• Published 20th May 2013
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The Mixed-Up Life of Brad - D G D Davidson



Brad and Twilight Sparkle are madly in love, so madly in love that Brad agrees to follow Twilight through the mirror portal to Equestria, where the two of them plan to have a big pony wedding. But when Brad comes to Equestria, he isn't a pony.

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14. So Brad It's Good

The Mixed-Up Life of Brad

by D. G. D. Davidson

XIV. So Brad It’s Good

Sunset Shimmer lay crushed in defeat. Princess Twilight again possessed what was rightfully hers. All of Canterlot High had beheld the power of friendship. This night, the night of the Fall Formal that would live forever in legend, the Equestria Girls had known victory—and to the victors, of course, went the spoils.

The spoils came in the form of pizza.

After their death-defying magical battle, the girls were famished, so Brad magnanimously offered to blow the hard-earned money from his part-time job and take them to a popular pizzeria: known as the Pizza Prison, this rundown but much-loved restaurant was a favorite hangout for high school students because it was cheap, delicious, and open late. It proudly sported barred windows and a dingy, dimly lit interior full of shoddy, rough-cut tables and creaky benches. Over the front door hung a crooked, weather-beaten sign that in flaking paint proclaimed, “Guilty . . . of great pizza!”

In contrast with its homely décor, the Pizza Prison was now full of girls clad in glittery dresses with hair piled high in ribbon-bedecked updos. While the girls chattered and tittered and gobbled pizza, a small knot of boys, still immaculately dressed in stiff formal wear, whooped and hollered over the beat-up video game consoles in the back.

The cramped interior was warm from the closely packed bodies, and pervading the restaurant were the delectable scents of frying grease, cooking vegetables, and heady spices. It would almost be cozy if it weren’t for the noise and the hard seats.

Brad sat in a corner booth with all six of the Equestria Girls; the table wasn’t big enough for the lot of them, so they were jammed together like the proverbial sardines. Once ensconced in the booth, Brad found himself with Twilight tucked under his left arm and Rowellina wedged against his right side. It wasn’t especially comfortable, but he didn’t complain: it was late, and he was tired, but he could certainly think of worse places to be than squeezed between six beautiful ladies.

In high spirits, the girls were full of giggles. Amelia and Roxy hurled cheeky challenges and good-natured insults at each other. Rowellina had let her hair down, and she graced the conversation with tinkling laughter as she scratched Spike, who lounged in her lap. Even Faith Summers, though her cheeks were crimson, talked more than usual.

With his top button open, his bowtie loose, his jacket askew, and his arm around Twilight’s bare and slender shoulders, Brad mused that the party might be more fun if he had a few of his guy friends in the group or, even better, just Twilight by herself.

“Ah, yeah, the Starving Inmate’s Pepperoni Pizza!” Roxy shouted as a weary-looking, aging waitress brought a steaming dish. “AJ, pizza-eating contest. Go!”

Once the pizza was on the table, Roxy snatched two slices, slapped one atop the other, and bit into both at once.

“Hey, you’re cheatin’!” Amelia cried, and then she grabbed up three slices of her own.

Rowellina sniffed, stuck her nose in the air, delicately slid a slice of pizza to her plate, and ate with knife and fork. Spike peeked over the top of the table and whimpered softly.

“Now, now, Spike darling,” Rowelina said, “it’s not at all proper for a dog to beg.”

“Whee!” Paulina yelled as she jumped up onto the table, grabbed what was left of the pizza, folded it into a giant, gooey ball, and somehow stuffed the whole thing in her mouth.

After she swallowed, she slid back into her seat, threw her hands in the air, and shrieked, “I win!” The others alternately groaned and laughed.

Faith leaned from her seat and peered toward the kitchen, presumably looking for the vegetarian pizza she’d ordered.

Snuggling close, Twilight pressed her head to Brad’s shoulder and chuckled softly. Her crown still glittered on her brow, and now its point dug uncomfortably into his neck.

“You look exhausted,” he said.

“I feel exhausted. I could sleep for a week.”

His hand caressed her smooth shoulder, and she nuzzled closer, though that sent the crown’s sharp prominence straight up under his jaw. He winced.

“I hope you weren’t too hard on Susan,” he said.

