Princess Mi Amore Cadenza peered down from the upper balcony of Canterlot Castle’s ballroom. There were no dancers, no partygoers, but merely a humble, wooden table with a few sandwiches. Guards lined the entryways, but were otherwise unobtrusive. Lights were soft. Faint music—played by a spattering of musicians onstage—hummed just loud enough to hear.
If she squinted into the darkness, she could see Andean’s vast wings brooding on the far side of the room.
Chrysalis II walked into the room with small footsteps, her cloven hooves clicking on the marble floor. She kept her posture small and defensive, her eyes flitting like a butterfly on the wind, fearing a predator on the prowl. Her strange pink eyes, with a slit pupil in the center, unearthly and wrong, but full of near palpable terror.
For a brief instant, Cadence felt something deep in her chest that longed to comfort her. She suffocated it beneath a quickly-conjured regal demeanor. It was time for business. It was time to watch and learn.
The changeling queen took a seat. The chair legs scraped against the floor and echoed. Chrysalis’ ears lay back against her head. “Sorry. Sorry.”
“That’s quite alright,” a voice said from the far side of the table. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”
Cadence turned her head to glance at the other creature at the table. A white alicorn, ageless and mighty, her mouth half-full of daisies. “I’m glad,” Celestia said, “that you agreed to meet before the official rigmarole starts.”
Chrysalis looked down at the plate before her, with its offering of either daisy or peanut butter sandwiches. Her mouth scrunched in thought. “I just want to make clear that I don’t… I don’t wanna make any decisions. Without my advisors. Not without them.”
“I agree completely.” Celestia took a sip from a glass of lemon water. “I wouldn’t ask that of you. Not when you’ve just arrived. I just wanted to talk. Mare to mare.”
The changeling’s lips warped themselves into a full frown. “I… don’t understand.”
“I was hoping, in some small way, that we could get to know each other.” Celestia took a larger bite of her sandwich than her mouth could hold and spent a few beats chewing. “I mean, the question is, why settle for peace when you could have friendship? Changelings aren’t known for walking downtown and initiating a relationship.”
Chrysalis II’s head dipped down, but she hid it by reaching for the peanut butter. “I know.”
“So I thought to help you along.” Celestia smiled, her cheeks puffing out. She spread a wing, aiming the feathers Chrysalis’ way. “If you’re willing.”
Chrysalis II tried to smile; it came across as a pained leer. “I don’t see the harm.”
Celestia nodded. “Let’s talk about ourselves. Should I go first, or do you feel comfortable?”
“Y-you should go first.”
Celestia leaned her elbows on the table, and rested her chin in her hooves. “Let’s see. My name is Celestia, I’m one-thousand-some years old, and I’ve ruled Equestria for most of that… I usually raise the sun every morning, though lately I let Cadence and Twilight do it. Just to practice, you know. My favorite food is macaroni and cheese, and I hate getting my feathers wet. ” She nodded slowly, puffing her lips out. “Yep. Yep, I think that about covers it.”
The corner of Chrysalis’ mouth quirked upward. “You make it sound normal.”
“Of course I do.” Celestia tapped a hoof against the table. “There’s nothing more normal than a good macaroni and cheese.”
“No, I mean—” A tiny sputter of laughter died on its way out of Chrysalis’ throat. With a bit more seriousness, she crossed her legs across her chest. “I’ll have to take your word for it. I’ve never tried Macarena and cheese.”
Celestia’s eyes widened. She raised a foreleg and whistled. “Raven! Get this girl some mac and cheese, stat! It’s an emergency!”
Chrysalis II stifled a snort. “It’s that good, huh?”
“Oh, it’s a matter of professional pride, now.” Celestia spread her wings. Light reflected off her pristine white feathers, brightening the room slightly. “While they brew up a dish, why don’t you tell me what you can about Queen Chrysalis the Second?”
Chrysalis II’s hoof found a fork. She pushed a loose daisy around her plate. “I… am Chrysalis the Second, daughter of Chrysalis the Tyrant… I’ve ruled my mother’s hive for th—” Her throat caught. “—three years.”
Her unnatural pink eyes blinked wide at Celestia. “And I don’t want my people to be monsters anymore.”
Cadence saw something few other ponies would catch. A pinch around Celestia’s cheeks. A microscopic raising of the voice. A feeble twitch of the ears.
Celestia spoke slowly and carefully. “How would you want to go about that, Queen Chrysalis the Second?”
Chrysalis’ head came up as her shoulders squared. “By stepping into the light of day.”
Celestia’s smile turned serene and wise. “I think I can help you with that.”
Cadence rubbed her forehead. Across the room she could see Andean vanish into a waiting hallway, out of sight. In his place came Raven, in her perpetual stateliness, carrying aloft a plate of gooey macaroni and cheese, special made. Cadenza almost smiled.
There was something most certainly wrong. Something in the way Chrysalis moved, talked, responded. Something in the way she interacted with the world around her. Something uneven. Something hidden. It didn’t especially surprise Cadence, but it was unnerving to not know exactly what it was. There was something very off.
Celestia saw it, too, she knew. And so the game began.
”After all,” she muttered, “it’s the honor of kings to reveal a matter.”
***
Cherry-O’s rattled into the bowl as Button Mash fixed himself breakfast. Each little heart-shaped bite of cereal twinkled up at him, fortified with dozens of vitamins and minerals. Everything a growing colt needed. The milk followed, slithering between the cracks. Button held his hoof over the top of the bowl, preventing the Cherry-O’s from overflowing.
