She doesn't know your name: you're absolutely certain of that. There's no reason she should, after all.
But you know her name. Everypony in Equestria knows the name of Ponyville's resident princess. You roll the syllables around in your mouth the way you would a malted milk ball, the air from your lungs coating your tongue like the sweetest possible chocolate: "Twilight Sparkle," you murmur. "Twilight Sparkle."
"Ummm," a voice says from somewhere to your right. "I'm Fluttershy, actually, Mr. Carob."
"Of course!" You blink, the butter-yellow pegasus on the other side of the counter peering out at you from behind a pink waterfall of a mane. Watching Princess Twilight fly past the open doors of your shop just now, you'd kind of forgotten you had a customer... "And how may I help you, Miss Butterfly?"
Muttering something you don't quite catch, she reaches her snout into her saddlebag, pulls out a list with her teeth, and sets it beside the two-for-the-price-of-one bags of assorted perennial flower seeds. "The usual, please," she says.
"Of course," you say again, trying to recall if you've ever seen this pony before. She has a certain soft, soap bubble quality about her that seems familiar, but you've never cared for these stammering, waif types. No, a go-getter like you, the owner, operator, and sole employee of The Seed Shop, Ponyville's third most successful plant nursery—well, fourth most successful during those weeks when Golden Harvest decides to stay open late—you're an up-and-coming business pony. Only the finest in food and furnishings and mares draws your attention.
Not that you've ever had the time or the bits to really investigate these finer things in life. 'Busy' is the root word of 'business,' after all, and while you subscribe to several magazines devoted to finery of every sort, reading those magazines as you fall asleep in your two-room apartment above the shop is pretty much the closest you've ever come to anything that might be called fine.
A quiet clearing of throat, and you realize you've been standing there staring at the display of starter citrus trees just to the left of your customer. "Yes, ma'am, Miss Butterfly!" you declare as jauntily as you know how, scooping her list from the counter and giving it a quick glance before stuffing it into the big pocket on the front of your coveralls. "I'll have these for you in jiffy!"
Another mumble from her, but you've already turned, springing into action to grab the requested packets and pots and paraphernalia, leaping and bending and stretching: everything she's asked for seems to be either on the highest shelves or the lowest. It's quite the workout, gathering it all, but fortunately you've always been a sturdy stallion—an earth pony through and through—and one thing you don't mind in the slightest is hauling sacks of fertilizer or pallets of budding saplings. Yes, it'd be nice to hire a pony or two to help out, but again, that would take bits you never quite seem to have after paying your bills at the end of each month...
You're halfway through the list, pulling down a small shovel from the rack behind the counter while balancing two periwinkle root balls in your front hoofs, when you suddenly remember filling this order before. This exact order. Five times in the past two months, as a matter of fact. You can even see the customer's account in your mind's eye, her page filed under 'F' in the big ledger you keep behind the counter, and with a start, you realize that you—you of all ponies!—have just now called your customer by the wrong name twice.
Wondering how anypony could go through this amount of planting material every two weeks—what's she doing, starting a nursery of her own?—you spin back, several packets of tomato seeds clenched in your teeth, ready to seriously apologize for getting her name wrong and jokingly accuse her of plotting to undercut your business—
And your customer is watching you with wide eyes, her face flushed, her lips partway open, her breath coming in nearly audible gasps.
A shiver rustles the fine hairs at the base of your neck, and you set the seeds on the counter beside the rest of what she's requested. "Are you all right, Miss Fluttershy?" you ask her.
She gulps. "I—"
But a familiar voice from outside interrupts her, a bellow that's interrupted your life much more often than you'd like going all the way back to your school days: "Locust Bean! Got a bone to pick with you!"
Anytime you hear your old name, it makes you wince. But hearing it in that countrified contralto, Applejack herself now stomping in through the front doors, has always held a special level of unpleasantness. "It's 'Carob,'" you tell the farm pony. "I don't go by Locust Bean anymore."
"That don't make me no never mind." She tosses her head and nods to your customer. "Morning, Fluttershy. Go ahead and get'cher business done with this varmint: don't wanna keep you waiting while I yells at him."
"Yelling?" Miss Fluttershy seems to grow even paler. "Oh, Applejack, must you?"
You're pretty sure you can feel the heat from Applejack's glare. "When he sells me bum seed, I do."
