Judgement

by Amit


Phylakes

“...and when I heard that Steady Fight had been followed into the Everfree by not only the clergycows holding property but the noble-minded clergycows living on alms as well, O Total Victory, I couldn’t hope to win. And when I heard that Silverbow had pleased the greatest aspect of Celestia, Three Eyes, by his skill in combat, O Total Victory, I couldn’t hope to wi—”

Lyra!” My recitation and playing is interrupted by a shout issuing from below, and a series of steps bashing against hooves.

“I’m, er,” I stutter, checking the notes Twilight had lent me, “reciting the Book of the Beginning of the Mother of Fire-Maintainence? To the tune of, er—” I look at my lyre, trying to remember the little improvisation I’d made to fit the meter. I haven't time to look over to the scrolls before she interrupts again.

“Nevermind,” she says, exhaling deeply. “I was just—worried. Don’t—don’t go anywhere, alright?”

I nod. “I haven’t gone anywhere since I got Twilight’s notes, Bon-Bon.”

She seems to digest my proclamation for a bit before turning around and going down the stairs. I continue reciting the excuses of Firm Empire as I continue the melody, singing a bit softer.

Bon-Bon’s been awfully twitchy ever since the incident with Pinkie Pie; she seems deathly afraid that the mare’ll try to kidnap me, or worse. She hadn’t outright tried to force me to stay, but seems to twitch unhappily every time I try and step out the locked door.

I’m fine with that, for the most part. More time with Bon-Bon. She seems, however, to grow more paranoid with each passing hour. It’s beginning to worry me, and I haven’t the slightest clue what to do about it.

No point ruminating. I delve again into the improvisation; Twilight’s managed to make a sort of recording-scroll, allowing me to go without interruption.

Well, without unnecessary interruption.

Two hours pass in which I am left unmolested, and in which I am allowed to compose without interruption.

“...O griffon amongst ponies, what you have said is worthy of you, O exalted. But O Lit Kindling, for you I wish to do something with much cheer. I am a great artist, an All-Accomplishing amongst the Flowing. O son of Whiteyellow, let me—”

“Hey!”

That mare.

“Pinkie! What are you doing here? Bon-Bon’s going to go ballistic.”

That Celestia-blessed mare. I look to the window, and see it open; multi-coloured balloons float beyond it, tied to the little spikes.

She bats a hoof. “Don’t be silly, silly!” she says, shaking her head as she walks a bit. “She left, like, half an hour ago.”

“You’ve been watching?” I don’t try to conceal my voice, now, instead letting it bloom. “You’re been stalking us?”

“Don’t you wanna know how I’m gonna get you and Bon-Bon together?”

I look speechlessly at her for a little while. “You’re still on that? After that fiasco yesterday?”

“Cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye,” she says happily, as she goes through a series of bizarre motions, “I’m gonna get you together no matter what!

“Pinkie Pie—what if she’s just, you know—heterosexual?”

Her eyes open wide. “Oh, no no no. That’s impossible! I wasn’t born yesterday, you know. She’s totally locking you up to keep you for herself. Like some sorta evil ogre!”

“Pinkie,” I say, raising my brow. “Those ogres never actually tried to—”

A hoof in the mouth. Figures. “I Pinkie Promised, and I’m gonna do it!”

The hoof comes out. The sugar is almost painful against my tongue. “The last time you tried, she had a mental breakdown. What the hay do you suggest we try now?”

“Ahh,” she says, her smile widening even further. “More-than-one first-pony. You’re thinking like Pinkie, now!”

“Celestia save my soul.” Her words do, however, remind me that I am as complicit as her in this whole mess. I suppose that if I am to dive into the abyss, I am to do so with gusto.

“So,” she says, “this is what I was thinking.”

A whisper in the ear.

“If this works,” I say, “I’ll give you my first foal.”

“No need for that, silly,” she says, batting her forehoof and looking away as if it were nothing. “I just wanna do the wedding!”

“It’s a bit too early for that, isn’t it?”

She seems ready to respond, but is interrupted by the sound of trampling hoofsteps.

“Oops! Silly me, I forgot to tie the loop!”

“You what?”

I look to the door in a hurry; a glance back tells me that the madmare’s no longer in the room. The door bursts open just as the bottoms of her hooves float out of view.

Lyra! You’re still here!” Bon-Bon pants, sweat moving through her beautiful fur; she’s apparently run a long way, and I note with dread a slightly reddish mark around one of her hooves. “I had to go off to the store a bit, and I got my hoof tied up in something somehow.” She shakes the reddened hoof a bit, the injury failing to make her lose her grace.

I realise, at that point, why Pinkie Pie hadn’t come immediately. I look nervously about the place. “Are you okay?”

She nods. “I was worried about you. I saw those balloons—that Pinkie Pie didn’t come again, did she?”

I shake my head, thinking as fast as I can. “She just gave me some balloons and ran away.”

Her soul, thankfully, is too pure to pierce through the veil of my deceit. “That filly-fooling marefiddler,” she rages, her hoof shaking in the air, “I’ll never let her close to you again.”

“Are you... okay, Bon-Bon?”

“Okay?” she says, with slight menace; her pupils constrict slightly. “I’m never going to let those damn filly-fooler scum take you away. Not like that.” She grins wide. “You’re too young to go so quickly.”

Even her madness has a beautiful method. I stand, silent.

She marches over and latches the window shut before turning to me, the grin plastered on her face. “Just stay here. I’ll get you whatever you need. I’m not gonna let them take you away.”

“Bon-Bon?” I say, looking at her with the slightest measure of doubt. Sacrilege to her wisdom, of course, but I’m sure one would empathise—even when confronted with one so wonderful. “This might be a bit... much. I don’t think there’s, er, a conspiracy or anything like that.”

Her eyes open wide. In all my years, I’ve never raised more than the slightest doubt. As befits her patience, she gives a very well-reasoned response, giving me time to contemplate her serene composure.

“No,” she says, shaking her head, “nothing’s too much. Not for you.”

And then she marches out and presses the door shut.

Oh, Celestia.

How I love that mare.