For a moment, she bit her lip and didn’t answer him. When she spoke again, her voice was low. “I did what I came to do.”

“Does that mean you have to go home soon?”

She grew still. She didn’t pull away, but there was suddenly a distance between them. “Let’s not talk about that right now.”

Roxy leaned across the table and slugged Brad in the shoulder. “Hey, stallion, you gonna join the party or what? You can cuddle your pony later.”

She tried to punch him again, but he met her knuckles with his own. “Aren’t all of you ponies now or something?”

Rowellina laid down her fork and patted her lips. “I was wondering about that.”

Twilight sat up straight, blinked, and breathed deeply as if waking from a nap. “I’m honestly not sure what happened, but I think some of my pony magic must have passed to all of you, so . . . maybe. Maybe you really are Equestria Girls—”

Paulina jumped to her feet. “Ooh! Ooh! We should totally become, like, superheroes! Whenever monsters are destroying the town, we’ll shout, ‘Equestria Girls, pony up!’ And then we’ll all turn pony, and we’ll fight—”

“Uh, Paulina,” said Roxy with one eyebrow cocked, “how often do you see monsters destroying our town?”

Paulina smiled. “Once so far.”

“Oh . . . right.”

“I just wish I’d seen it,” said Brad. He held out his thumbs and forefingers to frame Roxy’s face.

She stuffed the rest of her pizza in her mouth. “What’re you doing?”

“Trying to picture you with horse ears.”

“I looked awesome. But what was especially cool was the wings.” She frowned, leaned back, and stared at the ceiling. “Though I’m not sure why I got wings if I was turning into a pony—”

“Some ponies have wings,” said Twilight.

“Really? Sweet.”

“We got plenty o’ ponies out on the farm,” said Amelia around her pizza slices, “and ain’t none of ’em got wings.”

“Wait a minute,” said Rowellina, her face ashen, “if we’re ponies, does this mean we have to go to Amelia Jems for grooming tips?” She shuddered.

“What I’m thinking,” chirped Paulina, “is that, if we’re all part pony, maybe together we make one full pony—”

“So,” said Roxy, punching Brad again, “you’re surrounded by six girls who are part horse. Whadda ya think of that?”

“Sounds hot,” Brad answered.

Twilight shoved him. “Brad!”

He drew her close again, but this time snatched the crown from her brow and planted a swift kiss on her forehead. “Hey, I said I don’t care what you are or where you’re from, didn’t I? I meant it.”

“But—”

“I just wish I’d seen you with your wings and pony ears.”

She looked away from him, and her cheeks turned red.

Roxy threw her hands into the air when the waitress walked toward the table with another steaming pan. “Ah, yeah! The Pizza Prison’s Hungry Hard Laborer Special! Five kinds of meat! My prayers have been answered!”

As the waitress snatched up the empty dish and placed a flesh-slavered pizza in its place, Faith whispered, “Um, excuse me, I’m just wondering, you see, I ordered, um—”

But the waitress apparently didn’t hear her, since she turned and walked away.

“Hey, Roxy,” said Amelia with a wicked grin as she slid another slice to her plate and unscrewed the cap from a bottle of hot sauce, “Tabasco-eatin’ contest.”

“No fair, AJ!” Roxy shouted. “You know I hate hot stuff!”

“Guess I win, then.” Amelia took an enormous bite out of her pizza, and Tabasco Sauce dribbled down her chin.

“All right, you’re on!” Grabbing a slice in one hand, Roxy snatched up the bottle with the other and poured until her pizza oozed red.

“Roxy,” said Brad, “remember the last time.”

“I can handle it.”

“I’m not gonna play nursemaid for you tonight.” He reached across the table, snatched the slice from Roxy’s fingers, and bit into it himself. The Tabasco’s vinegar stung his mouth.

Roxy slapped her hand on the table, but then she simply shrugged, grabbed a couple more slices, and ate two-fisted.

Faith fidgeted as she stared toward the kitchen.

Gazing down at the pizza, Twilight said, “I don’t mean to kill the mood, but could anyone tell me, erm, exactly what animals—”

“Cow,” said Roxy with her mouth full, “and pig. They’re delicious.”

