Chapter 4 – Chestnut Takes Canterlot
Fleur looked up.
Perhaps Chestnut was hiding somewhere on the café’s silvery awning, lurking like a devious predator about to jump down on its prey? A tiny, but no longer dormant part of Fleur was anticipating such a surprise which ultimately never came, because regardless of how improper, sudden, or simply loud an act of pouncing on her back would be, she’d at least know where the young thestral was.
Not on the awning, that’s for sure.
“Gone?” Rarity echoed. “Don’t say that, dear. ‘Gone’ is such a final word. She must have wandered off a bit, that’s all.”
“But I saw her! She was standing right here just a minute ago!” Fleur slumped on the entrance steps to stare blankly at the street. “Fancy is going to kill me. I’m so dumb! You’re not supposed to leave fillies unattended at any time, are you?”
“Well, you most certainly shouldn’t do that with small fillies, but from what you’ve told me, Chestnut is old enough to not get immediately lost without adult supervision.”
“But she’s not here, either!” Fleur grumbled. “What do you say to that?”
Rarity scrutinized her hoof in the most casual manner possible. “Oh, I’m afraid I lack a proper response,” she replied. “Your Chestnut isn’t here. What do you say to that?”
Fortunately for Fleur, answering her own question didn’t require any secret parenting knowledge, which was a major relief because such insights were still a secret to her. She straightened up, shrugging off the arising panic and shame that almost clouded her common sense. Even with her glaring incompetence in the field of childcare, she knew exactly what to do next.
She stepped off the stairs.
“I say we go and find her!”
“Now that’s the maternal spirit!” Rarity cheered.
The search and rescue plan formed in Fleur’s head.
“We should probably start in the store across the street. That’s where she wanted to go while I was with you so maybe she just went back there. When I saw her here I assumed she had her share of fun already, but then again, it wouldn’t be the first time she had trouble staying in one place,” Fleur said. “If she’s not there, then we should ask around. Someone had to see something. And Chestnut is way too noticeable to just vanish without a trace.” She turned back to her friend. “How does it sound for you?”
Rarity investigated the area, her eyes sweeping from the smudged windows to a stallion climbing up the ladder set by the café’s storefront. She squinted downwards, at a trace of water that had already soaked into the pavement. “Yes, yes, darling, I think that’s an excellent suggestion, only that—aha!” she exclaimed and approached the stallion. “Excuse me, sir! Have you, by any chance, seen a young thestral pacing around the area?”
A window wiper still clasped between his teeth, the stallion replied, “Shure I have. The whole shtreet have.”
“The whole street?” Fleur said with concern matched only by her curiosity.
The stallion threw the wiper into a bucket of water and stepped off the dangerously trembling ladder. “As whole as it can be, ma’am! It’s my shift on the windows today, so I’m washing them squeaky clean, as instructed. Suddenly, I hear somepony screaming: ‘Thief, thief!’, so I look and see a batpony backing away from some darn elegant lady. The bat’ was carrying a fine piece of golden necklace in her teeth, but she dropped it the moment she walked into my ladder.”
“What happened next?” Rarity asked.
“Well, I managed to keep my balance up there at the top, but the bucket, still full”—he drew a path in the air—“fell and soaked the poor mare good. So she got pretty pissed off, as you can imagine, her dress and mane all wet. The bat’ then galloped away, the lady followed, shouted some ugly words at her. Then she called the guards.”
“The Royal Guards?” Fleur replied in disbelief. “To chase down a filly?”
The stallion shrugged. “I can’t say she looked like a filly to me, ma’am, and I heard their kind starts their street career pretty early. If you’ve had something stolen too then maybe you should let the guards know. They all went thataway,” he said, pointing up the Promenade. “Hey, I wouldn’t worry if I were you. They’re bound to find her eventually!”
Fleur couldn’t believe her ears. While getting a bucket of cold, soapy water all over your coat wasn’t the most pleasant experience to endure, the stallion’s recap sounded like Chestnut had been involved in an unfortunate accident rather than an actual crime. Unless there was a grain of truth in it! Why would she take interest in someone’s jewelry in the first place? Was she a sly thief working with Doctor Hugs, really a criminal mastermind who aimed to rob—no, no, no. Fleur rebuked herself to stop her train of thoughts from derailing at the Nowhere station.
The mares set off at a brisk trot.
