//------------------------------// // Weaknesses // Story: Somber Ties // by Mobytums //------------------------------// Wheeling her cart through the rocking double doors of the house’s kitchens, her eyes squeezed nearly shut in response to the wave of warmth that washed over her in a tide. The scents of cooking delicacies and the sounds of rambling cooks furiously berating inept apprentices threatened to overwhelm her senses. Hurriedly seeking shelter with her cart from the bedlam, she steered toward the nearest island of calm in the storm, a corner of the room amongst other unfilled carts and idle servants. Blowing out a weary sigh, she slumped against a nearby wall, glad for the chance to rest her hooves. Her ears twitched as the sound of low whispers reached them in between lulls in the chefs’ shouts and her eye opened a sliver as she beheld two other mares close to her own age huddled together. Unable to put names to their faces, her eye slid shut, taking advantage of the momentary respite. It seemed like she had only just shut her eyes when she felt a hoof shaking her withers, and her eyes snapped open as she shook herself awake. “Oh, no! Oh, no no no no! Please don’t tell me I fell asleep! Malice will flay me alive!” The two maids that she remembered from earlier jumped back slightly, startled. “Whoa, easy there filly. There’s no need to give yourself, like, a hernia or anything. It’s alright, you didn’t sleep through anything.” “Yeah, totally,” the second mare chirped. “You must’ve zonked out for only, like, five minutes.” A hoof pressed against her chest, easing out a sigh of relief as the first maid giggled, the many bracelets on her forelegs clinking together softly as she moved. “Filly, you need to take it easy. You’ll get wrinkles if you keep working yourself ‘til you drop like that.  I’m Bangle, by the way, and this is Lemon Zest.” The second mare smiled in a friendly way, waving a hoof in greeting. “What’s the Witch got you running around for anyway?” “W-what? Witch?” The mare’s eyes gave an exaggerated roll. “Uh, duh, you know. You totally said her name and everything. Guess that explains why you’re working like you’ve got the Princess breathing down your neck. She must’a popped you one, huh?” The mare blinked in surprise before Bangle smirked, reaching up a hoof bejewelled in various bracelets to tap smartly on a discolored patch on her cheek. The maid gasped as the unsightly bruising twinged in discomfort, her own foreleg snapping upwards to cover it protectively. “Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to, like, hurt you or anything.” The mare’s ears drooped in sympathy as Lemon Zest stepped forward, tutting as she gently grasped the maid by her jaw, turning her muzzle this way and that. “Cadance, she got you good, huh? You must’ve, like, tap-danced across the line for her to pop you this bad.” She let go of the bruised cheek and turned around to rummage around in the pockets of her apron. Pulling out a strip of gauze and a roll of tape, she quickly plastered a bandage over the injury. As she put the finishing touches on the covering, Lemon couldn’t help but notice the particular emblem stitched into the maid’s uniform. “Hey, that’s the boss’ symbol you got stitched there!” She gasped, as she bent back down to four hooves. “You’re one of her personal hoofmares, aren’tcha? Well, that explains why Bangles and I haven’t seen you before. What’s your name, huh?” “U-uh, uhm…” The mare hesitated, glancing briefly between her two fellow mares, their eyes shining with curiosity. “I’m, um...Vanilla. Vanilla Bean.” “Ooh, vanilly! Filly Vanilly,” Bangles squealed. Vanilla blinked in surprise as Lemon Zest rolled her eyes at her friends’ antics. “Vanilla, huh? Well, don’t mind Bangle, Vanilla. She’s just got this thing for nicknames.” “O-oh. Alright then.” “Anyway, now that introductions are outta the way, what’s a hoofmare doing all the way down in the kitchens? Wouldn’t they have gotten some regular maid like Bangle to do all this running around?” “Hey!” A small flicker of a smile touched Vanilla’s muzzle as she watched Lemon smirking through Bangle’s affronted pouting. Any trace of mirth disappeared, however, when the mares’ expectant gazes returned to her. “Well, no not exactly—” “Oh, wait!” Bangles gasped. “I bet I know what it is! Remember,  Zest? I was telling you I’d heard some really interesting news from the ponies on night shift last night. Apparently the Witch and some crony ponies were escorting some important guest to the boss’ guest rooms.” “Yeah? I wonder who it could have been.” “That’s just it! Now, you didn’t hear this from me, but I heard