Capítulo Uno- Anniversary
Just inside of Canterlot’s modest third terrace, below the homes of landed gentry and forever the province of the moderately well-moneyed there was one restaurant that aspired to the appearance and status of the second terrace. It was Le Chateau Gascon, a passable if miniaturized version of a proper chateau, with imposing late Percheron architecture and dark coloration.
Inside the atmosphere was stuffy and subdued, the coloration blood red on the carpets and draperies, the visible walls deep burgundy. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, one for each table scattered around the dining area. Each table also had black velvet curtains draped loosely in a nearly-closed semi-circle around the tables. The music was provided by a classical quartet, slow and ponderous tunes played with all due pomp, making the atmosphere marginally funereal.
It was a slow night, an off time that the restaurant often expected. They could not be packed each time. In fact, that night they had only eight guests, four sets of couples out for a night of romance and closeness. At one table there was a pair of unicorns, one a very light gray stallion with an azure mane, and moustache, the other a mare in a faded rose shade of white, with a pinkie mane and a stripe of her coat color down the middle. Another table held a pair of donkeys, both quite mature. The jenny was a vision of equine elegance with a curly brown mane and smooth, silken coat of lighter shade. The jack was a much more gruff-looking fellow, world-weary but pleased with his company, his coat a similar color but his mane a clearly-artificial golden pompadour.
The last two tables had mismatched pairs. At one there was a smiling, uptight-appearing pale booted eagle griffin, his eyes in constant motion, and his every motion second-guessed and hesitant. His table companion was more relaxed and calm. She was a unicorn mare, a bright orange color with a darker orange mane swept up into a sensible bun. She looked like cheddar cheese with a healthy rind. The last pair were the most unique of all. The stallion was an ordinary earth pony, with a bark brown mane and hunter green coat, looking with unabashed love and adoration towards his tablemate. That tablemate was a Diamond Dog. She was wearing a modified dress in muted green, covering her somewhat gangly but strong form. Her sallow eyes held the brightest emerald irises that could be made, and they were focused on the pony with her. Her un-jowled face was pulled up into a smile, her perky ears rotated forward, giving her tunnel vision and tunnel audio.
“You know, hon, no need to look so stiff.” The orange mare lightly nudged her partner, making the griffin tremble but not loosen up. “It’s not like there’s a waiter watching you waiting to give you a ticket for not acting right, donchaknow?”
“Can’t help it. I’m just some griffin from the Kingdom. I’ve never been anyplace this fancy before. Heck, the only place this fancy in the whole kingdom is probably the High King’s Aerie!” The griffin looked around, as though searching for the nonexistent waiter standing in judgment of him.
“Aww, just relax. We both agreed ta celebrate here after we got that perfect windfall. Jeepers that was super.”
“All the bits we could need for the wedding, and enough for another visit to Canterlot. One of the nicer terraces, even. But this is the big time, something important. We’ve been together for six months.”
“Happiest half a year I’ve ever had.” Aggie Cheddar leaned her head in, pressing it strongly against her fiancé’s keel.
Swallow stroked a talon down her back, resting his head against her horn. “And soon enough it’ll get even better.”
“How smashing. A griffin and a pony together as one. Neither one looks to be a diplomat or a business owner; the relationship looks pure.” Fancy Pants slipped off his monocle and wiped it on his tuxedo. Settling it back on his face he gave a bright smile. “How wonderful to get away from the top terraces. Here is where real relations happens.”
“Indeed…” Fleur de Lis looked at the close couple, pegging them as either newlyweds or an engaged couple. Just a dash of envy jabbed through her chest. She could only aspire to such closeness. “They seem quite close. How admirable that they can be so free.”
“It is most unfortunate that our normal, rarified atmosphere does not foster such closeness. A tragedy. A real tragedy.”
“It’s not as bad as all that. There is plenty of love to be found, even up in the first and second terraces. But you’re right. A casual relationship like that could never flourish with so much pressure from all sides.” Fleur sighed. She would have loved the conversation more if it wasn’t for the fact that she was there as Fancy’s guest; an outing of thanks. Nothing more.
“I wish to once more thank you for coming with me. I know I have interrupted your plans over and over, coming to one gathering or another. It is quite sporting of you to be so willing to put up with all that hassle.”
“It’s hardly a hassle at all. These are very important gatherings, as far as social standing goes. This is quite important in Canterlot. Appearances are everything…” She looked aside at the other interspecies couple. Appearances meant nothing to them. And while there was something familiar about them, all she could truly think was she envied them their unrestricted liberty.
“So pretty! Delicious, delicious gems on the ceiling. So nice that they make everything look so delicious.” Emerald Facet licked her lips as she watched the light glinting off the crystals of the chandelier above her head.
“Ha-ha! Dearest… I don’t think they designed the atmosphere to make folks hungrier. Though it really wouldn’t have been a bad idea. It’s quite uncomfortable in here. Like a funeral parlor. Glad I’ve got you here.” Clear Facet snuggled in against his freshly-minted bride, nosing at her thick neck.
