The Father of My Children
“The Father of My Children”
Written by The Descendant
Edited by Applejinx
Cover art provided by ApertureIndigo
Written in celebration of the first anniversary of the release of A Sweet Taste of Cake.
Cup Cake stood there, staring at the gentle curves of the stranger’s body.
There was a mare in Sugar Cube Corner, and Cup Cake could not look away from the scene that was playing out before her startled eyes, gazing across the interloper as nightmares began pouring through her mind.
Less than an hour before, she had delivered her children to the house of her mother, the house that Carrot’s mother had come to live in as well. The two old friends had come to share the fine home, the one her father, now departed, had built for his family. There, in that happy, memory-filled space, the old mares sheltered in one another as their years grew on them.
As all grandparents do, they complained of how quickly Pound Cake and Pumpkin Cake were growing, and how it seemed that they never got to see their grandchildren.
This was, of course, despite seeing them at least twice a week.
“Oh, well, if you’d like to watch them for a bit…” Cup Cake had said, and in an instant she’d found herself with a free afternoon.
She had returned to Sugar Cube Corner, slipping in the back door quietly, hoping to find some time alone to work on a project. She had begun something small, something trite, but something she felt a warm desire to do.
Pinkie was gone, off on another grand adventure to save Equestria from some ancient, nameless, unspeakable evil or some such thing. With all three of her “children” out of the house, that only left Carrot to contend with.
She had expected to be gone all day, and Carrot had taken it upon himself to bear the burden of running the shop alone. But, with the children being tended by their mothers, she had accomplished all of her other tasks quickly.
Now, she had returned to their bakery, their home, in hopes of finding some time to work at her little vanity project.
That had changed when she had seen the young pegasus mare.
Cup Cake had attempted to cross the bakery on silent hooves, had been about to surprise her husband, when she saw the beautiful, sprightly filly.
It was no surprise that there was a customer in the bakery, though by this time of the morning most of their regulars had already come and gone. The sight of a single patron should not have caused her any alarm… but it did.
It did because of the little motions that the mare made, the timid sway of her body, the darting look in her eyes, and the slight blush that sat on her features.
Cup Cake saw them all, and knew what they meant.
“Anything I can help ya with, Miss?” came her husband’s voice, the dearly familiar tone lifting around the glass cases, ringing on the air. “You’ve been looking for quite awhile now. I’m happy to make something up for you, if there’s something special you might like.”
“Oh! Oh, ummm, something special?” giggled the mare.
Her voice was beautiful, and it was filled with an emotion that made Cup Cake jump in alarm. She fought to keep her hooves quiet as she backed away from the saloon doors, leaving them open, the space between the kitchen and shop lying unobstructed.
Cup Cake’s eyes went to the shining surface of the ovens, and there she saw the perfect lines of the filly’s body, saw her perfect colors, saw her perfect eyes. The older mare gasped. Her hoof came up to her mouth, and the nightmares found her.
She recognized the undercurrent in the mare’s voice, that small tone that was hidden within. It was something any mare would recognize, a tone that she had spoken with back in those days when Carrot was not yet her husband. She had spoken to her special somepony, her Carrot, with that tone in their courting days.
She had used it when they had sat beside the millpond, watching the water wheel go around and around as they touched their faces to one another, as they gently drew their muzzles across the other.
Yes, she recognized the tone the young mare was using. She had used it too, long ago.
The filly was flirting.
The filly was flirting with her husband.
Cup Cake took another step back, hiding herself against the cupboards. The mare’s voice met her again, the sound sweet and small. Even her voice was perfect. Cup Cake looked back into the reflective surface of the ovens, the mare’s lines and curves once more meeting her eyes.
“Oh, well, if you’re asking,” the mare said in a giggle. “Well, ummm… there is something I’d like,” she continued, her voice growing softer. A new, softer blush went across the young mare’s face, Cup Cake catching it in the reflection.
“Just say the word, Miss, and I’ll be happy to make you up a batch of whatever you’re looking for!” Carrot answered in his trademark tone. “What would you like?”
The young mare gave another giggle, and then looked away sheepishly. She placed the back of her hoof to her face, almost as though she were trying to hide behind it.
“W-well, what I’d like is…” the pegasus began, her voice falling away, becoming faint as some indecipherable words fell from them.
Cup Cake recognized the anxiety in the filly’s voice. Her voice had been the same once, filled with that awkward tension. Her voice had once made these sounds, the sounds of an admission about to be made.
The young mare’s voice rose again. It was weak, struggling to make the words.
“What I’d like is… is, well…”
Cup Cake took a deep breath and pressed herself against the cupboard that much more, her eyes still on the blushing, trembling figure of the flawless filly in the reflection.
“Miss?” Carrot asked.
“You!” the young mare blurted. “I-I’d like you!”
A most awkward silence fell around the bakery. The ticking of the cuckoo clock stood out, and the passing ponies outside the window become stark in their relief.
“M-Miss?” Carrot answered.
“I-I’ve been seeing you around for a while, and… and I think you’re, I think you’re cute!” the filly answered, her body giving a shake.
Cup Cake shuddered through a breath.
“I’ve seen you with those two cute little foals. Are they your niece and nephew? I can’t help but think of how… mature, you look with them, and how gentle you are with them, and how nice you are to everypony. How… handsome,” the mare continued, barely pausing for breath as she poured forth her admission. “A-And I can’t… I can’t help but be, attracted to that.”
Cup Cake’s eyes went back to the reflection, catching across the young mare. Her breath caught again, and she knew where this was leading.
Her heart thudded in her chest.
“S-So, I was… oh my, I was hoping that, maybe, we could… go out some time?” the mare said, her voice dropping away in uncertainty.
“Oh, well… my gosh!” Carrot stammered. “Miss, I’m quite flattered. I really am! But, heh, you see, those are my foals, you see! I’m probably, oh, twice your age! Maybe more! I’m happily married!”
There was a squeak, and suddenly a much brighter blush reflected in the oven door, covering the pegasus’s coat with a noticeable red.
“Yes, Miss,” Carrot repeated, the slightest of chuckles in his voice. “I’m very happily married to a wonderful mare, you see. My wife is just out for the day, but as I said, I am married…”
“Oh! Oh, dear!” cried the filly, embarrassment erupting in her voice. “Oh, dear, dear!” she repeated, her worry evident as she ran her hooves through the brilliant tones of her mane.
In the kitchen, Cup Cake watched the mare blush. In an instant, she felt her fears washing out of her, replaced by pity for the charming filly, a mare that had made a simple error.
The poor girl, she thought, realizing the anxiety that must now be running through the pegasus.
The poor thing, Cup Cake thought, raising her hoof to cover her smile, needlessly hiding her sigh of relief. The poor little dearie, the poor, poor…
“Does that matter?”
As soon as the words were spoken, new nightmares flashed through Cup Cake. Her ears came up, scouting for danger like a wild horse, searching through the cupboards and display cases for the single, potent danger that the words had presented.
She could not have just heard the mare say…
“Does that matter?” the pegasus mare repeated, and soon after there came the soft sound of delicate hooffalls, the filly moving that much closer to Carrot.
Cup Cake startled, and in the voice she heard more than just the innocent flirting of a filly stating a crush. No… no, there was much more now. Now there were the sultry tones of a mare that wanted something much, much more from Cup Cake’s husband.
“Miss?!” Carrot asked, his tone both polite and alarmed.
“Well,” the mare said, her voice lingering across the word, adding something to it. “At least we can be honest now. No need for all of the fluff. I’ll start.”
Cup Cake’s heart thudded in her chest, and she pressed harder against the cupboard, using the weight to keep her from calling out.
“Maybe I like the idea of being with an older stallion. Maybe I really, really like thinking about how it feels to spent time with a, well, mature stallion,” sang the mare.
“A real stallion, like you, not another grunting colt,” the young pegasus continued. “I think I’d like a stallion, one who knows how to treat a mare. One who’s had a couple decades of… practice.”
The mare’s voice had changed. Her voice had become covetous, desirous… seductive.
Cup Cake could hear each little hoof-fall, each little toss of the silken hairs of the mare’s mane. As that voice fell around the shop, Cup Cake’s eyes went back to the oven door, back to the image of the seductress who paraded her faultless lines in front of Carrot, who presented the elegant, refined sweep of her body to the stallion.
“I have rules against being with a married stallion, but… hey, rules are meant to be broken, right? I think it would be nice of you to… let me have a little taste,” the mare said, painting longing into her tones. “‘Cause, you know, I’m a little hungry right now..."
Cup Cake’s hoof went back into her mouth, and she pressed herself closer to the cupboard once more.
Jezebel! Adulteress! Temptress! Hussy! The words screamed around in Cup Cake’s mind, making her bite down on her hoof. Part of her wished to burst into the shop, pounce upon the pegasus, give her the thrashing she so assuredly deserved, and then toss the harlot into the street.
But, all that Cup Cake’s body did was press itself against the cupboard that much harder, and her teeth drew deeper into her foreleg.
The pegasus was beautiful, perfect. Her body presented all of the better traits of her race. She was light, graceful. In her frame sat the strength of the pegasi, and the sense of living for the moment that hovered around that race showed itself fully in the mare. The pegasus was young, little more than a filly. Here was a mare in those bright years when her body could back up her desires instantly.