“Outrageous!” Rarity said. “If Twilight’s brother was still in charge of the Royal Guard in Canterlot, I’d go straight to his office to have a little chat about how his subordinates handle the security issues nowadays. What happened back there was clearly a terrible misunderstanding!”
Engrossed in the search Fleur only murmured in response as attempting to hold even a casual conversation would be too much to handle given the circumstances so unfamiliar to her. She had never fallen foul of the law or the authorities and she had no idea where would she go if she was the one escaping the guards. Would Chestnut try to hide in one of the shops? Probably not, because the fancy-boring places the Promenade was full of just weren’t good hiding spots. Windowsills and balconies were out of question, either, since she’d be too exposed. Rooftops? Maybe she just took off and flew back to the Orphanarium? If she had, Doctor Hugs was never going to allow Fleur try with another orphan, which in turn would put the mare back on square one.
She had to find her.
At least they were heading in the right direction. The ponies they asked on their way all confirmed they had seen a grey thestral—‘A rascal of some sort, I daresay!’—running from the Royal Guard. Some of them thought that it was, indeed, ‘quite an exhilarating show’ while others claimed the chase was just a staged act to boost the sales of some new book. ‘Why, yes, of course I preordered a copy weeks ago. It will be a smashing hit! Why? Well, all of my many cultured friends recommended it, naturally!’
The crowd thickened with a group of foreigners fascinated with their guide’s enthusiastic narration. They seemed oblivious to the fact they were standing in everyone’s way at one of the critical choke points of the Promenade. Tourists! Fleur slowed down but kept looking around. Being taller than the average mare had its advantages and not drowning in the sea of ponies was one of them, but she couldn’t count how many times she had hooked a door jamb or ruined a Hearth’s Warming garland with her horn.
Once they emerged from the crowd, Fleur turned to her friend. Rarity was huffing and puffing, winded as she was, changing the knot on her scarf into a more breathable but equally elegant variation.
“Rarity? Is everything alright?”
“You mean, besides the fact that I don’t have those supermodel legs of yours?” She paused for a swift gasp. “Why, I am then perfectly fine, thank you very much. Do you and your acquaintances race back and forth the catwalk when no one’s watching?”
“Oh! Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to run like that. I was just, uhm, well… I didn’t mean to run like that.”
“It’s but a minor nuisance,” Rarity replied, then exhaled loudly to regain the steady breath. “Admit it, dear. You care about Chestnut. You want her by your side. And, most importantly, you want her to be your—”
“Don’t say that, please,” Fleur cut her short. “For my own sake.”
“As you wish, but then, why are you pursuing her with such dedication?”
“I-I just don’t like the idea of having any legal problems with the Orphanarium, that’s all. That, and I can imagine what Fancy Pants would say about this mess. Simple as that.”
“Ah, if you say so. My bad.”
The amused note told Fleur that Rarity was once again able to see right through her and her not quite smooth talk. It wasn’t anything new, really, but this time she touched something which Fleur herself thought had ceased to exist upon receiving the diagnosis. Ever since Rarity uncovered it, hidden deep inside, she kept nudging it gently like one nudges a campfire to rekindle it and bring warmth anew.
From one crowd of ponies they stepped into another, gathered around what was best described as a total disaster.
Nearly half of the street was covered with the most abstract mosaic of all times, formed by colorful glass shards and drips of spilled beverages that shined in the sun like a sea of precious gemstones. The ponies surrounding the scene didn’t look like occasional onlookers—most of them held round and unbroken punch glasses which matched the materials used in setting up the mosaic. It all originated from an overturned table by which a solitary mare was lamenting to no end, seeking consolation in repeatedly smoothing her vintage floral dress.
“It’s ruined! Ruined, I tell you!” the mare moaned. When Fleur made the rookie mistake of not blending back into the crowd, the game was on. The mare hurried to her, navigating between the lines of shattered glass, and made her first move. “Fleur! Fleur, your presence here is the sole light shining amongst such dreadful circumstances!”
“Hyacinth,” Fleur greeted her with a dose of polite indifference. “Always a pleasure.”