that, whoever they are, they’re somehow related to the boss’ mystery guest.” “Mystery guest?” “Yep! I’ve heard from a few sources who are gonna stay, like, totally anonymous that it’s a certain lord who’s been a little...friendly with our boss lately.” “No way! Him? But if he’s here how come I haven’t seen him? I thought he loved to mingle.” Vanilla looked back and forth between the two mares as the shared interest of gossip caused them to gravitate together like planetary bodies. “Oh, he does, but he apparently likes to do something else a little more. I heard they’ve been...talking. Fraternizing even.” Bangle ended her tale with a satisfied smirk that slowly faded as she realized the expressions on her confidants’ faces was more along the lines of lost and confused and less the scandalized fascination she’d been vying for. “Yeah, so?” Lemon asked, her withers rocking up and down in dismissal. “Oh, come on!” Bangle whined, eyes darting between the confused mares. “You, know what I mean, right Vanilla?” The mare in question jumped in surprised as her personal space was rapidly invaded by a distressed mare with a prodigious pout, even her various pieces of jewelry clicked in what seemed to be a piteous way. “Uhm…” Lemon rolled her eyes at Bangle’s groan of disgust. “Oh, for Cadance’s sake filly, just spit it out already.” “What else do two adult ponies do in a room alone together for hours on end? Have secret, totally romantic love affairs, obviously!” “What?!” Vanilla shrieked, her bruise stinging with the sudden onset of scarlet. “Aha!” Bangle shouted triumphantly, pointing a hoof at her crimson face. “I knew it!” Lemon Zest sighed. “And what’s this have to do with whoever the Witch brought in?” “Well, I heard it was a foal!” “A foal? No...you don’t honestly think—” “And I think it’s totally theirs!” She squealed in excitement. “That’s totally ridiculous,” Lemon deadpanned. “But it makes sense, doesn’t it? From what I’ve heard they only let it out of the guest rooms to see them! And they have the Witch on guard duty twenty-four seven!” “And I’m telling you that doesn’t make any sense! I don’t think the boss would hide her own flesh and blood away from the world. And on top of that, do they even look alike? Has anypony actually seen it up close?” Bangle’s ears drooped slightly as she tapped her chin. “I’m not sure. The only pony I’ve heard that sees it regularly besides the Witch is whoever delivers its meals.” Vanilla imagined she could hear the fizzle of light bulbs snapping to life above their heads as they turned to regard her with equal parts disbelief and wonder. “No…” “Vanilly!?” The maid’s ears splayed back in a semblance of animal terror as she was slowly cornered against an empty meal cart by two intrigued mares. “I’m sorry girls, Malice would kill me if I said anyth—” “Oh. My. Cadance!” Bangle whispered hoarsely. “Oh my Cadance, Vanilly you have to tell us everything right now! What is it? Just a guest; a dignitaries’ child? A niece or nephew? An illegitimate love-child born from an ill-considered but fateful night of reckless passion?!” Vanilla’s eyes rolled in their sockets as she was gripped by a pair of iron hooves and shaken in excitement when the frenzied questions plying her from two sides were suddenly interrupted by a gruff shout. “Oy, yous three!” The three mares jumped as an angry stallion wearing an apron and chef’s hat and covered in the assorted colors of various sauce stains descended upon them in a fit of bombastic shouting, waving a wooden spoon around threateningly. “What in the princesses’ names are yous fillies doin’ sittin’s around and wastin’ precious time’s? You!” He prodded his wooden spoon at Bangles whose shaking was causing her namesake to fill the air with the rattling of dozens of maracas. “There’s food sittin’ in dese carts waitin’s to be delivered’s! Get off ya rump and move it!” As Bangle galloped off towards the waiting cart and began trying to shove its laden bulk out the swinging double doors, the remaining mares cowered together under the molten glare the chef turned on them. “And yous, Lemon! When dese beautiful lids finish their blinkin’ I’d better sees you back at your station cookin’ and not fiddlin’ around doin’ nothin’. Or I’ll be zestin’ yous!” Vanilla whimpered in fear as her last rock in the proverbial storm sank under the waves and fled back toward the lines of cooks and cookware with her apron flapping in the artificial breeze. Vanilla shrank down to the floor as the irate cook snorted in irritation before training his bloodshot eyes on her prostrate form. “I’m sorry!” She cried. “I was just sent down here to get a food cart for