The mare was everything Cup Cake had once been… everything she’d never been. This pegasus was firm, svelte, and beautiful in every sense of the word. She was young, eager… tight.
Cup Cake’s eyes watered, and as she watched the reflection she knew that her own body was that of a mother, not a lover. And, even in those days long ago when she’d first looked into her Carrot’s eyes, she had only ever been… well, round.
Cup Cakes looked across the pegasus, across this temptress, this mare that was doing everything right… everything she’d need to do to claim her prize.
Carrot. His name flashed through Cup Cake’s mind. Carrot.
“Did you say that your wife was gone for the day?” the mare continued, her voice now full of enticement and temptation. “That’s good. The little ones are out, too? That is good. That’s very good…”
A little strut appeared in the reflection, and Cup Cake’s eyes watered.
“I bet you’ve been married for a great long time then, huh?” the mare asked, drawing herself that much closer to the stunned, silent stallion who sat behind the counter. “You must be very good to her. You must know what a mare likes, if you’ve kept her interested for so long…”
There was a wispy sound, the noise of a tail being drawn across a pony. Tears rolled out of Cup Cake’s eyes as the reflection showed the mare’s tail falling off the stallion, off of her husband’s nose, just out of her view.
“Can’t you take your noon break just an hour early? Just flip the sign right now, for me, please?” the mare asked, painting a pout on her face and a whimper into her voice. “Wouldn’t that be nice? Putting a smile on a customer’s face? A grown stallion, like you, taking care of a young mare like me? I’d like that…”
A devious smirk fell across the pegasus, and for an instant she coolly panned her eyes across the shop. Her body was slightly turned, the mare curving just enough to let her see Carrot’s reaction as she shifted her hips back and forth.
“And, I bet that after so many years with one mare, well,” cooed the young pegasus. “Maybe… maybe you’re ready to taste something a little exotic, hmmm?”
The pegasus’s eyes lit up, and with a few more shakes of her hips, her tail began to shift, and then lift.
Cup Cake’s eyes dove down to the floor, her whole body trembling as her teeth dug deeper into her foreleg.
For a race of creatures that generally go about unclothed, a glimpse of something as banal and trite as various bits of anatomy is without context, no more so than seeing eyes, ears, or the flash of a tongue. This is something that clothed races sometimes struggled with.
Attraction, desire… for the ponies these were based on emotional investments in an individual. At this moment, Cup Cake’s investment, her long years of life with Carrot, lay stark and bare before her.
The temptress signaled her wishes to the unseen stallion, the seductress using her charms to garner her prize. The pegasus, the one seeking to claim Carrot for her purposes, displayed her desires in full.
Thus the competition began, the power of promises and love against those of animal desires and seduction.
Carrot. The name, the precious name, shot through Cup Cake’s mind once more. Carrot!
Cup Cake fought to lift her eyes. When she finally did, the reflection on the oven door revealed the pegasus mare lowering her tail so that it once more lay gently upon the sashaying hips. Cup Cake heard the light hooves of the filly, saw her reflection bend in the oven door as she walked towards the stairwell.
“Nopony ever needs to know,” the mare said, her tone once more longing, falling into that painted farce of innocence. “She’ll never find out. I just want… I just want to know what it would feel like to be with you. Please.”
Condemnations screamed through the mind of the older mare.
“Can we go upstairs?” the pegasus asked, her tone flawless, her plea perfect. It was all carefully measured, all immaculately crafted to capture the stallion that stood unseen in the room beyond. “Can we go upstairs, please? No pony ever needs to know… she’ll never know.”
Cup Cake’s legs went weak. Her head swam, her body shook, and her eyes flowed with tears.
“You deserve a treat. Please, can’t you be my stallion, just for an hour or so?” the pegasus begged, turning her head from the stairwell, capturing Carrot in her eyes once more. “Please… won’t you take me upstairs? Please?”
There had been many times in her life when Cup Cake had felt individual moments stretch out into imperceptible lengths of time. She had felt the few seconds, or even mere instants, stretch out into minutes, hours, or seeming to consume days.
She had felt it happen when Carrot had kissed her for the first time. He had drawn her into a kiss beneath the canopy of what would become this store as the rain fell around them. That moment could not have lasted long enough.
She had felt a terrifying moment stretch into infinity when a broken, bleeding Carrot had stared back into her father’s enraged eyes, demanding the chance to prove to the older stallion that he was worthy of Cup Cake’s love.
She had felt a perfect, wonderful moment the first time she looked up into his eyes while he whispered “I love you” and the pleasure washed through her. She begged that moment would never end.
She had felt a moment of worry and fear stretch ever longer as she sat crying on a table in a fertility clinic.
She had felt a moment of uncertainty stretch when her foals left her body, waiting for the instant when they drew their breaths for the first time.
This moment, though, this horrible, awful, painful moment… it lingered. The mare’s offer stood out around the bakery, catching in the display cases, falling across the floor, buffeting the cupcakes and pies.
Carrot! The dear name dove through Cup Cake’s mind. Images of their lives together flew through her, and the horrible, awful moment drew on and on and on.
Her mind screamed his name again, and she bit harder upon her foreleg, the pain racing through her.
Carrot! Carrot!
“No.”
The moment ended, and the stallion’s single word sounded out around the bakery in a ring of clarity, as certain and as powerful as the breaking dawn.
“No,” Carrot Cake repeated. “I’m sorry, Miss, but I love my wife.”
In the kitchen, Cup Cake dared to begin to breathe again. She forced her foreleg out of her clenched teeth, made it slide gently to the ground as her body continued to shake. As she tried to force herself to calm she focused on her husband’s words, on the words of her stallion…
…of her Carrot.
Her Carrot.
“Miss,” Carrot continued, his voice cool, tempered, “I won’t lie to her. Maybe she would never find out… probably wouldn’t. But… but I’d know, ya see? I’d know, and I’d never be able to look her in the eyes again. I’m sorry, but I will not risk hurting her. I won’t lie to her like this.”
“Oh.”
The mare’s voice betrayed some shock. Had a stallion just escaped her wiles?
“I promised her, you see. I love her,” Carrot concluded. “I won’t do it. I won’t do that to her… to my family.”
“Oh,” the pegasus said, some strength returning to her words. “I see.”
The light hooves of the pegasus mare turned once more, and now she faced the door. Outside, ponies went past Sugar Cube Corner, unaware of the drama that had just played out within.
“Like I said,” the young mare continued, tossing her mane, “it’s against my rules to try to be with a married stallion, but it seemed like the right thing to do, seeing as you are such a great dad. Mares find that attractive you know, that a stallion cares for his children… even if they might not be his, in the strictest sense of the word…”
“Miss?” Carrot said, still maintaining his cool, even tone.
Cup Cake saw what the mare was doing, that the pegasus mare was playing her last card. No new fears arose in Cup Cake. She knew her Carrot, was already berating herself for even thinking that he’d entertain the offer of a stranger.
What moved through the earth pony now was sadness. That pegasus was invoking the little rumors that flew around her family, was using the gossip against him, and trying to find a weakness…
It was an accusation that Carrot had dealt with in silence, had dealt with through his faith in her.
His faith in her…
Cup Cake’s eyes darted towards the office, momentarily fixating on her project in the room beyond.
“It’s kinda unusual for two earth ponies to have a pegasus colt and a unicorn filly, huh?” the young pegasus said in a playful tone, revealing her knowledge of the mare that lived in this home.
“Maybe she hasn’t been as… well, as faithful to you as you’ve been to her, maybe? That has to have crossed your mind,” the pegasus said, dropping back into her seductive tone. “Turnabout is fair play, right? I’m more than willing to help you get it off your chest. C’mon, stallion up… she doesn’t need to know. There has to be some doubt in your mind, and it’s only fair.”
Cup Cake bit her lip.
“Miss,” Carrot answered, his voice firm and unwavering. “I don’t appreciate you saying such things about my wife. I’m afraid that I’m going to have to ask you to leave my shop.”
The ring of a glass jar coming open was followed by the sound of a paper bag unfolding. Carrot’s hooves sounded out across wooden floors, and for the first time in those desperate minutes since she entered the bakery, Cup Cake could see the amber coat of her husband reflected in the oven door.
His head bowed down, placing a bag on the display case next to the mare. The pegasus looked confused, and perhaps a touch defeated, as Carrot’s lifted his face from the little peace offering.
“For your trouble, Miss,” he said.
Cup Cake could not see it from where she stood, but as the mare’s head disappeared towards the bag she imagined the filly extending her tongue, slowly lifting the bag into her perfect, pouting lips.
The light fall of pegasus hooves, and the fluttering of wings, filled the bakery.
“Oh, and Miss?” Carrot’s voice climbed over the noise of the street beyond the window, and once more that mare’s eyes returned to his.
“Please,” he said, his voice steady, “don’t ever come back.”
For an instant silence hung around the bakery. Soon, though, there came the familiar ring of the bell above the door, and with that the mare slowly departed, trotting out into the late morning traffic that wandered up and down the main street of Ponyville.
“Whew!” called Carrot after a moment. “Whew! Heh! Whew!”
It was a ridiculous sound, and at once it broke the spell of all the doubt and insecurity that had held sway over the bakery. All suddenly seemed as it had been, and the singing of the swallows that lived under the eaves became clearer, and the rays of light once more swam through the kitchen and shop.