The silence in his little house amplified the crunch in his mouth. He was in no hurry. He had the day off from the local theater. He had a show to put on for the local kids, but that wasn’t until afternoon. In essence, he had a freebie. A one-up, if he was feeling nerdy. A perfect day to sit back, take it easy, plug in the old Famicolt 64, throw the Barley-Oat Bros. into a few bottomless pits.
He scratched his stubble. Pretty lengthy. He’d have to get it trimmed down before his date with—
Date.
Sweetie Belle.
Wednesday.
His head snapped around. There, on the calendar, circled in bright-red ink, was Wednesday. Today. His day off.
His chair clattered to the floor as he rushed out of his tiny kitchen and into his bathroom, Cherry-O’s raining in his wake. He glared at his reflection, with its sleepy eyes, its scraggly beard, and its altogether too thin face. He bit back a curse and splashed water on his face. He had to shower. He had to brush. He had to get a trim right the heck now.
He almost fell face-first into the shower before he was able to catch himself on the curtain. As luck would have it, the hanger came free, sending Button, his curtain, and a tub of shampoo tumbling down. His legs waved in the air, seeking purchase and finding zilch.
A statistic popped into his head, something about how most fatal accidents happen in the home. He decided to ignore that for the moment.
He got showered and brushed despite himself. He dried off his spikey mane, as he walked into the kitchen. The Cherry-O’s would still be there when he got back. Soggy and gross, but there. He’d sweep up the leftovers after the date, later that night.
He breathed a sigh, smoothed his mane down, and stepped out the door.
He got a total of two meters before he realized he’d left without his money bag. He kicked himself mentally—because kicking himself physically would just draw stares—and scurried back inside.
His bedroom was a mess. What few clothes he owned were scattered around the bed. His sheets were laid haphazardly across the mattress. His money bag was tucked into the corner, almost unnoticed beside the dozen-or-so game systems he’d collected. He stubbed his hoof on one such device, sending shockwaves up his leg. He leaned against the wall, lifting his head, waiting for the ache to pass.
The shelves above his head were lined with wooden carvings. Some ponies, some mystical creatures, even some monsters. He reached up to nudge his hydra figurine. It wobbled, but remained standing.
He smiled at it. “Ready for tonight, bruiser? We’re gonna give them the show of a lifetime.”
The hydra was unsurprisingly unresponsive.
“Darn right, you are.” Button lugged his money bag over his shoulder. It strapped securely around his midsection. “And you know, maybe I am, too.”
It was a short walk to the Smooth Snips, the barbershop establishment owned by Button’s childhood friend. The barber’s pole spun with red and white spiraling stripes just outside the door, catching the eye from blocks away. The bell jingled as Button entered, announcing his presence.
Snipsy Snap, Snips to his friends, glanced up from his place behind the chair. “Mash! Good to see yah. Be right with you.” He scissors worked in a flash of magic, clipping the mane of the young stallion before him. “Gotta give Featherweight his annual bowl cut.”
Featherweight narrowed his eyes, keeping his head very still. “It looks good on me.”
“Why don’t you try something new?” Snips paced around the chair as he talked, his horn bobbing, keeping barely half an eye on his work. “A tomahawk. Some kinda wave. Stallions with ponytails are in this year. ”
“Ironically enough.” Pipsqueak said from behind a newspaper. The top folded down to reveal his face, which held one raised eyebrow. “Or is that coincidentally?”
“Definitely coincidentally.” Button Mash sat beside the short stallion, waiting his turn in the hot seat. “Or maybe just oddly? I dunno what all these fancy words mean anymore.”
Featherweight spread a wing from beneath the bib keeping mane clippings out of his coat. “Irony is when you mean the opposite of what you say.”
Snips shaved an especially long hair from the top of Featherweight’s head. “And coincidence is when two things look related, but they really aren’t.”
Pipsqueak tapped a hoof against his lips. “So it isn’t ironic, because ponies with ponytails is exactly what it sounds like. And it isn’t a coincidence, because they are connected.”
Button Mash scratched at his itchy almost-beard. “So it’s just stupid?”
“I dare say, old bean, that about sums it up.” Pipsqueak tossed the paper onto a nearby table, overflowing with last year’s magazines. “I also dare to say I didn’t suppose on seeing you here. In for a trim?”
“A shave.” Button gestured at the bramble patch of reddish-brown hair growing from his chin. “Wanted to look presentable for the date tonight.”
“Say what?” Snips narrowly missed slicing Featherweight’s ear off. “Button Mash on a date? What sorta arcane covenant did you forge to make that impossibility happen?”
Button Mash ground his teeth behind closed lips. He held a hoof to his mouth to give his voice extra reach. “I appreciate the vote of confidence there, friend!”
Snips gestured with his scissors, and Featherweight ducked. “I mean,” Snips said, “I mean geeze, dude. Horseapples, you know? You could barely get up the nerve to tell your folks you were moving out. Now you’re dating? Where did this sudden confidence come from? I want some.”
“I have a date.” Button Mash lifted himself off the seat and moved to the register. He leaned on the counter and plucked a sucker from a bowl inscribed “take one.” “And the confidence comes from terror, if that makes any sense.”
Featherweight shrugged. He wriggled beneath his bib. “None whatsoever. But I feel you, bro.”
Button’s forehead wrinkled. “How so?”
“Took me a long, long time to work up the nerve to ask Princess Twilight out.” Featherweight stared into the middle distance, a tear in his eye. “But once I did it, I knew that I wouldn’t take that day back for the world.”
Snips clipped a bit of mane that stood straight up. Another hair bounced into its place. He gave up with a sigh. “Princess Twilight said ‘no’ to the date. Something about you being a minor at the time.”
