//------------------------------//
// Chapter 7: The Liturgy 
// Story: The Faith of Carrot Top 
// by Dawn Stripes 
//------------------------------//

	One Week After the Ascension of Princess Twilight Sparkle

For days after the coronation, all of Equestria was infected by the buzz of celebration. Nearly every soul in the country had tried to cram into the central courtyards of Canterlot to hear the new alicorn’s address, and even now that they had returned to their own cities and towns, a renewed sense of unity and equine pride flooded the streets and hillsides. It felt to Carrot Top like the whole world had been done over in a fresh coat of awe and wonder. There hadn’t been an alicorn ascension in most ponies’ lifetimes. Carrot had used to guile her way onto the Apple front porch to hear Granny Smith tell accounts of Mi Amore Cadenza’s transformation, but now she had a story she could tell her own foals someday.
And to make things even better, Twilight—rather, Princess Twilight—was from Ponyville, so Carrot would be able to participate in her post-ascension Requiem ceremony. Not just be in it, in fact—host it! Nopony in town had volunteered faster than she had to organize the traditional celebration, which was why at this moment, several hours before the Requiem was scheduled to begin, the brand-new Princess was sitting in her very own home.
Regrettably, Carrot was less than a perfectly-attentive subject. Her eyes flitted about the room, making plans for last-minute adjustments while she herself fussed devotedly over Twilight’s mane with a comb. Shockingly enough, the princess hadn’t given much attention to her grooming before she came over, so, with permission, Carrot was brushing her up to standard. Twilight had to be perfect, of course, but Carrot also wanted to make sure there would be plenty of snacks for the guests while they were arriving. And there wouldn’t be enough room inside her house for everypony, so she had to drag all these snack bowls out into the yard, along with her old trough and some picnic tables–and while she was at it, the carrot beds could use a net thrown over them to keep them from being trampled…
But she had to focus! There was royalty in her home—true royalty, chosen by Celestia. Details could wait.
Twilight was holding a book, staring at the cover with grim thoughtfulness. Carrot Top leaned around her comb. “Is everything alright, Princess?”
The princess groaned. “Carrot Top, for the last time! Just Twilight. I’m still the same pony I was a week ago!”
“Och, I know you’re still Twilight.” Carrot gave a few gentle brush-strokes. “But you’re not just Twilight anymore. That’s what we’re celebrating tonight.” She looked again—Twilight’s frown had drifted back to the book. Placing a hoof on the cover, Carrot Top looked into Twilight’s face. “Does that—bother you? If you don’t want to do this tonight…”
“No, it’s fine.” Twilight shook her head emphatically. “I don’t mind having a Requiem. It’s traditional for an alicorn to have one when she first returns home.” Her feathers bunched nervously. She stared up at the cracked oil painting of Celestia which hung to the left of Carrot’s front door. “To be honest, the only thing I’m worried about is that I’ll do it wrong and disappoint everypony.” 
She picked up the glowing item on the table–a series of concentric bronze rings, inscribed with sigils and set with onyx and topaz which burned like tiny stars. “I’ve been pouring spellwork into this for three days. I haven’t even used a mana loom in ages, but I wanted to make sure my spell was perfect beforehoof—I wouldn’t want to cold-cast something like that while I’m nervous.”
Carrot smirked, totally without worry, gently teasing the metal from Twilight’s grip and putting it aside. “If I know you a bit, Twilight Sparkle, then you’ll do just grand.” She went back to the combing her mane. “Just think of all this as a party in your honor.”
Twilight grimaced. “I’m afraid that you aren’t helping things any, Carrot Top.”
The purple pony was finally released from Carrot’s ministrations when a knock at the door sent her bolting to open it. “Sunshine and marigolds!” she exclaimed. “They’re showing up already?”
Day ducked to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling, and Allie duck-walked inside after him. When Day saw the alicorn in the center of the room, he grinned and waved. “Good afternoon, Twilight! Happy—oh, what’s it called again?” He glanced down. “Carrot, what’s she celebrating today? Requital?”
Carrot didn’t answer; she was urgently gesturing towards the floor with one hoof. Day snapped his fingers. “Oh, right!” He dropped to one knee.
Twilight spun in response. “Oh, no you don’t! Not you too! I can’t take it anymore!” 
“Day!” Carrot hissed quietly. “Just do it!”
Twilight stretched out her hoof towards the two humans before they could finish humbling themselves in front of her. “If you bow to me, I will banish you both from Equestria!”
The humans froze halfway to the ground. Carrot Top slumped a little. “You came too early. She’s not quite ready for tonight.” 
Day shrugged, showing no evidence of concern, and produced a brick-sized package wrapped in red paper. “Where do I put the presents?”
Carrot Top sighed as she stared at the gift. “They’re not presents, Day, they’re…och, never mind. You won’t be the only one to do that. Just lay them by the mantle.”
As Day roamed around the inside of her house, Carrot hovered, sweeping aside any clutter she suddenly noticed. Day took a special interest in the refrigerator, with its orange extension cord running through a hole in the wall to Ponyville’s one power line outside. It was the only thing in the house that rang of human influence.
Carrot noted self-consciously how he barely managed to fit under the roof. “To be honest, I wasn’t sure you’d come. It makes me dearly happy that you decided to join us, Day.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I came because it would have been rude to Twilight Sparkle not to come. Don’t imagine you’re going to make a convert out of me tonight.”
“Convert? Convert you into what? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Day sighed. 
He did at least help her move the picnic tables, a task for which his hands proved to be surprisingly useful. Twilight offered to help, quoting verbatim from the Official Guide to Equestrian Alicorn-Requiems—which apparently existed—to demonstrate that there were no rules preventing an alicorn from helping with mundane chores. But Carrot Top shrewdly deflected her by noting that other guests would probably arrive soon, and sending Twilight to the yard greet to greet the ponies who soon arrived.
Carrot Top was pleased with the turnout, compared to what she expected. Most of the older folks in Ponyville chose to attend, along with the Cakes, the Clouds, and the local herd of the Apple family. Twilight’s closest friends were there for her sake, and Derpy would surely arrive at any minute, because Carrot coaxed her to social occasions at every opportunity. Twilight greeted each guest, and, with a little lip-biting and meaningful looking-on from Carrot, managed to be gracious about the bows and curtseys everypony gave her.
Carrot had sent invitations beyond Ponyville as well, thinking of dozens of ponies outside town who would have liked to attend a Requiem. Not many chances came up to be at one, after all. She had taken special care to write a cordial invitation to the Carrot farm back home in Golden Hills. But although she leaned up against her fence to watch the western road time and time again that evening, she never saw the telltale dust of the clan’s towering travel wagon. Nor did she expect to. Her parents hadn’t written in the last few weeks. She hoped they would soon. She wished they would have come.
For better or worse, she soon stopped looking; being a host was more work than she’d expected. It almost impossible to spend any time with Twilight herself with one thing after another coming up. Carrot Top had spent the afternoon working up her courage to ask Twilight if she could do her homage in the old chants someday, but at this rate, she might not exchange another word with the alicorn before the night was over.
First it was the celery running out. Applejack was a enough of a dear to run to Sweet Apple Acres, which was much closer than the market, and fetch a few loaves of bread and some apples to replace it. Then Lyra tripped on Carrot’s hoe—which Carrot shouldn’t have left leaning against the fence to begin with—and snapped the old thing in two, so Carrot had to spend what felt like an hour reassuring the unicorn that it wasn’t a bother and she wasn’t upset.
She had just earned herself a moment of respite by then—all the guests had arrived, and everypony was happily munching and talking away. Carrot scouted out Twilight, who was seated at a table by the humans; she found the alicorn just in time to see her fill her mouth with hay fries and squirt tomato sauce from a bottle in after it.
Carrot took an extremely deep breath, waggled her ears, and massaged her closed eyelids as she muttered to herself.