“I thought you said it was five kinds—”

“Yeah. Ham, bacon, pepperoni, sausage, and more sausage—two meats and five ways of making them bad for you. That’s why it’s magic.”

Twilight sighed. “Well, I guess I’ve eaten cow already.” She pulled a slice of pizza onto her plate.

“That would be my fault,” said Brad. “I took her to Burger Bum on our first date.”

“I didn’t know what was in the burger,” said Twilight.

“And I didn’t know she’d never eaten meat,” Brad added.

Roxy scowled. “Burger Bum? Do you ever take girls anywhere else?”

“Hey, I’m on a budget.”

“Why? Paying insurance on the Camaro?”

“Ah, lay off, Rox. You know my dad got me that car, and yes, it’s a money hole. But I’m paying for tonight, ain’t I?”

Rowellina was sipping her soda, but Amelia slapped her back so hard she spewed across the table.

“Ya hear that, Rowly? The man is payin’, so it’s almost like your first date.”

With a scowl, Rowellina dabbed her lips with her napkin. “I’ve dated before, Amelia . . . once. Sort of.”

Amelia chuckled.

“I admit the meat tastes good,” said Twilight. Taking a sip of her own soda, she added, “But this is the worst sarsaparilla I’ve ever had.”

“Whenever we order out for pizza at home,” Brad mused, “my dad always lets me have a beer—”

Faith perked up when the waitress came back with yet another pizza. Brad and the girls rearranged their cups, their plates, and the pitcher of root beer to make room for it beside the remains of the Hungry Hard Laborer.

“Hm, the Condemned Prisoner’s Last Meal Combination,” said Roxy as the waitress set the pizza down. “Well, that’s okay. I guess I can pick the vegetables off.”

“Um, excuse me,” Faith whispered, but the waitress turned around and headed back to the kitchen.

“Roxy Dodgers,” said Rowellina with a sniff, “you are an athlete, so you ought to eat healthy food. You need your vegetables.”

Roxy stuffed another slice of pizza in her face. “Meh, I need my energy. I need my protein. Besides, Faith here eats enough veggies for all of us.”

Faith looked down at her empty plate, and her lower lip trembled.

Brad glanced sidelong at the untouched, meat-covered slice on Twilight’s plate and felt a vague pang of guilt. He tugged at his collar. “Uh, Twilight, you know you don’t have to eat that if you don’t want to.”

She patted his hand. “It’s okay, Brad. I accept how you eat.”

“I guess I still feel a little—”

“It’s okay. Back home, we make burgers with oats or hay, and I just never imagined things would be different here.”

“Yeah, but you ordered the Panhandler Pastrami Burger—”

“Where I’m from, ‘pastrami’ is a way of cooking hay.”

Hay?” said Roxy. “You actually eat hay?

“I love hay. To be honest, I’m kinda looking forward to being able to eat it again. And grass. And alfalfa. And oats. Rolled oats are great, of course, but there’s really nothing quite like raw, whole oats, with the husks still on—”

Brad coughed into his fist and shifted in his seat.

Rowellina leaned back and dabbed her lips again. “It’s funny, but I always imagined that magic ponies ate rainbows or something—”

“Rainbows taste pretty bad,” said Twilight.

At that, Paulina leaned over and clamped her teeth on the top of Roxy’s head.

“Hey!” Roxy shouted.

“They taste like hair!” Paulina declared.

Brad squirmed in his seat. As Twilight lifted her pizza slice toward her mouth, he nudged her. “Hey, uh, wait a minute, didn’t Faith order the Bread and Water Diet Vegetarian Pizza? Maybe they forgot it. Let me out and I’ll go check—”

“Ah, let her eat the meat pizza,” Roxy said. “Twilight, humans eat meat. You might as well enjoy your canines as long as you’ve got them.”

“Faith doesn’t eat meat,” Brad said.

“That’s her problem.”

Twilight lowered her pizza slice back to her plate. “It is interesting to me . . . ponies can’t eat meat, or at least not really. Not very much of it. But humans can, and it’s important to your diets, but some choose not to eat it anyway. That’s amazing. I mean, I guess there’s some things I could go without eating if I wanted, like cupcakes, but I couldn’t just decide to give up grass—”

“You can’t give up cupcakes!” Paulina shrieked as she slammed her fists on the table. “You’d die!