Hyacinth’s greatest—and sometimes quite desperate—aspiration was to join the ranks of the Canterlot Elite and be considered a classy mare of the high society. She believed that impressing Fleur and Fancy Pants was going to help her achieve that, but more often than not her overzealous attitude was turning her attempts into quite a comical display. Her hobbies included: inviting her friends for a cup of eleven o’clock coffee, pretending to be more important than she actually was, and organizing way too many social get-togethers on which she had a chance to shine.
She also considered it the fate’s oversight that she wasn’t born into the royalty.
Hyacinth led Fleur away from the crowd. “Yes, yes, dear, I know exactly what you want to say. My front door parties are widely known to be absolutely impeccable, but as you can see, my Punch Tastextravaganza has suffered a terrible, terrible loss today!”
“What happened?” Fleur asked, wondering where did Rarity go.
“The horror happened! The horror in form of an equine creature! I believe we call them thestrals now out of political correctness,” Hyacinth said. “One of them came like a bolt from the blue and ruined my party. I heard a shout, and by the time I turned around, oh, I saw my delectable choice of punches flying into the air, crashing down like a hailstorm and irrigating the street!” she said, picking up a broken pitcher’s handle to add weight to her words.
Fleur prodded the pitcher’s bottom. “That’s a lot of glassware. I hope you have spares.”
“I appreciate your concern, but please, don’t risk ruining your model hooves in this translucent catastrophe. Rich Card is already on it. Oh, Rich Card!” she called for her husband, then pulled Fleur into a clandestine grasp. “Between you and me, those were the spares. I would never use my prized set of porcelain tableware with hoof-painted starflowers for an outdoor party. Even amongst the ponies of substance gathered here there are some I would rather not entrust with anything more than a coffee spoon,” Hyacinth said. “Speaking of which, you do remember that you’re cordially invited for a cup of coffee tomorrow morning?”
“Oui, at eleven o’clock sharp. How could I ever forget?” Fleur replied, adding one to the count of Hyacinth’s reminders. The mare’s persistence on the matter of meetups was legendary, if annoying. “In the meantime, would you mind telling me where did that thestral go?”
Hyacinth blinked her eyes nervously, troubled that Fleur was more interested in the whereabouts of the bandit rather than complimenting her prized set of porcelain tableware or discussing the guests that weren’t socially outstanding enough to drink from it.
“Well, after the assailant flipped the refreshments table and tackled not one, but two Royal Guards, I saw her drinking my exquisite cranberry punch. She then scuttled away with a barefaced smug on her ruffian muzzle, galloping further up the Promenade, I believe,” she said, then threw a glance over Fleur’s shoulder. “Yes, what is it?”
A balding stallion of endless patience and a heart of gold waved at Hyacinth.
“I just wanted to make sure I know where do you want me to put all this glass. Again, is our dustbin okay?”
Hyacinth chuckled. “Oh, Rich Card! I’m sure that with your many years of experience in the City Council’s Department of Finance you are well capable of making your own judgment regarding the rubbish disposal!” she said, but when the stallion took but a step she quickly added on a more serious note, “Not in ours, dear. I would rather not be mistaken for a heartbroken glassware artist. No, not there, either!” She turned to Fleur. “I’m afraid I have to go now and once again become a guiding beacon for my lost husband. Be on the lookout for those two-faced ponies, dear! You never know when one of them will decide to crash your party!”
After throwing one last glance at the crime scene, Fleur swept the area for her friend.
In a fashion only typical of her, Rarity wound up among the partygoers with a surprisingly whole glass of punch of her own, but when Fleur beckoned to her, she exploited her natural social graces, asked to be relieved—five stallions volunteered—and left her admirers upon letting out a sweet giggle.
“Having fun, are you?” Fleur asked.
“Fun? Oh, don’t be ridiculous! While you and Hyacinth were busy socializing, I took the liberty of nosing around a bit. The guests claim to have seen a grey thestral who grappled the guards and threw them at the buffet thus ruining the party. Their testimonies were oddly consistent with each other, but unless there’s something you haven’t told me, I don’t think a filly could take on two stalwart stallions.”
“Not this one. Anything else?”
“According to some ponies, she left the scene galloping into the night with a maniacal laughter!”
“She did?” Fleur replied, realized the obvious absurdity, and did a double take. “Non! You’re making this up!”
“But I’m not! That’s what they said: a maniacal laughter!” Rarity replied. “One specific group did, that is. I noticed they all repeated those exact words, but when I asked for details each of them individually, their stories couldn’t be more divergent. It led me to believe that they were following someone else’s judgment. And guess what? It turned out so! They were all repeating what one of the more distinguished guests said and they barely bothered to have their own opinion.”