Mistress, I didn’t mean to intrude on your work! I’m just a hoofmare! Please don’t zest me!” She threw her hooves over her eyes, too afraid to stare her culinary doom in the face as he brandished his wooden spoon. “Ahh, quits your ballin’, miss. I won’t zest ya. Nothin’ personal but I don’t think yous would improve the soup’s taste any.” Vanilla squeaked as the chef bent down to pull her up by the collar of her uniform with his teeth. “You’s was gettin’ the Missus’ snack cart, yeah? We already gots it prepped.” He gestured with his spoon past the isles of empty carts to a waiting cart standing by the doors. Draped with a white cloth and filled with multi-tiered trays of small cakes, cookies, and a delicate looking tea set, Vanilla sighed in relief at her ticket out of the crazed kitchen. “Strange, though. I coulda sworn’s that there were more cookies on dat platter.” He mumbled, rubbing his chin with a hoof. Vanilla nearly jumped out of her coat as he craned his head and bellowed at a row of cooks laboring over rows of neatly sliced pastries. “Oy, Shortcake! You’s haven’t been eatin’ the desserts while I wasn’t lookin’ again have you’s?!” Seeing that the chef was now preoccupied with his underling’s indignant reply, Vanilla took the golden opportunity to press the cart through the rocking double doors with the brunt of her chest. As the doors closed behind her, she thought she’d heard a faint squeak, but passed it off as unoiled hinges. Panting lightly as she and the cart travelled through the estate’s open-air hallways, Vanilla steered her burden down slanted ramps alongside white staircases and pushed it, rattling, along the cobbled paths between the gardens bordering the radiant forests. Glad of the moment of silence, Vanilla breathed deeply of the sweet, floral air that blew down from the Crystal Mountains and swept through the trees and gardens. Though the trees’ nightly glory was somewhat dulled in the all-encompassing light of Celestia’s gift to ponies, all it did was bring new facets of their beauty to bear, reflecting off of their bleached trunks like white metal. Vanilla grunted lightly with exertion as she struggled up the final ramp up to her lady’s living quarters, the smaller, though no less elegant, cluster of buildings housing the lady’s more important guests and companions. She thought it was curious how heavy the cart seemed to be, seemingly laden only with tea and confections. Perhaps the extra sweets the chef had mentioned lay beneath the cart’s white cloth drape. The hired guards that stood in front of the living quarters’ doors glared at her fitfully through the slits of their metal helms before recognizing her. Affirming her entrance with simultaneous nods, one of the armored sentinels rapped on the servant’s entrance to the side of the staircase with the flat of his partisan. Giving a quick curtsy to the stallions, she swept her cart past them and through the opening door into a corridor sheltered from the cooler breeze that swept in from outside. The light squeak of her cart’s wheels and the click of her shoes on the polished floor filled her mind with the unpleasant thoughts of the last time she’d walked these halls. As she turned a corner down towards the used residences, the memory of the little filly’s face filled her thoughts once again. It’s important to pay attention to the little things, her mother had told her. “You may be surprised what you’ll find if you look at the details, odds are they’ll give you just that little extra you need to get ahead.” Vanilla rubbed the cloth bandage taped over her sore cheek delicately. It wouldn’t be the first time her mother’s advice had failed her. A soft sigh escaped her lips as her mind’s eye recalled the thin, green foal, cowering behind her walls of books. She’d payed attention to the little things alright, and been slapped for it. The pessimistic thought crossed her mind again if maybe she’d been taking her mother’s advice the wrong way She’d looked so scared and miserable, with her bruised muzzle and the dried, crusty blood around her nostrils. As soon as Vanilla had laid eyes on the little ball of pony, her heart had leapt out to the filly. Vanilla hadn’t had much experience with foals  in her life. She was too young to have found a suitable husband or have a little one of her own and the only pony that she had worked for was her mistress, and as far as the maid was aware, she wasn’t one given to having children. At least, that’s what she’d thought. Aside from the foal being the Mistress’ relative or the child of a guest, she couldn’t imagine what else it could be. The memory of Bangle’s assumption sprang