Featherweight grinned. A grin which, in Button’s mind, had the glee of someone who didn’t quite understand how the world works. “I’m not a minor anymore.”
Pipsqueak crossed his forelegs behind his head. “Did you really think that’s the only barrier in your never-ending quest to court her?”
Featherweight’s wings hung limp as Snips unclasped the bib and spun the chair towards the mirror. “Hay, a colt can dream, can’t he?”
Button Mash’s lips popped as he pulled the sucker from his mouth. “How’s the saying go? Shoot for the stars and you might hit the moon?”
Snips pressed against the back of the chair, leaning it back and throwing Featherweight off balance. “Hear that, Weightless? Sounds like a different princess has a place in your future.”
“Har-de-har.” Featherweight’s bit bag jingled at his side. “What do I owe you?”
“Ten bits, square.” Snips moseyed up to the counter to face Button Mash, slipping his scissors into a pouch without even looking. “What can I do for you?”
Button Mash backed up a step, glancing at Pipsqueak. “Isn’t he—?”
“My girlfriend’s in the back, getting her mane done.” Pipsqueak flipped through a mane-style magazine that he probably already knew by heart. “Leaving me to make witty remarks and generally make Snips’ life miserable for hours on end.”
Snips grimaced. “The mane cut’s free if you can get him to leave.”
“No dice,” Button said, tapping the countertop. “Just need the beard trimmed down to a level somewhere below ‘Everfree Forest Chic.’”
“Whatever.” Snips motioned him to the chair, scooping Featherweight’s bits off the counter. “Later, Weightless.”
The Pegasus was already on his way out the door. “Later, dudes.”
“Pleasant fellow, that,” Pipsqueak mumbled. “A bit barmy in the brain cells, but pleasant all the same.”
The bib clasped behind Button’s neck as he settled into the hydraulic-powered chair. He was raised and leaned back until his chin stuck in the air just below Snips’ eye level.
Snips’ horn flashed as he lathered shaving cream onto his patient. “So, who’s the lucky mare?”
“Sweetie Belle.”
“Horseapples, dude!” A long, sharp blade lifted from Snips’ bag. It hovered dangerously close to Button’s neck. “And she said yes? She’s, like, the hottest babe in Ponyville. Maybe Equestria!”
Pipsqueak shook his head, his ears standing upright. “I see your Sweetie Belle and raise you a Dinky Hooves.”
“No way, man.” A swift swipe of Snips’ blade left sweat collecting behind Button Mash’s ears. “Your girlfriend is cute and all, but Sweetie Belle’s where it’s at. Curvy, curly, and a voice like ‘whoa.’” He tilted his head to bring his mouth close to Button’s. “When you totally strike out, I’m gonna catch her on the rebound.”
“I’m impressed,” Pipsqueak said. “You degraded a mare, insulted your friend, and butchered two sports metaphors all with one thoughtless comment. Bravo. All the applause.”
Snips raised his hooves and turned his head away. “All I’m saying is that if Button can get a freaking date with her, then I’ve totally got a chance. What’s he got that I don’t?”
Button waited until the blade hovered away before replying. “Decorum?”
“Besides that.” Snips moved with deft, precise movements that would have looked graceful if performed by a different pony. “I mean, Sweetie Belle could have anypony she wanted. You’re a cool guy, but not exactly super-hero material. What’s she see in you?”
Button Mash stared at the plain white ceiling, that old familiar ache rising up in his chest. Snips was a mule deer, sure enough, but still…
“I think the more important thing here…” Pipsqueak’s hooves clapped against the linoleum flooring as he neared. “I think that if you factor in all the things you said, and then realize that when Button asked, she still said yes…”
Pipsqueak only came up to Snips’ chest, but still he stood tall, his frown rock solid. “It says rather a lot about Button Mash, does it not?”
Snips grunted, flicking shaving cream into a water basin. He placed the blade into his bag and produced a heated wash cloth to put over Button’s face. “Yeah. Whatever. ”
Pipsqueak nodded with a smirk. “The ayes have it, Button. You just need to put a little extra ‘oompah’ into your program tonight.”
The door in the back of the room opened, and two mares stepped through. One, the shorter of the two, carried a payload of hair-care products in one hoof, while the taller mare skipped along, her coat and mane practically shining.
“Program?” the taller mare said. “Button’s putting on another show?”
“Yes, Love,” Pipsqueak said, casting a devilish smile over his shoulder, “but also spending some quality time with that certain you-know-who he’s been pining for.”
Dinky covered her mouth with a gasp, and the shorter mare dropped her supplies on the floor to better squeal in delight. “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh!”
Button’s voice was muffled through the cloth. “Do we have to tell everybody, Pip?”
“Only as long as some ponies remain unawares.” Pipsqueak moved beside Dinky, who towered over him with her long, thin legs. “May I just say, you look positively smashing.”
“All thanks to Lily, here,” Dinky said, gesturing to the other mare. “That and three tons of shampoo.”
Pipsqueak strained to touch her cheek until she bent at the neck. He brought his face close. “All to bring the beauty inside—”A gentle kiss. “—outside.”
Lily Longsocks wrapped her forelegs around her torso as she watched, grinning wide. “Aw, it’s so fuzzy!”
Snips stuck his tongue out. He flicked Button’s cloth across the room to a waiting pile of used rags. “I’m gonna lose my cookies if you guys don’t shove out.”
Lily flicked Snips’ shoulder with her tail. “You don’t have a romantic bone in your body!”
“Quit it, sis!” Snips nursed his shoulder and his pride. “Discounts for everybody if you quit loitering.”