Fleur snorted. “How typical of the high society. They saw nothing. They were just trying to score some points with the most influential figure around.” She heaved a resigned sigh. “Are we really like that? We’re supposed to be the best of this world, we call ourselves the Canterlot Elite, and we believe we represent the ideal to which other ponies should want to aspire. We think of ourselves as role models for them, but in the end we’re just a bunch of opinionated snobs!”
“Keeping up appearances is the price of living in Canterlot, I suppose.”
“But is it worth it?” Fleur wondered. “Sure, we have beautiful houses, we have connections, we can have coffee with celebrities whenever we want, and I probably wouldn’t have to work for the rest of my life and I could still maintain a certain standard of living, but at what cost? Constantly following what somepony ‘more important’ has to say? Partaking in the activities we don’t even like only to appear au courant with what’s popular at the moment?”
Rarity looked up to the sky, pondering over her words for a moment.
“I can’t answer you that, Fleur,” she said, turning her attention back to the street. “There was a time when I became so obsessed with making every high society pony happy that I almost forgot what was really important. I had to choose between my friends and my reputation, and if it wasn’t for Fancy Pants, I’d probably become a laughingstock and never set my hoof in Canterlot again. If there’s something about the life you’re living that’s troubling you, then you should probably talk it over with him.”
“Oui, that’s the plan,” Fleur replied, then moaned in desperation, “Oh, where is she?”
When all hope seemed lost, Rarity threw a glance over Fleur’s back. She nudged her in the surging excitement evident in her grin. “Refresh my memory, if you please. Does she have a grey coat, unruly brownish mane, big bright eyes, and a muzzle so cute you’re seriously considering designing an entire line of thestral-inspired accessories for the next three to six months?”
“I can’t say I am, but you got her looks spot on. What, do you see her?” Fleur followed her friend and looked to the side, but she could see Chestnut neither in front of The Canterlot Sun editorial office, nor anywhere near the jewelry store across some unnamed maintenance alley branching from the Promenade. She looked around to widen the search area, scanning the vicinity of the adjacent shops, but she still got nothing. “Where is she, where?”
“She’s right”—Rarity guided Fleur’s head—“there.”
Down the alley stood an ordinary trash can from which those distinctive, yellowy eyes discreetly observed the Promenade’s flow of ponies. Chestnut was hiding from something with a round lid on her head, but when her and Fleur’s eyes met, she dived deeper into the container and closed the opening.
“How did you—wait, you’re not going to leave me now, are you?”
Rarity took a step back. “I’ll be right here,” she assured, “but from what I can see, your little thestral is frightened. It’s for the best if you’re the one to talk to her first, especially since she doesn’t know me.”
Fleur squeaked. “But the alley… the smell…”
“Oh, puh-lease! Remember that time I told you about my sister? I went to great lengths to participate in the Ponyville Sisterhooves Social alongside her, and by far the most dreadful part was when I had to cover myself in mud. The real mud, dear, not the spa one! It ruined my coiffure, my hooficure, and my make-up, but it was something I endured for Sweetie Belle, because sometimes doing the right thing requires us getting our hooves a little dirty,” she said. “You could say that this very alley is your personal mud pit!”
“Can’t we just stay here and wait? Surely she’ll get out eventually!”
Rarity stomped her hoof. “Mare up, Fleur de Lis! In you go, now!”
Fleur didn’t like the mud pit metaphor in the slightest but she got the message it conveyed. She had to mare up and get that kid out of there, not because Fancy Pants or Doctor Hugs would think ill of her if she hadn’t, but because she just couldn’t leave the filly sitting all abandoned in a can. While Chestnut wasn’t someone of high social standing, she definitely wasn’t trash.
So in she went.
Not all waste in Canterlot could be magically utilized, and those unnamed alleys to which nopony paid any attention were the reason the city appeared so clean and shiny. Unseen by most, they served as back passages to exquisite cafes, restaurants, and stores which just like all other places generated mounds of waste with the hope that some unknown force would take it away. Every day, they were having their wish fulfilled by the ponies who woke up even before Princess Celestia raised her glorious sun, and who were the last ones to step off the streets long after she hid it behind the horizon. Thanks to their sacrifice, the businesses could continue to provide their services, free of the burden that disappeared in the seemingly bottomless trash cans.