to mind, and was immediately swept aside. As one of the lady’s hoofmares, she was one of the few ponies that got close to her on a daily basis. Vanilla didn’t pride herself on exceptional perceptive skills, but she believed she’d notice a pregnancy during her lady’s dressing. Any further contemplation of the foal’s possible parentage was swiftly set aside as she turned onto the final path lined with wide arches sporting a panoramic view of the forests. Vanilla swallowed nervously as she sighted a blue-grey unicorn mare standing rigid before one of the intricately carved brass doors. “You are late,” Malice called in her husky tones. “I-I apologize, Miss Malice, I got held up a little in the kit—” “I am not interested in your excuses.” Malice interrupted sharply. “The only thing I am interested in seeing is Milady’s tea, and I find myself somewhat pleased to see you have not failed in that, at least.” Vanilla winced at the unicorn’s tone as she rapped softly on the brass door with an iron-shod hoof. “Yes, Malice?” A soft-spoken, yet authoritative voice called from inside the room. “Forgive my intrusion, Milady, but your maid has arrived with your tea.” “Ah, excellent. Show her in, Malice.” The unicorn stepped aside to her previous position, her horn shimmering beneath an oily wave of grey magic. She eyed Vanilla dully as the door clicked and slid open silently beneath her magic’s grip. “Milady bids you enter, maid. Do not keep her waiting.” With a hasty nod, the mare swept through the open portal, which closed swiftly and silently behind her, and lowered into a full curtsy. “Ah, Vanilla, you’ve brought the tea. Thank you for your efforts. Please, prepare a cup for our guest.” “Please, dear. No need to rush on my account. Time taken makes tea all the sweeter in my opinion.” A soothing baritone confided. Vanilla once more fought down the urge to blush like a school filly as she felt his attention settle on her fully. Through some lucky blessing of the princesses, her hooves managed to stay steady on the pot’s thin handle as she gripped it with a thickly woven mitt. “Thank you, my dear.” Vanilla felt a shiver run up her foreleg as a shoeless, golden colored hoof accepted the steaming cup and plate from her own. Bright, baby blue eyes glinted at her as he smiled in mischievous amusement. “Cold in here, is it my dear? I apologize, I find I dislike having the hearthfires a-roaring, as it were.” “For reason’s I fear I’ll never understand, Cruciger.” A feminine tone chuckled. “Ah, but Torc, my dear, you know me so well already! Can you not guess my reasoning? Very well, I shall tell you, lest the burden of knowing I left you as prey to the cruel grip of ignorance fall upon my withers!” He cried, sweeping the hoof not preoccupied with his cup to his chest dramatically. “What use has one such as I for the warmth of a welcoming blaze, when the passions that fill my heart could set not only my own flesh ablaze with heat, but soothe the chills of another, held close?” Torc’s amber orbs rolled tolerantly in their sockets at the yellow stallion’s dramatics. She nodded briefly as she accepted a cup of her own from Vanilla, who had flushed lightly from the lord’s suggestive wording. “I would appreciate you not scandalizing my hoofmares, Cruciger. Princesses know I can’t afford to replace any of them should they faint from overexposure to your antics.” The stallion laughed loudly, throwing his head back and displaying rows of gleaming, white teeth. It was a charming laugh that caused the mares’ own lips to quirk in their own smiles. “Oh, of course Amber, I forget myself again it seems.” Vanilla swallowed nervously as the lord trained his gaze on her once more, fighting the blood rushing to her cheeks as his eyes roamed her body from mane to hoof. “Forgive me, my dear. I meant not to endanger your wellbeing. It is my misfortune to find I was born the sort to speak before thinking to censor such crude words.” He smiled warmly, blue eyes twinkling as Vanilla nodded meekly, averting her gaze to the much safer, though less enticing, view of the domicile’s thickly-woven carpets. “But enough of me, I should think. Would you consider, perhaps, Amber, that our little guest would like a cup of her own. I should think a nice cup would be just the thing to settle one’s nerves after waking up in a strange bed in a stranger home.” Vanilla glanced up at the two nobles who had turned to regard a third, smaller seat set off to the side, as though dragged away from the two companions. She could just make out the soft green tufts of an improperly brushed coat sticking out past the seat’s arched back. “I don’t want