“Heh! Gosh!” Carrot said, slowly sauntering back to his prescribed place behind the counter. “Omigosh…”
Cup Cake remained hidden, listening to the little sounds of surprise that her husband was making. She slowly lowered herself to the floor, sitting silently as the familiar sounds of Sugar Cube Corner drifted around her.
She settled her eyes across the pots and pans, across the rolling pins and drawers full of baking tools of all shapes and varieties. This was the world they had built together. This was their own little realm, their own little paradise. This, Cup Cake imagined, was their dominion. This was the world that she and her husband, her Carrot, had built together.
This was the world where Pinkie had come to find a place to explore her mark.
This was the world of her babies.
This was their home… a home that Carrot Cake had just defended, one that he had just protected as surely as if he’d beaten a cat burglar senseless or extinguished a grease fire.
That was Carrot… her Carrot.
Cup Cake’s eyes were still misty, and she shook a little as the unspent adrenaline drew through her.
She wiped the back of her hoof across her eyes, lifting away the last of her tears. As she did, she had to keep from laughing at herself. Yes, what she’d just seen was disturbing, but in the end could she really have ever doubted the outcome?
Could she ever have doubted her Carrot… doubted him the way that others seemed to doubt her?
She drew the quietest sigh she could, and then let her mind wander back to the parting shot, the last card that had been laid before her husband, and the one that played against his paternal instincts.
Cup Cake lay down fully upon the floor, once again moving as quietly as she could. She thought about what he had been through since the day their foals came into the world. She pondered the rumors and gossip that swirled around her.
He had borne it bravely, and if it ever bothered him, then Carrot Cake had never said a word to her about it.
Cup Cake lifted her head, and then settled her eyes on the door of the den and office just across from her. In that room sat her project, the one that she had hoped to work on this afternoon.
The time seemed more right than ever to complete it, but rising to her hooves would mean betraying her presence here in the bakery, and it was not time for that yet.
No, it was too soon. So, Cup Cake sat upon the floor, letting the cold of the basement below reach into her through the floor as the sun fell over her coat through the window beyond.
In the shop beyond, Carrot began to hum. His soft melody was one that she recognized. It was one of the songs that they had danced to long summers ago, one that had followed them through their lives together.
As she sat there, Cup Cake let the last of her emotions drift away from her, let the feelings of anger and fear evaporate. She let Carrot’s song draw away the wrath and worry, let them get wrapped up in the notes and drift away to wherever such things go to abate and die.
She forgave the mare. There was no need to hold on to that, and as Carrot Cake’s humming drifted around her she knew that the pegasus had been right about one thing… he was a good stallion, one who had kept her interested all of these long years.
But, she knew, it was more than the mere physical connections that the mare seemed to covet that had given rise to what they shared.
No, Cup Cake thought as she raised her hoof, placing it gently over her heart, there was much more to it than that. Much more.
In her heart, she hoped that the pegasus would discover that for herself one day, and with that the perfect lines of the interloper faded from her mind. The cackles and guffaws of those who breathed the rumors drifted away, leaving only one thought in her mind.
Carrot, her Carrot, remained there. His soft song continued to flit around her, and as she thought of him her mind turned slowly towards a new destination.
Carrot had kept his promise, and as such, he deserved a reward. A very, very nice award indeed, if she had anything to say about it.
A little smirk went across her face, and a special glint settled into her eyes. Yes, that sounded like a lovely idea. As the sounds of Carrot’s humming brought fresh memories of being wrapped in his forelegs to her mind, Cup Cake decided that it sounded like a lovely, lovely idea.
It seemed like a very lovely idea indeed.
She stood, and then drew the back door open as silently as she could. She pressed her rear hoof against it, and then gave a little kick that slammed it in place with a resolute thud.
Her feigned return now announced to the bakery at large, Cup Cake trotted forward to offer her husband some tender sympathies.
“Hello?” Carrot called out, hearing the back door slam. “Ginger Snap? Is that you?”
Carrot leaned forward across the counter, hoping to catch sight of the pony that had just come in. A song had been going through his mind, one that reminded him of times spent with his wife… and, given how the morning had gone, he felt a real need to see her.
She did not disappoint, and as he watched, the familiar tones of his wife’s coat and mane appeared in the doorway, leaning against the saloon doors just so…
… just so.
Just so.
“Oh, yes,” she said. “I’m back just a touch early. The darlings are with Mom, you see.”
“More than just a touch early, Honey Bun,” he said, trotting over to where she stood. Soon his nose was to touching to hers, and the warm, familiar feeling of her closeness spread through him.
They stood there, together, touching their muzzles together. Her breath caught in his nostrils, the sweet scent of her air filling him. His breath went to her, catching across Cup Cake and filling her with his nearness.
Cup Cake’s head lifted by fractions of an inch, and motion drew him into her further, inviting him to brush his head across her cheeks and forehead as only those so intimately familiar with one another can know to do.
Eventually, he drew his head along her neck, nudging her head up gently so that it rested across his withers. As her head sat there he drew his face across her shoulders, her neck, and her back until they simply rested against each other, the two swaying together slightly in the warm rays of light that fell through Sugar Cube Corner.
“What are you gonna do with your afternoon, Sugar Plum?” he asked, lifting his head slowly as she moved beneath him. He looked down into her rosy eyes… the wondrous, perfect, rosy eyes that he’d been captivated by for decades. He drifted through them as she spoke.
“Oh, well, there’s a little project I’ve been working on,” she said, gazing up into him. “And there’s always a bit of work to do around here, of course.”
“Heh,” Carrot added, knowing the truth of the matter. The noon nap breaks had only become that much more important as time had sped on, as he’d gone from a young to a middle-aged stallion. There was always something to do, something that…
Carrot was startled out of his reflection as Cup Cake stirred beneath him, drawing herself out of their embrace and back into the slow motions of their nuzzle. She began the slow circles and lazy figure eights once more, letting them reach up into his senses.
Carrot answered, taking the lead as their long-practiced intimacies told him to take control, told him that she wished for the touch of her husband. He drew his face along hers again, earning a pleased hum for his efforts.
As Carrot went back to her nose, he felt her lift into him, felt her calling for that much more, and in an instant they were once again in that wonderful place… once again sharing a kiss with the pony that they loved most in the world, lingering there Carrot's forelegs wrapped around Cuppy, drawing her closer to him.
They parted from each other slowly, the pistachio of his eyes meeting the rose of hers once more.
“Heh,” Carrot breathed again, saddened that the working day kept them from pursuing things any further, from exploring where the warmth and fulfillment of such a simple act could take them.
He lifted his hoof to her, offering to help her stand.
To his utter amazement his wife pushed him back, and then sank into his lips with a deeper kiss, one that momentarily surprised him and made him lean backwards against the force of it.
He answered her, drawing his hoof through her mane as her kiss continued to leap through him. Some part of him awoke to the feeling of a great emotion sitting behind the cherished eyes of his wife, eyes that sparkled briefly before returning to yet another kiss.
Carrot Cake tumbled, losing his balance as Cuppy pressed against him deeper. Rolling onto his back, Carrot Cake found himself quite a spectacle, no doubt embarrassing the tarts and éclairs to no end.
He didn’t care. He couldn’t, not with the dearest mare to ever enter his life springing upon him, suddenly peppering his face with kisses like she was an awkward filly with her first love. He could think of nothing else. He could only hear her giggling, feel her running her face across his chest, pressing herself into the place in the world where he knew she was the happiest.
“Oh my, Honey Bun!” he said, nuzzling her as he wrapped her in his forelegs once again.
She lifted her head, settling her eyes into his.
“Oh, Carrot,” she said, releasing a happy sigh. “Oh Carrot… I love you.”
“I love you too, Ginger Snap,” he said, running his chin through the swirls of her mane. “I love you so much.”
The floor was hard, and their bodies, no longer as forgiving as they had once been, began to berate them for lying on the wooden planks. With no small hesitancy, Cup Cake lifted herself out of her husband’s embrace. He drew his hoof across the length of her body as she slowly departed, and she touched her hoof to his nose and he lay there, staring at her upside-down.
“Oh, Carrot,” she said. “There’s so much I could be doing today, don’tcha know? There’s just so much work I could be getting done.”
Her soft hoof-falls fell through Sugar Cube Corner, and as Carrot rolled onto his stomach he watched her walk towards the front door. He watched the shift of her hips, noting the rise and fall of her flanks, the lift of her shoulders, and suddenly he was very, very sorry that the workday prevented…
Cup Cake flipped the sign on the door from “Open” to “Closed”, and Carrot sensed that the day had just improved immensely.
“Carrot,” she said, staring back at him over her shoulder. “There’s a whole bunch of things I could be doin’ today, but… but what I really want is my stallion…”
She walked back over to him slowly, approaching him with the same look that a tiger gives a wild piglet.
“I want my Carrot,” she said, lowering her head once more, finding the warmth of her husband’s nuzzle.
Yes, Carrot decided, today was suddenly going much, much better than he had anticipated.
He touched his face to that of his wife, and then reached up from his spot upon the floor to leave a small kiss on her cheek. Moving slowly, he began to trace down the length of her body, leaving a trail of kisses along her neck and her shoulder before lingering his lips across her chest.