And these, the chosen few, will bear the weight of the world upon their backs. (Celestia 40:3)

Carrot was just about to trot up to the wayward princess when she was blindsided by a sobbing Derpy Hooves. So she had to forget about Twilight again, letting her attention be absorbed by the next calamity. She tried to guide the disconsolate mare inside her house so she could ask what was wrong in private, but Derpy didn’t even make it that far. Carrot didn’t have much to do but embrace her friend and offer a patient pair of listening ears, right in the middle of her backyard garden.
Apparently the pegasus had discovered, over a lunch break with her co-workers earlier in the day, that after a pony worked five straight years for the Cloudsdale county postal service they were given an automatic raise. It had been very exciting; the raise would have been enough to send Dinky to music camp and pay Twilight for the magic lessons she’d been previously giving the foal for free. Dinky had helped her to check her payroll, and they hadn’t found any raise on it yet, so Derpy had gone to her supervisor expecting to sort things out.
But when the mare had asked why nothing had shown up in her paycheck, the supervisor had replied that raises were ‘for ponies who can fly straight and deliver packages on time’.
Honestly, sometimes Carrot Top wondered if that stallion was worth the air he breathed. No! No, she couldn’t let herself think that way. She was twenty feet from an alicorn, for goodness’ sake. No, just…Carrot Top tightened her hold on Derpy and comforted her in the best way she knew, closing her eyes and murmuring into the pegasus’ ear.
Derpy sobbed for a little while longer, and Carrot Top, ignoring the crowd around them, let her get it all out. Eventually the whimpers quieted, and as Carrot Top continued to whisper in Derpy’s ear, she could feel the grey pony relaxing under her embrace.
At some point, she became aware of Day watching her with a peculiar intensity. Carrot continued whispering without paying him any mind, and when she had run out of things to say she nuzzled Derpy over to the picnic table so she could take comfort in food and the company of friendly ponies. But her ears burned; Day’s gaze remained fastened on Derpy Hooves.
Allie leaned over to Carrot Top. “She going to be alright?”
Carrot Top nodded discreetly. She had strategically positioned Derpy that so she herself would be seated next to Twilight, and so she moved to catch the alicorn’s attention. But Day spoke first.
“You were reading from that book,” he said flatly. “From memory. You were quoting that book to her.”
Though toneless, it sounded almost like an accusation. Carrot’s ear twitched again. Did he have to talk like that in front of Derpy? “Yes, as a matter of fact I did. ‘That book’ just helped me to comfort a very dear friend.”
Day sank back pensively. “Yes…I suppose.”
“The Royal Pony Sisters should be in every home,” Carrot pressed on. “It has something for everypony. Even you, Day, if you’d give it a try.”
Day snorted, hazarding a fleeting smile as he reached for a poppyseed cake. “Oh, I bet.” 
“Oy. If you’re so sure, why not give it a try and find out? I could fetch mine out of the house right now.”
Day ground to a temporary stop over his meal; Carrot tasted a thin satisfaction as he stammered to backtrack through blank seconds. “No, I—no thank you,” he finished lamely.
“Why not?” Carrot raised her hoof. “Unless you’re scared you’ll actually learn something.”
He set his plastic fork down with a clink. “I’m not letting you bring that book out to bludgeon me over the head with.”
“You. And. Fighting,” Carrot growled. “As if I would treat my most prized possession like a blunt instrument! Everything is some sort of battle with you!”
“Oh, isn’t it?” Day looked up sharply. “No doubt you could find plenty of things for me to ‘learn’ if you looked hard enough. But no…” 
He paused for a moment and looked down at his plate. When he came back up it was with a plastic butter knife in his hand. “It’s okay,” he said, “because I have a weapon of my own.” He swished the knife through the air. “My sword…is Occam’s Razor, and you and I…” 
He thrust the knife forward, causing Carrot to stumble back. “Are dueling into eternity!”
She tilted her head and stared. “Come again?”
Day looked around the table at his company, which was all looking at him with the same vague expression of bemusement. Dropping the knife, he sat quickly back down.
Allie groaned and turned to Twilight. “Sorry, Princess. They’re always fighting like this,” she said to Twilight.
“Fascinating,” Twilight murmured in a slow and absent voice. She was fixed on Carrot Top and Day until, several seconds after being addressed by Allie, she turned up to the human with a short twitch of her feather. “Hm? Oh, don’t be.”
She leaned a little closer to Day. “Mr. Amadeus, I don’t remember seeing you at the parade when Princess Celestia visited Ponyville. But you moved here in the early spring, if I recall. Couldn’t you come?”
“I wish he had,” Carrot interjected. “He missed out!”
“No, it’s not big deal,” Day said into his plate. “I don’t mind.”
Allie tossed her hair to look at Day. “I don’t know, it was really cool. Why did you stay home?”
Twilight was watching more intently, and Day, sawing intently at whatever was on his plate. “I felt ill,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Oh,” Derpy piped up. “Like Carroty?” 
The pegasus, Carrot was pleased to see, had recovered greatly from her earlier ordeal. At the very least, her appetite must have returned, because the cupcakes had vanished almost miraculously. The disappearance of any pastries within several yards of Derpy was usually a good indicator that the mailmare was getting back to her normal self.
Day knitted his eyebrows and finally looked back up. “Oh? When was Miss Top sick?”