anything,” a tiny, sullen voice mumbled. “But my dear, surely you must desire a little something,” the stallion cooed. “Perhaps a sweet cake or cookie at least?” “No…” “Such a dreary little girl. A young lady such as yourself should practice a little civility. Princesses forbid you should let Crux’s attitude rub off on you. I still find it hard to believe that stallion has children, adopted or otherwise. What is the Empire coming to I wonder.” Torc took a token sip of her tea as she eyed the back of the chair disdainfully, her amber eyes creasing in irritation. “You wouldn’t say that if Mr. Crux were here to keep you in your place.” The filly shot back. Vanilla gasped at the filly’s words, her eyes darting to her mistress, whose eyes widened in disbelief. The loud laughter of Lord Cruciger filled the room, his withers shaking in mirth. “Well, at least Crux raises his children strong of spirit. No lack of it in this one, I see!” “Why, I never!” Torc hissed. “Strong words to be said in his defense when she only refers to him by his name. My father would have had my ear if I had called him by anything less.” Vanilla’s brow creased sympathetically as the filly’s green withers hunkered down further into the padded seat. Crux, was it? So that was her father’s name. She couldn’t remember hearing of a Crux arriving at her Lady’s estate. It didn’t sound as if he Lady approved of this stallion in the least, anyway. “He’ll come find me. You’ll see.” The filly whimpered. “Find her? Does he not know she’s here?” Vanilla wondered. Her new train of thought was interrupted by a surprisingly dark chuckle from an unexpected source. “Oh, I have no doubt of that, young miss. Your father possesses quite the repertoire of able companions. I must admit, I find myself envious of one in particular.” Cruciger tapped his chin thoughtfully as his eyes wandered the designs and patterns carved throughout the white wood of the ceiling. “However, not for too much longer I should think.” His eyes fell back down to meet those of the filly who had swept her bespectacled muzzle over the arm of the chair to stare at him. “I personally believe there to be far more intriguing companions much closer at hand than the ones to which Crux is privy.” “W-what are you talking about?” The filly asked, her voice wavering with her uncertainty. “No, I should think that his presence will do little to upset things if we take the proper precautions,” the stallion muttered to himself once again before what would have passed for a charming smile split his lips. It possessed little in the way of friendliness however. “How do you know so much about my father?” The foal asked, jumping up to place her hooves on the chair’s padded arm, her glasses bouncing low on the bridge of her muzzle with her anger. “Oh, my dear. I should think it of little surprise when I say that I pride myself on knowing much of many ponies in our glorious Empire. It will be a great pleasure to make your father’s acquaintance at long last, I assure you. The opportunity has been a long time coming.” Vanilla watched curiously as his eyes seemed to lose some hidden edge she did not recall them gaining. He glanced almost shyly back at her, rubbing his cheek with an embarrassed hoof before returning his gaze to the filly who had yet to look away from him. “I will, however, apologize for your no doubt unexpected and prolonged visit to our dear Amber’s lovely home. I have no doubt that she agrees with me when I say that the necessity for your stay here was entirely unfortunate and unexpected.” “Am I also to assume correctly, Torc my dear,” he asked as he glanced curiously towards the mare seated opposite him who was nervously fidgeting with her teacup. “That those employees of yours were reprimanded accordingly for their unabashed recklessness?” “Yes, of course, my lord. they have been punished. Even Malice does not stand aloof from such an oversight.” “Excellent.” The stallion murmured, smiling brightly before taking a sip of his tea. “Therefore, I should not have to worry about talkative maids either, correct?” His eyes twinkled merrily as they settled on Vanilla, who kept a smile on her face as a strange shudder traveled up her spine, the coat on her neck standing on end. She saw her mistress shake her head firmly out of the corner of her eye, for which, for reasons unknown, she was very grateful. “Vanilla is one of my trusted hoofmares. She knows better than to speak of anything she hears in this house.” “Of course, how crass of me to ask. Please, forgive me my poor trust, my dear. It is simply that I abhor gossipers. There is a time and place for such things, after all.” Vanilla