Part Nine: Cloudsdale (Princess Cadance)
* * *
The First Time You See Her
Part Nine (end)
Jeffrey C. Wells
www.scrivnarium.net
* * *
I stand on the threshold of something wonderful.
I mean this both symbolically and concretely. My little golden bell boots are in fact touching the line that separates the airship-port (legally part of the Heartland Weather Management Zone, thus, the Hegemony) from Point Cumulus, the very tip of the great City-State of Cloudsdale. The floor directly beneath me is of practical black basalt. Just a single step away is a broad sheet of shining, nubbly ice (textured for easy hoof-travel) connecting the airship-port to the Foreign Quarter of the greatest city in the sky. Directly ahead is a wide observation deck promising a commanding view of the entire metropolis, and directly beyond that—almost to the limit of my vision—is a broad, bustling arcade constructed of gleaming white stones (Polished snow-pack? Dense structural cloudstuff?) filled with services and refreshments for the weary traveler reaching her journey's end, or, stopping here for a layover en route to the sky kingdoms of the east. I am blessedly in the former category; this is the end of my journey.
This is my new city.
And it is beautiful.
As of two seconds ago, I have a little tear in the corner of my left eye, which means that I can honestly report to you that I am literally crying from joy at the smell of the colonnaded hall before me. Nowhere to be seen are the dull boiled roots and Equuish grain-puddings that are our mainstays in Canterlot, where particularly avant-garde chefs are given uneasy glances for daring to include black pepper and where dietary adventurousness is measured solely in one's appetite for chutney. Pegasi don't have the patience to boil anything, and any food that doesn't seize their interest and seize it hard is soon left behind for the pigeons in favor of the next pick-up race or impromptu hoof-wrestling match. The sky-ponies have little time to chew, little time to digest, little time for anything that does not excite.
So:
Crispy-fried falafel on flash-baked pita bread, topped with stinging pepper sauce of shocking red hue. Huge vats of meaty olives, red, green and black. Great skillets of cinnamon-fried nuts served up in paper cones. Dense, sugary raisins and dates. Rich eggplant muffulettas on crusty, seedy rolls the size of grindstones. Crates of summery green avocados. Case after case of pizzas Margherita smothered in basil, tomato and thick, moon-like slices of raw mozzarella. A virtual sea of oil and starch and sugar. I want to buy and consume absolutely all of it until I catch sight of a busy-looking vendor serving melon-sized scoops of rose and grapefruit sorbetto on beds of crispy waffles, and then I just want that. Like, all of that. I make a mental note to covertly purchase fifteen, possibly donning humorous disguises to avoid question, and then consume them all. It's been far too long since my last alicorn feeding. Even my meal of oysters on the clifftop outside Reduit was kept intentionally modest, for Lieutenant Armor's sake. But I have little interest in holding back now.
I swallow a gout of saliva that threatens to escape my mouth and spare a glance at the Lieutenant, who is busily arguing with a representative of the Port Authority about... some matter or another. Probably the precise disposition of my several steamer trunks. I have to admit that the riotous mix of delicious smells is making me not think too clearly. As I wait for the Lieutenant to conclude his business, I smile for the pegasus paparazzi busily snapping photographs of me from above. This is not the Hegemony. They do not prostrate themselves before my person. I am not royalty here. Instead, I am novelty, the latest in an endless series of shiny distractions, something to be giggled and whispered at rather than held in careful awe. I love it. The thought of it makes little fireworks of joy go off in my brain.
After a nearly-intolerable amount of time, Lt. Armor trots up to my side. "All right, Your Highness," he says. "We've got things squared away with the stevedores, and I've managed to secure a delivery service to ferry your luggage to the embassy. We should be all set."
"You look crabby, Lieutenant Armor," I reply, dreamily. "Anything the matter?"
The Lieutenant shakes his head. "No, Ma'am."
"I see the lie in your eyes, Lieutenant," I press, playfully.
A brief, positively adorable grunt. "I just hate these places, Ma'am. Airship-ports. Worst conceivable places."
"Well, we're almost free of it," I say, gesturing with my hoof at the line below me where stone meets ice. "I've been waiting for you."
"No time like the present," says Lt. Armor, shouldering his carry-on duffel. "It's been kind of a trek, and I'm expecting a message from my superiors at the embassy." His sharp blue eyes scan the crowd, for a moment, both on the ground and in the air above. "There was... someone I met shipboard. A griffon, the one we saw at Reduit. I really wanted the two of you to talk. He's got some really interesting things to say that I want you to hear, but he's flown the coop now and I can't find him anywhere."