“Let me out,” Brad said again. “I’ll check on the pizza.”

“Just let her eat the meat,” Roxy answered. “She says she doesn’t mind.”

“Why don’t you lay off, Rox?” Brad snapped.

“Why don’t you?”

The table went silent, and Brad and Roxy glared at each other for half a minute.

“Let me out please,” Brad said.

“Me too,” said Roxy.

Without a word, the Equestria Girls slid out of the booth and stood aside. Brad marched to the front of the restaurant with Roxy close behind, but instead of going to the counter, he headed out the door, and she followed.

Brad hadn’t realized just how stuffy the Pizza Prison was until he was in the parking lot and a cool night breeze blew into his face. He took a deep breath of the fresh air and whirled on Roxy. He was about to berate her, but paused when he saw her with her back slightly hunched and her hands clutching her own shoulders. It reminded him of the time she had slammed into him while they were playing basketball: she acted tough, so he was always surprised whenever something reminded him of how small she was. In her blue evening gown, with a rainbow-colored sash around her waist, she looked pretty but slightly ridiculous, like a child playing dress-up.

“What’s your damage?” he asked.

“Have you really thought this through?” She didn’t yell, didn’t sneer, didn’t even move. She asked the question calmly.

He turned away from her. “I don’t know what you’re—”

“You two, talking about how you’re gonna get married, how your love is gonna last forever. You’re stringing her along.”

“I am not—”

“You are. She has to go home. Have you thought about that?”

He didn’t answer.

“You haven’t, have you?”

“I have,” he snapped. “I just . . . I just don’t like to.” Shoving his hands into his pockets, he stared up at the night sky. Most of the stars were hidden by the streetlights, but a few shone through. “I’m not even sure I believe it, Rox. At first, I thought she was crazy. And as for tonight, well, I didn’t see it—”

“It happened. It’s real.”

“I know. I just can’t make myself believe it.”

“Then you better start. Your pony princess has to go back to Sparkly Magic Pony Land and rule over all the rainbows and butterflies.”

Slowly, Brad turned around to look in her eyes. She still had her hands on her shoulders, still hadn’t moved. Her face was deadpan, unreadable.

“Do you hate her?” he asked.

“No. She’s one of my best friends.”

“Then why do you talk like that?”

Roxy dropped her arms to her sides and walked up to him. She halted only when she was an inch away. “Because her world isn’t ours. The way she talks about it, it’s like some place for little kids, and all the people or ponies or whatever who live there are like little kids. She is like a little kid. Haven’t you noticed?”

He tugged at his collar. “Well, I mean, she’s new here, so she’s a little naïve—”

“No, Brad. She’s super smart. She learns quick. By now, she probably knows more about this place than you or I do. It isn’t because she doesn’t know, but because that’s just how she is.”

“What are you saying, Roxy?” He looked down at her again, but found that her expression still hadn’t changed. She swayed slightly on her feet.

When she gazed up at him, the few stars in the sky reflected from her eyes. She took her lower lip between her teeth for a moment, but after she released it, she whispered, “I’m saying, Brad, that maybe you need to grow up.”


It was tough, and she worked up a good sweat doing it, but that didn’t bother her in the least. Lovestruck enjoyed working up a good sweat.

Princess Cadance, perhaps afflicted with a bout of nostalgia, was staying with Shining Armor in her old room at the palace, a broad and luxurious one-and-a-half-story suite hovering at the top of one of the palace’s many towers, which came complete with its own observation deck, a pegasus flight beacon, and a waterfall gushing from its underside. There, Cadance had made her home from the tender age of eleven, when she ascended to alicornhood, to the age of seventeen, when she graduated from academy and Princess Celestia sent her to Manehatten to learn to live on her own and hold down a job.

Having enwrapped herself in a glowing green levitation spell, Lovestruck rose toward Cadance’s room high above. Lovestruck was quite skilled at levitation, but self-levitation was extremely taxing for even a powerful unicorn, at least if she wanted to rise more than a few feet from the ground. Still, Lovestruck knew she could do it: she could cast love spells, after all, and for a pony who could work magic as powerful as that, levitation was foal’s play.