Fleur advanced down the alley, doing her best to keep the minimum safe distance from the containers of questionable contents. More than once she wanted to give up, to turn tail and flee, as the unpleasant atmosphere was tough to bear with dignity. Overwhelmed by the nauseating stench wrapping her and assaulted by the aggressive expressionism of the graffiti, she was dreading every of the five steps she had made towards her goal.
“Eek!” she squealed when a monstrously fanged creature dashed by her.
“Oh, for goodness sake, it’s just a rat!” she heard Rarity’s most reassuring voice from behind. “And my friends call me a drama queen! Compared to you I’m but a countrified baroness!”
Convinced that the alley would become the place of her early demise, Fleur accepted her fate and galloped to the trash can. “Ew, ew, ew!” she squeaked as she stepped into a puddle made of stickiness and misery. She wiped her hoof with a rag laying nearby. It turned to house another rat whose high-pitched protests rivaled her own. “Y-you take it!” She scurried away and immediately felt a gossamer veil coating her muzzle, but she didn’t wait to apologize to whatever eight-legged monster had made it. She whimpered, taking the last reckless leap down the alley.
She landed right next to the trash can. She straightened up. Well, it could have been worse. Chestnut could have ran into the sewers. Yuck.
With the help of her magic, Fleur grasped a cardboard box and disassembled it into a flat layer she placed by the trash can. She then added a piece of styrofoam, and then another flattened box for good measure. Only when she had a proper, however makeshift seating she felt ready to knock on the filly’s hiding place.
“Chestnut,” she spoke in a steady tone. “Would you care to explain what are you doing inside this… container?”
Chestnut’s voice bounced off the metallic surface. “Hiding,” she replied.
“Hiding? What from?”
“Lady Bucket Head.”
Fleur did a quick recall of all the ponies she knew, but she couldn’t think of any mare bearing such an original name.
Chestnut’s head popped out from the can. “Well, I don’t know it that’s really her name,” she said, playfully balancing the lid on her head. “I made that one up.”
“Oui, I figured so, but—” She stopped, leaning away in a gut reaction. Nose, lips, fangs, crimson stains! “Your face! Is that… is that…”
The filly squinted at the tip of her muzzle. “Oh, you think that’s—nah, c’mon!” She giggled. “Don’t worry! It’s just some cranberry juice from a party we accidentally crashed. Me and misters guardsponies, that is. I mean, I know I didn’t do it on purpose, but I can’t really speak for them,” she explained much to the relief of the mare’s heavily beating heart. Bloodied fangs. Some nightmare material! “I barely saved it from crashing and spilling all over the place like the rest of those funny drinks. It was pretty tasty, too!”
“I’ve been gone for ten, maybe fifteen minutes. What happened?”
“Well, first I went to that music store, but it didn’t take long. It was like I was at the café one moment, then went to the store for a moment, and then got back the very same moment I left! I did my best to be super fast! They told me the new Gemtrance album is coming out in as much as three weeks, and I figured your meeting wouldn’t last that long, so I went back,” Chestnut said. “So I was standing right there, chilling and stuff, and guess what I see? One of those fancy mares trots by, you know, keeping her head high and not even smiling a bit because smiling is apparently not smiled upon these days.”
The mare raised an eyebrow but didn’t say a word.
“She wasn't paying attention to anything around her, not even when she dropped her cool necklace. It just slid off her neck because of a bad fixing or something, I don’t know,” Chestnut said. “So I grab it to return it. I fly to her and pat her on the side. She turns around and she’s all like ‘woah!’, so I’m like ‘wah!’. Then she calls me a thief, can you believe it?”
So far the story proved consistent with what Fleur had already heard, but it was much more enjoyable to listen when Chestnut was telling it. There was passion in her voice which allowed to fully immerse yourself in the drama worthy of an adventure novel. The mare could see why some ponies thought the chase was a publicity stunt.
“I drop the necklace, try to explain, but she’s not listening!” Chestnut threw her hooves in the air, almost knocking off the trash lid of her head. “She keeps getting closer and calls me a…”
The filly climbed up and whispered a few inappropriate words into Fleur’s ear, eliciting a furious blush from the mare.