"Well, he knows where we'll be staying, right? He'll catch up."
"I suppose," says the Lieutenant, uneasily. "So, straight on to the embassy?"
"Are you kidding?" I say, glancing at him over my shoulder, my smile almost too wide to be contained by my mouth. "We're in Cloudsdale, at last! I'm not going to dive straight back into the one part of it that's legally Canterlot. If I'm living here, I'm going to really live here. At least for a bit. This is my city, now."
"Just to check," says Lt. Armor in a wary tone of voice, "and this is not something I'd normally say except for the fact that you specifically told me to say things like this, you do realize that you're in a minor diplomatic post, right, Ma'am? This is the Senate's city, and that probably technically means that it's the Weather Corporation's city. Not 'yours.'"
"Of course," I say, briskly. "I don't mean 'my city' like it's mine. Just... 'my city.' Like 'my hometown.' Right?"
"As you say, Ma'am."
I nod. I take a deep breath. I glance down at my hooves. Suddenly, it is decades ago, and I am hesitating at the open gates of Reduit, on my way to confront the wicked witch who had brought my town low. Now, as then, I am taking a step far more profound than its simple length. But there are no witches to face today. There is only the future.
I step over the line. One hoof. Then another. My entire body tingles, then fills itself with a warm, sustaining heat, a river of gold in my muscles. I giggle at the sensation. Then I laugh outright, and break into a mad gallop toward the observation deck, my momentum carrying me straight over the rail. My outsized and only dubiously-strong wings throw themselves wide on reflex alone, and then I am flying, looking down over my new home.
There, the billowing mass of Point Cumulus, stretching all the way down to the Bahamoot, a legacy capital airship of old Unicornia, practically the size of a small town in and of itself. Formerly the personal luxury vessel of Duchess Blueblood, Chairmare of the Cloudsdale Weather Corporation, now in permanent drydock and completely embedded in the cloud mass. Its many ironwood decks now serve as headquarters for the C.W.C. and furthermore make up a good portion of the Foreign Quarter itself. Below that, the Forum Magnum, Cloudsdale's center of art, culture and government, its buildings blue-white and resplendent in the ascending sun and all watched over by the Horseologion, the tallest water-clock ever built by hooves. The Cloudiseum, an immense stadium where the citizens of Cloudsdale gather to witness fierce mocked-up airship combats and the dreaded gladiatorial games, a terrifying pony-on-pony struggle to see which of two combatants can make his opponent more glad. Its sister-structure, the Cirrus Maximus, the most extravagant racetrack known to ponykind. Icicle galleries. Open-air shopping emporia. Hoofball fields and hoofball courts. And, lurking far back behind the cloud mass, the mysterious and abandoned Weather Factory, decommissioned for inefficiency but never demolished by the C.W.C. What secrets of the pegasus weathersmiths might be hiding there behind its locked and barred doors? I want to know it all. I want to see it all.
I smile crookedly at the Lieutenant, who waits at the edge of the deck, his eyes wide with some nameless concern. Shining Armor's ensorcelled breastcollar gives him the power to walk on the thinner clouds beyond the Foreign Quarter, but it's still a poor second to wings. My tiara has been knocked askew by my aerial tumble and I poke the hateful thing back into place with one hoof...
...and then, on a mad whim, I knock it all the way off the other side of my head, catching it in my telekinetic aura. I suspend it over thin air for a moment.
"You know something, Shining Armor?" I say, rolling the arc of metal around like a hoof-clipping. "I hate this tiara."
Just like that, my aura winks out. The tiara catches the light for a moment, tumbling against the sky. Lieutenant Armor startles and makes a grab for it with his own pinkish corona, but he is just a bit too late and far away, and then it falls down into the cloud-mass and is gone forever.
"I hate all tiaras!" I cry out. "I bucking hate tiaras!" I giggle, and it soon boils over into a full ebullient laugh as I face the winds and let them tousle my mane. After a moment, I settle myself back on the observation deck with Lt. Armor.
Lt. Armor is staring at me. It is... different from his regular stare.
"Okay, yes, I just tossed away one of the crown jewels of Equestria," I say, rolling my eyes. "Aunty will likely have words. I wouldn't worry about it braining anyone, though; it'll either lodge itself in the cloud layer or fall all the way down to the Blight. Nopony lives down there." For a number of reasons, it is viewed as inadvisable for earthbound tribes to live directly beneath any of the anchorpoints of the sky-city; work it out on your own. I give the Lieutenant an easy, calming grin. It doesn't seem to work.