hurriedly nodded her acquiescence, to which he smiled warmly. “I want to go back to my room, now.” Called the quiet filly’s voice, retreated back behind the chair’s support. The golden stallion chuckled. “Of course, of course. Shall we call the young lady’s escort, Amber my dear?” “I suppose so, my lord. We wouldn’t want to keep the poor dear overmuch.” Torc muttered. “Now, now Amber there’s no need to set a bad example for impressionable youth.” Cruciger chuckled, eyes shining. “Oh, Vanilla, was it? Vanilla my dear, would you be so kind as to hoof me a cloth for my cup? Your lady’s tables are so lovely and I’d hate risk leaving a stain.” “Of course, sir! Right away.” The maid cried. Rushing back over to her cart, Vanilla was dismayed to see no cloths or towels in plain sight with the tea set before recalling the second level beneath its white cover. She flipped the drape back slightly and stuck her head in, peering about for a stack of linens. Quite a surprise to instead find a tan pegasus filly nestled amongst the cloths and covered in cookie crumbs. The two ponies, mare and filly stared at each other. Both in shock, though one with rising degrees of horror. “Is something the matter, Vanilla?” Torc called. Vanilla blinked in surprise as the filly began rapidly waving her hooves in the air, shaking her head before silently clapping them together in supplication. “U-uhm. No, ma’am. I must’ve bent down too fast, I got a little dizzy.” “Well, come then. Bring Lord Cruciger’s cloth and be done with it. Malice! You may enter, please.” Vanilla swiftly reached past the prostrate foal and grabbed one of the linens in her mouth. Lifting her head out from underneath the cart just as the door slid open silently, the steely unicorn striding slowly into the room. She bowed deeply, her eyes never opening as her head was kept low. “Yes, Milady? How may I be of service?” “You may take this young lady back to her quarters.” “I implore you to ensure that she remains comfortable.” Cruciger added. Her ears flicked momentarily in what Vanilla swore was irritation before she bowed once more to Torc. “Of course, Milady. It shall be as you wish.” Vanilla felt her heart give another strangled beat as she watched the filly, ears drooping, be led from the room in the wake of the dour Malice. As the door shut behind them, she delivered the linen to the smiling lord and curtsied. “Will that be all Milord? Mistress?” She asked. “Yes, thank you Vanilla. You may retire until sent for.” Vanilla curtsied again as the two nobles bid her farewell. Pushing the cart out of the door and closing it carefully behind her, she closed her eyes. Inhale through the nose, out through the mouth. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. Though she was too preoccupied to take much notice at the moment, she very well may have set several records for speed in pushing heavy burdens long distances. “Alright, you...you...young lady! Get out...of that cart...this instant!” Vanilla stomped the floor impotently, trying her best to heave more air past her lips to her starving lungs. As fast as possible, Vanilla had steered the careening cart around corners and through archways. Down ramps, past guardsponies and over a single janitor who had made the poor decision to drop to the ground in panic at the sight of the out of control tea set. Deciding that taking the stowaway to her own quarters was not the safest bet at the moment with the other hoofmares also on break, she’d chosen the first possible haven that she’d come across. And so two ponies and a tea cart found themselves in a cramped broom closet full of mops, buckets and Pine Soul’s™ scented floor-cleaner. The only sound that Vanilla heard in response to her shout, however, was the the sound of her own labored breathing. “Oh, come on. I know you’re still in there and I know you haven’t suddenly been stricken deaf. Get out of there!” Slowly, and with great reluctance, the scruffy, silver maned filly climbed out from underneath the white linen drape, trailing smaller linen tea cloths and brushed herself off. “And how do you know, huh? With how much you were shakin’ the cart around I could’a been struck deaf a buncha times.” The filly groaned as she stretched limbs that had cramped, no doubt from sitting huddled up amongst the linen. She grimaced slightly as she stretched her wings, however she seemed to shrug off whatever discomfort she felt and finished what appeared to be a practiced routine. “That’s better. I hated hidin’ in those things anyway.” “Oh, hide in tea carts often then, do you?” “Well, I don’t try to make it a habit or anything, but yeah.” “Do you mind telling me why?” “Yeah, sure.” ... “Well?” “I meant yeah as in, ‘Yeah, I do mind.’, not ‘Yeah, I’ll tell you.’