“At the parade!”
“It was nothing,” Carrot said hurriedly.
But she spoke just a little too quickly, and Derpy was already giggling at the memory. Day folded his hands and waved the mailmare on.
“When Princess Celestia passed Carrot Top,” she chortled. “And Carrot got to talk to her! She leaned down to whisper in her little pony’s ear—and Carrot fainted on the spot!”
Day burst out laughing, nearly falling back off his stool. As Carrot looked around the table, she had to suppress a burning face, finding that even Twilight was suppressing laughter now.
“I remember that!” Twilight clapped a hoof over her mouth and shook. “Lyra had to get a bucket of water. And then…” A snicker slipped out of her. “And then Celestia said ‘I hope that wasn’t the pony who was going to cut the cake!’”
The entire table enjoyed a solid round of laughter. Carrot Top suffered through red-faced, letting them have their fun.
“It could have happened to anypony,” she grumbled.
“I know,” said Allie through tears of mirth, patting Carrot on the neck. “It’s just—snkkt—oh, Carrot.”
Carrot simply sat with as much dignity as she could muster. Eventually, the laughter died away, and everypony returned to their nibbling in a good humor.
“It wasn’t so awful,” Carrot said over the quiet. “I got to commune with her later.”
“When?” Twilight inspected her curiously. “The Princess had to leave within the hour.”
“Oh, not like that,” Carrot said with a wave. “You know—just an hour in the sunshine and quiet. Not quite as nice, of course, but it feeds the heart to know she’s listening.”
Twilight’s tail swished and her jaw slid open. “I thought that old mare’s tale had died out years ago,” she mused. “Carrot–I hate to disillusion you or anything–but Princess Celestia does not possess some mystical awareness of all your thoughts and feelings.”
“Twilight, I’m surprised at you!” Carrot let her mouth fall open too. “How could you not know? Everything which passes under the sun is in Celestia’s eyes. I ask her for guidance all the time.”
Twilight responded with a thin smile. “That’s very nice, Carrot Top. But I am the Princess’ personal student, and I can assure you that I would know if there was the least speck of truth to that story. If she knows all of your thoughts, Carrot, doesn’t she know everypony’s. And can you even imagine what it would be like to hear the thoughts of millions of ponies all at once? No sane mind could bear it.”
“But who’s to say what the mind of the Sun can do?” Carrot retorted, reaching across the table. “Explain the miracle of Hearth’s Warming during the Potato Famine of Baltimare. How did Celestia know what toy each hungry little foal was wishing for that night? Hmm?”
Twilight’s expression was even thinner now. “There are a dozen plausible, rational explanations for the account of what happened that night,” she said stiffly.
Carrot sighed and gave up, resting her head between her forelimbs. “Och, my Princess. What kind of way is that to live?” She shook her head, staring at the orange-banded. “Ah, well. That’s alright. You have time.”
They managed to eat quietly for a minute. Carrot, at least, had a legitimate excuse to withdraw from the conversation for a while. She wanted to seize the opportunity to get some grub down her throat before something called her away again.
“So, Mrs. Alexandra.” Twilight turned towards Allie. “You two are close friends with Carrot Top?”
Allie nodded. “Oh, yeah! Totes. She’s going to join our herd.”
“Your herd?” Twilight’s feathers creased in sync with her face. She took another glance at Day. “And that doesn’t bother you? From what I’d read about modern human practices…”
“Of course not!” Allie stopped eating, leaning tightly away from Twilight. “J-just what kind of girl do you think I am? Like, jealous or something?”
“No!” Twilight threw up her hooves placatingly. “I wasn’t trying to accuse you of anything. I’m…just curious. So, I suppose you’ve adapted well…”
Carrot Top’s attention drifted away from Twilight’s conversation. Dinner was winding down by then, and Carrot had to keep an eye on everypony so that she could keep things moving when they needed to move. Conversations were beginning to dwindle into the evening, and that was soon set to dwindle into night, so she decided it was time they got on with the occasion.
A few brows lifted when Carrot Top stood on a table to grab everypony’s attention the best way she knew how. Day’s utensils shook with the impacts from her hoof. 
“Everypony! It’s time for the Offerings now. Make a line by the fence, please, if you brought something.”
Carrot Top had her own offering, of course, but since she was too nervous to leave Twilight to her own devices, she stood with her near the edge of the farmhouse while the other guests approached the alicorn one by one. Day went first, presenting Twilight with a device he called a calculator. He took a few moments to show her how the various buttons worked; Carrot reigned her muted disappointment, as she observed that the calculator clearly wasn’t an item Day had owned or used. The gift was still in its original packaging.
And once Twilight had calculated some square roots, Day almost walked away without waiting for her to take his name. Carrot Top moved in to give Twilight a nudge in reminder, but she needn’t have worried; the alicorn smoothly called Day back and pulled out her book.
It was a freshly bound volume, covered with fine black velvet and stamped with a copy of Twilight’s cutie mark. The pages were blank until, dipping a quill, the princess wrote Day’s name in neat lines on the first page, along with a brief note about what he had given her.