“Carrot,” Cup Cake whispered, her head falling to the side as the sensation of her husband’s affections fell through her. “Carrot, I love you so much. You can’t even begin to imagine…”
“Oh, heh, Cuppy, I think I can,” he said. His eyes sparkled, and the stallion slowly tilted his head from one side to the other as he searched through hers.
“I think you love me almost, almost, as much as I love you,” he said. “And ya know I can imagine pretty big.”
Cup Cake blushed as she bopped his nose, chiding him for daring to think that he could possibly love her more than she loved him.
“It’s true!” he said, lifting himself up on his forelegs. “I love you so much that I’ve had to come up with whole other names for you! One pony can’t possibly be loved so much, ya know!”
“Oh, come now, Carrot,” she said, batting her eyes at him.
“It’s true!” he said, and with that he leaned forward, laying another kiss to her lips, holding it there for a bright, shining moment before lifting his head.
“It’s true, Honey Bun,” he whispered, invoking the first of the pet names he’d given her.
Carrot’s lips found the curve of her neck, touching to it just at the point where it met her shoulders, tickling her as he left a single kiss upon her coat. “It’s true, Ginger Snap,” he whispered above her tiny giggle. “I love you so much that it overflows. One name just can’t hold it…”
The stallion rose up, leaving the rigid floorboards behind. He took a small step forward, and then touched his lips to the hollow of her chest, supplicating himself before his love, bowing to reach the sensitive, delicate space.
“I love you, Sugar Plum,” he breathed, leaving another kiss there.
His reward was instantaneous, and as Cup Cake gave a small leap he heard her begin to make sounds that filled his heart with joy.
Cup Cake began to give tiny, happy jumps… each one filled with anticipation and longing, the mare chuckling and giggling as a goofy smile went across her face. She circled her husband, her legs practically prancing in place, fighting to control herself as she nestled along the length of his body.
She dove beneath his nose, the gentle tones of her mane catching beneath her amber stallion, filling him with her scent. She lifted into his nuzzle, running her face along his before lifting onto her hind legs and catching his ear in her mouth.
It was an old gesture, one as old as their marriage, and as she gently ran his ear through her lips it told him many things… many wonderful, welcome things.
She slowly lowered herself, brushing past him once again, letting her tail tickle his nose, and then turned towards the stairs.
Carrot looked up to see his mare, his Cuppy, bathed in the sunlight that fell through the window. Her tones were highlighted in the soft rays, and the light illuminated her, showing off each familiar, welcoming curve.
“I want my stallion,” she said, her voice lifting to him, calling to him from the bottom of the stairs. “I want my husband. Oh, Carrot, will you come to me?”
She lifted her hoof slowly, extending it to him through the shafts of light, her suggestion sitting before Carrot like she was his angel, offering to take him off to a blessed realm.
It was a startlingly accurate metaphor, at least as far as Carrot was concerned.
“Of course I will, Honey Bun,” he said, taking her offered hoof in his own. Letting the familiar lightness of her foreleg settle into his, Carrot reached for her, and Cup Cake replied in kind. The small sound of one more kiss fell among the tortes and pastries, and with that they gazed at one another, their hooves finding those of their other… of her Carrot, of his Cuppy.
The old stairs gave a groan, and with that the two began to climb towards the welcome expanse of their familiar bed beyond.
They almost made it to the top of the stairs.
Almost.
The stairs had been groaning, but as though in embarrassed shock they had gone quiet as Carrot nibbled softly on her haunches and stifles. Carrot had almost made it to the top of the stairs, but the sight of Cup Cake’s body lifting and falling, the sound of her happy little giggles, and the soft scent of his mare had been too much. Now, the stallion held up their progress as he teased her so.
“Carrot,” she breathed, laying her head on the banister. “Carrot.”
He kissed his way back up her rear legs, placing small, gentle kisses in penance for the nibbles, apologizing for tantalizing the mare.
His lips fell across her cutie mark, her stomach, her withers and shoulders. The sound of Cup Cake’s breathing filled the stairwell, each breath ending with a contented hum. Carrot found her neck, and his lips traced the length of it slowly as her head rocked back and forth on the banister.
“Oh, Carrot,” she whimpered, feeling his soft affections falling around the base of her ear. “If you don’t stop that right now we won’t even make it to the bedroom, ya know…”
“Would that be so bad, Sugar Plum?” he whispered, his breath falling into her ear.
Her eyes came open, and a sardonic little smirk fought its way forward through the tender feelings that were washing though her. Carrot caught it, and a blush went over his face.
“Heh,” he whispered, once more reaching for her hoof.
They were older now, their bodies not quite as limber as they had once been. Cuppy’s smirk told him exactly what she thought of his intimation, and suddenly the stairs began to creak and groan again, as though ushering them on.
The memory of the hard wooden floor still sat in his bones, and as he guided her up the stairs Carrot put such ideas away from himself. Why embarrass the stairs when the great, vast continent of their bed still beckoned to be explored?
Yes, that seemed a much better idea, especially when he had a companion leaning against him lightly, one who had always gone with him on such long, wondrous journeys.
Gummy lifted his head out of the tub.
Sound carries that much better underwater, and the events transpiring on the far side of the house were being perceptibly announced, reverberating through the iron feet of Pinkie’s tub.
The alligator blinked, his eyes once more falling out of unison, and then laid his chin on the soap dish.
Though he did not present himself as the swiftest boat in the delta, the hatchling was hardly a dullard. He knew what was transpiring was beyond his right to hear. Being as he was a gentlemanly reptile, he afforded the lovers their privacy.
Besides, he had an evening of plotting world domination ahead of him, and he’d never get any naptime if he didn’t lift himself out of the waters that rippled almost imperceptibly, bouncing in sympathy with the timbers of the second floor.
The Cakes were alone in the house, and he knew that the calling of beautiful names, the fevered pleas, and the admissions of deep-seated love and affection… as well as other assorted sounds… could go on and on and on for hours.
The bed was a mess, but she hardly cared.
Her mane was a mess, but she hardly cared.
Her husband was a mess… that she cared about.
She cared about that enough to crane her head back across the pillows, searching for his nose as she lay against him.
Feeling his mare moving in his forelegs, Carrot reached his neck forward, and was rewarded with a soft kiss beneath his chin.
“I love you, Carrot,” she whispered, rocking her head slowly against him, not even bothering to open her eyes.
“I love you, Cuppy,” he answered, placing his head back above hers. “I love you so much.”
Cup Cake giggled, and then sank deeper into the crux of her husband’s body. She’d heard him say those wonderful, beautiful words over and over during the last few hours, and she had said them in reply.
Said, called… screamed, it was all the same. He meant them, she meant them, and each time they had shared the words it had cemented the connection between them.
Cup Cake lifted her forelegs, and wrapped them around his, pulling them closer to her so that he could feel the gentle beat of her heart. Carrot, sensing her call for the tiny intimacy, lifted her that much closer into the curve of his body.
This is where I’m safest, she thought. This is where I’m happiest.
The two dozed for a long while, simply listening to the breath of the other, feeling the rise and fall of the other pony’s body with each easy draw of air. The two just lay there, close to one another, sheltering in one another as the day drew on into the afternoon.
She awoke from the nap as the sound of some paper rustling knocked at her senses.
She pulled in a deep breath, noting the cool air that was falling in through the bedroom window that stood slightly open. She blushed at the thought that somepony might have heard something of the act, or acts, that had transpired in the room, but she could not truly bring herself to care.
The spring air was refreshing, and she drew it in a long breath, letting the breezes refuel her body. Her eyes came open slowly, and she cast them around the room. She focused through her happy delirium, searching the room for whatever the source of the noise could be.
Her blurry gaze fell across all of the old photographs and mementos of their lives together. It caught across trinkets that they had gathered in their journeys, it lingered across baby books and diaper bags, it flowed over a piece of paper that…
Cup Cake’s eyes flashed open.
She blinked twice, and there before her sat her little project, gently rippling on her nightstand.
Cup Cake gave a little gasp. Yes, it was her project! How had it gotten here, to their bedroom? She had left it in the office downstairs, sitting on the corner of the desk, hidden under her ledger and accounting books. Had Carrot seen it? Had he brought it up here, passively letting her know that he knew of… of…
Cup Cake covered her mouth, stiffling her call of surprise. Her mind raced, and in a moment she realized what had happened.
She had brought it here.
She had brought the ledger and spreadsheets upstairs as they prepared for bed, and had been working on them into the night as her husband slept at her side. All those long hours that she had been working on shop business, her little project had been right upon her lap, tucked amid her invoices and receipts.
She had only noticed it as she had drifted off to sleep, and had no time to retrieve it this morning as she rushed to gather up her children.
Cup Cake leaned forward, risking an attempt to gather it to herself surreptitiously, trying to find some way to hide it from her stallion.
She wasn’t ready yet. She didn’t want him to see it yet, it wasn’t done. What it said, what it revealed about her, him… their children. She wasn’t ready for that yet.
She leaned that much more, desperately doing her best not to wake Carrot, yet straining against his embrace.
Her tongue came out of the side of her mouth, and her brow furrowed as she concentrated on the piece of paper.