Her teeth were clenched, her horn was red hot, and perspiration had thoroughly matted her fur when she at last brought her four hooves down onto the wraparound porch encircling Cadance’s suite. Pushing past some well-manicured bushes and ferns in the neatly trimmed flowerbed, she made her way to a broad bay window, magicked open the latch, and slipped inside.

Once she was in, Lovestruck paused a moment to let her eyes adjust to the darkness. The architecture was grand, what with gold-gilt Ionic pilasters in the corners, a broad pair of gilt double doors set with crystal windows, and a heavy vermillion drapery hanging from the ceiling in place of a cornice. But the furniture was simple enough: Cadance and Shining Armor, both fast asleep and snoring faintly, were nestled together in a narrow bed too small for two, and beside them on a dented nightstand was a garish purple lamp that had been out of style for over a decade. Squinting through the dimness, Lovestruck observed similar beat-up and out-of-fashion items, including a gauche vanity, beside which stood a cardboard box of vinyl records.

Taking another glance at the bed to make sure Equestria’s favorite lovebirds were indeed fast asleep, Lovestruck flipped through the records and smirked at the names of bands she’d never heard of, such as Ponies without Hats, Stallions at Work, and Rein Astley. In the entire batch, the only name she recognized was Bruce Springsteed, who even today was still known throughout Equestria as “The Boss Stallion.”

Lovestruck snorted faintly. Well, of course Cadance couldn’t have listened to Nine Inch Tails, Coldhay, or Sapphire Shores back when she a teen, considering that those groups didn’t exist yet.

Lovestruck tiptoed to the bed and gazed down at her sleeping mistress and the stallion beside her. She wondered sometimes what Cadance ever saw in this lug: whenever she spoke of their romance, Cadance usually recalled how awkward Shining Armor had been back in academy, when he was a coltish youth with a tousled mane and a penchant for chess and foolish tabletop games. He sounded comically unappealing.

Lovestruck cocked her head and chewed her lip. Much as she hated to, she had to admit that Cadance may not have chosen poorly: after all, the Royal Guard had certainly made a stallion out of Shining Armor. Deep chested and muscular with heavy hooves and rakishly unshorn feathers, the Shining Armor of today revealed not a glimpse of the silly and socially awkward colt he must have once been.

Shining murmured and shifted in his sleep, and one of his hooves slid out of the bed and thumped against the floor. It was a ridiculously small bed for two ponies, and surely Cadance could have taken a more luxurious suite if she’d wanted it. Did she really pine so for the youth she spent in Celestia’s shadow that she insisted on staying in her old room, in spite of the inconveniences?

Lovestruck looked around again and wondered why Celestia had kept this room intact, changing none of the furniture and even leaving in place the items Cadance had left behind. She imagined that Celestia did this for all her protégés; perhaps somewhere in the School for Gifted Unicorns were rooms of Sunset Shimmer and Twilight Sparkle, preserved like mausoleums.

For one wild moment, her head spun as she wondered if Cadance would someday do the same thing for her—if there might in time be a memorial to Lovestruck in the Crystal Palace. The thought made the back of her mouth taste sour, and she silently vowed to remove or throw away all her things when she moved out.

She snuck past the bed and headed for the roll-top writing desk, on the top of which sat a weathered canvas valise. Lovestruck knew this valise: Cadance carried it whenever she made what she delicately called “house calls.”

Lovestruck froze when she heard a muffled groan and a faint thump from the bed. She cast a glance back: Shining Armor had rolled over again in his sleep. Wiping fresh perspiration from her forehead, Lovestruck magicked the valise open and rifled through the papers inside.

She flipped through several tables and diagrams, most of them love calculations for crystal ponies. There was one confirming that Citrine Star was a good match for Chimney Sweep, and another suggested that Moondust and Silver Arrow would have trouble, but that they could make it work. Lovestruck’s eyebrows knit as she flipped through chart after chart without finding what she wanted.

At last, a grin overspread her muzzle when she saw the names she sought atop a page crammed with figures: Twilight Sparkle and Brad.

As rapidly as she could, she stuffed the rest of the papers back into the valise, ran to the window, and slipped out into the night. Hunkered down behind the bushes, she read the chart by moonlight.

