• Published 6th Jul 2013
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Hooves Holding Hearts - Paleo Prints



Can Lyra and Bon Bon navigate the twisting waters of the foster care system to finally become parents! Even if they succeed, can they make a connection with a child without breaking their own hearts?

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Chapter 4: Pomp and Circumstance

There are certain elements in the cosmos that must be kept apart. Knowledgeable magi-physicists will mention matter and antimatter, or poison jokes and ampli-flowers. One worldly theoretical cosmologist wrote an award-winning paper on the reactions when Manechester United and Trottingham Toughs soccer fans are placed in close proximity. As Lyra’s father and mother approached the front door, Lyra wished that any or all of those things filled her living room in a giant pile rather than those two ponies.

Her father Jazz, his coat as gray and dour as his tweed suit and grimace, hopped onto the step a second before his ex-wife. Extending a hoof, he bowed as he said, “Mares first, dear.” Jazz’s smile failed to hide all of his gritted teeth.

Strawberry Lime snickered, a pink mane whose styling cost more than most ponies’ grocery bills bouncing around her shoulders. “Of course, ‘Dear.’ If you want to hide behind proprietary, I’ll let you get a good view.” She lifted her green rump exaggeratedly, showing off a gold-trimmed tail ribbon and saddle. “Are you mostly focusing on solo performances lately, hmm?”

She watched her mother’s tail play across her father’s nose, and as an angry retort brewed behind his eyes, Lyra Heartstrings wracked her brain. She agonized to find any sentence that could have defused the situation before it began. “Act like grown-ups” always made each claim to be the only grown-up. “You’re embarrassing me” was a sure trip to a litany of how she had embarrassed them. If she made them promise not to fight, it would lead to a series of escalations just to see who could provoke the other enough to recognizably start the fight.

Diplomacy was useless, violence absolutely counterproductive. Her choices grew small.

“Hey, Mom and Dad,’ Lyra said through her pained smile, “we have a minibar set up on the kitchen counter.”

Jazz and Strawberry shared an interested raise of eyebrows, and before he could retort she was mixing a drink. Her musical laugh tinkled through the house, and Lyra saw her father’s eyes focus on her and go very far away. A genuine smile nearly played across his face before the muscle remembered that they belonged to Jazz Heartstrings.

Lyra Heartstrings was generally considered one of the biggest nonpink extroverts in Ponyville. That perfectly fit her outside appearance, but anyone who could look inside her mind at a party would see a blinking, red button marked ‘Danger.’ She had learned from years of her parents’ parties that a gathering was like an orchestra; unless you stepped in to conduct it, things veered into chaos. Rather than be at the mercy of the other musicians, Lyra always preferred to lead the tune. Ponies following you in shock as you galloped on a counter with a traffic cone on your head were still, in the end, following you.

The downside was that Lyra knew very few ways to deal with having more than six ponies in the room without an instrument or a drink, and that was why sharp social terror pierced the back of her mind.

Lyra breathed a sigh of relief, and the two loud strains of complaints beat separate violent harmonies into the conversational symphony. The orchestral started to bloom as ponies trotted in through the front door. As conversations started, softer instruments congregated in groups, and louder ones lead them in melody. congregated. Music was good, Lyra thought. Music makes sense. Still, some of the accompaniment was silent, some chairs stood empty. “So, Dad, how’s step-mom?”

“What?” Jazz stepped away from the door, settling into the other end of the living room from Strawberry. “Fine. Absolutely fine, especially because she’s not here.”

Lyra bit her lip.

“I-I-I mean, well,” he stammered, “you know. She doesn’t get along with Strawberry much. She does like you, Lyra. She’s just been too busy to visit, after all.”

Nodding, Lyra’s horn sparkled as a drink flew from the minibar, spilling droplets as it sped towards her lips. It nearly clipped the nose of an earth stallion awkwardly pulling himself into the living room. He was lying on a cushion outfitted with two large wheels, dragging himself forward on his front and only pair of legs.

“Whoa, there,” he said with a smirk, “I forgot what a Heartstrings family gathering was like. Is it time for the alcoholic artillery yet?”

As he locked eyes with Jazz, another glass flew threw the air to hover in front of the dour unicorn.

“Mister Plates,” Jazz said as he levitated the glass closer. “I’m glad to...” He pursed his lips as he knocked back a quarter of the drink. “Well, I’m just glad I guessed.”

Her eyes moving from father to father-in-law, Lyra embraced the newcomer’s neck like a life preserver. Spinning Plates was a welcome tuba, full-voiced and boisterous even if he had left a few parts behind along the way.

“Whoa, Nellie,” Spin managed to choke out. “Less hug. Not Bon Bon. Same colors, one less limb.”

Pulling back, a smirk grew on Lyra’s face as she settled into a familiar routine. “One? I count two.”

“Count ‘em up.” Leaning in, Spinning plates spoke in a stage whisper that could have reached the back of an auditorium. “The dang chimera got the two back legs, which leaves me two to stand on and one to--”

“On that note,” Jazz said with the most impolite smile he could manage, “my glass appears to be very recently empty. I’ll see you later, Mister Plates.”

Spin’s eyes sparkled at Jazz. “You sure, Jazzy? ‘Cause I’m on a roll.” He grinned.

Lyra could have sworn she heard a accompanying rim-shot as her father walked off.

“Yes,” he said, shoulders quivering. “I see.”

“Get it?” Spin roll pounced next to Jazz. “Because, y’know--”

His pace increasing, Jazz trotted towards the kitchen. “Yes.” He said through gritted teeth “I do.”

Turning to Lyra with a shrug, Spin smiled. “Celestia, why’s he so glum? Did the damn monster leave mine alone because it bit off his?”

Lyra stepped forward and gently kissed Spin on the cheek. “I have to go play conduct things,” she whispered pleasantly while her brain stomped any sign of the rising storm of anxiety inside her off her face. “I’ll be back, Mister Plates.”

“Well, get me a drink and stop calling me ‘Mister Plates,’ and I’ll forgive you while I ogle your mom’s hinder. You married my daughter, Lyra. Call me ‘Poppy,’ remember?”