“Scandaleux! Was everyone around there blind? Surely somepony saw you didn’t steal the necklace!”
“I don’t think Lady Bucket Head was upset about the necklace,” Chestnut replied. “It was more like she wanted to send a message. There were lots of ponies around, but if there’s one thing I know about the city is that it’s apparently okay to shout out your alle—uhm, allegations? That’s the cool word, right? It’s okay to do so if you look important enough. I guess you could say that nopony bats an eye for these kinda situations.” She bared her fangs in a grin. “See, see what I did there? ‘Nopony bats an eye’ because, you know, I am a thestral and—oh, forget it,” she said, waving her hoof. “In the end I walked into the ladder, but not on purpose, the window washing guy wobbled, dropped a bucket of water, and the mare caught it. With her face.”
Fleur chuckled. Now the nickname Chestnut created for that dumb, inward-looking mare got fully justified. Unless she was lying to her, but why would she? The version of the story she presented was probable, and she would gain nothing on twisting the facts or retelling the events in a way that would serve her reputation. Unlike Lady Bucket Head, Hyacinth, and many other socialites Fleur knew.
“You knew I was just inside,” she said. “Why didn’t you call for me?”
A slight blush came to Chestnut’s cheeks as she tried to look nowhere in particular. She took the lid off her head to cover her muzzle. “I didn’t want to ruin the thing you were doing. I knew you’d be doing important business important ponies like you do, and since for the past few years I could count mostly on myself, well… yeah.”
“Oh? Oh. I, uhm, I thank you for your consideration.”
The filly discarded the lid and cheered up. “You’re welcome!”
Fleur was lost for words. Her initial assumptions turned out correct, in a way, because this particular thestral did not fit the Canterlot way of life at all—she was better than that, and what she did was by far the most selfless thing a pony in her place could do. It only made things harder for the mare as the emotions fueling her mind and body during the search had suddenly waned, leaving her downright flaccid. She wasn’t used to anything beyond sauntering and strolling with occasional parading, and she had to compensate for all those lost sips of coffee, so instead of trying to come up with a proper way of expressing her gratitude, she yearned for a high-caloric dessert she could not get in the Maregots earlier.
It occurred to her that she could both indulge herself and do something nice for the filly she had wrongfully disregarded.
“Chestnut, what do you say we go for some ice cream? Let’s have a fancy dessert, on me. Would you like that?”
The filly’s eyes shined with interest. “With whipped cream and colorful sprinkles?”
“Of course! It wouldn’t be a proper dessert without sprinkles. Besides, I do love them!”
“Hey, me too—whoa!” The can toppled, overbalanced by Chestnut’s valiant attempt at jumping out, and spat out her and some wastepaper to the mare’s hooves. “Uh, I think!”
“You never ate such a dessert?”
Snickering, Chestnut flew up and bopped Fleur’s muzzle. “Silly! Of course I did! Two years ago at the Summer Wrap Up with my friends, Doc Hugs, and his Wonderbolt friend who’s also a mare, but she’s not his marefriend. I mean, that’s what he told us, but it’s not what we saw when they were talking and thought we weren’t watching!” she exclaimed. “Come on! I can tell you the rest if you want, but we should probably get those ice cream first. If we don’t hurry they’ll run out of sprinkles!”
Fleur cracked her lips in questioning disbelief. Most of the ponies she knew needed much to put on a happy expression, like designer clothing and dazzling jewelry they would never wear more than once, and of course the constant inflow of fresh gossips thanks to which they could appear more acquainted during various social events they attended to show off.
All Chestnut needed was a bowl of ice cream she could share with another pony.
Hello there! Thank you for reading my story. I am no longer writing pony fiction, but if you want to support my current creative endeavor, check out my content on Twitch! 
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3658420
very sweet Fleur character building chapter
Wow! This chapter was great! I especially liked the end of it. It was sweet.
if you ever need to find the least noble of any race or creed, find where that societies "nobles" congregate
Nice, figured the pony was an idiot for saying she's a thief. Gotta love the nobles!
Yes, Chestnut, it is a cool word.
God, why is Chestnut so damn cute!?