“I’ll pay full price.” Button Mash slid out of the chair and let his back pop. He examined his face in the mirror to see that while the beard was trimmed away, the brown coat beneath remained untouched. “It’s a good job, Snips. Thanks.”
Snips cocked a brow, before letting a smile crawl across his face. He slung a foreleg over Button’s shoulder. “Yeah, see, that’s why we keep you around, Mash. You’ve got decorum and such. I’ll ring you up.”
“If only it’d rub off on you.” Lily punched Button in the shoulder. It almost knocked him off his feet. “Keep Snips honest for me, Killer. You show Sweetie a good time.”
Button wobbled back and forth before he got all four hooves on the ground. “Sure. Thanks. Sure.”
Dinky tore her attention away from Pipsqueak long enough to move towards Button, her now-wavy, shoulder-length mane bouncing. “Which show are you putting on for the kids tonight?”
Button’s hoof rummaged through his bit bag. “The Gift of the Elements. The oldest story we’ve got. I’m bringing out your hydra especially for the big monster fight.”
Dinky pumped a foreleg. “Yes! That’s my favorite. Let me know if the control bar needs adjusting. You said the Celestia puppet was a little sticky last time, right?”
“Yeah, but I think the joints just needed oiling.” Golden bits clattered from Button’s grip to Snips’ cash register. He followed up with two silver pieces to give the exact change. “Won’t be needing her tonight, since the show focuses on the original bearers.” He let out a puff of a laugh. “Buuut… stick around in case something goes belly-up, okay?”
Dinky’s head bobbed. “Sure. Pip and I ’re gonna be eating at the café, so we’re right next door. We’ll listen up for any explosions.”
Pipsqueak nudged his way between them, taking Dinky by the hoof. “Assuming pyrotechnics aren’t part of your plans for tonight?”
“Nah, nah.” Button shrugged, offering up empty hooves. “Not in the cards. Maybe later, when the shows really take off. Kinda got a limited budget now.”
Snips’ register cha-chinged as he slid the drawer closed. “You know whose shows have awesome pyrotechnics? The G and P Trixie. Now there’s a mare who can attract a crowd.”
Button rolled his eyes, turning towards the door. “I’ll see you later, Snips. Keep your head on your shoulders.”
Snips threw a mock-salute. “Keep your buns out of the fire.”
“Ha!” Button Mash shook his head, rubbing his smoothed-off chin. “Even if I manage that, I’ll bet I’ll still singe my tail.”
***
The metal clasp latched around Caballeron’s hoof, secure and strong. The single-bladed spur on the front of the device swung about until a swift flick of his hoof locked it into place. He balanced on three legs, swinging the weapon, getting a feel for its balance.
Merry Mare leaned against her pillow, the blankets drawn up to her midsection. “You’re up early.”
“It’s noon.” Caballeron flicked a carrot into the air and sliced it in half as it fell. “And I’ve got work to do.”
Merry pouted. She rolled onto her back, bunching up her curly, gray mane. “I’ve got work you could do.”
“As enticing as that sounds—”
“I mean real work.” Merry took in her lover, from his salt-and-pepper mane to his golden cutie mark. “Come back to Ponyville. We’ll give you a makeover. Make you a new pony. Bring you back to me.”
Caballeron removed his spur so that he could slide his shirt sleeves over his forelegs. He buttoned slowly, giving himself a moment to think. He stared at a picture on the wall, which held a happy stallion, a smiling mare, and a cheerful colt. “Twenty years is a long time.”
Merry pressed the sheet against her body, dragging it across the room. She leaned against Caballeron’s back and touched her lips to his neck. “You could join us. We could make Equestria a better place. We could search for Happy toge—”
“Merry.” Caballeron bit his tongue. Thoughts rushed through his head, each begging to be the one to make it into the open. “Our son…”
His throat constricted. “I told you,” he said at last. “Ahuizotl has me by the dock. I can’t move without his say-so. It’s just this one last job. Then we can talk about making amends.”
Merry sighed, her breath tickling his coat. “Why do you want to run from me?”
“I’m not.” He reached around to touch her shoulder. He turned to bring her face-to-face. “I’m running towards you, Merry. Everything I do, every move I make, brings me further out of this life and closer to one with you. Just trust me. We can be together again. You and me. Husband and wife.”
Merry’s eyes jumped from his to the photograph. “A family.”
“Yes.” Cablleron pointedly ignored the smiling ponies frozen in time. “A family. But not yet. Not now.”
She backed away, letting the sheet slide down. “I trust you’ll return when election season comes around?”
“Of course, my heart.” Caballeron smiled, resting his hoof on her flank. “I very much look forward to the reelection of Mayor Merry Mare. Perhaps I’ll join a rally or two in your honor.”
Her shoulder rubbed up against his chest. She brought her lips to his, breathing in the ash-soaked air. “I’m counting on it.”
***
Sweetie Belle dusted her cheeks with a thin coating of powder, just enough to give them a slightly rosy tinge. The red lipstick she’d chosen practically jumped off her face, so she wanted a little extra color to balance it out. No sense wearing a giant, blazing sign that said “kiss me!”
Her cheeks went red all on their own. You didn’t kiss on the first date, right? That’s just not something you did. It’s bad form. A kiss is something special to be shared. Something to be saved for just the right moment.
She lidded her eyes and slouched towards the mirror. “Quit acting like a star-struck teenager, Sweetie. It’s just dinner with Button. It’ll be nice. Maybe a little special. No reason to get ahead of yourself.”
Besides, it was Button. Expecting him to take that sort of initiative was kinda far-fetched.
