Ponyville’s local park
Present Day
The grass on that hill. Is it greener than it used to be, or less so?
Looking at the very same place through your old, tired eyes, you can’t really tell. Not that you ever trusted rose-tinted memories to the letter.
“It’s good to know ponies are still enjoying that spot, eh?” the elderly mare by your side warmly chuckles. It takes you a moment to realize she was talking about the small family playing with a rosy-red frisbee on the familiar hillside.
You take a minute to watch the three ponies play - a unicorn father and filly, and a mother pegasus - before walking further into the park with your old flame.
“Aren’t you hot in that overcoat, hon?” the mare asks.
“I’d rather feel hot than exposed.”
Of course, she’s talking about the technique you’re currently using to hide those wretched wings of yours. You aren’t really in the mood to discuss that, either, especially since you lost three whole feathers last night. Annie doesn’t need to know that, however. Wouldn’t want to stress her.
Further on down the dirt path is a small row of benches, each with their own square, chequered table for playing board games on. A few of them are already being used, mostly by senior ponies like yourself. Annabelle takes a seat by an unused table, and is already pushing the small black and white chess pieces into position with her hoof. You help her set the game up, like a gentlecolt.
“Gee, it’s been years since I’ve played chess,” you scratch your chin with a hoof, before popping your knight over a pawn for your first move. “I still remember how to play it though. You can never really forget.”
Annie’s face didn’t even move; her eyes just droop towards the board then back up at you as she dryly says; “Then you should know that the white pieces move first.”
You move your black knight back. “I knew that.”
Boy, is it hot here, or is that your overcoat?
Of course, the more you think about it, the more it makes sense; the entire point of chess was that it was an old game based around the battle between Princess Celestia and her then-corrupt sister, Nightmare Moon. And while it’s true that Nightmare started the battle, it’s always known in the history books, and admitted by the white princess herself, that Celestia made the “first move” by confronting her younger sister after she turned. Hence, white goes first. Yeah, now you remember.
Annabelle shifts a white pawn forward two spaces, leaving enough room for her bishop to edge out. You take a knight (not the one you used before, she’d anticipate that) and send it to the front.
The game is slow and steady, both of you covering your defences long before thinking about offence. The ambience of the park plays along with your game; the cool breeze doing its best to cool you off in your coat, the chirping of birds flittering from one gently swaying tree to another.
After a few more turns, you cover your knight’s defence by placing a pawn diagonally behind it, lest another piece try to take it.
“Have you even wondered,” you watch the old mare’s lime green hoof push a rook partway across the board, “about what might have been, Annie?”
Annabelle flicks her eyes up at you for a moment, before dropping them back down to the board. “What might have been between us?” she sighs. “Yes, I thought about that. Especially after I met Oak Apple.”
Oak Apple. Her late husband, as you recall from yesterday’s long catch-up session.
“But even if you came back while he were still around,” the mare continues, “I’d still choose him over you. No offence.”
“I wouldn’t blame you for that,” you reply, withdrawing one of your chess pieces from a dangerous position. “At least he didn’t run away.”
Annabelle doesn’t say anything. She just scrutinizes the board before shifting her queen a single space to the side, lending way to another piece of hers.
“Mind you,” you ramble while keeping the game in motion, “I couldn’t possibly have turned down the opportunity to live my dreams. It just wouldn’t be me. If I’d chosen to live with you instead…” you pause to push a separate black pawn two spaces forward, “I wouldn’t have been the stallion you fell in love with.”
“Do you ever regret it?” She moves a piece, but you don’t really pay attention. You have to look at the board a second time to notice the change; too busy trying to think of the best way to answer her question.
Finally, you reply; “I regret breaking up. I’ve always regretted breaking up with you. But not once have I ever regretted becoming a Scarlet Wing. I hope that answers your question.”
Annabelle’s eyebrows raise to your deductive answer. “I suppose that’s the best I could hope for. I regret breaking up too, but I’d never trade the life I had with Oak Apple for the world.”
You send your black rook forward, with the intent of leading Annie’s queen into a trap. “So we both lived the best lives we could. It’s rare that a silver lining would take up the whole cloud, but in our case we can agree th-”
A split second of whistling, just barely audible, can be heard behind you. It’s getting louder. Closer. In a swift movement, you whip around in your seat towards the noise. A bright blur of red is racing towards you at an alarming rate.
Without a second’s thought, you turn to the side at just the right angle, and grasp the incoming frisbee in your hooves. Perfect catch.
Annie’s face is an absolute picture. A three-pony family - the trio playing on the nearby hill a short while ago - come rushing over. The mother, a grey-coated pegasus with bright golden eyes, apologises profusely, claiming that she couldn’t catch the flying disk when it was thrown to her a moment ago.
“I’m so sorry!” she blabbers. “Darn my eyes, I thought I caught it but I lost focus-”
You dispel her apologetic blitz with a calm chuckle. “It’s okay, no harm done. It happens on the best of days.”
Your old foreleg still proves capable of throwing the frisbee back. The tiny unicorn filly springs from the ground and catches it in her grinning teeth. The two adult ponies smile and thank you before returning to their spot on the hill.
“Nice to see the townsfolk here are as nice as I remember,” you turn back to Annie, who was still in awe of your reflexes. Not that you were smug about noticing.
“And it’s dandy to see you’re still sharp as ever,” she smiles.
A humble nod passes for your reply. “That wasn’t my worst frisbee incident. There was this one time in lower Vanhoover where some jocks threw this bright orange one at me then told me to ‘watch where I was walkin’, jerk’.”
Annabelle’s hoof pushes her white queen forward, taking out your rook, but leading her piece straight into the trap you had laid out. You smoothly wipe out her queen with a conveniently-placed knight, wearing not a winning smile, but a winner’s, before continuing your story.
“Of course, this was back when I was a strong Scarlet Wing on tour, so by the end of our, uh… discussion… they were pickin’ bits of orange plastic out of their teeth-”
“Checkmate.”
What the-!?
In disbelief, you lean forward and glare at the formation of black and white pieces alike. A white bishop had cornered your king in the near-centre of the board, with no possible move that could spare you from either the bishop or her lurking rook. The worst part? Your knight would have been in the perfect spot to defend your king… if you hadn’t moved it away to take out her queen.
“You can, um, redact your statement about me being sharp,” you cough what could be interpreted as a laugh. “Well played.”
“That’s alright,” Annabelle replies, making no attempt to hide the smile that accompanies her victory, “I knew you’d make that move. You saw a chance to kill my queen and you took it. You’ve always been that type of pony.”
“Is that a jab at what happened sixty years ago?”
“Maybe,” the old green mare leans back in her seat. “Feels darn good to win, either way.”
“And since you’re the winner…” you help her scoop the chess pieces away, back in their little compartments under the chess table, ready for the next two contestants, “…I suppose I’m treating you to lunch.”
“Well now, how can I refuse such an offer? Lead the way.”
As you pick yourself up from the chess-playing chair, you notice something drift out from under your trench coat; another loose feather.
Never before has the sight of a feather struck you with so much stomach-wrenching dread; you’re losing them much faster than you anticipated. That’s the first time you’ve lost four of them in the space of twenty four hours.
“Something wrong, hon?”
You quickly recollect yourself. It seems Annie hadn’t noticed your feather yet. You kick it under the chess table and out of sight, if not out of mind. Condemn these feathers, you’re going to enjoy the day with your old flame!
“It’s nothing, Annie. Come on, I wanna see if a certain café is still open…”