I can already see where this is going. Fleur learns from Chestnut that she doesn't need everything of Canterlot to be happy, learns she actually hates the Canterlot lifestyle, and convinces Fancy that they should move to Ponyville, as it's a better place to raise a child and ponies there would be more accepting of Chestnut. All the while not having realized deep down that she's already connected to Chestnut in a mother-daughter relationship, only to realize it their first night in Ponyville when she tucks Chestnut in, and Chestnut hugs her and says, "I love you, Mom."
A rather cliché story - nothing that hasn't been done a thousand times before - but the way you do it is well worth pursuing again and again. As the Nostalgia Critic says, clichés are around because they work, but we've seen them often enough that they're only enjoyable when they're done well. You, my friend, are doing this quite well.
...of course, it could just be Chestnut.
I
you this much!
Well, Chestnut got her first taste of prejudice in Canterlot, and by all accounts, she is coming to terms with it in a mature fashion. I wonder how she will deal with the hay she'll get in one of those fancy schools.
Heh, good old Chestnut knows how to have a fun time.
If I were Fleur, I'd be laughing with her about the absurdity of it all.
~Skeeter The Lurker
Hyacinth.... last name Bucket pronounced Bou-kay? ever suffering Husband named Richard?
one word: YES YES YES YES YES YES
an*
3658491
I don't know about moving to Ponyville: My guess is that will depend if Chestnut can get along with the inevitably snobbish Canterlot kids. If she can deal with them like she dealt with those rich snobs, she'll probably succeed. Chestnut isn't the kind of pony who seems to cry at the smallest slight. So maybe this won't end with them leaving Canterlot.
Canterlot vs Chestnut: 0/1
I find your writing style... adorable, and it still flows super well.
The only thing is that we still don't know how did Chesnut knocked the two royal guards to get away!!!
I think is rather important.
3658491>>3658591
Yes except the cover page implies that Chesnut will leave Fleur when the time comes...
~Leonzilla
3658596
In your first point, because they realized they were chasing a teenage filly and let their guard down.
In your second point, the 'Adopted' stamp in the upper left corner says she gets her family, and the absence of 'Sad' tag says this isn't a tear jerker, which seems to say that's Fleur signing the photo, which she probably took herself of Chestnut dancing...in Canterlot at night, so they probably won't move.
This definitely will be a happy family, in the future. Aside some inevitable conversation.
Chestnut is such a good little filly. Too bad Canterlot is filled with jerks whose muzzles are so high in the air Luna couldn't the tops from the moon.
Hmm I don't think I belive chestnut's story. But lets see how things go
3658609
That and she signed herself as "Mom," meaning she accepted Chestnut as her daughter and the role of being a mother.
3659002
Indeed.
Hey Fleur, you forgot the part where you tell Chestnut that she can always come to you when she's in trouble and she should never be concerned that she's interrupting something important. Still, not bad considering you're new at being a mom.
yays
New chapter yay!
also canterlot bitches gonna bitch!
Nice timing for an update, I really needed this
And it just keeps getting better
!
Way to go, Nutsie!!!
Glad Fleur is seeing what Chestnut is all about and opening up for Chestnut. I think this is gonna be the start of a beautiful relationship.
It sort've pans as false. I could buy her not calling for Fleur because she forgot or because it didn't occur to her, not out of some overthought magnanimous gesture on her part.
Well, seems my $40 bet payed off. I'll take it in hey-pennies.
Well, seems my $40 bet payed off. I'll take it in hey-pennies.
I can't get enough of this! Moar Nutsie!
Though I was happy to see this in my favorites, I have to admit that it was a bit unsubstantial. Not by much, considering it's a small story arc, but I think it would've fit better a bit later on or if you made it a bigger deal in the scope of the story.
Starting with why I think it would've fit better later: if you built up how other ponies veiw thestrals by either insignificant insults or sour looks, it would've been a natural progression to this point where it became a bigger problem. However, just throwing us into a situation like this, we're left guessing a bit too long with no reason to believe that she wouldn't steal the necklace. As it is, my immediate gut instinct was that she was lying, which, from what I've gotten of her so far, is uncharacteristic of her earnest personality. If it was later on, we would've believed in her more and would've found her explanation more readily acceptable (assuming she actually isn't lying).