So why the lipstick in the first place? Was she leaving the door open for such a thing? Was her own subconscious more physically needy than she let on? Was she just trying everything she could to look her best?
“It’s just lipstick.” She glared at the tube of makeup, pushing deeper musings to the back of her mind. “Just lipstick. Nothing behind it.”
And if you believe that, her subconscious said, I’ve got a bridge to sell you.
Sweetie Belle laid her head in her hooves, careful not to muss her mane. “You’re more likely to burn bridges than sell them. Stupid subconscious.”
Despite her care, she managed to smudge her cheek. She sighed, patting it down with a damp cloth. “Back to the drawing board. Maybe I should just go as I am.”
She glanced at the contact lenses she’d set on the table, beside her frameless glasses. The room grew fuzzy once she tried focusing on something more than two feet away, but those object stood in sharp contrast. Contacts would be more glamorous, show off her face more, but the glasses would be far easier to handle. How much did she care about impressing Button? He was pretty darn impressed already, so…
She grunted and lit her horn, grasping a glimmering contact lens. “Heck if I’m gonna go in half-baked on my first date. Hold on, girls! Darn the torpedoes and full speed ahead!”
Her eye stung the very instant it contacted the contact. “Blargh.”
Minutes flew by in a blur. Makeup sailed from the vanity to her face. Sparkling dust filled the air.
Before she knew it, a circus clown with far too much eyeliner took the place of her reflection.
She shook her lipstick at the ceiling. “Why is this so hard?”
She glared at the hokey image before her, examining every line, every out of place hair, every blotch of makeup lathered onto her muzzle. Maybe Button had a thing for clowns? She sure hoped not.
With a sigh, she plunged her face in a basin of water, rubbing the makeup off with a cloth and her hooves. One of her contacts slipped from its proper place and landed in the midst of her pool of multicolored muck. As the water dried, her face grew fuzzy and unkempt.
Her magic sparkled green, setting the glasses onto the bridge of her nose. She bounced a curl absently as she brushed her coat down. She needed to clear her head. Free her mind. Seek inspiration. A walk would do nice. A nice, brisk walk around town. Yes, that sounded amazing.
She all but stumbled from her chair and clambered out of the inspiration room. She stepped around the cloth lying bunched up along the floor, brushed aside a few leaflets of design work, and ducked beneath an overhanging banner of rainbow cloth. The general controlled mayhem might have been a source of genius to Rarity, but to Sweetie…
“That’s the thing, isn’t it?” Sweetie Belle muttered. “I’m not my sister.”
The sun prickled through her white coat as she stepped into the open air. She felt the rays soaking in, bringing a touch of energy to her step. A cooling breeze swept through her mane and tugged at her tail. A song bubbled up in her heart.
“Hey, Sweetie Belle!” a voice called out. A mint-coated mare sat on a nearby bench, strumming away at a lyre with soft strokes of magic. “Out for a stroll?”
“Something like that.” Sweetie offered a smile, or whatever she was able to substitute one with. “Just cooling down, I guess.”
Lyra Heartstrings grinned wide. “Cooling down, huh? Getting ready for your big night tonight?”
Sweetie blushed a brighter red than her makeup ever got. “Um. I’m not sure what you mean.”
Lyra winked, tugged on her ear, and then resumed her gentle strum. She stared into the middle-distance, her lips moving silently with her impromptu song.
Sweetie’s lips scrunched to the side as she left the inscrutable mare behind. Looked like word was getting out. Button bragging to his friends? Scootaloo running the city into an uproar so that neither of them could back out? Or did Lyra just have a freaky “romance-sense”?
Was it even fair to call it romance?
“I need to get my mind on something else.” Sweetie Belle sat in the middle of the sidewalk, raising her eyes to heaven. “Please, please give me something else to think about.”
A gasp from three distinct voices hailed from behind her. The patter of tiny hooves galloped closer, closer, ever closer. Her ear twitched towards them as they screeched to a halt, a mere meter away.
She looked over her shoulder and grimaced. An old proverb came to mind: Prayers do get answered on occasion.
Three ponies stood before her with gaping mouths. All of them were children, roundabouts the age of the Cake twins. The shortest, a young, silvery unicorn colt, looked at her with a serious, almost judgmental stare. The second in line was a pinkish Pegasus filly, grinned with all her might, ready to burst at any second. The third was a tall filly with a disproportionately large horn and even larger wings. She hung back a step, her lips pressed together, her eyes shining.
The colt spoke first, his calm voice shattering a full minute of awkward silence. “You’re Sweetie Belle, aren’t you?”
Sweetie’s brow wrinkled. “Yep.” She glanced once more at the third child, whose horn and wing combo was—as her father was wont to say—a dead giveaway. Alicorn. Princess. Royalty.
The colt nodded. “You’re pretty.”
“Thank you...” Sweetie’s lips closed in a prolonged “oo” sound at the end of the sentence. She licked dry lips as her voice wavered. “I, uh, guess I know who you three are.”
“Sweetie Belle!” Twilight Sparkle rounded the corner, her flanks sweating ever so slightly from her run. The necklace around her throat glimmered with every word, lending a musical air to her voice. “How are you? My nieces and nephew aren’t a bother, are they?”
“Nieces and—” Sweetie shook her head, standing to her hooves and raising a regal right foreleg. “No, no, of course not. We were just getting introduced.”
“Then let me do the honors.” Twilight extended a wing to wrap it around the colt. “This is Silver Lance; youngest, but not the least.”
Silver smiled a small smile, nodding his head. “It’s nice to meet you, Miss Sweetie.”