Things went smoothly enough, even if what most ponies had brought amounted to presents. Applejack came through by giving Twilight the first collar she had ever fashioned for Winona, but many of the other guests simple gave her books. Pinkie Pie, who Carrot hadn’t seen in the line, appeared from nowhere at one point to present Twilight with a cake. Carrot Top face-hoofed, but couldn’t really get too upset about it; she ought to have seen that much coming from Pinkie.
She went after all the other ponies had gone, stepping into the house to fetch her offering. Ironically enough, it was a book, but it wasn’t something Carrot had gone out and purchased because she thought the library didn’t have a copy yet.
The white cover of the hefty tome was a scratched here and there, and the weathered corners spoke to a long history of being pulled off shelves. But despite its age, the book had been kept in serviceable condition by years of care. Not one page was torn. The brass clasps on the cover, which framed an iconographic portrait of two alicorns standing on a cloud, shone with a well-dusted gleam.
Carrot Top opened her copy of The Royal Pony Sisters and flipped through it one last time, watching along with Twilight as ornate pop-up illustrations rose and fell with every page. “This copy of the book was a gift from my grandma when I left to start my own farm,” she said softly. “It’s the last thing I have that belonged to her, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything else. This book has seen me through every sleepless night in my life. I treasure it more than anything I own.” She shut the back cover with a tiny fwump. “And now I’m giving it up to you.”
While she had been paging through the book, Twilight’s eyes had shone in wonder and what Carrot imagined was a librarian’s appreciation for the hoof-painted pages of the tome. But the instant Carrot pushed the book towards her, Twilight seized up in horror, leaning back with shrinking pupils. “Carrot! I—I can’t take this!” She shook her head. “Not something so important to you!”
Carrot’s muscles stiffened. She held the book out further until she was almost off-balance. “Yes, you can,” she said firmly. “You have to.”
“But I know how much this must mean to you!” Twilight tried to push back the book, continuing to look at it with naked wonder and shock. “This is the book you memorized!”
“Then I don’t really need the object anymore, do I?” Carrot tried to harden her eyes and dig in her hooves. She didn’t want to beg.
Twilight held out for another moment, but before long, her head hung and she gave in. She must have known Carrot was right. The princess held the book with great reluctance over the pile of other gifts which had been given her, and then, with the utmost care and reverence, placed the book near the top.
Carrot top looked on with eager fascination as Twilight carefully took down her name.
Now that all the offerings were in, Twilight placed her own velvet-covered book next to the pile. The mana loom was levitated outside a moment later, and Twilight instructed everypony else to step back.
When every guest was at a fair distance, Twilight raised the mana loom—on a final thought, she bent to take a self-conscious nibble of the cake. Somewhere in the crowd, a wild Pinkie Pie giggled.
Then the alicorn stood over the gifts, grasping the magical instrument firmly in two hooves. With a spark of concentration, her horn ignited.
Carrot Top was surprised to find that alicorn magic looked much the same as Twilight’s usual aura. Perhaps it had something to do with what a powerful spellcaster Twilight had been before her transformation, but the color of her aura was the same, and the intensity of the spectacle was nothing beyond what had been seen of Twilight before. A white spark blinded all onlookers, and a mauve glow suffused the yard when their vision returned; when that too faded, the stones in the spell-loom were inert. Twilight’s wings dipped as she came down off the edge of a hard breath.
Carrot trotted up, sniffed once, and made sure her princess was okay. When Twilight looked up and nodded, she took a look at the pile of offerings and the book of names. Needing to satisfy her curiosity, fetched a hatchet from her closet.
She gripped the handle firmly between her teeth, steeled herself, and brought the blade down as hard as she could onto her copy of The Royal Pony Sisters.
The head of the hatchet broke off and landed against the fence. Her book didn’t sport a single additional scratch.
Carrot Top wiped away a tear and smiled. She had no lack of faith in Twilight’s magical ability; if Twilight said she had worked hard to make the preservation spell perfect, then Carrot Top felt safe that her name and memory, in the two volumes stacked in front of her, would stay with Twilight Sparkle until the end of time.
Twilight picked up the broken handle, staring at the pile of gifts. When she leaned in to smell the cake, the hoof which she tapped against the frosting made an almost wooden clink.
For a moment, her eyes quivered; momentarily, Carrot thought she saw them grow wide. Then Pinkie Pie was suddenly near Twilight, nuzzling her happily. The princess flared her wings and turned away from the offerings, back to her friends.
Carrot Top fell back onto her haunches, suddenly fighting back tears. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Soundtrack: “Chant of Immortality” by 4everfreebrony, featuring Chi-Chi
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Princess Celestia,
Today was my Requiem. I know that it’s customary for an alicorn to have the ceremony upon returning to the city of her birth, but since I was born in Canterlot, it seemed to make more sense to hold it here in Ponyville. The guidelines seemed to have been written with the idea that a Requiem should take place at home, and Ponyville has been my home for some time now. I suppose ponies move around a lot more than they used to.