If you had made it a bigger deal, ie actually having the guards catching her or a chase scene or what-have-you, it wouldn't have seemed quite so contrived. If it was more character driven, we'd also have had character building. Fleur defending Chestnut would've been a nice dynamic. I was waiting for a pony to make an uncalled for comment on Chestnut and Fleur would politely tear that pony a new one. It would've been interesting to see that one unmemorable pony, Hyacinth, do this and then try to save face as Fleur knocked her down a peg. Admittedly, this would have also worked better later on as the bond between Fleur and Chestnut had strengthened a bit, but it wouldn't have been too out of place here.
It's essential to remember that I still love this story. I wouldn't write a comment like this if I didn't, and I still will wait anxiously for the next chapter.
EDIT: Also, I forgot to mention that the cover art for this story is adorable.
Especially in Arizona, Ice Cream is the best way to bond. My favorite is Fudge-Covered-Waffle-Cone-Chunk Vanilla with Caramel Swirls.
Nice bit there... good to see Fleur mare up and nice to see Rarity helping her out. PS, Chestnut is just adorable!
That rich pony that Chestnut was trying to help is a R-A-C-I-S-T.
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I'm so happy someone caught this! While last names aren't that popular in Equestria and I've already used the word 'bucket' for describing a different character, you could probably say that Hyacinth has two sisters in Ponyville, Rose and Daisy, the latter being married to some stallion named Onslow... whoops! Worlds colliding!
Patricia Routledge really nailed her part, thus Hyacinth felt like a perfect typical wannabe high society pony!
3658567
That's my curse. The same mistake (among many others) once got me rejected from EQD. Thank you for having a keen eye which I sometimes lack!
3658471
Ah, then it seems that my original goal of showing Fleur in a different light is being reached, one chapter at a time. Thanks for leaving a word!
3658510
Yay! Somebody loves me! Have a great day, sir or ma'am!
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Three comments with a single smiling Twilight, all under one chapter? Jackpot!
Thank you guys for sticking around!
You could say that Chestnut was Keeping Up Appearances!
She releases her grip on ire and so will learn to be a mother to those in need.
At last, perhaps acceptance will be achieved?
Awaiting further releases.
fbcdn-sphotos-a-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-ash3/1237072_10151582830120614_272132380_n.jpg
So many feels
I want to hug Chestnut.
3660373
No worries.
Also, I should mention, your story kind of gets telly at points. I didn't bring it up last chapter because it wasn't that big of a deal and the story is focusing more on the relationship between Fleur and Chestnut. But, as a bit of advice, when you reach a part where you begin typing "they talked about x, y, z, and drank lovely chardonnay while eating bacon" then you should actually have them talk about it. It helps fill the story more and it can help build your characters. Don't be afraid to do it, because it only benefits you in the long run.
Aaaaaaand Faved
Keep it up.
I had a smile on my face when they found chestnut and from then till the end of the chapter
3658540
*counts* ...four, five... carry two... double every third digit...
Yes, according to my math this is legitimately one word! Glad you've chosen it!
3658593
Man, Canterlot does not stand a chance...
3658596
It's always a pleasure to hear such feedback! As for the details regarding Chestnut's Great Escape, well, I simply didn't want to resolve every single plot point by the end of the chapter. Who knows, perhaps Chestnut will mention it in the future?
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High society ponies, nobles, the elite... however we call them, as a group they tend to be portrayed as dumb and shallow (or manipulative at best). I hope that two particular individuals will stand out in a positive way...
3660373
Guard: Your Highnesses, it's the Bucket mare!
Blueblood/Cadance/Luna/Celestia: FFFFFUUUUUU-
3661407 No problem, I thought that Chestnut might have something special like knowing how to defend herself due to experience, or excessive strength, due to that part being missing, I can see how such element wold enrich the plot in future chapters
although is just a little convenient that Fleur did question it yet just saying. 
BTW has that cover image being alternated lately?; because I could have sworn that that cover image said something along the lines of "I miss you" ~mom.
3662076
Sorry, no changes here! It has always been "Love you Chestnut - Mom".
But since we're on the topic of cover arts: I find it immensely enjoyable (and relatively easy) to create those photo-like pieces for Of Lilies and Chestnuts. I was thinking about creating the 'album' of some sort from these, then it occurred to me: why not make cover arts for chapters? Below there's an example of such thing - whaddya think? I guess I could use them to freshen up the story's front page a little.
th06.deviantart.net/fs70/PRE/i/2013/355/0/7/chapter__4_by_azureprane-d6ysuu9.png
'Tis a mere prototype of course. Does that please you?