Carrot, oblivious in his slumber to all except the parting feeling of contentment, pulled her back into his embrace, drawing a little squeak out of his mare.
Cup Cake gave a diminutive sigh, arched her eyebrow, and then leaned forward once more. Her hoof waved through the air, just barely missing the piece of paper, jostling it so that the pen rolled back and forth across the surface.
The mare giggled at how ridiculous it was. She was straining forward, not wanting to leave Carrot’s embrace, while he was pulling her back in his slumber, not even aware that he was holding her in place as she tried to grab hold of her endeavor.
Her tongue came out again, and as she strained to both let her husband sleep and hide her little project, she found herself also having to fight from laughing aloud at how bizarre it all was.
She leaned forward that much more, and Carrot embraced her that much harder, unknowingly fighting to draw her back to the spot that she hadn’t really wanted to leave in the first place.
She felt her body rippling with laughter that she couldn’t release. Unless something happened quickly, she’d probably explode with laughter and have to settle back into his forelegs. Then she’d have to find a way to distract him until she could hide her project.
Hmmmm, she thought, a smirk settling across her face as all sorts of pleasant thoughts went through her mind. Distract him, then…
Fortunately, or unfortunately, something happened.
“Momma!”
Her ears came up as only a mother’s could, racing instantaneously to where the voice of one of her children had arisen.
There was the flutter of fine feathers, like wax paper waving in the wind, and her eyes followed her ears to the window.
“Momma!”
To her surprise, the figure of Pound Cake quickly lifted into view, his bright eyes shining to her, and then slowly fell away. Cup Cake blinked, trying to convince herself that it wasn’t a vision.
In an instant her hoof went back over her mouth, needlessly hiding a smile.
“Carrot,” she whispered, rolling her head beneath his chin, waking her stallion. “Carrot,” she said, “watch the window!”
Carrot’s eyes came open, and as he blinked the stallion too heard the sounds, the flutter of tiny wings that sounded like baseball cards rattling in bike spokes. An instant later, he also saw the familiar face of his child.
“Momma!”
The little pegasus quickly lifted into view, smiled, and then slowly began to drop once more.
“Poppa!” Pound Cake called before slipping out of view. There was a hearty laugh, and with a single kiss falling to his wife’s cheek, Carrot lifted himself out of the bed.
“Oh, my, Honey Bun!” he said as he trotted to the window. “Oh my, let’s hope he doesn’t make a habit of this!”
Cup Cake giggled, and with a single motion swept her project under her pillow, the pen rattling to the bedroom floor.
“Hello, my glorious son!” Carrot said, catching the little pegasus.
“Poppa!” called the boy, wrapping himself to his father’s forelegs.
Cup Cake smiled as she approached, and as Carrot drew Pound in through the window she joined them in looking down to the street below. There, amid the ponies walking up and down the high street, stood Carrot’s mother, Cheesecake, their daughter Pumpkin waving her forelegs through the air from the stroller at her side.
“Oh! Oh, Carrot! Cuppy!” the older mare called. “I’m so sorry, b-but we just remembered that Wishing Well has a doctor’s appointment, and I simply have to get her there and I didn’t know if they’d let me bring the darlings!”
“It’s okay, Mom,” he called down, waving to his mother and his daughter. “I’ll be down in a second to unlock the door.”
Carrot turned, pressing Pound into his mother’s forelegs. He leaned down once more, catching his son and his wife in the same kiss, and then was off to usher the rest of his family into Sugar Cube Corner.
“Momma!” Pound called once more, wrapping himself that much tighter to his mother.
Cup Cake held him to her chest, running her hoof through the brown mane and across the fluttering wings of this, the other most important male in her life. “Yes, Lovey,” she said, “it’s Momma! I’m here, and I’m so happy to see you!”
She touched her nose to the top of his head, letting it sit there as the sound of new voices filled the bakery.
Your momma loves you very much, she thought, and so does your poppa. Poppa loves you very much, too. You have the very best poppa… don’t let anyone ever tell you any different. Don’t ever let anypony tell you that…
Cup Cake’s eyes went to her pillow. Her small project sat there, unseen and undisturbed since she had quickly hidden it. She ran her face across her son’s head once more, and then made her decision.
The afternoon had crawled on and on. They had reopened a few hours later, after the children had been put down for their naps and they finally had time to rearrange things after their escapade.
Carrot had made his usual rounds, tending to the needs of the bakery while preparing his supplies for the next morning. Cup Cake had done her share, washing some dishes, putting others away, and going over her ledgers and accounts.
It was a practiced dance, a comfortable routine. Yet, even as the day drew on and a few more customers arrived seeking something special to add to their evening meals, Cup Cake found her mind going back upstairs. Her mind kept returning to the little project, her secret work that now sat beneath her pillow back in the all too quickly abandoned bedroom.
Carrot had never advertised himself as being especially insightful, or as being talented in empathy. His mark was for baking, and baking alone.
Yet, he had known his wife long enough to see that something was playing across her features. There was something going on beyond the shades of rose in her eyes, something that troubled him to see.
He watched her motions, heard her heavy breaths, and saw how she was blinking her eyes just that much more than usual. All of these were the little signs, the little flags that showed that she was not quite worried, but still had something wavering around in her thoughts.
He had known his wife for decades now, had learned her moods and states. He knew what her body looked like when she was upset. He knew the sounds that sat in her sigh, the ones that betrayed the way her mind was flying off to other places.
He knew her as only two ponies that had shared so much could know one another. He saw that she was troubled, knew her to be dealing with something small as only one who had studied another, lived with another, loved another, could know.
It was to draw out that little, nameless emotion that Carrot approached her, startling her as he drifted her name out over the ledgers, records, and receipts that lay scattered about the den that served as the bakery office.
“Sugar Plum?” he whispered, making her leap in surprise.
“Oh! Oh, Carrot!” she cried, papers falling off the desk as she was snapped out of her quiet reflection. “I was just looking over the…”
She lifted her head to find him staring back at her with concern painted across his face.
“Honey Bun?” he said, tilting his head. “Is everything okay? You seem a little off. Nothing is bothering you, is it?”
“Well, no, it’s… oh, Carrot, no, nothing is wrong, it’s just that…” she began, floating through her words as she both tried to return his gaze and avoid it.
Her heart chose to return it, and her body listened to the orders it was given. “Carrot,” she whispered, looking through his eyes, “there’s something that I've been putting off, and I think I should…”
She laid her head alongside his and gave a sigh, letting his closeness fill her. She gave a few more warm sighs and waited for her words to come.
“I came back home hopin’ to work on something… something quite important, don'tcha know, and well… we got distracted a bit, didn’t we?” she said, a small smile playing out across her lips.
They chuckled quietly as they held each other, reflecting on the way that their afternoon had been so pleasantly interrupted. Yet, it had been interrupted, and not just by their lovemaking. The temptations that had been thrown before Carrot Cake, and which Cup Cake had witnessed, had played their part as well.
That instance of seduction was the reason why she knew that she had to finish it now.
She had to finish her project today, while the emotions sat close to the surface. She had been working on it too long, had failed to find that last little bit of… something, that something that would move the work towards completion.
Today, it had to be today. It had to be now. It had to be this afternoon, these few remaining hours. It had to be now, in this lingering afternoon where her thoughts were to her husband, her children… and the rumors.
“Carrot,” she breathed, lifting her head from his, “I really need to work on a little thing, something… important.”
“That’s fine, that’s just fine, Ginger Snap,” he said, brushing a few strands of her mane back into their place upon the swirl of her rosy hair. “You go right ahead… I was going to watch the shop today anywho, and the kids are down for their nap, so…”
“Are you sure, Carrot?” she asked, more than a little concern hidden in her voice.
“I’m sure, Cuppy,” he said with a little laugh.
She returned his smile, and turned towards the stairs. To her utter surprise he followed her, taking a few steps beside her as she made for the stairwell.
“Are you okay, Sugar Plum?” he asked.
A small shard of alarm sank through her, and she wheeled back to him. He looked at her with concern growing in his features.
“Oh, yes… I’m fine, it’s just something I’ve been meaning to do, is all,” she said. Looking back to him, she found him still hovering near her, still seeking to know what could possibly be bothering her so.
She smiled to him once more, and lifted her hoof once again. Once more she heard his hooves following along, trotting beside her as though he were a little puppy instead of a grown stallion.
“The shop is quiet, and the kids are sleepin’,” he said, quietly. “Do you want some help?”
“N-no!” she called, her voice rising in alarm. Her cry sang around the bakery, making glass display jars ring in sympathy.
Carrot stood there dumbstruck, an expression across his face that betrayed both bewilderment and more than a subtle hint of hurt. Both stood there, staring at one another, waiting to see if a child’s cry should find its way down the stairs.
After a few long moments, no little voices wailed from the room above, and she lifted her hoof to her husband. “Oh, Carrot,” she breathed, “I’m sorry, it’s just that, that this thing… it’s about us, about the little darlings. It’s about us… it’s about something you should know.”
Carrot stood there, searching through her eyes, searching through them and sifting through her words. After another long moment, a small smile went across his face.
“All right, Honey Bun,” he said, lifting his hoof into hers. “Okay. I’ll… I’ll get dinner on in a couple of hours. I’ll watch the kids. Whatever it is, I’ll give you a little peace.”