Twilight’s other wing tugged the pegasus closer. “This is Twilight Amore; guaranteed to bring life to the party.”
“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh!” Amore squealed. “I love you with all my heart you’re so awesome!”
Sweetie bit her lip, forcing her smile to remain. “Mm hmm.”
Twilight shook her mane out, gesturing her horn at her third relative. “Flurry? Don’t you want to meet Sweetie?”
Flurry Heart bobbed her head. She almost tripped over her slouching wings, but managed to stay upright. Her voice came out at barely a whisper, hovering just above silence. “I… I’m very pleased to meet you. I… I’ve heard a lot about you and the other… other Cutie Mark Crusaders.”
She rubbed her cheek and looked at the ground. “I especially like the story of how you got your cutie marks.”
Sweetie felt a familiar warmth on her rear legs. Memories drifted in, memories of magic and songs and friendship. Something swelled in her breast. “It’s a good story. I’m glad you like it.”
“I do! A lot.” Flurry Heart ducked back behind Twilight Sparkle, her too-large wings covering her like a blanket. “A lot.”
Twilight Sparkle chuckled, her voice hitting a perfect pitch with the magic of her necklace. “These guys are staying at the castle while they’re on summer vacation. It was gonna be the whole family but…” Her teeth pressed together in just a hint of a rictus. “Matters of state. You know how it is.”
“Yeah, that’s rough.” Sweetie Belle took half a step towards Twilight, edging away from the pegasus filly fluttering around her head.
Twilight rubbed Silver on the head, even as he continued to stare at Sweetie. “So, going somewhere special this afternoon?”
Sweetie fought the urge to roll her eyes. She couldn’t fight back the huff that whisked its way out of her mouth. “Ugh. Does everypony know?”
“Huh?” Twilight Sparkle jerked her head back. “Know about what?”
“Nothing.” Sweetie ran a hoof through her mane, letting the curls flop back into place. “Sorry. I’m just under a lot of stress. I didn’t mean to snap.”
“That’s quite alright.” Twilight rested a hoof on Sweetie’s shoulder. She started walking, with the three children following close behind. Sweetie was lead along, her ears perked to catch Twilight’s words. “Heaven knows stress does funny things to you. I’m guessing we interrupted your relaxing walk?”
“Not as relaxing as I was hoping.” Sweetie nudged her glasses up her nose, closer to her eyes. She lifted a hoof to block out the low sun. “But that’s not your fault.”
Twilight Amore hovered just to Sweetie’s right, her mouth almost up against Sweetie’s head. “Are you going to the show tonight? We’re going to the show! It’s gonna be so awesome! With monsters and heroes and fighting! Can I have your autograph?”
Silver Lance frowned at his sister. “You don’t have an autograph book.”
“I can buy one. D’oy.” Twilight Amore held her money bag aloft. “I’ve saved up a whole five bits.”
Flurry Heart turned her head to Twilight Sparkle and mumbled. “She would have had more if she kept her birthday money.”
“I heard that slanderous accusation!” Twilight Amore crossed her forelegs. “Things needed purchasing.”
Sweetie laid her ears back. She turned her attention to Twilight Sparkle and tilted her head. “What show?”
“The one downtown.” Twilight gave her a lopsided smile. “It’s mostly kid-oriented, but I’ve seen good things from this team. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of it. A lot of your friends are putting it on.”
“Spike’s doing the music,” Flurry said. “I watched him carry the piano on his back.”
Twilight nodded. “Yup. Spike’s on the keys. Dinky puts together the special effects. I think Twist is cooking the popcorn they’ll be handing out.”
Sweetie Belle’s nose twitched. The scents of Sugarcube Corner reached out to her, plying her with promises of too much sugar and not enough exercise. “It’s kinda a Fillyscouts thing?”
“No.” Twilight Sparkle noticed the smell, too, judging from the way she licked her lips absently. “I think Button pretty much puts it all together himself.”
Sweetie hiccupped. She played it off as tripping on a loose stone. “Button Mash?”
Twilight shrugged. “Unless you know another Button?”
“Not especially.”
“You should come, if you’re not doing anything.” Twilight Sparkle spread her wings and gave Sweetie one last pat. “Sometimes a story is just the thing to relieve a little stress.”
She waved at her nieces and nephew, shooting Sweetie a wink. “Come on, guys! Grandma Velvet said she’d save us some seats!”
The fillies hurried to catch up, but the colt held back. His serious little face cast a warm smile towards her. “You really are pretty. Even when you don’t think you are.” He scurried to catch up, his short legs pumping.
Sweetie Belle let her legs carry her wherever they wished. A show might be nice, especially if it was in the open air, run by her friends, put together by Button of all people. She searched her memory for any clue that he’d ever talked about putting on shows. Truth be told, unless he was being goaded on by his friends, he kinda kept to himself.
“Darn you and your mystery, Mr. Mash.” She trotted on, her mind made up. “Very well, then. I shall observe your show and see what sort of story you tell. As research. Not ogling.”
You’re totally gonna ogle, her subconscious said. “Shut up.”
It was quick work to find where they’d set up the stage. As big as Ponyville was getting in recent years, downtown was pretty much the same. Sugarcube Corner, Quills and Sofas, Carousel Boutique, everything was where it was supposed to be. They’d put the show together in front of the old café, setting the stage just outside the outdoor seating area. The humble little restaurant was getting quit the boost in customers, it seemed. Children and their parents occupied the tables, or sat in the grassy lawn, or collected along the road.
Twilight Sparkle stepped away from an older, gray-coated mare she’d been speaking to. “I thought you might come.”