It takes some effort not to sigh. "Did you soak them properly this time?"
"I always follows the instructions!" Applejack slams a hoof down on the counter, all of Miss Fluttershy's merchandise jumping half an inch into the air before crashing and clattering back into place. "Same as I did with the last batch! And I got nothing but—!"
"Applejack!" The word jabs you as sharply as stepping on a rake. Snapping your head over, you almost gasp to see a glare on Miss Fluttershy's face that makes Applejack look like a petulant foal, the pegasus suddenly less flimsy soap bubble than hard and shimmering pearl. "I'm sorry, but I must ask you please to lower your voice! You and Mr. Carob are both honorable business ponies, and I'm sure any dispute between you can be solved without yelling or stomping!"
Silence crackles through the shop for a long moment, then Applejack says, "Well, now." You pull your gaze away from Miss Fluttershy—what in the wide, wide world of Equestria could've gotten into the mare?—and glance at Applejack only to see her glancing at you, those green eyes looking you up and down. She shifts her focus back to Miss Fluttershy, and a grin twitches her lips. "Something going on here I oughtta know about, sugarcube?" she asks, pushing her hat to the back of her head.
Miss Fluttershy's cheeks turn as pink as her hair, so when she hunches her shoulders, her mane sliding forward to cover her face, all you can see from her neck up is various shades of light red.
You're so completely at a loss, you don't even notice the shouting that's begun outside until Applejack turns to the front door with a muttered, "What the hay?"
That's when the shouts become screams, and you find yourself rushing around the counter, Applejack two steps ahead of you, the rumble of stampeding hoofs pricking your ears, shadows flickering in the mid-morning brightness of the street. Then a dark figure swoops through the doorway, purple light flaring from her horn to slam the doors behind her, the princess herself skidding across the polished wooden planks of your floor, her sides heaving. "Applejack!" Princess Twilight's gaze slides past you. "And Fluttershy! Thank goodness you're both still here!" You almost turn to stare at your customer—the princess knows her?—but the princess has fixed her attention on you. "How can we get upstairs, sir?"
"Uhh," is the only sound you manage to squeeze out, and before you can pull yourself together any further—
"This way," a breathy voice says; this time, you do turn, and when Miss Fluttershy gestures to the stairway behind the counter, you find yourself blinking at the steps like you don't clamber up and down the things multiple times every day.
"Come on!" the princess shouts, and she gallops to the stairs, Applejack and Miss Fluttershy right behind.
A heartbeat, then another, you standing staring with your mouth open. Then the situation—Princess Twilight Sparkle! In your shop! Running up to your room! Needing your help—bursts over you like a water-filled balloon, and you follow the three mares as quickly as your hoofs can scramble, a large part of you hoping you remembered to clean up the breakfast dishes before coming down to work this morning.
Sliding into your living room—hardly a mess at all, you're thankful to see—you notice the patio door is open, Princess Twilight and the other two out on the deck you built over the roof of the shop, their front hoofs up on the railing, their necks bent to peer over at the street below. You join them, and for the second or third time in as many minutes, you're struck speechless by what you see.
Your shop's not located directly on the town square, but you're reasonably close, a block-and-a-half from where the new library tree is just beginning to sprout. Eight-and-a-half blocks in the other direction, though, lies the edge of town, and beyond that, the nearest curl of the Everfree Forest. You've always taken the forest's nearness as something of a personal challenge, actually, your emporium of decent and orderly cultivation standing as a bulwark against the wild, untamed monstrosity that lurks at the end of the street. And with ponies running and shrieking away from the forest right now, you wonder just what might be going on down there.
Princess Twilight's voice, quiet and tense, reaches your ears, and you realize that she's been speaking to the others this whole time: "—been sensing weird vibrations all day, so I went to take a look. When I saw them coming out of the forest, I remembered seeing the two of you here, so I turned around and, well—" She waves a hoof at a group of things lumbering toward you from the distant end of the street. "I was hoping one of you might know what they are!"