A nervous giggle rose up out of Lyra. “Please behave, Poppy.” She turned and walked her way towards Bon Bon through a haze of cheerful greetings. Lyra had two responsibilities: compose the symphony and be composed. She had been lectured with stern love on how the drunken party-girl wouldn’t fly today, and her only shot was staying in motion, to keep the different sections playing harmoniously before her own embarrassing tune came out.

Beside Bonny was the source of awe and adoration. Every visitor lingered in awe at the sight of the crib, cooing their approval at the sleepy bundle inside. Bon Bon reigned as regent, organizing the list of petitioners who wished to kiss the fuzzy belly and leave their gifts. Courtiers in Canterlot could have learned things from Bon Bon.

Okay, Lyra though as a bittersweet taste filled her mouth. She can do this. I just have to stand behind the crib. She handed off her half-empty glass of cider that she hadn’t noticed picking up and pushed through the crowd to the front door. She was almost at a trot as she arrived, breathing quickly as she asked, “How’s Snoozy holding up?”

Bon Bon raised an eyebrow. “Not screaming at all the smiling strangers and doubtlessly running herself ragged. Is there anything that would help?” She closed her eyes, leaning close to Lyra, and before the startled unicorn could protest proceeded to crush her expectations by licking across Lyra’s lips before and sniffed them.

“Aside from getting drunk, I mean,” Bon Bon added.

“That’s how I deal with my parents! This is a violent disaster waiting to happen.”

“With presents. A violent disaster with presents at the end, and that makes all the difference.”

“Okay, so we’ll end the day with presents, embarrassment, and a drunken parental brawl.”

“Reminds me of our wedding, Greenbean. Look, when you were only the kid, that was a fine coping strategy. You’re the parent now.” Bon Bon, nonplussed, gently plucked from the air a glass of cider Lyra hadn’t remembered grabbing and refilling. She passed it to the first guest within hoof’s reach without looking. “Greenbean, I want two ideas. Let’s think. What are two ways to deal with your parents without alcohol.” Her eyes narrowed. “Or the other thing.”

Lyra bit her lip. “Run away to sleep on a loveseat. Move out of Canterlot and marry a baker.”

Rubbing her eyes briefly, Bon Bon reached a hoof into the milling group of gossipers and grabbed a high-pitched, feathery bundle of energy.

“So I said, that’s ridiculous, you can’t get a high energy reaction with nutty peanut but--”

Bon Bon gently lead Ditzy by the wing to the crib. As her shocked conversation partners watched, Ditzy blew a kiss to her husband.

“John, I’m being captured! I’ll catch up with you later!”

John Doo-Smith stared blearily into the latest drink in a long line that ponies kept forcing into his hooves. It wasn’t a bad trend. “See you later, dear! Don’t blow up the house when you escape!”

At the crib, Ditzy made the proper ritual motions of belly rubs and cooing before looking away from Snoozy. “So, what’s up?”

“I need to help to prevent this place from exploding.” Ignoring Ditzy’s stunned look, Bon Bon continued. “Ditzy, can you fly wingmare for Lyra a second?” Bonnie scanned the room. “I’m going to run interference on her parents and try to keep them apart. Lyra needs someone to keep her calm and as sober as possible.”

Giggling, Ditzy saluted. “So, except for the baby, just like college. Aye-aye, captain!”

Lyra stared after Bon Bon’s retreating flanks with purer thoughts than usual, breathing heavily like a Royal Guard on some distant battlefield watching the last evacuation airship disappear into the distant clouds. As her mouth hung open, she felt a gentle wing softly wrap around her neck.

“Shh,” Ditzy whispered into her ear. “We all like you here. You don’t have to work to impress anybody.”

Lyra kept her vision focused on the crib. The world breathed in and out with Snoozy’s belly. “I’m okay.” She grinned. “Well, maybe not okay, but better with you. We’re the parents now, aren’t we? When did we become the grown-ups?” Lyra swayed on her hooves, prompting Ditzy to advance a steadying wing against her side. “What does a grown-up do when bad things come calling.”

With a smile, Ditzy gently nuzzled Lyra behind her ear. She gently leaned into the crib with both wings and picked Snoozy up in a feathery hammock. “We stand our ground,” she said as the precious ball of purple fluff cooed up at her. “We make the bad things run away. ‘Mother’ is the name for Celestia on the lips and in the hearts of all foals. That means we don’t let them down.”

The distilled sensation going through Lyra was not unlike what a caterpillar feels when it first thinks, “I’m so glad to be out that awful sack thing. What are these things drooping off of me?”

“No, that’s not appropriate,” Ditzy said to the pleasantly warbling baby. “You can’t call her ‘the Fat One.’ It’s not appropriate.”

Lyra blinked. “What?”

“It’s what Snoozy calls Bon Bon.”

Lyra’s mental train missed the station and was hijacked for Manehattan. “You understand ‘baby’? How does that happen?”

“Oh, it’s just a thing mothers develop,” Ditzy guiltily lied.

Digesting this, Lyra walked over to the babbling Snoozy. She ran a hoof down her cheek, trying to find meaning in the seemingly random syllables. “What does she call me, Ditzy?”

Ditzy cocked her ear, her eyes nearly straightening in concentration. She lowered Snoozy into the crib before looking Lyra up and down. “She calls you “The Singer in Darkness,' Lyra.”

A choking breath tore out of Lyra's throat. “Yup, every night before bed. I-is this what it feels like to be grown up, Ditzy? Is this how it feels when it happens?”

“Well,” said a similar sounding, amused voice behind her, “you told me that happened in the back of one of the Apples hay carts on Nightmare Night. Where is Cheerilee, anyway?”

Lyra almost willed a drink to her. Her heart jumped as she heard an identical harp strike up in the same concert, playing much more skillfully.

“Hi, Ballad,” she said with a sigh.

___

Elsewhere near the kitchen, Bon Bon patrolled for Strawberry and Jazz, pushing through the throng of gossiping baby-watchers. Remembering one Hearth's Warming Eve, she stepped into the kitchen to check on the wine cabinet and ended up nose to nose with Cheerilee.

At the warm smile that greeted her, Bon Bon only thought, Well, Tartaurus.