He began to back away, to drop her outstretched leg, when a firm tug on his hoof called him back close to her.
“Carrot,” she said, firmly, “I love you.”
“I love you, too, Cuppy,” he said.
She placed a small kiss on his nose, and then made her way towards the stairs. His hooves followed her, but stopped when he reached the bottom of the stairwell. She felt his eyes on her, watching her body sway as it climbed each step. She gave a little sigh, feeling the absence of his closeness, unlike when she had made her way up the stairs just a few hours before.
She stopped in the little bedroom of her children, moving slowly and quietly between the pegasus and the unicorn, casting her gaze over each. She carefully adjusted the tiny blankets, ran her hooves across them, and rubbed their backs when they stirred.
I have to do this, she thought.
She found herself adjusting Pumpkin’s blanket once more. Beneath her hooves, the little unicorn moved dreamily, giving a tiny yawn. Cup Cake’s lips pressed to her daughter. When she felt the child calm she slowly lifted her head, cast one more look across her babies, and then made her way out of the room.
I have to do this now, the mare thought. It has to be now.
She made her way down the hallway, going back to the bedroom she had long shared with her husband. As the brilliant rays of an afternoon slid through the window she found the piece of paper, still sitting in repose beneath her pillow where she had hidden it.
She fell across the bed, holding the paper over her. She stared at the words. She gauged them, pondered them, casting long judgmental glances across them. While another heavy sigh fell from her she flipped over, and then fished her hoof across the floor, searching for her missing pencil.
It has to be now, she thought, gathering it into her hoof.
Hours flew by.
The nightstand made for an awkward writing desk. The lamp now sat on the floor, and the nightstand pressed between her legs as she sat on the edge of bed that faced the windows. As she wrote she could feel the tip of the pencil pressing her marks into the antique, lacquered surface. When she erased some words, which was often, all of her little belongings hidden within jostled and tumbled about, making a racket.
She had only stood up once, to close the window when the pleasant breezes of the afternoon had lost their pleasing touch. As the cold air had drifted across her it had sent chills up spine, making her aching back tremble with a new discomfort.
Still, she had made progress.
“Cuppy?”
Carrot’s voice drifted into the room, and at once Cup Cake’s eyes went wide. She dove down onto the nightstand, gathering her project into her forelegs, hiding it from his view. She looked back over her shoulder, and there she saw him standing in the doorway, his head turned to the side, the door just barely open, doing his best not to look within.
“I… I just wanted to let you know that dinner is ready, Honey Bun,” he said in a small voice.
“Oh!” she answered. “Oh, thank you, Carrot. I didn’t even realize how fast… yes, I’ll be there in a bit.”
“I’ll grab the kids,” he said.
“Thank you, Carrot,” she answered.
“Is… is it coming along?”
“Yes.”
A moment of silence followed, and then she slowly made her way to the door, catching a glimpse of him as her babies went bouncing along on his back, their daddy carrying them carefully down the stairs.
Tears formed at the edges of her eyes.
It was finished.
Dinner had passed, and the children had been properly scrubbed down afterwards. Together they had toiled their daily toil, finishing the tasks that were necessary to button up the bakery for the night.
She had taken on the greater burden, doing her part and the part of Pinkie Pie. They could hardly protest her absence, seeing as she was off saving Equestria from some new perilous peril. Still, older bodies strained under the added tasks, and it was with stiff limbs that Cup Cake climbed the stairs once more.
Again, she paused at the room of her children. Carrot tumbled with them, letting them climb his back, catching them as they slid down his frame. She leaned on the doorframe as his voice lifted in singsong words, her smile coasting over her children and her husband as their tiny voices lifted in peals of laughter when his tickles found them.
The sound followed her as she made her way back to the bedroom. Once more hefting herself behind her impromptu desk she let the pencil fly across the paper. It had grown now, and it was many papers instead of a single one. It was many papers filled with words that she had grown to detest, words that vexed her.
Yet, she wrote.
She wrote until the sounds of her children drifted off, and only the lullabies her husband sang reached her from the hallway.
She wrote until Celestia’s sun had been replaced by Luna’s moon, and the shades of night had filled the bedroom.
She wrote until her legs hurt.
She wrote until it was done.
She stood over the work, looking at the scattered pages. It was nothing like she’d imagined it. It didn’t… it didn’t seem like what she had hoped it would be. It wasn’t… good.
It has to be now, she reminded herself, and with that she scooped the papers into her mouth. Setting the nightstand back in place she put out the light, and then trotted anxiously back to the nursery, her work hanging from her lips.
She peered within. Two nightlights illuminated the room, and the carousel lamp next to the changing table cast animal silhouettes across the walls, filling the room with a comforting glow. It would be bright enough to read, and that gave her some strength.
Carrot’s head lifted from the stacks of pillows that sat upon the floor, and as her eyes adjusted she saw the dearly familiar forms of her children nestled close to the chest of her stallion, her children occupying her favorite spot in the world.
She moved closer, and soon she too lay across the pillows, her legs folded beneath her. Yet, she was not so close that she could cuddle to him… she wasn’t ready for that. She needed to be able to say what must be said.
“Cuppy? Honey Bun?” he whispered. “It’s done? Whatever it is? Do you... want me to see it?”
His wife placed the papers before him, and there upon the pieces of paper laid a poem.
Cup Cake cleared her throat, and began to read…
The Father of My Children
By Cup Cake
For Her Husband
Cup Cake lifted her head and smiled to him. His smile reached back for her. “Cuppy…” he began, a single note of surprise hovering in the word. A glance between them told him that all that was required of him was to listen.
Carrot Cake settled his head on the pillows, the pistachio of his eyes finding her rose-colored ones as her words began to drift around the cradles, stuffed animals, and baby bottles.
I have a secret garden
That I keep apart
It is my happy, quiet place
And there I keep my heart
A little path runs through it
Along a bubbling stream
And there is where I retreat
To let my life blur with my dream
There I am safe and happy
And the sun is always bright
And when I stretch upon the grassy fen
My soul is filled with light
For me there is peace and stillness
And there is my golden hour
For my garden’s sights and scents fill me
And cheerfully lend me their power.
Deep are the garden’s foundations
Hewn and laid with care
And long have the strong old trees kept their company
With beautiful flowers fair
They sprang forth from tiny seedlings
The young trees that I found long ago
I have tended them, and they have sheltered me
And I’ve kept them best as I know
My garden has bloomed over and over
And only grown greener with time
And I’ve been loath to share it
And I’ve kept the secret mine
Once my father found it
And he thought it something less
And sought to strip the soil
And the trees and flowers oppress
Strong though is my garden
And it defied the severing axe
For despite the wounds and perils
It withstood the wrathful acts
Searched through the garden did my father
Trying to understand my love
And his understanding grew with time
As the light fell across him from above
Once again I could walk my garden
Feeling the touch of the grass
Letting the flower’s scents reach for me
And I let myself fall into the embrace of the grass
Cup Cake shuttered. In her revisions, she had totally missed the fact that she had just rhymed "grass" with itself, a sin of poetry. Her eyes lifted to that of her husband, somehow feeling like she needed to apologize. She was no poetress, that she knew, and suddenly this all felt so very foolish, so very...
His gentle eyes caught across hers, and his hoof ran up and down her extended foreleg. The mare pressed on.
My garden held me tenderly
And draped its breezes through my hair
Brushed its leaves and sounds around me
And treated me like a princess fair
How wonderful the touch of my garden
As its breezes left their traces upon me
And as I drifted in the sensations
I felt my garden make me happy
My garden always waits for me
And is always welcoming in its way
And it never refuses me or denies me
When I seek its comfort at the end of my day
My mane may be tossed and frazzled
And I may have come from my kitchens flustered and hot
But my garden has always received me
And settled me into my favorite spot
There I have been safe and contented
And after hard days I have sheltered there
The stream, the path, the flowers and trees
Have kept me in their care
But times have not always been easy
And times have not always been fair
And often my garden has had to protect me
As harsh winds and hard storms at my life tear
The sweet grasses and still waters
Have held me by and by
My garden has always been with me
As my heart stutters and I start to cry
Storms have come into my life over and over
And at times I have felt myself fall
But always have I found the garden gates open
And my garden has seen me through all
Once I cried out for a child
To have in my life that singular joy
But the magic that sat deep within me did not answer
And it seemed that with me it wished to toy
My garden kept me close as I whimpered
And the breezes draped themselves me over and over
My garden whispered its promises to stay near me
And the garden only drew me closer and closer
Oh, my garden stayed with me
And into my life in time came our great joy
For now upon the sweet grass I could keep close
A darling daughter, and beautiful boy
The words drifted away for a moment, and the eyes of the two ponies strayed across the little forms that lay against Carrot, their tiny breaths lifting and falling in their slumber.
In a few seconds, she continued…
My garden brought me my children
Its seeds welcomed on the sacred soil
And in the small trials that followed
It has shared in the toil
The storms have never abated
And my garden was put to doubt
“How could she bear such children?”
Was the question that swirled all about
They whispered their doubts and their suspicions
And their rumors became as grey clouds that lingered and snuck
I found myself doubted and questioned
By old hens that cackled and clucked
Cup Cake had been about to begin the next stanza when she felt something brush her. It was a warm, familiar feel, and Carrot’s hoof came to rest on hers, giving her his strength once again.