An assembly of ponies, of all ages and colors, shuffled their hooves and gave each other unsure glances from the edge of Carrot Top’s backyard. The guests weren’t certain if they were expected to stand quietly or at ease; none of them had ever done this before.
They had only a minute to wait. Carrot Top was dragging her water trough, filled with sky-colored river, to a nice spot in the center of the yard. She set it down next to Twilight, who waited with an imperial detachment that quieted the tongues of the crowd which would have otherwise been gay.

It might interest you to know that I’ve broadened my recent line of study to include our newest ally race: humans, or, formally under their own taxonomy system, homos sapiens sapiens.
Just this evening, I made some very interesting progress by unpacking more of the books I ordered from Earth and making a comparative cross-study between alicornhood and several subsections of human culture. There are many queer sides to humanity, to be sure, but the deeper I dig—and I have just barely scratched the surface—the more fascinating the parallels I find between Equestrian culture and the history of this vast world of theirs. 

A tiny unicorn foal waddled up to the princess, eyes wide; as Dinky Hooves was encouraged forward by mother nuzzles from Derpy, Twilight met both of them with a warm smile. She stepped forward to bring herself closer to the unicorns, earth ponies, and pegasi gathered apart from her. When Dinky plopped herself down at Twilight’s hooves, the princess bent to kiss her once on the forehead, pulling away from the foal with a moist breath and blinking quickly as she lifted her head. There was a quiet—yes, here, for some reason, was a little fitting solemnity. There was the princess Carrot Top had been looking for all night. Or perhaps she had always been there?
Ah, well, what did it matter? She stood tall, her heart bursting with pride to be a tiny part of history.

My research is progressing so well, I’m getting ideas for a thesis. I checked with the Academy for Gifted Unicorns, as well as Canterlot University; my honorary Ph.D. for work on the effects of interpersonal relationships on thuamic fluctuations still stands even though I’m an alicorn, so I might publish a paper.
Despite the fact that my new duties haven’t left much time for research, material seems to simply jump out at me everywhere I look. I’ve met as many reactions to my ascension as I have ponies in the last few days—and I can’t help but wonder what it must be like for you every day, if the expectations on me are already so varied.