“Bon Bon!” Cheerilee wrapped her fore-hooves around her neck. “I missed you at the door. How're things?”

Bon Bon continued to scan the kitchen. “All right. Have you seen Lyra's mom?” She squinted. “You've met her, right?”

“Ah,” Cheerilee said as she poured herself a mug of cider. “Strawberry Lemon. Wonderfully perfect name. Tarty sweetness and a sour aftertaste. Haven't seen her.”

Bon Bon allowed herself a chuckle. “Yup, you've met her.” She turned away, moving towards the Kitchen exit before Sparkler stepped in front of her.

“Hey, Bon Bon! Where is Lyra to be found? Minuette's chomping at the bit to catch up with her.”

“Over by your mom, Sparks.”

As Cheerilee walked to Bon Bon's side, Bonny sourly realized she had missed her chance to extricate herself from the impending conversation. Looking for any kind of distraction, she lifted the lid of a simmering soup pan on the stove. A sniff sent her gagging, and she quickly tipped it into the sink. She plugged the drain, then stacked a cutting board and the pot over it to be sure before turning back to a bemused and curious Cheerilee.

“Bon Bon, I didn't think Lyra had friends that young.”

Bonny shrugged, her eyes playing around the crowd. No quick escape conversation provided itself, so she surrendered to the idea of talking to Cheerilee. “It goes back to the wedding. Lyra tried to explain it to me once. She said that there’s a bond that forms when find yourself trapped underground with somepony, and--.”

“Say no more,” Cheerilee said with a roll of her eyes. “Trust me, I understand perfectly. So how is the party going? The baby's absolutely adorable.”

Bon Bon hopped onto a stool, looking down at Cheerilee. “Yeah, it's okay.”

An uncomfortable second passed.

“So where's Lyra? I'm so excited to see her!”

Bon Bon nodded, carefully refilling her drink only halfway. “I bet you are.”

Blowing breath out of her mouth, Cheerilee looked around at the nearby ponies. She stepped closer to Bon Bon, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I've always gotten the feeling that you don't approve of me, Bon Bon. Did I say or do something wrong? I'll gladly and sincerely apologize.”

Kicking back a half glass of cider, Bon Bon sized up the pleasant and smiling mare she had long distrusted. Little Miss Perfect, isn't she?

“You know, it's a little uncomfortable to have you show up and watch Lyra's eye's light up.”

Cheerilee's smile faltered only slightly. “She's my oldest friend. We've shared a lot.”

“I know,” Bonny said with her eyes fixed on the bottom of the quickly emptying cup. “Everybody used to talk about it. You shared the Apple's hay cart, Miss Sharpener's desk at the schoolhouse, the Winter Wrap-Up equipment storehouse.” Lifting her eyes, Bon Bon saw the smile finally crack, raising a pang of guilt that only made her angrier. “So, which one do you think about when you look at my wife?” She stepped forward. “Did I miss any?”

Cheerilee tapped a forehoof rhythmically on the ground. “Right now? I think of how happy she was on her wedding day. I think of how happy I am she found someone who finally completes and understands her.” She sighed. “I never managed to.”

Bon Bon leaned in until Cheerilee could smell the cider and stared into her eyes.

“You know,” Cheerilee said conversationally, “if you drink and stare long enough and we start making out, Lyra may get a big kick out of it. I'd have to excuse myself at that point, unfortunately.” She grabbed a mug of cider and sucked up the foam instantly. “I'm happily married.”

The staring continued unabated.

“Bon Bon, I--”

“Bonny. Call me Bonny.” She took a small sip and smiled. “Okay, 'Lee. You've earned one chance, but if I find you and her--”

“My husband will be there, and you'll have been invited first. Should we invite John and Ditzy as well? It'd make finding a babysitter hard, I admit, but...”

Spitting up, Bon Bon filed the mental image away for careful consideration later. “You teach schoolchildren with that mouth?”

Cheerilee leaned against the kitchen counter and grinned. “Bonny, I teach sex education to pre-mark children. I have no shame.”

___

In the far corner of the living room, Jazz reflected on the unfairness of the universe.

“So then, Dinah and I decided to pop for a cooking cart. I figure one day our daughters will be able to buy their own restaurant, and we'll help out.”

His head on his hoof, Jazz's mind fought against hundreds of years of herd-influenced pacifism as Spinning Plates continued to talk. He blearily nodded, having realized long ago that nodding was the action that require the least effort while being talked at. His first marriage had taught him to feign interest well.

Spin gleefully chattered on, as oblivious to danger as a dodo diplomat to foreign sailors.

“So, we thought we'd name it “Dinah Counter's Counter! Get it? I mean, her last name is Counter, you know, and--”

With a titanic mental effort, Jazz's snapped through societal controls that had taken Celestia pony lifetimes to engineer.

“Spin,” he said through gritted teeth, “I know your wife's name. Our daughters are married, remember. I also get the joke, since I'm old enough to not be in diapers.”

“But one day you won't be!” Spin's hoof smacked Jazz on the back. “So, I’ve heard Lyra's last performance went well. We usually go, but we had a festival to cater. We were down in Appleloosa, and--”

“I wouldn't know. I wasn't there.”

Spin tapped Jazz sympathetically on the shoulder, and Jazz wondered how long it would take Spin to drive Marehoofma Gandhi to violence.

“We all get busy, Jazz. Why, one day I--”

“No!” Jazz dropped the empty mug onto the floor, drawing stares from the other ponies on the couch. “No, you cretin. I didn't go because Lyra asked security to exclude me from her shows.”

A moment passed awkwardly between them before Spinning Plates pounced on the poor thing and gave it a hug.

“Have you tried apologizing?”

Jazz stepped off the stool and stared at Spin, his mouth opening to a few false starts before he was able to find the words. “Plates, you don't even know what happened.”

“Nope. But she's your kid, and you don't get to enjoy that unless you apologize. If they really do get to adopt Snoozy, do you want to miss out on your grandkid?” He carefully lifted Jazz's mug off the ground. “Let's get you a refill. It'll loosen you up for the apology.”

__

“Yeah, I fix things and sell clocks. Time was always my hobby, back when I was a doctor.”