This, then, was the purpose of this poem, to bring into their lives the truth behind the rumors, something that both had ignored for the sake of the other.
As his hoof went up and down her outstretched foreleg, she spoke to him the truth that he’d never asked her to speak, swore to him with certainty that which he’d never doubted in the first place.
My child joined me in the garden
My boy who at once flew into my heart
And I show him to all who would ask me
For my love cannot be picked apart
My garden gave me the colt that I hold dear
Its breezes lingered over me, giving me joy that my heart sings
And it is for none to doubt
For my garden gives my love wings
My child joined me in my garden
My daughter of magic and light
And I show her to all who would question
That my love has only ever been true and bright
My garden gave me a daughter to cuddle
And to whom I sing lullabies by and by
And my garden’s love washed over me
And its magic lifted my heart into the sky
I’ve never gone to any other place for such closeness
Never felt the want to go to some other place
For it is alone in my garden
That I feel truly content, and feel my heart race
Carrot’s hoof travelled up and down her foreleg slowly, once more drawing out the little sounds of pain that had come with releasing such pent-up words.
Now it was time to press on, to finish the story of the garden, to lay open that which had transpired that very day.
Others had tried to claim my garden
To take away my still, quiet space
They have come with covetous bodies
And sought me to replace
Oh, they should like to uproot my garden
To steal it away for their own
To offer themselves up to the touch of the grass
And to usurp my garden, me to dethrone
Cup Cake looked up as Carrot’s head lifted from the pillows. They stared at one another for a moment. “Cuppy…” he whispered, but soon her small hoof had delicately placed itself over his lips.
By my garden did not reply to the offer
The bubbling stream and bright flowers withdrew
It rejected the usurper completely
And waited for the mare it always knew.
She lowered her hoof from his lips, and their eyes danced across those of their spouse. Yes, she had seen all. Yes, she’d heard the young filly beg her husband to betray her. Yes, she knew Carrot had rejected the pegasus. These truths flew back and forth between them, each gleaning the meaning from the eyes of the other, knowing the other as only those they have long embraced could know.
Yes, she loved him, and her trust in him was unshaken and as firm as ever, and these lines of verse were all that ever needed to be said about the matter.
Their lips touched together, and then she brought her work to its conclusion.
I have a secret garden
That I keep apart
It is my happy, quiet place
And it alone holds my heart.
There my children are happy
And their laughter sings aloud
It watches over them tenderly
Being loving, caring, and proud
My husband is my secret garden
And to him I fly
In all my hard times and in my joys
He is with me whether I laugh or cry
My garden is the father of my children
And through the times of strife
I have sheltered in the warmth of his chest
And loved him, the light of my life.
The End
The final words of the poem drifted out around the nursery. In the small, warm room Cup Cake nervously shuffled through the four papers, trying to put them back in some semblance of order. She looked down at the messy papers, wrinkled and strewn with eraser marks as they were.
Cup Cake released a little sigh. She had wanted it to be so much more, to be something truly wonderful. She had tried to teach herself iambic pentameter, only to give up in a bout of screaming frustration as she admitted, loudly, that she had no idea what it meant.
She had tried cinquains, sonnets… all sorts of poetry. In the end, her little project only became smaller and smaller, this humble thing made up of rhyming scheme that couldn’t win a elementary school poetry contest, let alone tell her husband how… how much she loved him, how much she trusted him, how very much he meant to her.
“Carrot,” she said, clearing her throat. “Carrot,” she whispered, “I… did it make sense, the poem? You… you are the garden, don’tcha know, and, well…”
There had been many times in her life when Cup Cake had felt individual moments stretch out into incomprehensible lengths of time. She had felt the few seconds, or even mere instants, stretch out into minutes, hours, or seeming to consume days.
As Carrot’s lips fell to hers, that moment went on and on, the warmth of his kiss drifting through her once more.
The moment went on, stretching out on a single golden cord of happiness as he touched his face to hers, the slow rotation of the carousel lamp dropping patterns of shadows and light across them both.
“It was perfect, Honey Bun. It was wonderful… it was absolutely perfect,” he whispered, drawing his face across hers, dropping his words into her ears. His breath tickled her, and his whiskers added to the sensation of touch that was drifting across her as the moment went on and on.
“Thank you so much, Cuppy,” he said, drawing her closer to where he and the children lay. “It was wonderful. I love you, Sugar Plum.”
“I love you, Carrot,” she answered, gently lowing herself across his chest, tenderly drawing their children closer to both of them. “Carrot, I love you so much…”
The Cakes, all four of them, all lay there upon the pillows, slowly falling farther and farther towards sleep as they lay sheltering in the closeness, touch, and safety of the others.
Long ago, "The Game of This” had been played in this house, and the deep magic of Equestria had drawn itself out across these players. Now, that magic lingered over them as Cup Cake’s golden moment drew her down into sleep, tucked deep into the chest of the stallion she loved most in the world, her children wrapped in their parent’s forelegs.
She’d won another round… he’d won it for her, as he always would.
Some time later, Cup Cake awoke from her dozing to feel a familiar nuzzle drifting across them all, and she carefully lifted her hoof to welcome her “other child” back to her home. With that a disheveled, but smiling, Pinkie Pie nuzzled her way into the embrace of her “other family”, and soon the two mares drifted off to sleep.
Soon only small breaths lifted from the nursery room, and the carousel lamp went around and around, bathing all within in silhouetted stars and moons. Its patterns gently lowered them into sweet dreams, ushering them into the happy days to follow.
End.
Also LikedSimilarAuthor
- The Descendant · 109k words · 378 5 · 6.1k views
- The Descendant · 9.3k words · 642 18 · 11k views
- The Descendant · 8.7k words · 386 5 · 5.6k views
- The Descendant · 17k words · 942 14 · 10k views
- The Descendant · 17k words · 559 5 · 10k views
- The Descendant · 12k words · 840 11 · 10k views
- The Descendant · 5.9k words · 248 2 · 5k views
- The Descendant · 39k words · 217 2 · 4k views
Stats
Page generated in 0.232 seconds
Total duration
1,016 users online
18,294 hits today, 2,561,572 yesterday
FIMFiction
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
Designed and coded by knighty & Xaquseg - © 2011-2024
Follow & Support Us
Support us
SubStar
Chat!
Discord
Follow us
Twitter
MLP: Friendship is Magic® - © 2024 Hasbro Inc.®
Fimfiction is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by Hasbro Inc.®
Must read soon as possible...
A followup to A Sweet Taste of Cake?
That was beautiful, TD.
That.
Was.
Beautiful.
With the "romance" tag thrown around so much on this site, it's hard to find actual romance stories. This... This is what a story with the romance tag should be.
I actually feel like sharing this fic with my mom. She's a bit of a poet herself, not to mention I think she'd sympathize and relate to Cup Cake. I think she'd love it.
Although... Why hasn't Cup Cake thought of free verse?
Wow, it's been a whole year?
Delightful as usual. Love how you write family dynamics - the romance of the routine.
Awwww! This was beautiful :)
This.
This is BEAUTIFUL.
This! This is why we can have nice things after all!
I'm not ashamed to say I had to blink back some liquid pride while reading.
On the funny side: For some time I thought that the "project" was her trying to figure out a way to tell him of the next Cake in the oven.
There are no words, this was lovely
Congratulations on the anniversary of A Sweet Taste of Cake, and congratulations and thanks for having written another wonderful story.
I like the way he handled that young mare and showed his love for his wife. A very good story over all.
Awesome in the true sense of the word, not the meaning that everyone throws around these days
Marvelous
I feel like the poem could have spoken for itself and the narration in the poem should have been toned down.
Carrot is the kind of husband i aspire to be someday. Well done.
How?
How on earth do you manage to turn out such fantastic works seemingly effortlessly? You have a truly remarkable talent, good sir, one that leaves the rest of us dumbfounded with its majestic quality.
Well done.
You the stallion, Carrot
Also, this is great
If Cup cares so much about the rumors, get a DNA test done, go to Pony FedEx, blow it up to poster size and wall paper the outside of the bakery with the results, then start punching the non-believers into the wall like Seiji Sawamura. Problem Solved.
That being said, good story and you handle the whole 40 something year old married couple thing very well. It's nice to see Carrot still be a bad ass, but there should have been this scene:
Young mare: "I have daddy issues, please drive your Wonka boat into my scary tunnel."
Carrot leans down and shows off his back confusing the pegasus: "Wanna know how I got these scars? My future father-in-law beat me to within spitting distance of death with a whip. I just met you and I can safely say I wouldn't do the same for you, so here's some free cookies and get your ass the f*** out of my store."
D'aaaaaaaaw! That's just so adorable!
denver.mylittlefacewhen.com/media/f/rsz/mlfw730_small.jpg
Loved it, and i really loved how you portrayed Carrot's personality, it stayed so true to his character, it's a shame they don't show more of Mr and Mrs cake in the cartoon. they are such a perfect couple.
And this is why the Cakes are the most underrated characters in the fandom. They really need their own episode.
Small error here.
Though should be thought.
There's really no praise that I can give that hasn't been given many times before, so I'll just settle with saying that you have, once again and to the surprise of none, outdone yourself.