I blink at Shining Armor, giving him a quick all-over glance. He looks... shorter than I remember? "There's something weird about you right now. Are you wearing different horseshoes or something?"
The stare continues. I flush, a little self-consciously. "What?" I say, at last, glancing down and around at myself. "Do I have something on my face, or—"
I glimpse my wing. My breath catches.
I frown at it, working the muscles, flexing and unflexing it, turning my head and looking at it this way and that.
It's violet.
Not all-over violet, mind you. Still mostly pink out there. But at the edge, right at the primaries, there is a dusky cast of evening purple. It's beautiful.
It's also confusing.
"What's—what's going on?" I stammer.
I am answered by the memory of my Aunty, speaking to me over a torturous breakfast several weeks and a lifetime of events ago. "We are like dragons, you and I. We grow great when we are protecting important things, and not just in spirit." Hooves clattering against ice, I rush to the smooth white surface of one of the entrance columns and brush away a thin sheen of frost with one gold-shod hoof.
I do not recognize the creature I see.
The mare has my eyes, wears the same glittering asterite pendant at her throat. The delicate pink horsehair of her face is the same general hue. Her mane is the same color, though it looks thick and crowded and bunched in the little teal ribbon holding it up. I ignite my horn and tug at my own ribbon, and the strange mare does the same. Her mane falls like a river of silk, long and luxurious, the great heavy mass of it bouncing and swaying a little in the chilly high-altitude winds.
The horn. The horn is an elegant, proud thing, jutting high from her forehead. Its whorls are fully double the number I remember having on my own. It is long, longer even than Lieutenant Armor's. She is very nearly as tall as the Lieutenant at the shoulder, and even taller at the horn. Her face is... square, a little coltlike. Very unlike my own perky, nicely-tapered fillyish muzzle. Except, of course, I no longer have a perky, nicely-tapered fillyish muzzle. I can barely recognize the mare in front of me. The me in front of me.
A little cold ball of fear spins itself in the pit of my stomach. Marehood. I can't... I'm not ready for this. It's not time. Yes, I came here to find my own wings and escape the shadow of my Aunty's. Yes, I wanted a job and a title and a responsibility, something more than "Princess." Yes, I changed my name and everything, in an attempt to scribe a clear line between the Cadence of then and the bright, bold Cadance of tomorrow. But... none of that meant I wanted to stop being a filly, did it?
It actually kind of did, says a deep, sensible portion of my brain (that I wish would speak up more loudly and more often). It seems to me you got exactly what you wanted.
I look at her for a long time. The creature before me is no longer a pony who just happened to come out awkwardly sporting both wings and a horn. She is alicorn.
A breath.
And then, I smile, because I suddenly find that I love what I see. In love, at first sight.
Here, in this reflection in this pillar in this crowded thoroughfare in this glorious city thousands of feet above the world, I can finally see who I am. Who I was always, always meant to be.
For the first time.
"Let's get breakfast," I say.
Shining Armor agrees, and the two of us walk together into a new world.
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told me to say things like this
Yes, breakfast is always good when stuff happens and you don't know how to react.
5256400
Thanks for catching!
Aaahhh, gorgeous. A fitting end to this set of tales. I shan't say more for spoilers, but I absolutely loved it, all of it, every story here. I find it fitting that Shiny was there for this momentous occasion. Cloudsdale will certainly never be the same. I'm hoping we'll get to see more of her Cloudsdale adventures, since that is the title of the cycle after all, haha. Cadance is very close to the top of my Best Pony list now, in large part due to your Cadance of Cloudsdale stories. Liquid pride all round. :3
And here, at last, Cadance sees Princess Cadance for the very first time.
(I believe Shining Armor's feelings are going to be doubly perturbed by this transformation, too!)
SUCH a good chapter. Cadance's brightness, her pure unflinching joy at this new life is infectious. I'm probably going to have this stupid grin on my face all day now.
Let us leave unsaid the possibility that these changes have been slowly sneaking up on her, and only now does she really see what she has become as the last changes complete. The pegaratzi are going to go sparse.
"Hey, Snaps! I told you to get a current pic of Princess Cadence!"
"This is current. I took it just this morning at the airship dock."
"But this picture was taken at lunch today. See any differences?"
"Wow. Who is that?"
That was truly delightful to read.