“What can I say? You sold me on it.” Sweetie Belle twisted to the side as a horde of small children ran around her fetlocks. “Even if the target audience is a little younger than I thought.”
The gray mare nudged Twilight Sparkle in the shoulder. “Twilight assures me it’s actually ‘family-friendly, all-ages entertainment.’ Just like the Daring Do books, right?”
“Well…” Twilight giggled as she rubbed the back of her neck. “Sweetie Belle, I’d like to introduce you to Twilight Velvet, my mother.”
Twilight Velvet wrinkled her muzzle in a silly little grin. “We’ve met, but you probably don’t remember—”
“Princess Cadence and Shining Armor’s wedding.” Sweetie Belle shook Velvet’s hoof as Silver Lance charged past in the pursuit of a dragon. “I don’t think I’m ever forgetting that day. It’s nice to see you again.”
Spike toppled as he was assailed by the combined forces of Silver Lance and Twilight Amore. He held a claw into the air, squealing out. “You’ll never take me alive!”
“I’ve conquered you, dragon king!” Silver slammed his hooves against Spike’s iron-hard scales. “Now you do my bidding! There are sweets to liberate!”
“I guess…” Spike grinned, grasping the colt around the middle and twisting him upside down. “Unless I take you down with a sudden betrayal!”
“Aurgh!” Twilight Amore leaped into the air, losing a pinkish feather. “Spike! You’re playing it wrong! Fight fair!”
Spike gently set a breathless, laughing Silver down. He bustled away, glancing up at the sun. “I will later, guys. I’m gonna be late for the show unless I get a move on. Hi, Sweetie.”
He gave her a double-take. His feet skidded as he came to a lumbering halt. “Huh. Didn’t expect to see you. Here to enjoy the show, or just waiting for Button?”
Twilight Sparkle stuck her head into the conversation. “Why would she be waiting for Button?”
Spike raised an eyebrow. “Twi?”
“Yeah, Spike?”
“I know why you haven’t been on a date in seven years.”
“What’s that got to do with—?” She threw her wings back and stalked away. “Never mind. Air out your own dirty laundry, scale-butt.”
Sweetie snorted. She covered it up with a dainty hoof. “I’m here for the show, actually. I was feeling stressed, and Twilight said a story can be a relief. What do you think?”
“Depends on the story.” Spike’s head snapped around at the sound of his name. “Whoops. Gotta go. See you afterwards, right?”
“I’ll stick around.” Sweetie lay down, folding her legs beneath her. “’Cause I’m kinda here for Button, too.”
“Awesome!” Spike thundered away on all fours as children cheered at his appearance. “Later!”
He slipped behind a blue curtain, and the crowd hushed.
A piano melody plinked from behind the blue cloth. A familiar pony spoke from out of sight, his voice rising and falling with each dramatic beat.
“Come closer, children, and I shall tell you a tale stolen from history. A tale so old and wizened that not even Princess Celestia has knowledge of its origin. It is a tale of monsters and cataclysms, queens and demons, great heroes and mighty deeds. And, as always, it is a tale… of friendship.”
The curtain parted, revealing a miniaturized village. Thatched roofs topped match-stick cabins. Tiny grapes stood in for hefty watermelons. Ponies walked about. Not real ponies, though. These were made from wood and metal, their joints glowing with magic.
Sweetie Belle blinked. She glanced over her glasses, but that just yielded a blur. “It’s a puppet show?”
The piano took on a light, bouncy tune, aiding the voice as it carried into a song. The ponies moved as if they were alive, greeting each other and playing in the streets of the town.
“Ponies would gather to leap and to prance
Before our Equestria
They’d sing a new song and together they’d dance
Long before Equestria
Their smiles were bright as the sunlight
Their slumber was guarded and calm
They lived out their days
Both to work and to play
An age before Equestria”
The curtain rose, revealing additional puppetry hanging above the village. Each puppet glowed from within with a purplish hue, twinkling and sparkling and obscuring their form.
The voice spoke in its purposeful, practiced warble. “In times past, long before the Royal Pony Sisters ruled the land, the sun and moon were raised by the fairies. They were the most beautiful of the Creator’s masterpieces, mystical and powerful. It was they who guided the weather, the seasons, the very light of day.”
One light in particular grew brighter than the others, overshadowing both them and the ponies below. “But the chief of fairies grew proud and bitter. He sought to rule the world not from afar, but with an iron fist.”
Spike’s music took on a darker tone, a rumbling cadence. The light of the fairies faded as night fell upon the village. One pony parted from the others, gazing at the sky, its hooves slowing. The voice sang in halting, tremulous tones
“Night fell upon the small village below
To cover River’s heart
She gazed up in fear as the fairies bellowed
To strike deep into her heart”
The ponies ran this way and that, their tiny hooves pattering as every manner of monster and demon harried them. The lone pony, the one named River, tried to fight, but was battered aside as an afterthought.
“In their wrath they extinguished the starlight
In their anger they tore it apart
As one the world fled
Leaving behind their dead
So the ponies lost their heart”
River stumbled along, her puppet having been exchanged for one made to look like a battered and pained pony. Her mane was no longer a pretty green, but a muddy gray. Her coat was no longer lush and orange, but dark and matted. Still her eyes shined, reflecting off the meager spotlight highlighting her presence.
“River found herself alone, and hurting more than most
Her entire town had been made footstool for the host”
The houses and villagers shuffled offstage, making way for a backdrop of trees and a pale moon. River collapsed, her legs curling up beside her. She looked up, silently reaching for something unseen.