.” “Don’t be smart with me, young lady.” “I can’t help it!” Silver smirked. “When you live with the ponies I do, you don’t get to be the smart one very often.” “Well if you don’t want to tell me why you were stowing away in Milady’s tea cart, I guess you won’t mind if I go report you to Malice.” Vanilla made as if to turn around and smirked in triumph as she heard the sharp gasp and frenzied beating of little hooves running. “Wait, wait!” Silver cried as she ran around in front of the mare, blocking the exit to the broom closet with a hoof held up in the air. “Okay, sheesh! I’ll tell you. No need to go ratting me out to the Frankenmare or anything.” “Frankenmare?” Vanilla asked half laughing, her mind’s eye unable to not imagine Malice with two metal bolts sticking out of her neck. They would complement her coat color well. “I’ve seen zombies that showed more life than that pony.” Silver deadpanned. “Z-zombies?” “I read a lot of horror comics, okay? Don’t judge me.” “Uhm...alright?” Silver nodded, satisfied before she inhaled deeply and let it out in a powerful sigh. “Alright, you found me stashed in the tea cart because I was hungry.” “Hungry?” Vanilla asked askance, tilting her head. “Yeah, I was hungry. You try going without food for a day and then finding a cart covered in cookies. They’re my weakness.” “Cookies are your weakness?” “I’m like, eleven, okay?” “Okay, okay, fine. So you were hungry. Why had you gone an entire day without eating anything…uhm?” “Name’s Silver, don’t wear it out.” “Silver, right. So why did you go an entire day without eating, Silver?” “Because I was hiding.” Vanilla sighed, a hoof rising up to press at that spot between her eyes that was beginning to emit a curious ache. Curious because she usually didn’t get headaches. She wondered if it was because she was getting old. “Alright, so you were hiding. Mind telling me why?” “Yeah, sur—.” “And don’t be smart with me again!” Vanilla interrupted, fighting off the infectious smirk she saw on the filly’s face. “Ah, phooey.” Silver’s smile lasted another second before her sudden adoption of a serious demeanor surprised the maid. “Okay, I’ll tell you why I’m here, but you’ve gotta promise me you won’t tell.” “Well, that depends on what it is. If it’s really serious I’ll have to—.” “No!” The filly shouted. “You can’t tell anypony! If you do, Olive could get hurt again!” Vanilla blinked as she pegasus floated back down to the floor from the strength of her shout. She looked perilously close to tears. “Olive?” “That green unicorn filly, close to my age?” Silver rubbed her eyes with the back of a hoof, trying to disguise a sniffle with a rough cough. “How do you know about her?” “She’s my sister…” “Your sister? But that...does that mean you followed her all the way here?” “You can bet your lacey maid suit it does! I stowed away in a luggage chest all the way here!” Vanilla stared with horror as the little filly puffed her chest out, no doubt proud of her accomplishment. “I snuck in here and infiltrated the evil foalnappers’ fortress, and soon I’ll rescue Olive and take her back home while this place explodes in the distance just like in the movies!” Silver’s look of pride and confidence melted as her hoof left her chest to scuff sadly on the floor. “The plan won’t be finished until I find some way to have a guitar solo play in the background at the same time, but I’m workin’ on it.” “By Cadance! You stowed away with Malice from wherever they found that little green foal—.” “Olive.” “—and now the only pony standing between you and sharing the same fate or worse is me!” “Yeah, that’s another reason I kinda want you not to go ratting me out.” “Oh, I can’t do this!” Vanilla moaned, pressing down on her ears with distraught hooves. “I’m no good at keeping ponies secret! I don’t handle pressure well! I’ll mess it up and then Malice will turn me into earth-pony jelly! And then I’ll be fired!” Silver watched with awed fascination as the mare tried to cram herself in her same hiding spot in the tea cart. She finally managed to squeeze most of her body into the confined space, though most of her limbs were sticking out from underneath the cloth, where the cart began rattling with the force of the maid’s hyperventilating. “Oh, nononono.” “Are you okay, lady?” Silver asked, her eyebrows creased worriedly. “No!” Vanilla shrieked. “Well, if you’re gonna have one of those meltdowns that I keep hearing adults have, can we do it somewhere else besides a closet? I’m still really hungry and stuff.” “Lady of Love, preserve me!”