Day lowered himself onto both knees so that Twilight wouldn’t have to hover to plant a kiss on his forehead. Allie followed right behind him, grinning cheekily up at Twilight the whole time. Carrot Top’s breath hitched, but the alicorn only reciprocated the grin and nuzzled her wispy golden hair.
The humans, like Derpy and like all the ponies who had already gone, let themselves out the gate in silence and departed for the streets of Ponyville. After delivering a peck of affection to each pony, Twilight would turn to the trough, dip in her hooves and splash the water on her face.
Fluttershy hid behind her mane, such that Twilight had to step forward and almost chase her down to kiss her. Rarity and Applejack submitted with warm smiles and bent heads. Even Pinkie Pie was surprisingly subdued, though Rainbow Dash turned red and tried to fly away, sticking out her tongue even as Twilight snared the pegasus in a telekinetic field.
Each one left without a word, as tradition dictated. By the time Twilight had made it past Pinkie Pie, water from the trough had soaked most of her mane and much of her neck. It dripped across her face with every splash, running onto her hooves and forming a small puddle.
Carrot Top found herself barely breathing. Suddenly sick to her stomach, she looked behind Twilight at the enchanted offerings, still set near the house, and at the cake which would never become stale.
She could see Rainbow Dash’s gift too, a collector’s copy of the latest Daring Do novel. Fluttershy had purchased a nice wreath of bluebells, and Rarity had crafted a diamond brooch.
Carrot Top felt stupid somehow. The cake—what a wonderful thing. It hadn’t been a poor offering, just because it couldn’t be eaten. Just because it wasn’t something a pony had owned and treasured. Wasn’t the idea that an offering left behind part of a pony’s spirit? What better way to leave Pinkie Pie than with a pink-frosted cake?   
No—it was the perfect offering. Hah! How about that? Pinkie Pie knew more about how to act at a Requiem than she did. 

But I didn’t write this letter just to gossip about half-completed studies. I need to apologize for my outburst on—that night. 
I know that you forgave me on the spot, but then, you’ve forgiven every foalish temper tantrum I ever threw, haven’t you? It’s true that there is no easy way to break eternity to a pony. But that was an excuse you made for me. I was upset by what you told me, but I realize now that the real reason I flew into a rage was because the Celestia I thought I knew wouldn’t have needed to put me in such a situation. The Celestia I thought I knew was perfect, and never needed any help to keep the forces of disharmony at bay.
The Celestia I thought I knew was a figment of my imagination. Perhaps none of us ever really know another pony, only an image of them we construct in our minds—oh, but I was so sure that I understood you. I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that I would have marched to certain death for what I thought you wanted. Only now do I appreciate how difficult it must have been for you to ask this of me—and how much harder I made it for you. For that, I can only say I am deeply sorry.
What is it that makes ponies so obstinate about their princesses? To submit to one’s own conception of you is so easy, even a foal could do it. To submit to another’s conception of you is impossible.

Carrot Top, as host, was once again the last in line. By the time Twilight turned to her, she was the only soul left in the yard, save for the drenched alicorn caught in a burning sunset light.
She trotted closer to Carrot.
Carrot flinched. She squirmed and backed off from the impending kiss. “Don’t!” she squeaked when Twilight’s lips had almost pressed through her coat to the skin.
Twilight backed up to look down at Carrot. Was it just her, or was the alicorn taller already?—Carrot shivered at the flint in her eyes. For a moment, the princess said nothing, instead allowing Carrot Top time to slowly break into tears.
She nuzzled Twilight’s neck, her chest shuddering lightly every couple of seconds. “I don’t want to leave you here,” she said. “This whole ceremony is stupid! I—I’m sorry it’s so stupid—I’m so sorry for the cold—it’s so cold—I’m sorry–” 
Twilight took her by the shoulders and held her still. 
“You have to leave,” she said. 
Carrot bit her lip, but she didn’t try to resist. Twilight would have held her in place with magic otherwise, and some part of Carrot Top knew that if she steeled herself, she would feel a little better when she looked back on this night from the future.
She felt the flowery touch of Twilight’s lips, firm against her skin. Carrot galloped off before she could hear the splashing of the alicorn washing the kiss away in the trough. 
Carrot Top would return to her house only after dawn; for the rest of that night, her yard would become a sacred ground, and Twilight would stand vigil there with the stars and the blackness of infinity for company. 

So many ponies came to my coronation. Fewer to my Requiem. But I don’t mind. It was a good night. A wonderful host ran the whole event for me, a very devoted subject of yours by the name of Carrot Top. In fact, I hear from Rarity that she’s been hard at work turning some of the local humans over to your wisdom. I think she even wants to start a herd with them.
Oh, now I really am gossiping!
But Carrot Top is truly a loving pony. I find myself wondering if she wouldn’t have made a better alicorn. There are so many ponies here who would make fine princesses. At least as good as I will. So why did you choose me?
I know that you have reasons, and that they’re good reasons. But it’s so hard to see what they are sometimes. Please, write to me if you have time. I just want hear you say that what you’ve done is for the best, even if I already know.

Your Faithful Student,
Twilight Sparkle

P.S. Princes...you don’t happen to hear the thoughts of every living thing in Equestria, do you?