Well acquainted with the difficult art of reducing romance to mathematics, and familiar with her mistress’s neat but miniscule writing, Lovestruck quickly deciphered the page. In spite of her need for stealth, she chuckled to herself.

Cadance was an expert observer. She had, as Lovestruck could tell from her notes, poked and prodded and deliberately irked Brad across several conversations in order to bring out the essence of his personality. “Athletic,” Cadance had written, “but proud. Opposes authority.” Around the words, “Academically disinclined, and dislikes reading,” Cadance had drawn a red circle.

Lovestruck’s eye hovered for a moment over the phrase, “Curious tendency to effeminacy.” That was curious, and it struck a note somewhere deep in Lovestruck’s mind, reminding her of something she couldn’t quite recall. She’d think of it in a moment.

Twilight’s side of the chart was more complete than Brad’s, of course, since Cadance had known her longer. Twilight’s half took into account every nuance and paradox of her personality. Brad’s side was sparse, but still contained sufficient data for a skilled matchmaker to arrive at a preliminary conclusion. That conclusion Cadance had penned in bold letters at the bottom of the page and underlined in red:

NOT A MATCH.

Now Lovestruck put a hoof to her mouth, doubled over, and did her best to stifle her laughter. Oh, it was too funny and too tragic! The boy for whom the princess had moved heaven and earth, whom she had traveled to another world to obtain, for whom she faced ignominy and disgrace—not a match!

Lovestruck had suspected, and now the cold equations confirmed: the alleged love between Twilight Sparkle the princess and Brad the man was an adolescent fatuity and nothing more. Of this Lovestruck was entirely convinced; she took it on faith. Science had spoken, and in that court there could be no appeal.

Lovestruck had many talents, and one was a photographic memory. She knew Twilight and Brad’s chart by heart, so she opened the window a crack, levitated the paper back into its place in Cadance’s valise, and then steeled herself to make the harrowing drop to the ground below.


Before returning to her quarters, Lovestruck spent a few minutes flirting with a platinum-clad night guard on a veranda overlooking the castle’s private garden. Guardsponies made easy marks: as Lovestruck knew, stallions always joined the EUP for one of two reasons, either to protect mares or to impress mares. Either way, they weren’t hard to lure.

She always wore a perfume that made her smell as if she were in season, so when she batted her eyelashes toward the guard, he was more than happy to shirk his duty and chat her up. She kept one flank toward him and spoke to him over her shoulder in order to emphasize the graceful curves of both her neck and hip. She watched his nostrils twitch as he spoke, and she noted a tremor entering his voice. She dropped a few calculated double entendres, batted her lashes again, swished her tail, lowered her hips just slightly, and acted coy. After a few minutes, she could tell from the dilation of his pupils, his more rapid breathing, his inward-turned hooves, the glow in his cheeks, and the bashful turn of his neck that the guard was falling hard.

That’s when she blew him a kiss and trotted off with her muzzle in the air. If she ever saw that particular stallion again, she’d pretend she didn’t know him.

At last, she made her way through several hallways and up a dozen flights of stairs to her tower room, where she dug under her bed and pulled out her easel and sketchpad, on which she’d scribbled several charts and equations in her manic, halfway illegible penponyship.

Lovestruck’s first passion was of course amore and all things thereto related, but her second and almost equal passion was sports. She had been captain of the fillies’ polo team back in Fillydelphia Academy, and, since moving to the Crystal Empire where the ancient martial arts still thrived, she had become skilled both in the joust and in the noble but almost extinct art of unicorn horn-fencing. She had even developed an interest in the crystal ponies’ tiny ewe races, and she bred her own stock of racing ewes.

As an admirer of all things athletic, Lovestruck maintained an interest in pegasus stunt flying. She of course kept an eye on the Wonderbolts, but she also watched minor venues where civilian pegasi were free to strut their stuff. Thus, she had followed the career of Rainbow Dash, the flight school dropout and small town weather manager who was the only pony in all of Equestria able to produce the legendary Sonic Rainboom.

A few years previous, Rainbow Dash had appeared frequently at the cinema in the PNN newsreels because she was doing battle with a persistent batch of sky gremlins, whom she at last defeated with a Double Sonic Rainboom that nearly destroyed her wings. Before that time, Lovestruck had already noted a few intriguing anomalies in Rainbow Dash’s personality, and the PNN interviews allowed her to produce a more in-depth psychological study of the up-and-coming flyer.