“So, you deal in timepieces?” Strawberry Lemon batted her eyelashes at John Doo-Smith. “I hope you have something grand for sale. Young man, I'd love to see what you could put on display. Do you have anything unique? Possibly in a shade of blue?”

“Yes!” He suddenly blushed and scratched the back of his neck. “Um, well, no. Not her. She’d never forgive me if I sold her. Can I interest you in a grandfather clock?” John Smith leaned in. “I tried to turn one into a grandmother clock, but the wife said noon and midnight became a little obscene in mixed company.”

Strawberry blinked and smiled nervously as Lyra, watching from nearby, mentally awarded John a point.

Lyra could never figure him out. Watching Ditzy’s husband talk to other ponies was like watching a crab try to play a saxophone backwards. Most of the time he failed, yet the damn thing would occasionally find a way to belt out the Hearth’s Warming Bell Carol.

“She's adorable, Lyra,” Ballad said next to her, rubbing the baby's belly. “She has your eyes. I hope things work out for you.”

Snapped back to reality, Lyra grudgingly turned to her sister.

Ballad Heartstrings earned a recital before earning her cutie mark. One of Lyra's classmates had commented on how “hot” Ballad's cutie mark was. When Lyra, whose mark was identical, pressed him on it (against a wall), he said that it just looked better on a lavender coat. Her husband was charming, her son was a joy to everyone, and she was too goodhearted to understand why Lyra ground her teeth every time Ballad walked into the room.

The orchestra in her mind was running smoothly. Sure, the chairs had be reorganized, and admittedly two of the most important players were drunk and distracted, but a recognizable and socially acceptable song was coming through. That was all about to change. Things would get better, applause would be thunderous, and Lyra could disassemble her harp as the new conductor took control. If it had happened at her Cuteceneara, it would happen here.

“Thanks, Ballad,” Lyra said with forced politeness. “Careful with her, please. If you--”

A sparkling golden aura lifted Snoozy into the air. On a nearby couch, Berry Punch assumed she was watching the ascension of a new princess, and ordered her twelfth cider from a nearby pony she thought was the bartender.

“It's okay. I had a baby of my own, remember?” Ballad grew quiet as she rubbed Snoozy's belly. “You know, your nephew misses you. He hoped you would make his birthday this year.”

“I was touring, Ballad. I do have a life of my own.”

“I know, Lyra. I keep up with it. We were all in the same city that day, remember? I had...” She smiled. “Look, we're in town for a few weeks. Do you want to come over?”

“I...” A night of being surrounded by Ballad's successes made Lyra's shoulders slump.

Carefully moving around the crib, Ballad ran her hoof down Lyra's back coat. “Take him out, if you want. I'll babysit.”

“No, I--”

Lyra gasped as two feathery limbs wrapped around her head, pulling her into a corner. Looking up, she saw two very angry amber eyes.

“Ditzy?”

“What the lobster nugget farfetched slap-dance are you doing?” Ditzy's teeth showed, two close and gritted rows through which angry breath escaped. “You're a parent now! You never turn down babysitting. Never!”

“Ditzy,” Lyra whispered, “now is not the time.” Ballad was watching, she just knew it.

Unfurling her wings, Ditzy dropped onto her haunches. “What happened to Snoozy's parents, Lyra?”

“We don't know. Heartmend said she was getting top ponies to look into it.”

Ditzy breathed in a few times. “What if you adopt Snoozy?” Before Lyra's smile could finish, Ditzy continued. “What if it finally happens and something happens to you and Bon Bon? Snoozy will go to live with Ballad, right?”

Lyra snarled. “Yes, she'll finally have a perfect mom who raises her right.”

A gentle wing-caress ran down Lyra's cheek. “I don't mean that. She'll raise your daughter because she loves you! Give her a chance. After all, she's the only family you have that's not a horrible pony.”

Jazz stumbled around the potted plant. “She's right you know,” he said with a hiccup. “I'm a terrible pony.”

If the simultaneous “What” from Ditzy and Lyra could have been sampled, it would have been in DJ-PON3's next hit single.

“I'm a terrible, manipulative father and I crushed your dreams rather than...um...do whatever it is I should have done.” He poked Lyra in the chest, and she nearly tipped over at the unreality. “See, I don't even know what I should have done, because I'm that terrible.” He sloshed the second half of his drink down. “Hold on a second. Let me check my notes.”

Lyra froze so completely it would have got her a job as an ambassador to the Elk nations. She stared dumbfounded as Jazz (with difficulty) levitated a stained napkin with columns of notes crossing each other.

Ballad's voice filtered in Lyra's ear. “I could take him outside if you want.”

The party stopped.

As time paused for Lyra, she caught the party-goers turning in her direction. The difficult part of the crescendo was coming, and everyone wanted to see the show. Ancient grudges and intoxicated players were spiraling into one of those shows where every audience member fondly remembers it with a laugh and every performer finds a new job. The players raised their heads, waiting for their mark.

As she raised her baton, Lyra heard the note.

It was a familiar note. It opened up many of her greatest hits. The bridge of recriminations to the chorus of screams was a fan favorite, and she could play it in her sleep. It was so easy to slip back into a old stand-by. At the end, it'd have the emotional punches, ponies leaving, and Ditzy and Bon Bon giving her disappointed looks.

She swept the notes off the pedestal and thought quickly. She only had time for one sentence to run through her head, but it was the right one, and she started improvising at once.

“Ballad, could you help me get him to the couch?”

With a smile, Ballad ducked under her father's forelimb and reared him into the air. Lyra did the same, and the pair steered the amused Jazz towards the couch.

Lyra remembered the title of her symphony, and pressed on.

“Dad, one thing sticks out. Why did you write notes?”

He belched. “Spin. That magnificent bastard and I wrote down every way I had bucked up as a father, and I was going to apologize through them all.” He snorted, grabbing for a napkin to blow his nose into. As Lyra levitated away the note-encrusted one, he snagged another. “I just needed a little liquid courage to do it.”

Tucking the napkin into her bookshelf, Lyra covered Jazz with a blanket. “I'll be right back, Dad.” Across the room, she could see Spin grinning and winking at her. “Ballad?”