“Handsome pony. Good, strong husband. Will make good, strong puppies. Brave, noble, smart puppies. Best in the world.” Emerald cooed her compliments into her husband’s ears, nuzzling down and leaving little lipstick marks over the backs of them.
“Ah, dear… you think too much of me. I’m just some pony. A nerdy college colt, dammed of a mine investor and sired of a jeweler. Sure, I’m also a Constable and one that others think is something. But I don’t think I’m something. I’ll always think you could have done better with some Alpha Dog out of one of the larger Colonies, or even some sports star pony if you’re so inclined. I don’t deserve you as my wife. You’re too perfect for me.”
Emerald took her husband’s chin in one strong hand and faced him towards her piercing green eyes, enhanced to almost glowing emerald perfection by her pre-dinner appetizer. “No! Will not have stupid puppies. Will not have weak puppies. Will not have cowardly puppies.” She pulled him in to a huge, hot, hard, soul-swallowing kiss, keeping the Diamond Dog tradition of jabbing her tongue deeply down his mouth to taste the subtlety of his sincerity as his body reacted to her. His thrill, the pure excitement of his response, was overpoweringly clear. Though his eyes were wide there was no shock or trembling. There was love and a strong dedication. Adoration and fidelity. She pulled away with the smallest hint of a slurp, a practiced and trained maneuver to keep herself acceptable in pony circles. “Will have YOUR puppies…”
“Oh, just look at them, Doodle.” Matilda sighed softly and leaned in against her old flame’s side, as her eyes lazily cast themselves form couple to couple. “Isn’t it a wonderful sight.?”
Cranky was regarding the assembled as well, but with a hint of a frown on his face. “Hmph. Whippersnappers. The lots of them.” He strayed for a long moment on Fancy Pants. “Well, except for that one. Still, a herd of wet behind the ears younglings. What do they know?”
“Come now, Doodle. We were young once, too. We knew just as little.” Matilda pressed a soft kiss on Cranky’s cheek. “And here we are.”
The barest hint of a smile pulled up Cranky’s lips. “Here we are…”
Do I look the same to you? ‘Cause I don’t feel so.
You know everything must change as time goes by.
Though it feels like yesterday when we first met,
I feel I’m sinking deeper.
Night was well-fallen, casting darkness all across the land, from the refined air of Canterlot, out to the dusty expanse of Appleloosa. The orchard was doing as well as ever, the trees growing beautifully and producing huge quantities of eating and baking apples. There was still a trail through the middle of the orchard, for the local buffalo tribe’s stampeding needs. It was a sign of progress and unity, a symbol of harmony and hope in the frontier town.
The other symbols of unity and progress were also in evidence at the orchard. Braeburn Apple, gangly, gawky, mildly feminine, was slowly strolling in the moonlight with his dear, sweet bride, Little Strongheart. She had changed, if only slightly. She was heavier, from the beautifying effects of high-calorie apple pies, all the weight distributed into perfect places; she was also very slightly larger. Her legs had remained graceful and quick, her head had grown heavier and body increased in bulk. But she was nothing at all like her fellow buffalo. She was still not much bigger than a pony. And that was not going to change.
Chief Thunderhooves strode grandly beside the groom-to-be, high on one of the mesas around Appleloosa. "Soon, my calf, you will be one of us, as much as she will be one of yours. This is a great thing you do. You dared the wrath of your own kin, and you remained strong. I admire your fortitude. You are worthy of my tribe."
"Th-thank ya kindly, chief." Braeburn was a nervous wreck. Not only had he become the family pariah, but he was under the usual pressure of the bridegroom, plus being looked at as a symbol for ponies and buffalo. It didn't help things that he was with a huge and imposing stampede leader high on a mesa.
"But as part of my tribe, there is a truth you must know. A secret which has been kept from Little Strongheart. We... never wanted to hurt her. But we never wanted her to know, even if she will eventually discover."
“Wh-what is it? If it’s ‘bout mah wife, ah have ta know!” Braeburn planted his hooves on the broad chest of Chief Thunderhooves, staring him in the eyes.
The great buffalo chief looked aside, seeming contemplative and unsure of himself. Even as he spoke he seemed to be trembling over each word. “When she was born she was… small. Small as a fawn. But she never seemed to notice. She ran with all the calves, stampeding her heart out. She was powerful in spirit, and her name reflected that. She is what you ponies call a ‘dwarf.’ She has never been told that she will never grow much beyond what she is. I know she will see the other calves grow beyond her. And she will not be satisfied being told she is still growing slowly.”
“Golly…” Braeburn looked aside, slowly dropping from the chief’s chest. “T‘aint… t’aint gonna hurt her, is it? When comes th’ time t’call mah shadowy kin fer th’ job a’ advocate… she’s gonna have mah foals, ain’t she?”