Squinting, you can see eight or nine of the creatures, long and roughly cylindrical, low to the ground and moving slowly, ponderously, sinuously. They've all got at least four legs, lumpy, brown, and twisted more like—
Like roots, you realize, their bodies all tangled vines, stems, and branches. But these are way too squat and way too slow to be timberwolves, and the heads of these things—
You lean forward against the railing, not at all sure that you're really seeing what you seem to be seeing. Their heads are huge flowers, ball-shaped and bigger than a pony, thick with brightly colored petals, one creature's head-flower all orange, one all red, another a delicate robin's egg blue. Sickly green eyes glow from the front of each head-flower, though, wooden jaws jutting out from the bottom, the thorny teeth plainly visible even at this distance.
"Sweet Celestia," you hear yourself whisper. "Those are crocodahlias!"
"I'm sorry?" A hoof on your shoulder makes you look away from the things, Princess Twilight right beside you, her eyes wide and her face serious, Applejack and Miss Fluttershy beside her looking just as concerned. "What did you say?" she asks.
Your brain wants so very much to just turn off, to stop thinking so it can concentrate on her nearness, but shaking yourself— "Crocodahlias," you tell her, memories popping around in your head. "One of my favorite books when I was a foal was Mythological Horticulture; it was all about the monster plants of the Everfree Forest." Realization strikes you as clear and bright as a wind chime in an afternoon breeze. "And I've still got a copy downstairs!" You push away from the patio rail and race for the doorway.
Multiple hoofs clatter behind you, and you practically leap all fifteen steps to the ground floor, vault the counter, spin around the corner to aisle 6 where you keep the gardening books. You haven't looked at Mythological Horticulture in years, but your eyes skim the shelves in search of the odd, dark-green spine you remember it having until— "Here!" You reach for the book, but a shimmering purple cloud envelops it; the book opens, pages flipping to the back.
It floats down to rest in mid-air in front of the princess. "Does it have an index?" she asks.
Applejack and Miss Fluttershy have crowded in on either side of the princess, the three mares intent on the book, but you're shivering where you stand. The princess! Here! Looking through your books!
"Ah!" Her horn flares, the pages rifling to nearer the front. "Here we go!" Watching her eyes, you marvel at how quickly they slide back and forth, but you can't help noticing the frown that wrinkles her brow. "According to this, crocodahlias don't leave the swampier parts of the Everfree Forest unless their marshes are drying up." The princess looks from Applejack to Miss Fluttershy and back again. "I haven't heard anything about the Everfree experiencing a drought."
Applejack shrugs. "That dang forest: who knows what all might be going on in there?"
Another quiet gasp from Miss Fluttershy. "The new library tree!" She puts a hoof to her lips. "Rainbow was telling me a few weeks ago that the spells shaping it need so much water, the weather ponies have been tapping some of the streams in the Everfree Forest!"
Princess Twilight's frown deepens. "All right, so maybe we can use water to lure the crocodahlias back into the forest." She nods to Miss Fluttershy. "Come on! We'll need to round up all Ponyville's pegasi and raise a tornado from Highland Reservoir the way you did when we sent the water to Cloudsdale! Then we can aim the cyclone toward this side of town, and—!"
"Ummm." Miss Fluttershy's ears fold. "You can't really aim a water tornado, Twilight. They mostly just go up and down."
"Buckets, then." The princess gives a nod. "Anything to get the water from the reservoir to here!"
Applejack's ears drop this time. "'Cept the reservoir ain't got but half as much water as usual 'cause, well, like Fluttershy says, we been using it to shape the libr'ry tree."
The princess stomps a hoof delicately. "Well then, what?? We've got to try something, or who know what these monsters might—!"
"Snapdragons!" you shout. You've been so engrossed watching the princess that you almost forgot what everypony was talking about; you jump forward, jam a hoof into the book, and turn the page to what you've suddenly recalled is there. "They're the mortal enemies of crocodahlias!"
Half a second of silence, then Miss Fluttershy asks, "Mr. Carob? Do...do you mean those cute little flowers?" She points to the snapdragons you have growing in ceramic pots along the east wall of the shop.
"No, no, no!" You jab at the picture of cute little flowers in the book. "I mean, yes, they look a lot alike, but Everfree snapdragons are nasty things! They're a lot bigger, and while they don't move much, they're very territorial, make this horrible screeching noise, and have very strong jaws! I remember it saying in here that once they latch onto something, they hardly ever let go!"
The princess is skimming along the page again. "But you don't sell Everfree snapdragons here, do you, Mr. Carrot?"