Ballad's head dropped ever so slightly, and Lyra knew she now had the perfect excuse to avoid her for the rest of the party, if she wanted to. She played on.

“Look, watch him a second while I move the crib over? We'll plan somethings to do this week as a family.”

Ballad nuzzled Lyra's cheek as she walked off. Returning to the crib, Lyra found Ditzy slow-clapping on the ground.

“That was different.”

“It's a new song,” Lyra admitted. “I call it, 'What would Ditzy Doo do?”

As Ditzy's eyes nearly straightened with her smile, Cheerilee rammed into her from the side.

“You said, 'Doo doo!'” Cheerilee snorted in front of the two confused mares as Bon Bon slammed into her backside. “You heard it, right Bonny?”

Bon Bon leaned over the crib before pointing a hoof at Lyra, still and blinking, and guffawing.

“She did it!” She dragged Cheerilee to her side.

“I told you she still does.” Cheerilee said as she patted Lyra's nose. “She's done it since middle school.”

Lyra raised her eyebrow. “What do I do?”

Cheerilee's hooves waved in gestures meant to be explanatory that only succeeded in driving away mosquitoes. “You know, that thing with your nose, when you get flustered.”

“Yeah!” Bon Bon hugged Lyra's forelimb. “That thing, with the nose! Well said!”

With two drunken mares hanging off of her, Lyra cast about for help. “Ditzy, help me here.”

The response was a chortle. “Oh, Celestia, they're right. She's doing it right now.”

“What?” Lyra's eyes nearly crossed as she peered at her nose. “What is it?”

Ballad sauntered over to Ditzy and grinned. “Yeah, it's adorable. I've been jealous of her being able to do that since we were kids. I used to practice in the mirror for hours, trying to look like the pouty little rebel girl.”

Giving a high-pitched titter that her husband could identify from the other side of the marketplace, Ditzy went off for a plate of ginger ale to serve the tipsy mares.

Lyra's mouth dropped open so wide that her mind must have went rolling out after it. She choked down the growing anger bubbling up at the laughing ponies as she realized that she had actually gotten things right.

Well, mostly.

“Hun, I love you,” Bon Bon said, licked Lyra's nose for emphasis, “but I had to dump your soup.”

“But I had been simmering that for days!”

“Ly-Ly Fluffhead, this kind of stuff goes bad quickly.” She shook her head for emphasis. “It doesn’t keep that long. You have to enjoy it while you can.”

“Yeah,” Ditzy said as she passed out drinks, “that's what my mother said about husbands.”

As Cheerilee snorted ginger ale out of her nose, the door creaked open.

If it had creaked onstage in a Canterlot playhouse, the set designer would have had the cast buy him drinks after the show. In the lull of conversation and the acoustics of the living room, the front door gave a perfectly timed groan of impeccably-chosen duration, achieving with a moment of straining wood the effect that vampony actor Bronco Lugosi took a career to develop with maniacal laughter and fake storms.

Twilight Sparkle stood in the doorway, her hoof leaning on it just enough to continue the creak sound. She was smiling. While normally the appearance of the local librarian and world-saving wizard was welcome, Heartmend stood next to her. She was not smiling.

“Lyra, I'm sorry.”

I didn’t do anything,” Lyra said as she hung her hoof over the edge of the crib, pulling it an inch closer. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

The party's response had been good-natured confusion at Twilight’s unexpected entrance, but Lyra’s statement sent a chill through the listeners.

“I’m sorry,” Heartmend repeated. “I’m so sorry,” she added, making Ditzy and her husband’s ears perk up. With a silent, shared look the two went into action. Ditzy walked hurriedly but inconspicuously toward Lyra, reaching out a wing to hold around her shoulders. Lyra didn’t notice the touch consciously, so focused was she on Heartmend’s morose expression, but she automatically took a step into Ditzy’s feathery hug.

John Doo-Smith stood at the door. His job in the relationship was to do whatever he had to at the moment he needed to when he thought of it. Many ponies might have discounted that as the easier job, but few had a working conception of what John considered the phrase “whatever he had to do” meant. There were ponies and not-ponies in far-away places that had nightmares about him still.

Lyra stared at Heartmend, looking for something hopeful. She saw no trace of sarcastic glee in her voice, and not a single bit of dark humor in her eyes, and at that moment knew that things were truly terrible

Twilight Sparkle, heroine, wizard, and princess, immediately took charge of the social situation by pounding down a glass of ginger ale and laughing uncomfortably. “Nothing's wrong, Lyra. You and Bon Bon did your jobs well.” She tried moving her wings around Bonny in a hug, but lack of practice sent a primary feather up the defensive mare's nose. “Heartmend and I agree that everypony was lucky that you stepped up to the plate.”

“So you’re the ones who nearly stole my baby,” growled a voice from the doorway.

A pair of ponies with overgrown, messy hair and a garden's worth of plants clinging to their coats stood in the doorway. The stallion's eyes flickered without certainty from pony to pony, but the mare's bloodshot eyes rested on Lyra's hoof.

Bon Bon pushed the nearest cider bottle out of Lyra's line of sight.

“Steal?” Lyra swallowed. “We were raising Snoozy like our own while you...”

Twilight walked between the pair. “We found them in the Everfree,” she offered in a triumphant voice. “They fell into a memory moss pit. It’s a kind of plant that feeds by stealing the last day’s worth of your memories. It hollows out a pit, and while the victims symbiotically eat the m--”

The mare pushed past her, throwing off Twilight's lecture and balance. “That’s enough natural history, Miss Sparkle. I’d like to leave with my child now.”

Ditzy's tight, feathery hug held Lyra's sanity in place as she lowered her hooves off the crib. “I'll pack Snoozy's things if you want to take her now.

“Her name’s not “Snoozy,” the father said uncomfortably, scratching his mane. “It’s V--”

“Can we make this quick?” The mother said with a stomp. “You bought those things, you can keep them.” She leaned over the crib, reaching her wings around the sleeping bundle as she raised the hovering infant into the air. “I just want my baby back.”

