray’s ear: “All the family is asking for is one new Guard cadet. One.” “Yes uncle,” Spray said. “One.” “I’m sorry,” Spray said when Thunder had moved out of earshot. “I figured everypony would have gotten over it by now.” “Well,” Coral said, moving in close, her voice lowering to a seductive whisper, “at least I have the most wonderful stallion in the family.” Celestia was moving to the dias to speak. Music died down; conversation plummeted to a whisper. The princess cleared her throat and began to speak. “About time! I was getting tired of this fancy-prancy....” “Rainbow!” hissed Celestia’s protege. “Fillies and Gentlecolts,” Celestia said, “we are gathered here in commemoration of the Kicker family’s millenium long service to Equestria. Service that has taken many forms, be it in defence of the realm....” Every pony in ceremonial armour smiled. It looked like a sea of shimmering gold armour from where Celestia stood. “....weather manipulation....” “PONYVILLE! WOOOO! REPRESENT!” Blossomforth facehoofed, her face turning a shade of red. “....or through their creative talents...” Coral nuzzled Spray, who laughed. “Tonight, we proudly present, in tribute to the Kicker family’s long and proud service for crown and country.....” Celestia’s horn glimmered as she raised the veil of the painting. The ponies applauded. “Marvelous! Simply resplendent!” said the blonde maned aristocrat, the room’s unspoken consensus being that he would have said the exact same thing if Spray had only used the colour yellow and painted with the brush up his nose. “Yes,” Celestia agreed, “a simply superb work!” The ponies applauded as Spray bowed his head in thanks. The tentative title of the work was The Mountain Watch. It was a guard pony of the post-Luna era, standing resolutely on a mountain, unfolding beneath him the land that he was protecting. His posture, the wind rippling the cape draped over him, the grim look on his face...hopefully any of his relatives skeptical about his life choices would have been won over by now. The Kicker clan gathered around the painting. Skeptics may not have been won over, but concerns were ameliorated. At least this was a worthy tribute, which was the best they could have hoped for. Uncle Hammer detached himself, looking around for his nephew. “Spray?” “Right here,” Spray said. Hammer Kicker came over, smiling. “Spray? I can’t say I’m much of an art fan, but I’m really pleased with how this turned out.” “Thank you.” “You would have made a most fantastic guard!” Instantly Hammer caught his mistake. That was the Kicker clan’s highest praise for anypony not fortunate enough to be a member of their ranks. Hammer smiled, trying to repair the damage he was certain he had done to Spray’s respect for his family. “I mean...sorry. Like I said I’m not much of an artsy type myself...” “It’s all right,” Spray said pleasantly. Best to let the matter drop, and to let Hammer escape with a smidge of his honour intact. He meant well. Hammer shuffled off, disappearing into the family throng. Every member of the Kicker clan blended together into one shimmering golden metallic mass, everyone except Spray, standing a few strides away. Family members detached themselves from the mass to come congratulate him. One by one them came over, and Spray smiled and returned the kind words with a, “Thank you.” The night passed and eventually the ponies began to drift away. Some of them could only swing three day’s leave. The Elements of Harmony lingered, enjoying the painting to varying degrees. Magic was engrossed in it; Honesty said, “Oh, it’s fine, but....” Loyalty spent much of her time on her head, as if that vantage point would change her opinion of it. Eventually they too went back to their quarters. Coral rested her head on Spray’s side. “Take me home,” she purred. “Yes ma’am.” The princesses nodded as they left the room. “Simply wonderful,” Celestia said. “Thank you, your highness.” Spray and Coral walked out into the Canterlot evening towards their waiting carriage. Normally the Kicker family would have scorned such a luxury, but Celestia had insisted. Coral nestled against Spray, who watched his family disperse, some beginning to struggle out of their golden armour. Some foals, long past their bedtimes, began to fuss or play to the reproaches of their fatigued parents. “We’re going to bed...calm down, settle down...get in the carriage, please.” Spray had remembered being dragged to boring guard formations and parades, when there were not so much speeches as speakers manipulating air with their voices. It afforded him a moment of sympathy for when he dragged his parents or whatever relative he could con into attending a showing or visiting a gallery. Somehow, he felt more certain that two months at Fort Lancer would be ideal. Maybe afterwards they would realize he was part of the family, and maybe he could actually understand what went on in their heads.