"Carob!" you bark automatically; then, remembering who you're talking to, you give a grin and a chuckle you don't feel. "Uhh, no, your Highness. Nopony would be crazy enough to keep those things in stock."
"All right, then." Princess Twilight slams the book shut. "We improvise. Fluttershy, you fly those regular snapdragons out as quickly as you can and lay them in a line stretching all across the street. Applejack, you plant each one firmly in the ground, and I'll fly back to the castle and get the notes I've been making on earth pony magic: I'm pretty sure I can get the flowers to grow larger and can probably make them screech, too." She spreads her wings. "Got it?"
"Got it!" Applejack shouts. She charges the front doors, whirls, and bucks them open. "Grab them flowers, Fluttershy, and let's get this garden party started!"
Princess Twilight, her wings pumping, shoots out over Applejack's head into the morning sunlight, and you realize that she didn't actually give you an assignment.
Knowing she's already out of earshot, you're about to call out anyway, asking what you can do to help when Miss Fluttershy swoops past you and stumbles to a landing over by the snapdragon pots. The salty stink of her fear hits your nose hard, her eyes wide and rimmed with white, but she scoops up a double armful of flowers and flaps for the door.
That you were wrong about her being a soap bubble is getting plainer by the minute, and you run full tilt over to the east wall while calling out, "Applejack! Stay in the doorway! I'll slide the pots across the floor to you!"
"Slide?" Applejack asks, but as soon as you reach a pot, spin around, and shove it along the polished wooden floor toward her, she laughs. "Like playing hockey on the farm pond when we was foals!" She scoops the pot into her front legs and shoves it out the door before turning back and clapping her hoofs together. "Keep 'em coming, Locust Bean!"
"Carob," you mutter through clenched teeth, but then you're grabbing and kicking, sending pot after pot skittering and clattering along the floor and hoping the princess has some reimbursement fund she can dip into for emergencies like this.
Miss Fluttershy is pulling flowers from the pots and flying them away every time you look up to get your bearings, but you've still only sent about half your snapdragon supply across when you hear that wavery voice saying, "Ummm, Applejack? Mr. Carob?"
Craning your head around, you see Miss Fluttershy shivering beside Applejack. "I know you're both busy, and yes, the crocodahlias are very slow, but, well, they're still getting awfully close and Twilight's not back yet and the snapdragons are just kind of laying out here on the ground and I don't know but maybe we should work on the second part of the plan for a little before the monsters actually get here?" She squeaks the last few words more than says them.
You turn and gallop toward the two mares, Applejack pulling the snapdragons out of the last pot and rushing outside. Nodding to Miss Fluttershy, you notice the blushes that blossom over her face as you pass her.
But then you're out in the street, the shuffling, crackling and whiffling noises drawing your attention to the herd of crocodahlias a block away and still advancing steadily. A glance up and back toward Princess Twilight's castle on the other side of town doesn't show you any sign of her sleek, purple form against the lazily drifting clouds between here and there, but you're certain she must be—
"Locust Bean!" Applejack's voice, and you whirl to remind her—yet again!—what your actual name is.
But she's working with hoofs and teeth jabbing the snapdragons into the ground, most of the red and white and yellow chains of flowers laying in loose bundles all the way from your front door to Timothy Hay's restaurant on the other side of the road. "Kinda pressed fer time here," Applejack mumbles around a long double stem of purple blossoms.
You can't argue with that, and when Miss Fluttershy lands near the center of the snapdragon line, you see that she's got the small shovel you'd pulled from the wall earlier clutched in her hoofs. She's poking it ineffectually at the hard-packed soil of the street, so you hurry over. "If I might, miss?" You nod to the shovel. "I'll dig the holes; you put the flowers in."
She's shivering and blushing at the same time now, but she manages to hold the shovel up so you can more easily take it in your teeth. Then you're stabbing the ground with all your strength, splitting the surface and jimmying open little cracks that you hope will be wide enough to hold the snapdragons in place. You quickly reach the other side of the street, and looking back shows you that Applejack has her half of the flowers in place while Miss Fluttershy is making good progress at getting the rest of them shoved into the holes you've been making.