This is beautiful and cute and wonderful, and it deserves every moment that it spends in the feature box.
A teen story tagged with the sex tag? And by the pen of The Descendant himself? What a peculiar combination...
Well, I will have to give this one the highest priority on my read-later list.
Lets see
Beginning- really happy
Middle- getting really appy
End: Heart warmed to the point of tears.
Yep, I felt good about this. Then again...it is a sequel to my favorite romance fic.
Dude, TD, I—wow, man.
You don't know how fortuitous and affirming it is to me, personally, that you wrote this. My wife and I have been having some troubles lately, and through good friends in our church and some counseling, we've come back to a place that this story reminds me of. It's the feeling of being that real man, of defending your wife's and your family's honor with your life. I feel it deeply, intimately, and totally. So few writers—so very few indeed!—actually get love. You get it. I like to think that I get it. But this story sums it up beautifully. It's more than just a commitment, it's an abiding state of being that makes the idea of another partner unthinkable.
So, call it encouragement, then. This story is an almost perfect example of where I want to be in ten, fifteen years' time.
Thank you for writing it.
Thank you for letting me enjoy it.
PS, you got bit by the poetry bug pretty hard, dincha? Loving A&R&TPP also, btw.
Once again, Descy... Once again you hit me in the feels.
You have a great gift for painting the scenes without dipping too far into purple prose.
Carrot is the definition of a true gentlepony in this one... And, as that notch in his ear proclaims, he's more than willing to walk into the gates of hell for his Honey Bun, but ONLY her.
That nameless pegasus filly never had a chance.
Oh, wow. That was amazing. I love the Cakes and was about to go looking for some fics featuring them, when BAM I see this on the featured box and naturally, I have to read it. I loved it, and I am going to check out the story this is celebrating.
Once read a fic where Carrot was a complete asshole, glad to see another view on him.
2722256
Why would anyone write him as an asshole? He's only been in a few episodes, but in them he's nice and polite to a fault.
2722296
It was this HiE where the the human was in a relationship with Pinkie. The plot was how he ended up comforting Cup Cake after Carrot did it with Celestia, somehow Celly didn't didn't know he was married.
As for him being an ass, he was forced into the marriage after it got found out he was doing it with Cupcake so while he was polite, he didn't truly love her. There was affection at one point but nothing like this.
Why? Because that was part of the plot. Kinda like how the made trollestia even though she doesn't show that kinda behavior to that level.
Wow, just Wow.
This is wonderful and a great follow up to a great story.
I mean this in ths most unisultingly way possible, but you
BASTARD!!!!!
From the first meniton of the rumours about the kids, and Cup Cake's reaction, I thought that's where we were going!! And that blody pegasus mare......
Yes, Celestia, I understand! No, I'll leave them behind! I'm only going to take tranqulizer rounds!
No, I'm just going to talk to her, and then down to Ponyville to sort out the rest of them!
By the way, this was almost my reaction to the poem
3.bp.blogspot.com/-qi0ERhh4hQ8/T5Sc5GxjPiI/AAAAAAAAATI/jizhm6mDv1w/s640/my-little-pony-friendship-is-magic-brony-manly-tears.jpg
but I read this wth my parents in the room!!!! Yet another brilliant story from an awesome author!!!!
This was one of the most beautiful and touching stories I've read.
Thank you.
Very good. Very good indeed. I confess I have yet to read A Sweet Taste of Cake (mostly because I'm reading the stories on my To Read list in reverse word count order, and I wanted to have something of yours to look forward to.), but this didn't impact my enjoyment at all, other than not getting one or two references, like "A Game of This"
For a moment, I thought it had something to do with A Game of Thrones, but then I remembered that your stuff and George R R Martin's stuff have rather little in common. For instance, I enjoy reading your stuff.
I believe the common utterance at this point is BA-ZING!
Anyway, an excellent exploration of what many would consider a cliched feeling and situation not worth lingering on (I think they would be wrong, but hey). I want to say that it goes on a bit too long at points, and it does kind of drag in places... but in a good way. A way that you can feel the moment being dragged out by the happiness of the characters.
I admit, when I saw there would be a poem, I was trepidatious, as I'm extremely picky about meter and rhyme-schemes, but it quickly became clear that it wasn't supposed to be a technically brilliant poem. As you pointed out, the structure isn't much to write home about, and the imagery, while a skillful use of extended metaphor, wasn't especially brilliant either. However, what it did come across as was heartfelt - this was not some brilliant wordsmith composing an ode, it was a middle-aged baker trying to capture her feelings in verse. And, in that respect, it worked very well.
The one thing I will suggest you do is put some sort of partition around the brief section with Gummy. While I genuinely laughed out loud at that (I don't care how serious or emotional a story about the Cakes is - if you live in the same house as Pinkie Pie, you're gonna have a bit of comedy happen), it is a bit confusing to go straight from the Cakes' pre-copulatory anticipation to him poking his head out of a tub. For a moment, I thought he was in the same room as them. That would have been awkward, I think.
And now I'm imagining them trying to do their thing while Gummy stares at them blankly. Why do you hate me, brain?
This was so sweet!
Almost.... too sweet. Things got a bit too saccharine there in the middle before they went upstairs. I get that they're in "wuv, twoo wuv" but it got really thick for a bit, to the point where it took me out of the scene. Not even the mood, just the constant back and forth:
"I love you!"
"I love you!"
"I love you!"
"I love you!"
I understand you're trying to get across that their love makes them feel like teenagers again, but this doesn't read like lovestruck teenagers, more like angsty tweens. Next time, we'll get a scene of them on the phone: "You hang up first." "No, you hang up first!"
Also, bro, do you even scene break? Put "hr" in between some [], to get this:
Or, some dashes, asterisks, something! With out them, the whole thing is kinda jarring, jumping from smexy poni tiems, to alligator world domination to flying pegasus colts.
Overall, a whole lot of effort for a simple premise, but that's your bag, isn't it? Taking the simple and making it grand and artistic. It was very well done, if not a tad over-the-top at times, but never too out there. I'll give this a fave.
I've been staring at this comment box for a while but I still have no idea what to say. I just... Whoa.
Carrot is a freaking hero.
Short, touching, and heartfelt, as good stories should be. You should be commended for such honest and uplifting work.
There are no words. Only mustaches. Take them all and it will not be enough.
Jeez, somebody went a little downvote-happy in the comment section
The only problem I really had was Cup Cake saying 'don'tcha know". I couldn't read this without imagining her with an Irish/Scottish(?) accent, or as a cow. You know, like the one in A Friend in Deed.
Great story regardless! I still need to read A Sweet Taste of Cake.
2722346
Doesn't sound like a great story.
I hate saccharine stories.
I don't like stories that keep changing their narrative focus.
I also hate poetry.
But I love this. I love this so freaking much. It is small, and genuine, and very, very warm. It is a precious little lovely story, and maybe just what I needed right now. I'd love to say more, but I can't really. Just know that this story contains everything I avoid in a fic and it still kicks ass.
There are a few things that irked me. The part with them climbing the stairs took a little too long (I found myself skimming quite a bit of it, although the bit about the stair groaning was great), and I felt there was also quite a bit of unnecessary repetition in a few others parts, such as Cup Cake being nervous about the temptress (which worked well pacing wise, but could have been more diverse), and when she was writing her poem (I am pretty sure you said she was done twice). Still, I don't think that removing some of that would really improve the fic.
2723151
Frankly, for a HiE clopfic it was pretty good. The writing itself was solid and the characters were done well. The main problem though was that it just had too much unfaithfulness going on.
You had the human being worried about how Pinkie would react to him forming a relationship in one chapter and then you got him banging several other mares and adding them to his herd before even talking to Pinkie in the later chapters.
*Reads description*
Twaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?
Made me cry.
Take a star and a like.
Not bad. Not bad at all.
Timing bro. I've always felt like I've been the odd man out due to my views on relationships. It's nice to see honor and monogamy treated as a given rather than an exception. Of course, "timing" wouldn't really be applicable there, given i've been with my wife for a decade now.
However, seeing as we're creeping up on fathers days and I just found out I'm about to be one (first child) you pretty much levelled me with a tactical feels nuke. Great work as always TD. Keep on with yo bad self.
Poetry's not my thing, but I do enjoy stories about the Cakes.
Cup's the only pony that can light Carrot's stovetop, just like he's the only pony that can preheat her oven.
My oh my. This made me watery for a second. I'm quite pleased and contented with your story. Please, do keep it up, as you MUST earn your right on my watch list ;)
P.S. I was half hoping Cup Cakes revealed she cheated on her husband
Personally, I'd have thrown the floozy out so fast it would have made her wings hurt.
Excellent story, get the fave, the like, all of it.
how could i not fave this Descendant , i was at a lost for words so i didn't leave a comment before, but, i still don't have much to say
the way you handled the conflict, the feelings portrayed from Cup, the execution, and my god that poem i almost cried reading the poem, that took me by surprise, it would have been the first time i cried reading poetry
not all epic stories needs the world saving, the dark adventures, or the breath taking of a revolution, i only have read about two of your stories (but no education for a couple of months so i will devour your stories
), but what i love is the way you capture the struggle of the problems in the most human/pony way possible, i became a fan when i read "the talk" once more you reminded me of why i loved your style so much 
P.S. you are awesome