Lyra lifted her hooves as she trotted back through the moonlight that night. Her tail swished every now and then with spirited energy, and she hummed gaily to herself, smiling at every shadow that stirred in the empty streets. 
Something about tonight left her feeling right with the world. Everypony was supposed to go straight home after the Requiem, but Carrot Top had caught up to her and spent some night hours reciting journey poems from The Royal Pony Sisters out of memory.
Maybe it was because Celestia’s words always had a calming effect on her. The Equus in the book was certainly very pretty. Lyra didn’t try to analyze it more deeply than that. She was happy to have Carrot Top around, in she ever started to worry about the meaning of life, but until it worried her she generally left the musings to ponies who enjoyed that sort of thing.
She pushed into a cozy two-story on Crayonberry Lane, quickly washing her face in the sink and kicking off her horseshoes as she clambered up the stairs to a bedroom smelling of linen sheets. A wedge of floor was lit by what little starlight streamed through a window with the curtains thrown wide open. 
The comforter was crumpled and lying halfway off the bed, which was far too wide to have been built for a pony, much less a single pony. The mattress was set so high that Lyra didn’t even see over the top until she bunched her legs and jumped, in an awkward catlike maneuver she’d had to work out herself.
There was a human sprawled across a good three-quarters of the bed. He was lying facedown, undressed, snoring gently. The sheets covered up his lower half, but a warmth gathered in Lyra’s stomach as she took in the play of starlight on his uncovered back and shoulder blades.
He was also very much asleep. She let out a little noise of frustration and leaned down to sweetly kiss his neck, giving it a lick afterwards just because she felt like it. Tom was far too exhausted for any fun and games tonight; he’d pulled his double shift today to make up for the time off on Hearts and Hooves Day.
Hearts and Hooves Day had been totally worth it, though.
The man pushed a tiny mutter through his pillow, and the fingers on his left hand twitched, acknowledging Lyra’s arrival. Lyra snuggled into the mattress beside him, pushing as much of her neck and barrel against his cool, smooth skin as equinely possible. “Tomorrow,” she whispered huskily into his ears, “you’re mine. Got it?”
Tom grunted a single note of assent.
Lyra’s tail twitched. She grumbled a little to give vent to her sexual frustration, and then, because she didn’t feel drowsy enough to fall asleep just yet, got back out of bed.
She unfolded a couple of her socks from the nightstand. She had just one set, nice and long ones, striped with the same green as her coat because that was what Tom liked. Lyra used her teeth to pull them on tight, but she just put the two on her front hooves—that was all for tonight.
Her bare hooves were uncomfortable for Tom, but with these on she could touch him a little more freely. Lyra straddled Tom’s back, letting her back hooves clamp against his hips, and started working her forehooves in firm circles around the small of his back.
Tom didn’t have to move. He just had to continue to lie there, and occasionally he chose to let out a small, soft sound of satisfaction as Lyra found a knot in his muscles, or just the right spot between his shoulders. She happily occupied herself this way for the better part of an hour, until the torture she inflicted by teasing herself was too much to bear. She lowered herself onto his back, bringing her muzzle close to the back of his head. “First thing tomorrow,” she whispered.
Tom’s shifted under her. Lyra got off and watched him make the tortuous and immense effort of rolling over, accompanied by an equally drawn-out groan. The reward, when he collapsed onto his back, was that he could look up at his mare and smile sleepily, prompting Lyra to immediately rush in for a kiss.
“Kay, Lye-Lye,” he said when he had the opportunity to gather air.
Giggling in delight, Lyra gave a quick love-nip to his ring finger, letting her teeth linger over the golden band there.
Her mind raced ahead of her in spite of itself, filling her head with pictures as it grew drowsy and loosened its hold on her imagination. Lyra put her forehooves against Tom’s chest and held him there, drinking in the delicious warmth which flared as he made a paltry struggle against her weight and found himself locked firmly in place.
She traced circles on his skin. Lyra felt as though her heart was filled up—no more could possibly fit inside, or surely she would explode. 
Pondering Tom in the night, Lyra was moved to tears and new depths of devotion. Why couldn’t she feel like this all the time, now when she understood how important he was to her? Why did they ever have to fight?
“Tom,” she whispered, “I—I’ll let you hold onto more of the money. I know it bothers you because of the way you were raised.” She hung her head—her nose drifted on his chest. “You told me! And I should have listened! It’s not like you would be any less responsible with it than me. I want to let you be any kind of man you want to be.”
Tom snorted once, still motionless. He mumbled something—Lyra leaned in, pricking her ears to make sense of his lazy, half-formed syllables.
“Don’t care.” He made the effort to drag a hand up onto his own chest, where his thumb and forefinger could circle around Lyra’s sock-clad hoof. “Fuck my culture anyway. You can watch all the money if you want, Lyra. Buck it. You can tell me what to do. I’d be your slave if you wanted.”
Lyra laughed through an inexplicable curtain of tears, pushing down playfully with one hoof in rebuke. “You’re just tired,” she admonished. “I don’t want you to be my slave.”