Amusingly, I recall reading that the word "glad" actually does come from "gladius", the Roman short sword which is also the root of "gladiator", because happiness in medieval times meant owning a good weapon.
A double update a day apart? You spoil us so, Skywriter. Wonderful chapter as always, with some genuine character and personality development for Cadance. Didn't know there was a specific word for dockworker either. Your vocabulary continues to astound.
Which brings up the fact that your food descriptions have always been very impressive too.
Can't wait to see the next book. I know you have them listed, but if I go check, I'll lose my comment since I'm on my phone. But I believe Mi Amore Influenza is coming up. Looking forward to the humor of an Alicorn getting sick.
Also,
This is brilliant. Apparently pegasi get off to tickle torture or something.
Anyway, thanks again for writing the beautiful stuff you write, and have a great day!
5253386 I suspect by the time everything is done, this will wrap neatly back Into canon.
Finally, Cloudsdale!
Also,
at 'Horseologion'.
I really love this whole Fisher King effect that's building up around Cadence. It's neat.
Alarms blaring.
5256886
rainbowfactory.mp3
And now to wait for the next story in the cycle...
The universe you're making here continues to be interesting.
A. Thats hilarious.
B. How does that actually work? Clowning? Feathery tickles?
5257156 Goof-off?
5257166
I could buy that.
5257156, 5257166
All are possible, and more. The Cloudsdale Gladiatorial Games are a brutal no-holds barred cage match of happiness.
Fantastically done. I loved this as much as Cadance hates tiaras. And it really is the first time she sees her, the new her, the her she was meant to be. For centuries, that pony was denied, shut out from the world. Now she's here, and the world better look out.
Thank you for a fantastic chronicle of what made Cadance the pony she is at her wedding. I look forward to anything else you have planned for her in Cloudsdale. Or anything else you write, really.
Also, I loved the gladiator joke. Good thing Pinkie doesn't have wings. Talk about unfair advantages... or does she pale in comparison to professional gladiators?
fc01.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2012/137/0/6/cadance_loves_tiaras_by_egophiliac-d504xhf.png
Somewhere nearby, an ill-fortuned blue pegasus colt, who would later be framed by none other than Twilight Sparkle with writing libellous work of heresy about Her Royal Highness, Princess Celestia, watches sadly, yet does not work up the nerve to catch it.
I never thought I'd live to see the day, but I did. 
-----
We reached Cloudsdale, we reached Cloudsdale!
Given what has been established by this point about how alicorns work that quote is mildly concerning, especially when I wonder how it will affect Cadance if she fits just as poorly in Cloudsdale as she does in Canterlot.
My god does Cloudsdale have a fantastic menu. I have a good two hours till dinner, and now it's going to be a little bit harder to last.
Okay, so apparently Shining is going to be the close-in bodyguard, and Auric is going to be covertly keeping an eye out from a distance. Absent any other concerns, not a bad plan.
Riiight.
What a fantastic description of Cloudsd-
*record scratch*
Sudden onset puberty, always awkward. I can't imagine Shining is complaining, though. That does somewhat pull me back from my concerns at the beginning of the chapter, it sounds like Cadance will be able to consider the city hers without any internal concerns at least. I imagine a few pegasi will be concerned enough to compensate.
5256418
I'm very glad that you made that comment. I completely missed that this story was marked complete. I would have missed adding this to my "needs re-reading" shelf.
Great chapter as always, but it does make me curious about one thing: from this point forward, is the narrative going to stay in Cadance's POV or will it keep alternating between her and Shining Armour?
Personally, hoping for the latter - I really love your Shining's voice and dry humour - but I'm fine with either, just wondering.
5258727
Most stories in this series are going to be oneshots; current plan is for Shiny to narrate a few and Cadance to narrate a few. There is an outside chance we will see a story from Auric's PoV but he is a finicky bastard and stories in this cycle are hard enough to nail down when I've got agreeable cooperative folks working with me.
5258284
We shall see, I suppose, whether Cady ends up getting all dragonish about Cloudsdale!
I don't say "we" to be coy. I'm honestly curious myself.
5258086
I think you're right in saying that it's not irony, inasmuch as the outcome is not surprisingly different than one would expect given the setup. I believe it would be ironic (situational irony?) if you had a long piece telling everyone how much you understood and appreciated Iron Will but then decided not to post it due to self-consciousness.
That's a very interesting assessment of Fluttershy! I still never know what to make of her, although I got her to resolve a little better when I internalized the fact that she's kind of the cast's closet Renaissance mare. I still don't claim to be a perfect study on the character, but at least I feel like I can write her without the dreaded "normal line + audible hesitations and interjections = Fluttershy line" equation coming into play.