“S-so, where do you live? I mean, we’d love to have you all over for--”

“No, thank you!” The mother’s wings flared out aggressively as she scooped “Snoozy” out of the crib with a hoof. An indignant gust swept through the room as she quickly disappeared out the front door.

“S-sorry,” the father said as he walked into the yard.

In the overwhelming silence, Heartmend breathed in slowly. “You did such a good job, Lyra. She's back with her family now. Everything's going to be fine.”

Lyra dropped to her knees and wailed into the floor as Bon Bon enfolded her and rested her face in Lyra's mane.

Watching the breakdown, Strawberry Lemon knocked back the rest of her drink in one motion. “Well, this way isn’t working. Time for the old fashioned way.” She snaked a limb around Ditzy's shoulder. “Ditzy, your cup obviously runneth over and I need a grandkid. How would your husband like to knock up my daughter? I’ll make it worth your while. I know it’ll be worth his.”

“That's out of line!” Spin pulled himself into the conversation, wheel creaking.

“I’m sorry Plates, but yours is a little on the pudgy side, and I want him to at least enjoy himself.” She turned back to the blushing Ditzy and winked. “That is, unless he likes that kind of thing. Should we try both?”

As Ballad lead her mother off before murder ensued, and Ditzy cast a curious glance around for the husband in question, Heartmend sat down next to Lyra and rubbed her hoof down her mane.

“I told you I’d break your heart.”

___

An uncomfortable stallion walked through Bon Bon's garden on his way out. He could see his wife clutching their child tightly in her wings as they reclined in the government chariot on the curb. I can't believe that went so well, he thought. Everything worked out fine. After all those horrors in the woods, it must be karma.

The living embodiment of his karma and horrors stepped into the stallion's path. “Go thank her,” John Doo-Smith said slowly and carefully.

“Excuse me,” the father said, “I really must be-”

“The green one. Thank her.” John was nose-to-nose with “Snoozy's” father. “If I do the math correctly, she raised the baby for longer than you did. You need to ask her what her favorite lullaby is, what foods give her gas, what games they play.” He narrowed his eyes. “You go back inside, and you thank her and the other one and ask those questions, or...” John scratched his mane and leaned in.

"Tell me if you've heard this one..."

"There's a pony," he started, "that keeps order. This pony makes sure good things come to the deserving, and that bad things arrive in spades to others. This pony keeps the unjust in anticipation of what they deserve, and ensures that the world flows on as it should, piece by piece. Your little world runs because this pony keeps it running." His mouth was nearly at the father's ear now. "Do you know what they call this pony?"

The shaking of the father's head was more like a vibration.

"They call her," John whispered, "the Mailmare. She's the best friend of the crying mare who's heart just snapped." He patted the shaking stallion on the shoulder. "Let's face it, having the mailmare as an enemy is bad enough when you haven't been declared legally dead for months and have legal and financial paperwork on its way."

He smiled, and the father flinched.

“Uh. Uh. Okay.” With a nervous smile, the father stepped backwards.

Nodding amiably, John hooked his forelimb around the poor pony's neck in camaraderie as he grinned like a manticore at a relay race of asthmatic prey animals. "I have a title too." He gave a thousand-yard stare from a distance of three inches. "It's an older title than 'mailmare'. It means, alternately, things like 'teacher,' 'guardian,' 'protector,' and 'avenger.' Would you," he said as he dropped his voice to a whisper, "want to know my title?"

Looking into John's eyes, he vaguely wished for the memory moss to return.

"My title is 'Uncle.' The mares you just turned your back on bestowed it on me, and you will go back inside, thank them, and ask those questions, or I will be the face burned into your eyes when you close them for the rest of your life.”

There was a pause.

"I'll get r-r-right on that."

“Great!” John spoke with relief reached his mouth into his saddlebag and pulled out a napkin and a pen. “Take notes! Make sure she sees you taking notes.” His smiled stayed for a second too long. “Make sure I see her see you taking those notes.”

The father obediently turned around and galloped back into the house.

___

Decades later, popular children's book writer Violet Lullaby started her career with “The Harp Fairy.” Every nursery in Equestria had a copy of it to read at bedtime, promising the children that a luminescent unicorn would come in and sing away the night terrors. Many foals grew up with a battered doll of the green fairy pony to brandish at bed monsters. Violet would always wonder why her first book, which had brought joy to countless young ponies, frightened her mother into speechlessness and sent her father into quiet smiles when discussed.

___

A day later found Heartmend on her office stool, staring at the immobile pile of paperwork ahead of her. It had been about the same size since that morning. She quite didn't feel up to words today.

As lunch break drew close and flew on by she had moved on to conversation. One by one, she called in the agency's employees for briefings on the progress of parents. Over the course of the meetings she had advanced to forming if not reading words, signing paperwork to let one foster parent pay for daycare or approve a medical procedure for another's child.

She had picked up a quill and written the word “Finally,” staring at it for a full minute, before Lyra shoved her head through the door.

“Busy?” She grinned, eyes bright with bags underneath.

Heartmend placed the quill on the desk. “How are you holding up?”

“Eh.” Lyra shrugged, crawling onto the couch. “Kinda like my heart's been ripped out. How's Snoozy doing?”

“Fine.” Heartmend tapped her hooves together. “Absolutely fine. That's all I've been asked to say.”

Lyra nodded, her grin fixed. “So, Bon Bon sent me to pick up a carton of child on the way home. So, who's next?”

“She's...not here?” Heartmend stared at the door.”She's letting you do this on her own?”

“Well,” Lyra said with a shrug, “if she didn't trust me on this, she wouldn't have married me. Besides, she's watching my nephew for the moment. We went to a festival today.”

“If it comes to reunification, it'll hurt again. It'll hurt as much or more.”

Lyra stepped down off the couch, trotted to the desk, and placed her hooves firmly on the desk. “I’ve never been afraid of being hurt.”

Smiling, Heartmend dipped her quill in the inkwell for some pre-writing soak. “Okay, here's the deal. I have a placement for a earth pony colt with cutie mark. Father deceased, mother is not cognizant, incapable of care and unlikely to change. His last foster family returned him today, and I need to make a placement before sunset.” She spread her hooves wide. “That's all I can tell you before I hear your answer.”