“I mean it though,” he mumbled insistently. “You gave up just as much for me—I can’t make your parents speak with you again, but…I can give you something. I don’t care if I forget about the whole world outside Ponyville. I wouldn’t even care if…I don’t know, if they gelded me. I would stick by you. No matter what.”
Lyra’s heart felt so swollen from joy that she felt certain that it would burst, leak through her veins, and flood from her pores, washing all over her husband like frosting on a piping hot pound cake. She didn’t deserve this. Not Tom. Upon reflection, it made no sense that the fevered dreams of her entire life should turn out to be true, almost by magic, fulfilling every hope she had ever dared to dream that life was preparing her for. But—by Celestia’s grace—here he was in front of her.
Lyra sat up for a long time, even though she could have snuggled into his chest, curling her head under his chin so that her horn gently traced the side of his cheek. She even pictured doing it, and decided to fall asleep that way. But for now she sat up watching Tom as the rise and fall of his chest slowed again into snoring, adding her slow, random caresses into his sleep—his face, his shoulder, the back of his hand.
What little moon was out tonight spun away, out of the window. As Tom’s form drifted into silhouette in her bed, Lyra’s thoughts drifted to other faces. Amadeus, the heart’s desire of Carrot Top who played hard-to-get, and also another shape, a different shape from her memories. 
There was something else. Something more had gotten her frisky tonight than holy reminders of the rightness of the world and her actions. A letter had come last week from a man with only one leg. Tomorrow, the man was due to step off a train in Ponyville. His days on Earth were finally through, and he said he wanted to live there, or maybe in Appleoosa—he was looking at ranches in Appleoosa, but he had written that he wanted to stop by and see her after all these years.
The man had also asked if Lyra was doing anything tomorrow night for dinner. Her heart had skipped a beat when she read that line.
She’d read that line over and over. But despite the number of times she looked at it, the letter wasn’t sitting out on the table. Instead it was hidden in her vanity, behind hairbrushes and a bottle of mane spray where Tom wouldn’t stumble across it.
She’d told herself there was no reason to hide the letter. But she still never brought it out when Tom was around. The guilt had pestered Lyra all week, and even worse was how confused she felt at feeling guilty in the first place.
Carrot Top had put her into such a particularly good mood tonight because she and her book had a way of helping things make sense. Coming home Lyra hadn’t been the least bit concerned. But here, in Tom’s arms…the confusion was starting to come back like a shadow on the edge of the bed.
Lyra’s face creased. She didn’t want to keep hiding anything. The way she felt right now, with her heart burst, she could be fearless. With a shuddering breath she gingerly leaned down, not pressing herself into the valleys of Tom’s chest the way she wanted, but hovering close to his cauliflower-shaped ears. “Tom?” 
She broke the night again. “Tom? Are you awake?”
A grunt.
“Hey, Tom. What if we made…us…um…into a herd?”
“Mmm?”
Lyra’s heart was being a fickle beast, betraying her with such erratic beats. Why did she have to get so nervous? It felt like being a love-struck filly daring to ask Tom out for the very first time, all over again. There should have been nothing nerve-wracking about adding another stallion to her life.
“Y-y-you know, Tom. A herd. What if we…invited someone new? Not to live with us. Not right away,” she qualified hastily. “Baby steps. Take courtship nice and slow, like proper ponies. A few dates, things like that.”
Tom’s skin went just half a degree colder—although that was clearly the product of Lyra’s overactive imagination—and she felt his muscles, which she had long since carefully mapped, tense and shift.
“Maybe we could get them to take us that five-star restaurant you liked. Remember the Violet?” Lyra wasted a grin on his barely-open eyes. “Or we could take them to the park where we first kiss. Oh, and we could have fun teasing them. You’d have fun!” 
“I dunno’.” There was a pause. Lyra watched the subtleties flicker over his face. A crease. A tilt. “A mare?”
“M-maybe.” Lyra trembled. “Or maybe not…”
There was utter quiet in the bedroom. “Dunno’,” Tom repeated at length. “Can we talk ’bout it tomorrow? Awake?”
Lyra nodded, several vigorous times, before noting that he probably couldn’t see her nod. She opened her mouth.
“Forget it!” She flung herself against him. “I won’t make you do anything, Tom. You can fuck my culture—er–” She blushed, in the dark where he couldn’t see. “I mean…well, it doesn’t matter I meant.” Almost deflating with shuddering relief, she finally gave into the valleys of his chest and closed her own eyes. 
“I belong to you. Oh, Tom, only you.” A kiss. “And that’s okay. I’ll be yours if that’s what you want.”
The screaming, crying, dying part inside of Lyra, this pony part of her wailed as it spiraled down into the grave of her unconscious. She stomped it out like a weed upon fine grass. For Tom, she would sacrifice that part—slit its throat, bury it out back, and cover up the murder by pretending that it had never lived at all. This was a price she swore to pay in a midnight promise. She had her paradise already, after all, and nothing could be worth endangering that.
The mare and the man folded into one shape in the night as stars flashed across their window, dancing the slow dance that was their habit under Luna’s reign. Eventually, Tom’s breath evened out into snores, and Lyra’s joined them. And then, without either of their notice, Luna passed over them and stitched their dreams together so that they could walk in the same fields of unwaking, where the flowering meadows extended forever and the hills shuddered with song at the passing of lovers, as in the days of old.