5257904
O NOES!
CADANCE WHY U THROW AWAY TIARA?!?
And, yes, halfway through the damn series, we're finally in Cloudsdale. You can relax now!
5257777
It also helps to explain where my head-canonical Twilight got some of her messed-up ideas about interpersonal relationships.
I've always liked the idea of Velvet as the author of the Daring Do series. Hell, her Series 4 blindbag card explicitly says ""TWILIGHT VELVET loves writing stories about adventures!" It really does seem like this was what they were aiming for before "Daring Don't" tangled it all up!
5257587
That picture directly inspired the scene at the end, of course.
5257455
Thanks, glad you enjoyed. I hope you continue to do so as the series continues to unfold; I get the feeling that maybe I'm going to fail suspension of disbelief next story for some readers? Eh, we'll see.
5256867
I have always loved the literary device of psychological changes being writ large, whether it be a Fisher King situation or a Psychonauts-esque physical exploration of a headspace.
5256851
Sorry, I couldn't resist!
5256658
Very interesting! The more you know!
5256597
It could conceivably be read either way, Celestia implies that alicorns can indeed have dramatic dragon-like growth spurts in response to their environment, though, and it's what I'm banking on. Probably the change is a little more subtle than Cady perceives it to be, and more than likely it is a combination of both factors.
5256579
So glad to hear it!
5256418
It's always great to hear that people appreciate the character more after my silly little fanfics. Fleshing out these characters in as authoritative a way as possible was the initial goal of the series, because at the time I didn't expect the comic books and light novels would come along and fill in the gaps as well...
5256531
More on Shiny's subsequent angst in the next story!
5259351
Somehow, I get the feeling it'll be less 'angst' and more 'a few dozen cold showers'.
"Loves tiaras," and yet he abuses them so in his stories.
Congratulations on another complete story, man. Can't wait for the next one -- I learn a lot reading them.
5259219
The thing about Fluttershy, imo, is that she's much more comfortable (and thus, much better at) interacting with her animal friends than with her pony friends.
Wait, Complete? *Kermit arm flails*
Looking forward to the next one, then.
5259351
,,,and you know, now this makes me wonder what Twilight and her recurring self-doubt would have to take possession of to grow.
I mean, a friendship strong enough to overpower the combined magic in Equestria apparently isn't doin' it for her.
5259219
All I can say about Fluttershy is this: When Rainbow Dash wants to get wasted on apple spirits, her fist choice for a drinking buddy is Fluttershy.
5259258
That's what the comic writers thought was going to happen too. Hence the "Daring Do Award," in the background of a panel.
One way I've seen it handled is that Twilight Velvet was an author in her youth. Now she's a publisher. A.K. Yearling is one of the author's she publishes for.
5259258
When multiple writers are involved, canon is only as strong as the assumption most open to reinterpretation. A storyline or plot that is strong enough can trump canon and force a retcon of even the most "sacred" assumptions. Witness the decades of real time between the death and resurrection of one James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes, for example.
That said, I'm personally glad that Twilight Velvet isn't Daring Do's author after all. Think about it—in one family, there's already:
• A prince consort, formerly(?) Captain of the Royal Guard (the EUP?)
• The above's wife, the princess of a restored empire
• The only (baby) dragon yet seen in pony society
• A wunderkind who:
- hatched said dragon through sheer magical power, and thus…
- became Princess Celestia's protégée
- has saved the country or world on at least six or seven occasions to date
- was deemed so good of a pony that she ascended and became a princess on her own merits
If Twilight Velvet were a best-selling author, too, who would her husband have to be in order to be seen as equal to the others—the prime minister of Equestria? The inventor of the synthetic rubber horseshoe? A retired billionaire investor in zap apple futures who now builds airships and breaks flight endurance records for fun? The astounding mind behind the famous theories of Special and General Thaumaturgy? Or go the other way, as a counter to the others, becoming the Al Bundy of Canterlot and slumming around with Prince Blueblood? (Oooh, there's an idea—an MLP:FiM crossover with Married… with Children.)
No, I like it better this way; two parents—minor nobles, at best—whose children have done well for themselves.
5259134
I'm hoping there's at least a brief oneshot of precocious, prescient young Twilight Sparkle wondering where her brother and favorite foalsitter have gotten off to (not necessarily connecting the two events), possibly set very shortly before a certain test?