Down the street, the crocodahlias are less than half a block away, their wooden jaws creaking open and snapping shut. Up the street, though, you almost cheer at the sight of Princess Twilight streaking over the roofs of Ponyville, full saddlebags slung across her back. And then, right then, the idea bursts through you like the sun coming out from behind pegasus-driven clouds: this is the perfect moment for you to prove your true mettle to the princess, to make sure that she knows your name, to step up and make her realize you aren't just some guy who runs a plant nursery!
Quickly dropping the shovel, you call to the other two, "Here comes the princess! I'll see if I can distract the monsters to give her time to cast the spell!" You grab a mouthful of snapdragons and leap forward, sprinting toward the crocodahlias, waving the flowers around, and growling as deeply and ferociously as you can.
Three voices ring out behind you at more or less the same time: "Carob!" cries Miss Fluttershy's high-pitched waver; "Dag nab it, Locust Bean!" is Applejack's exasperated shout; and Princess Twilight, her voice panting and strained with exertion, yells, "Mr. Carrot! No!"
But you've already reached the first of the crocodahlias, its body a long woven barrel of roots, its head a massive orange flower, and you rear back, scissoring your front hoofs and swishing the snapdragons in a figure-eight pattern.
The crocodahlia arches one of its glowing green eyes, aims its log-like jaws in your direction, and hisses out a cloud of spicy floral scent that tickles your nose and throat. All at once, then, everything goes blurry, your lungs clenching tight, and your hoofs, trying to slip past the monster, don't land where you think they're going to; sneezing at the cloyingly sweet stink, you stumble, trip, and sprawl across the road.
You blink frantically, your eyes watering and itchy, but you manage to roll away from the big orange blob looming above you. But a red blob rises up to your left, a purple-and-white one behind it, and—
"No!" a voice shouts, and something yellow streaks across your cloudy field of vision; more blinking, and you gape at Miss Fluttershy landing between you and the crocodahlias, her stance wide and her spine straight, pointing her sharp as an arrow directly into the nearest monster's jaws. "I'm sorry, but you will not be doing that!" she declares.
The crocodahlia's eyes go wide, and then the most awful shrieking, groaning, warbling sound starts up to your left. The crocodahlia swings its flowery head toward the din, and when you do the same, you see what can only be a row of giant swaying snapdragons, their mouths open and that horrible noise coming out.
Hissing fills the air around you, and the fuzzy, colored balls of the crocodahlia's heads start backing away. You open your mouth to cheer, but you suddenly realize that, with your lungs seized up, you haven't taken a breath in quite a while. Blackness flutters around the unfocused field of blue in front of you, a smear of yellow and pink swimming vaguely into sight. A voice says "Carob?" several times, each repeat of your name more agitated than the one before. More voices join the first, but by then the blackness has seeped into every part of you—
And the next thing you know, you seem to be waking up. You still have voices in your ears, but they're much quieter now, not nearly as panic-stricken. You want to open your eyes, see where you are and what's going on, but you feel like you're stuffed full of cotton: your head, your body, your legs. Your throat's as dry as cotton, too, but everything else is so soft and warm and relaxed, you can't really get too concerned.
Still, you would like to know where and what, so you concentrate on the voices and on getting your eyelids to move.
"...the spores cleared from his lungs," one voice is saying, one you recognize as Princess Twilight's. "The doctors say all we can do now is wait for him to regain consciousness."
"Dag nab it, Locust Bean," comes a gentle mutter that sounds like Applejack.
"Carob," Miss Fluttershy says, and the sadness there forces your eyes open, squinting through the soft, bluish light at the three mares by the door of a room that isn't yours. Princess Twilight and Applejack are looking at a chart floating in the glow of the princess's horn, but Miss Fluttershy is looking at you, her ears perking and her eyes going wide. "He's awake!" She flashes all yellow and pink across the distance between the door and the bed you now see you're lying in, her smile the most joyous thing you've seen in months. "Mr. Carob?" she asks, her words still a quiet tremble. "Can...can you hear me?"
"I—" you get out before the dryness in your throat chokes you.
A glass of water surrounded by purple light drifts over Miss Fluttershy's shoulder, Princess Twilight and Applejack moving to stand behind her.
Miss Fluttershy catches the glass in her hoofs. "Thank you, Twilight," she says, but her gaze never wavers from yours. "Can you sit up, Mr. Carob? It'll be easier to drink that way."