“A voice from the heavens both small and so still
Spoke to River where she lay
It offered a choice that, if she should so will
Would help her to save the day
”She would stand in the face of the monsters
She would fight to keep evil at bay
But there at the heart
She’d never be apart
From the light
The magic that would light the way”
A tiny crown drifted down, hoisted by a string, bedecked with a six-sided, purple star. River stood and reached for it, pulling it close to her chest.
“But the light was not without a sacrifice to take
Ponies would perform the duties Fae so soon forsake”
River donned the crown, and life returned to her puppet’s limbs. “She promised to do everything the Creator asked, if only He would teach her. He replied in that still, small voice:
“I will teach you words to speak, and all that you must do
You will never be alone in all the evil you go through
If you stay true”
A light appeared behind the backdrop, rising inch by inch as a blood-red sunrise. River trotted towards it, fairy dust trailing behind her.
“Now here is a story of friendship and love
And a world to be set free
Our greatest of hopes is a gift from above
The Elements of Harmony!”
The voice held that note for no less than ten beats. Maybe not spot-on, but close enough that Sweetie applauded the effort. She wasn’t alone, either. Children and parents alike cheered and stomped their hooves as a sheet of paper, marked “End Act One,” flopped over the closing curtain.
Twilight Velvet nestled down beside Sweetie Belle, munching a bagful of popcorn. “Now then,” she said around the kernels, “that wasn’t so terrible, was it?”
“No,” Sweetie said, her mouth dusty dry. “Not terrible at all.”
***
Cadence rounded a corner into the dining room, only to run face-first into a mountain of feathers. She backpedalled with all her might, hoping against hope that their owner didn’t notice the intrusion.
Her luck failed her. King Andean Ursagryph tilted his head up and around, turning it to the side so that his wide-set eye could look straight at her. “Princess Cadenza. Good evening.”
“Your Grace.” She bowed at the neck, rising up in almost the same movement. “I’d like to chat but—”
“You don’t have to lie to me, Your Highness.” Andean reached down to the comparatively tiny table, picking up a fork between his talons. “Very few ponies in the country would actually enjoy a chat with me.”
A fragment of fish sat at the end of the fork. He pointed it at her, his subtle gestures nearly flinging the meat from its perch. “Including, it seems, your aunt.”
Even with the wide, open space of the dining hall, Cadence knew a corner when she was being backed into one. “Princess Celestia is highly busy, especially in these times—”
“Cadenza.” He rolled the fork between his fingers. “Are we not too old for make-believe?”
His eyes narrowed, before settling downwards, aimed at his near-empty plate. “No. Of course we aren’t. Not when our children are as young as they are.”
Nopony else was around. No one was there to offer a reprieve. Or an excuse. Cadence sighed and took a seat across from Andean, cursing her own growling stomach. “They’re awfully precious.”
“Indeed.” Andean’s fork made circles around his plate. “Childhood is a precious time. Ending all too soon. But still, it must end.”
He snapped up the tail of his fish and set about cutting his potatoes. “Save for a few unfortunate ponies who refuse to grow up.” He clicked his beak, grinding the sharp edges together. “Are you aware of how great an embarrassment Celestia is?”
Cadence stood up, spreading her wings. “I don’t have to listen to—”
“Hear. Me. Out.” He laid his talons across the table, their claws nearly reaching across. “This is not subterfuge, but a wake-up call, and she will not listen to me.”
With your charming personality? Cadence thought to herself. Aloud, she said “So, what? You need a messenger?”
“I need… someone to listen.” Andean looked away, his wings groaning under the weight of their feathers. He stroked his fluffy beard. “Perhaps someone to explain, if need be.”
“Shoot.” Cadence turned up her nose and hoped it looked more regal than spoiled. “Get it over with.”
“Celestia sat in the same room with her staunchest enemy, one who finally seeks peace.” He clasped his talons together, hunching over, dwarfing the table. “And she speaks of pasta as the most important thing in the world. What is she thinking? Should she not be discussing the terms of the agreement? Getting a feel for this dangerous creature’s capabilities? Learning how deep the truth goes before it is muddled by lies? Why, Cadenza, is she so frivolous about it?”
Cadence leaned back. She furrowed her brow, running her hoof along her foreleg. “I suppose… I suppose the real question is why gain an ally… when you could make a friend?”
Andean opened his beak but said nothing. He tapped a talon against his dish, gazing at an infinitely uninteresting tapestry. He took a breath. “Can you be friends with someone if you know—know—that they keep a secret from you?”
Cadence shrugged, sighing from the very depths of her chest as a server trotted out to take her order. “Not everything secret is evil. Not everything hidden is shameful.”
He scowled. “You would defend the changelings?”
“If it’s necessary.” Cadence bit her lip, her memory flashing back to sharp, cruel fangs and deep, green eyes. “If I have to.”
She turned to the server pony. “A cherry cordial to drink and…” Cadence let a slow, craggy smirk crawl across her face. “A big plate of macaroni and cheese, please.”
Cadence’s ears leaped up at a strange, uncanny sound. Andean, King of Felacia, chuckled deep in his throat.
“Well played, I suppose.” He held up two talons. “Make that a double order, madam.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” The server pony bowed and scuttled away.
“Thank you, Sky Wishes!” Cadence called out. She looked up, up, up at Andean’s face. “So, is that you making a counter-move, or admitting defeat?”
“A lateral movement, I’m afraid.” He raised a glass. “Such are international politics.”
A glass of cordial materialized in a flash of red sparks. Cadence sipped from a straw, offering Andean a tiny, yet sincere, smile. “I was hoping to talk with you about your daughters’ living arrangements…”