Lyra grinned. “Wrap 'im up. I'll take him.”

Author's Note:

Yeah. This is my nightmare. She's smart, beautiful, and breaks me when she hugs me, but I'm most likely going to have to give her back and never see her again.

Props to my pre-readers. Cynewolf, Blue_Paladin42, Ponibius, all good eggs.

Comments ( 69 )

I got hit in the feels.

"The Harp Fairy" part was absolutely awesome:rainbowkiss::rainbowkiss::rainbowkiss: please update again soon!:pinkiehappy:

Lyra could never figure him out. Watching Ditzy’s husband talk to other ponies was like watching a crab try to play a saxophone backwards. Most of the time he failed, yet the damn thing would occasionally find a way to belt out the Hearth’s Warming Bell Carol.

:rainbowlaugh:

Awwww, I knew something bad was gonna happen :raritydespair: I really hope the little colt they get next doesn't have a hard time adjusting.

okay that note was beautiful.:raritycry:

3831764
Sounds like he's older, so he'll feel the hurt from having lost his family. And he's already coming from a disrupted placement, so guaranteed drama.

Darnit, my keyboard is leaking again. It's all damp. Wonder how that happened.

Given we still haven't made our way back to chapter one yet, this one is going to end in tears as well.

But hey! They're making progress in breaking their hearts!

I think I finally remembered how to breathe. That ... That chapter was beautifully tragic, or tragically beautiful. Thanks for making me feel tonight, man. I really, really needed that.

Worth the wait. Another amazing chapter.

That father should *ahem* ask if she wants to meet a good friend of his, who happens to play a harp.

...Ouch... right in the feels.

The worst part? I saw it coming. From a mile away. I was 99% sure it was going to end up this way, and it still hurts. Maybe next time they should hold off on the party until after the paperwork is finished?

Nahhh! More drama that way!

Just when I thought my feels were impervious, this punches them with brass knuckles. I wonder what this colt's gonna be like?

I think you captured the David Tennant Doctor perfectly with how John talked to that father, guy. Incredibly scary when he wants to be, but kind and good natured right after.

Also... That mare is one hell of a bitch O_O Just taking Snoozy without a second thought or thanks to Lyra and Bon Bon.

Wow... I didn't merely get hit by the feels on this one. I got heaved under a bus that was positively loaded with them, presumably on its way to some manner of convention or something if the following convoy is any indication... It is not often I find myself nearly in tears by a character's pain, only to find myself having to physically restrain myself from cheering less than a half second later. Bravo.

Anyone else want to shoot Lyra's mom after what she said there at the end. I mean seriously? :flutterrage: Bumped Jazz, the parent who drove his daughter to suicide, down to second place.

Ditzy, you so adorable, :derpytongue2:

Okay, back to my weeping corner. :raritycry:

3832409
I can understand her being brusque after her ordeal, but yeah. Ungrateful bitch much?

This was somehow both horrible, and incredibly delightful to read.

3832664
I KNOW! How is he such a bastard and yet so awesome at the same time?

It's freaking wizardry!

Hmm. I re-read the last three chapters, but it was never stated the adoption was official yet was it?

Also, I am curious about Snoozy and her birth-parents. There 's a possible sidestory there, besides the short note. In fact, the note rises more questions. I imagine the mother was driven by fear here, which is understandable, but so many years later she still gets terrified? There has to be some sort of history there to explain it. I'm sure the thought of it being a side-story or something has crossed your mind, so any serious plans there? Its not necessary or anything, but there definitely is potential.

Ow. That made my ticker tock and my leakers leak acid.

The Harp Fairy part destroyed me. I hope you're happy. :raritycry:


Because I am. :pinkiehappy:

My only problem was that some of the descriptions could have been more detailed, as sometimes there was some confusion as to what was going on. Or maybe I'm just tired.

The humorous parts were spectacular.

The adorable parts were even more so.

The Harp Fairy part gave my feels their own little sub-feels.

Finally, I now want to see a sax-playing crab. My life will not be complete until I see a sax-playing crab.

Manly tears were shed...repeatedly

Yeah. This is my nightmare. She's smart, beautiful, and breaks me when she hugs me, but I'm most likely going to have to give her back and never see her again.

If my foster parents had been half the human you are ...

EDIT: I shouldn't say that. They were willing to take three of us in with another they had fostered for years. I just cannot live as they did - then or now.

She has you're eyes

your

Also, that Harp Fairy part... D'awww...

Do you have anything unique? Possibly in a shade of blue?

d3j5vwomefv46c.cloudfront.net/photos/large/532124983.jpg?1331051471

Yeah. This is my nightmare. She's smart, beautiful, and breaks me when she hugs me, but I'm most likely going to have to give her back and never see her again.

You really are writing this story from the heart then.

Treasure the time you have.

Man, Lyra's parents are pretty terrible. Bon-Bon's dad... well, I can see he might become wearisome, but he's definitely got a good heart. And Ballad, well, she seems like a nice pony but it must be wearisome to have to live in the shadow of someone better than you who's not even a bad person so you can't hate them with good conscience!

The Harp Fairy thing was just wonderful, by the way. :pinkiesmile:

The synopsis said heartbreak but, man, I was not ready for this. I do thank you for keeping the separation brief, and for the Dr. Who moments. The Harp Fairy part, as I'm sure you've read, was beyond beautiful.

Tho I'm seriously concerned with Lyra taking another child so quickly, and without Bon Bon's knowing. That won't end well :raritydespair:

EDIT: oh yeah, Lyra's sister reminded me so so much of Olga Pataki from Hey Arnold. Was that intentional?

Decades later, popular children's book writer Violet Lullaby started her career with “The Harp Fairy.” Every nursery in Equestria had a copy of it to read at bedtime, promising the children that a luminescent unicorn would come in and sing away the night terrors.

Dammit. That sentence started me bawling. You jerk. This story is amazing.

3834823
Surprisingly, one parent making a snap decision is standard. I was called and offered child with just age, gender, and ethnicity, and knew that I had to say "Yes or no" quickly, because the agency had to place her with ten minutes or lose her to another agency.