Lovestruck flipped through her sketchbook until she found her chart for Rainbow. She ran a hoof over it and sighed. “Ah, my dear, dear Rainbow Dash,” she murmured. “I daresay I know you better than you know yourself, especially since reflection is not your strong suit. Bossy, arrogant, a great athlete—abused by other foals when you were younger, I’ve no doubt. ‘Too coltish’ they called you, didn’t they? Yes, I know how that goes.”

Lovestruck’s teeth clenched and her grin turned hard as she remembered her days at the academy.

“I know all the signs, Rainbow,” she continued as her eyes pored over Rainbow’s data, checking for errors. “Throwing yourself into athletics, ‘adopting’ a younger filly as a sort of informal protégé, and probably even deliberately affecting a lack of interest in all things romantic, hm? You’re trying to make up for what you lack, never admitting what you really want.”

She made a few minor adjustments and continued, “But it’s not your fault, Rainbow. Why, ages ago, before ponies turned to follow the Ordinances of Magog, any stallion would have seen you as a great prize—a mare who could rule his other mares and keep them in line. In the past, you would have been boss of a herd, but now they say you’re ‘too masculine.’ It’s a pity: you were simply born at the wrong time, my dear little anachronism. You and me both.”

Lovestruck hummed to herself as she filled in the information from Brad’s chart next to Rainbow Dash’s. The theory built into the love equations had it that an individual’s personality was incomplete by itself, but that when two came together, they could make up for each other’s defects and compensate for each other’s imbalances. An ideal match always involved similar interests, so the two could strive for the same goal, but also complementary personalities, so they could complete each other. Brad and Rainbow Dash were both athletic, and they both took an interest in music, but they contrasted in other, more fundamental ways, so—

Lovestruck reached the end of her chart and drew forth her abacus. She clicked the beads back and forth for several minutes, scribbling with her quill pen all the while, until she at last drew her conclusion.

Then, because she was in the privacy of her own room, she tipped her head back and laughed long and loud.

At the bottom of the page, in big, bold letters, she wrote,

SOUL MATES,

and she circled the words in red.


High up the slopes of Mount Eohippus, where frigid winds whipped and howled, Rainbow Dash shivered on a ledge at the mouth of Latigo Canyon. Her ears lay back, and she pulled down her goggles to protect her eyes from the icy blasts. Around her were nothing but barren, sharp rocks, which shone a sepulchral blue under the heavy moon. The rocks were clean, scoured constantly by wind, but a few tiny pockets of powdery snow hid in their cracks and crannies. Narrow and twisted, the canyon stretched out toward the mountain’s lonely, rugged peak; crisscrossing the crevasse’s high, steep sides were fissures and gouges stark black with shadow, and jutting from its rim were jagged points glistening with moonlight.

Rainbow Dash did not know it, but she was the first pegasus pony to stand in this place for over nine hundred years.

Her mind wandered back to the party earlier that evening and the sight of Brad’s strange digits flickering across her guitar. She couldn’t get that image out of her head. He had seemed to her at first like a mere weirdo, but now that she knew him just a little better, she had to admit there was something appealing in his easy manner and lopsided grin.

She scraped a hoof across a stone at her feet. She was chilled. As a pegasus, she could handle thin air without any loss of mental acumen, and she had a layer of down in her coat to keep her warm at high altitudes, but even so, the biting wind in Latigo Canyon was no laughing matter. She had to move, and she had to reach the Aerie or find other shelter quickly, or she was likely to freeze to death.

This flight, this challenge, was almost perfect: ponies knew she was attempting it, so she had bragging rights if she succeeded, but nopony was there to watch her in case she might fail. She didn’t like to admit it, but she had exactly one abiding fear—embarrassment. Whenever she attempted anything in public, a spike of fear always snapped into her heart, a fear that she might fail. But right now, she had no fear at all, and even though her gums ached in the cold, she spread her lips in a wide smile.

Once more, an image of Brad floated into her mind, but that wouldn’t do; she had to concentrate. So she cast the image aside as she stepped over the ledge, spread her wings, and flew.