You nod, and a little scootching around shows you that you actually can sit up. She holds the glass while you sip from it, but the princess clearing her throat draws your attention to her, about half a scowl on her face. "I'm glad you're feeling better, Mr. Carob, but rushing those crocodahlias was very dangerous, and, well, kind of stupid, too: I mean, yes, it took a little longer than I'd thought it would to find a book that described the call of the Everfree snapdragon, but—"
"Sugarcube?" Grinning, Applejack jabs an elbow at the princess's ribs. "I reckon ol' Locust Bean here feels plum beat up enough without you laying into him, too."
"Carob," Miss Fluttershy corrects her again just a fraction of a second before you can swallow the wonderful mouthful of water you've been letting trickle down between your tonsils.
Both Applejack and the princess blush, but it just makes the two of them look unhappy and embarrassed, you notice. Not at all like when Miss Fluttershy blushes... "You're right," Princess Twilight is saying, "and I'm sorry, Mr. Carob, for being so harsh."
You get the last of the water down. "Thank you, your Highness," you say, the scratchiness in your throat not quite enough to make you cough. "I'd forgotten all about the way crocodahlias use that pollen and spore spray as a defense mechanism." You shake your head. "So you're right: leaping at them like that was pretty stupid." Especially since it doesn't seem to have impressed the princess at all...
She nods and smiles. "You rest, then. I'll tell the doctors you're awake." She turns and trots from the room.
Applejack's still got that big grin on her face. "And don't you worry none 'bout your shop. Me and my sister Apple Bloom been opening the place the last couple days and—"
"Days?" You look back and forth between the two mares.
"Four." A cloud of seriousness passes over Applejack, but then her grin comes back. "Fluttershy's been sitting here with you perty much that whole time, matter of fact."
Miss Fluttershy has frozen completely beside the bed, her hoofs still holding the glass of water, and several things all click together in your head: Miss Fluttershy's strange breathless expression while watching you work; those turquoise eyes peering out from the pink cascade of her mane; the defiant stance she took over you in the face of the oncoming crocodahlias...
"Thank you," you tell her, but she suddenly looks like a porcelain figure about to shatter. So you wrench your attention away and look at Applejack. "And thank you, too. You and your sister don't need to bother with my shop, though. I'll be—"
"Land sakes, Carob." She pokes a hoof at your knee. "That's what friends're for. And the way Apple Bloom's showing a knack for the seed business, might be you got yerself an after-school helper if'n you'd be interested." She winks and heads for the door. "Still, reckon I'll leave you two alone." She casts a glance back over her shoulder. "Just don't wear him out, Fluttershy." And the tap-tap-tap of her hoofs fades away down the hall.
Turning slowly to Miss Fluttershy again, you try to gaze gently: her delicate shimmer's come back, and even though you know now that there's much more to her than that, you don't want to make her uncomfortable by popping the soap bubble she puts around herself. "You saved my life," you say into the room's quiet.
"Oh, well, I had to." She's still holding the glass, her smile as unsure as a mouse peering into a pantry. "You have exactly what I need for my garden, and you're always so helpful. And so cheerful." She shudders, her mane sloshing forward to hide part of her face. "And so handsome," she more mumbles than says, but she's right there beside you so you hear it quite clearly.
Looking at her makes you wonder what other marvels might be out there in Ponyville that you've managed to overlook for all these years. You scoot around, take the glass, set it on your nightstand, then rest your front hoofs around hers. "And you're very beautiful," you whisper. "And very brave."
Everything about her shines like a daisy freshly opened to the morning sun. "And just a little bit sneaky," you continue, softening it with a smile, "the way your list makes me stretch and bend so much."
Her eyes are like cabbage moths, lighting first on your hoofs, then on your face, then flittering away to look at nothing. "I—" She swallows, fear and excitement wavering in her fresh-as-water scent. "I enjoy watching you move," she finally says.
The warmth spreading over your cheeks and down along your neck makes you think you must be blushing, something you don't think you've ever done before. "Thank you," you say, then clearing your throat: "And I'd enjoy taking you to dinner once they let me out of here."
She perks up. "Oh! We don't have to wait! We can get dinner from the hospital cafeteria right here in your room if we ask! The nurses are very nice that way!"
That makes you blink—not exactly the finest food nor the most romantic setting. But gazing into Fluttershy's eager, friendly face, you realize that nothing in your life will ever be finer.