Finished but ugh, got myself distracted by drama elsewhere and failed to enjoy it as much as I should have. Thus don't feel like I can really give you a suitable comment. If/when I toss this into the review chipper-shredder, I'll make sure to re-read or at least re-skim and give you something more substantial.
That whole description of Cloudscape was a fantastic melange of worldbuilding and scenery porn; I can't wait to see where this leads!
5259774
While the "Mare Supply" gag is my addition, "Dan Stableberg" is an import from the comics where we see Cady briefly messing with her record collection in advance of her prom date. While I was not sure about a ponified Prince and the Revolution, I spun up some Dan Fogelberg just to research it and quickly determined that the Ponyverse version of The Innocent Age is probably Cadance's single favorite album of all time ever.
I guess "Run For the Roses" would be largely unchanged?
So I get to read two new chapters at once! Great! A good conclusion to this story.
I quite enjoyed this whole story, even being a smaller chapter in the more complete tale. I was inspired to go back and read "How to Remove a Unicorn Tooth" again as well, and I once again was taken with how Season Four's Twilight mirrors the defined "Alicorn" traits that you invented for Cadance. First in her disturbingly ravenous burger eating during "Twilight Time", but ultimately in how the entire season finale echoed the new Princess's need for responsibilities.
In light of your stories here, there's another level now to the "You'll Play Your Part" song... (Especially Cadance's participation in it.) "We understand you wanting more... A chance to shine, a chance to soar.... Soon will come the day it turns around." The fact that Cadance is now on Celestia's side of things makes me think the whole issue is like the Alicorn version of a Cutie Mark. ("But I want it nooooooow!")
At least Cadance tried to toss the Tirek job to her hungry sister-in-law...
5259968
True, but conversely, before Season 4 butted in, had we assumed that Twilight Velvet was indeed the Daring Do author, then the only ponies that we knew were big fans of the books were her own daughter and the close friend that the daughter pushed the book onto... Which would draw into question as to whether the book series was really that popular or not. (Heck, Twilight Sparkle could have donated the copy that was on the hospital's book cart.)
5261748
A book series implies, almost by definition, that (a) previous books in the series sold well enough to justify the purchase, printing, and distribution of each subsequent volume, (b) the series is actually one long novel broken into multiple volumes, and considered a safe enough risk to justify purchasing the rights to the whole story upfront and planning a printing schedule, or (c) the books are self-published, regardless of profit or loss. (a) is particularly true of books written as "work for hire," i.e., no royalties, by numerous authors under a pseudonym as the rights are owned lock, stock, and barrel by the publisher and the costs are thus well-fixed in advance. Examples include the Hardy Boys, Nancy Drew, Tom Swift (Jr.), and the Bobbsey Twins.
Very true—excellent point! And imagine Celestia and Luna as the alicorn CMC!
5261163
...the depths of my disappointment are unfathomable. I guess I'm going to just have to give up on your stuff and read IDW instead.
More seriously, yes, Innocent Age is probably his best album. It's got both "Same Old Lang Syne" and "Leader of the Band", almost certainly his two greatest songs, as well as a chunk of other good ones. Part of me is increasingly conflicted about "Run for the Roses" since joining the pony fandom, because I've got a real thing for happy ponies and RftR just seems so bittersweet to me. I suspect it's the tune, since the lyrics don't seem particularly bittersweet. I suppose it might make for a decent Applejack songfic, though.
He did a nice cover of "Lovers in a Dangerous Time" at one point, too. Actually, you could probably make a whole cycle of AJ stories off of his songs.
Hrm. Maybe I should go talk to somebody about this...
5261867
Yes, but there is an ocean of space between selling well enough to have more than one book published, and being J.K. Rowling. The stacks in bookstores are literally filled with book series by authors you and I have never heard of, and I don't think any of those authors can really then be compared to Princes, Princesses and godlike rulers... Hence, Velvet being the author of an obscure fantasy book series wouldn't have to have tipped the family fame scales very far.
But it's all moot now anyway.
5261903
Well, we do have to factor in the perceived value of a first-edition of Daring Do and the Quest for the Sapphire Statue in "Trade Ya!", so I'd put A.K. Yearling somewhere between J.K. Rowling and Mike Shepherd in terms of absolute popularity. Definitely above Herman Melville—as a writer of poetry.
5261748
I absolutely love the idea that "You'll Play Your Part" is basically the three older princesses going, "Oh, dear, we've turned her into an alicorn and now she's getting urges; well, best have a talk with her about it..."