Surprisingly? Never seen Arnold. I just occasionally surf the giant list of characters on MLPwiki, and saw someone almost identical to Lyra. Ideas flowed.


3834364
I am. I just passed out on the floor while playing with her and the toy box.


3833617
I'd love to share experiences over PM, if you're interested.


3833063
I'm glad that's only some of the descriptions. That was a criticism someone once said about me once. Trying to do better. You'd think someone influence by Pratchett and Lovecraft wouldn't drop that bal...

3832836
Not official. They were still waiting to be allowed to adopt, and the party was a foster parents thing where they ask for the tools for kid-raising, even if the kids will change.


3832644
3832409
True. Remember, to her perspective our heroes are "the mares who nearly adopted my baby."


3832644
Man, Strawberry got more hate than I thought with that comment. Excellent.

3831963
We are only twenty-one days away. It MIGHT work with this one.

I really need to get the next chapter out.:unsuresweetie:

3835337
Gods dammit.
Now I'm imagining the chapter rewritten in a Lovecraftian cadence. Complete with Psyche-bending descriptions. Argh :facehoof:

3835405
Now I'M picturing a Lovecraftian Cadence, married to Shining Armor Derpy with the spirit of Starswirl the Bearded running the body.

You have an amazing talent for characterizsation. I've loved your Lyra and Bonbon throughout this whole story, the breif bit with Cheerilee was great, and your Ditzy and Doctor were especially superb.
The part about Violet Lullaby's book certainly squeezed a bit of manly liquid pride from me.

Thank you so much for sharing this story so far! I'm looking forward to more.

‘Mother’ is the name for Celestia on the lips and in the hearts of all foals.

Great 'Crow' reference. :pinkiecrazy:

Okay, saw it coming with the birth parents showing up. I hope Twilight gets kicked in the face. But one thing. One BIG thing... is the Doctor.

No.

That is why I have a lot of problems with Who crossovers. He's too big. He overshadows FIM. You just showed the worst traits of the Tenth Doctor, the bits that made me hate the character and shoved them into the forefront and it overshadowed everything else.

Everything else was brilliant. Everything else about this chapter and story I loved, but that one thing there. That little bit... I'm sorry. I really, really am. But that just blew my SOD out of the water.

3835588
From Twilight's perspective, she thought she was creating a happy ending for everypony. It would never occur to her that Lyra and Bon-Bon, who logically would be aware that this was a possibility, would be heartbroken when the birth parents returned. She kinda clue-ed in there when Lyra collapsed though.

3835588
That's all he'll get. In this story, he won't ever be more than concerned friend with occasionally in-joke. Him yelling at someone was as far as I wanted, since another character could have served that purpose. No timey-wimey solutions out of nowhere, I promise.


3835725
If you have any questions, feel free to PM me!

3835766 *Nods* A sincere thank-you for that reassurance. I am glad that'll be all it will be.

3835337
That's so crazy that they give out basically no information. That just seems like... I dunno. Then again, I suppose if you're a foster parent, you have to be prepared to accept crazy shit like that; the whole foster/adoption system has always seemed mildly insane to me.

3835337
I don't feel it's necessary - it was about 20 years ago and the folks are long gone from this world. Things would have just been messier, actually. Between the struggles of a family and strangers you don't particularly like, what choice is there? Between a decent set of folks and the struggles of family, it gets muddier.

3835337
I understand that, but she should be able to look past that and think "These mares took care of my baby when I couldn't."

"I'm being captured!"

"Don't blow up the house when you escape!"

You need to write another Dr. Whooves story, like, yesterday.

Is the colt going to be the male version of Diamond Tiara? :rainbowlaugh:

Ingesting this gave me a case of extreme exuberance. I may need to see more of a Doctor.:derpytongue2:

Diplomacy was useless, violence absolutely counterproductive. Her choices grew small.

Fire is always an option and will solve any problem (if it does not that just means you are not using enough of it).

“Of course, ‘Dear.’ If you want to hide behind proprietary, I’ll let you get a good view.” <...> “Are you mostly focusing on solo performances lately, hmm?”

“The dang chimera got the two back legs, which leaves me two to stand on and one to--”

Oh my. :twilightoops:
The alcohol has barely been imbibed and already everypony is getting boisterous...

“Greenbean, I want two ideas. Let’s think. What are two ways to deal with your parents without alcohol.”

- Fire?
- Mail order Parasprites?
- Power-metal ballad on the lyre?

‘Mother’ is the name for Celestia on the lips and in the hearts of all foals.

Your daughter is in her crib waiting for you...

“Okay, 'Lee. You've earned one chance, but if I find you and her--”

“My husband will be there, and you'll have been invited first. Should we invite John and Ditzy as well? It'd make finding a babysitter hard, I admit, but...”

... and with that a flock of spin-off OTP shipping fics descended like migratory birds on a bird-feeder.
derpicdn.net/img/view/2012/6/29/25442__safe_animated_blushing_discord_fanfic_computer_shipper+on+deck_artist-colon-peachiekeenie_now+kiss_discorderlyconduct.gif

Decades later, popular children's book writer Violet Lullaby started her career with “The Harp Fairy.” Every nursery in Equestria had a copy of it to read at bedtime, promising the children that a luminescent unicorn would come in and sing away the night terrors. Many foals grew up with a battered doll of the green fairy pony to brandish at bed monsters.

That certainly was a sweet little epilogue to "Snoozy's" saga.
Does the Harp Fairy have a slightly chubby earth pony, known as the Candy Gnome, as a friend as well? :trollestia:

Ugh. This one hurt. Thank Celestia for John Smith to make it a little better.

Once again, I'm in awe of how fantastic this story is.

.... Crossover tag?

3852664
Nah. Slight references, but nothing overt. More like jokey nods to my longtime readers. No time travel, no one says the "T" word.

3852678

I think we'll have to agree to disagree about that. When you imply to that level, you might as well be saying "Yes, this is Dr. Whooves, and he has a TARDIS!"

I'm just trying to determine whether or not I'm going to drop this fic because of the references. I know that may seem....shallow, but I actively dislike Dr. Who references.

Finally an update!:pinkiehappy: You should know how much I have been able to do in the time I waited on an update!

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