A smile spread across the chief’s face. “If she were with a buffalo, there would be concern. It might be dangerous. But with you… your calves will be perfect.”
“Lil Strongheart… dear…” Braeburn sat down beside his wife at the top of Bloomberg Hill, beside the hill’s namesake. He softly chewed his lower lip. Could he actually tell her?
“Yes, my love?” The buffalo cow turned her eyes on him, smiling in perfect contentment.
Suddenly, as all the world shrank to the size of her eyes, it didn’t seem to matter that much. “Ah love you…”
Do you look the same to me? Well I don’t think so.
You know everything must change as time goes by
Like the flowers that dry, locking inside
Forever their beauty and beauty…
Hidden somewhere on the sprawling property of Sweet Apple Acres there was little house. Just a fun-sized playhouse, suitable for a filly or colt, but big enough to house a full-grown pony if it was ever needed for such a thing. On the outside it seemed like a proper colt’s clubhouse. Inside, it was a filly’s dream, filled with beautiful things. All of that was hard to see, bathed in shadow and scarcely illuminated by the light of a single low-power electric lantern hanging over the tea table.
Within the little house was Big Macintosh, seemingly alone. He was fussing with the tabletop, which had a few cupcakes, and a small thermos next to the plastic tea set. He was endlessly rearranging the table before the button-gaze of the other occupant of the place. Smarty-Pants. He was not truly alone in there. He knew her mana envelope was forever recording what happened around her, storing emotions and impressions, keeping them forever. And as he was being watched and judged, it all had to be perfect.
“Ah-ah-ah hope y’all likes this, ma’am. It’s all ah could manage. T’aint much but… ah swears to ya it’s all from mah heart.” Big Macintosh looked down on Smarty-Pants with a nervous smile, suffering a severe case of flop sweat even under her unmoving gaze and wholly non-judgmental form. “S-see, ah got us some cupcakes that miss Pinkie Pie tells me are Twilight’s favorites, so you probably will like ‘em too. And ah brought us some tea in this here thermos. So ah… ah jes hope y’all likes all this.”
He’d made a hard decision before. It was a special occasion. They had been together for some time. And when he had been questioning Twilight about her preferences, which probably would have translated to Smarty-Pants, she had very generously offered to infuse her with life again, to make it a proper party. Even if she could not have eaten or drunk anything, she would have been up and about, and talking up a storm.
He had been tempted. Sorely tempted. His mouth had been ready to say yes, but, ironically, his heart was the one that finally told her ‘no.’ He refused the generous offer, because he knew it was wrong. Accepting one, small, innocent come-to-life spell would have made the painful longing in his heart all the sharper when it ended. And his momentary weakness in acceptance would have made weakness all the easier. He’d be asking for more and more. Winding her up like a toy. Living and dying over and over, like he never wanted.
He sat himself down at last, offering a huge, friendly smile to the doll across the table from him. He poured out the tea into the thermos’ lid, and brought a cupcake over to him. “Y’know… it don’t make no never mind t’me if’n t’aint perfect. Yer here with me. That’s all that matters. An’ ever since ah met you it’s all that ever mattered.”
And they said this feeling fades,
It gets stronger everyday.
And they say that beauty fades,
You’re more beautiful than ever.
They said we’d drift away
We’re still standing here.
And it feels like every day’s our anniversary.
Candles. Candles everywhere. There wasn’t much space in the close-hewn mountain passage. And still, candles were arranged. They were heavy, hardy candles, made to last for hours and hours. They lined the long passage and provided the light normally delivered by electric lights. Their waxy drippings almost formed a glistening aisle down the passage and towards an open cell door.
Past the door it was hardly like a prison cell at all. It was tremendously spacious. A vaulted ceiling, hung with lights and planters. Potted plants were all over, along with more candles. A large bookshelf held thick, heavy tomes on many subject. Completing the furniture of the room were two low couches and a small table for two, which had been set for tea. Naturally, a candelabrum was in the middle, throwing off even more wavering light.
“All kings, and all their favorites,/ All glory of honours, beauties, wits,/ The sun it self, which makes time, as they pass,/ Is elder by a year now than it was/ When thou and I first one another saw./” Sir Crescent Sliver bowed grandly as he recited the poem perfectly from memory. He was as ever, a stoutly-built scholar stallion unicorn, pure black from face to flank, with a long, luminously white mane and tail, the thinnest sliver of a crescent moon on his flank. On his mature but surprisingly youthful face was a set of pince-nez bifocals. “All other things their destruction draw,/ Only our love hath no decay;/ This no to-morrow hath, nor yesterday;/ Running it never runs from us away,/ But truly keeps his first, last, everlasting day./” He rose from his bow, checking to be sure the candles were all lit and glowing properly. “Two graves must hide thine and my corse;/ If one might, death were no divorce…”* He was silenced then, by a gold-shod hoof lightly touching his lips.
“I treasure, always, your sweet words. It’s like honey dripping from your lips each time your brain chooses some choice verse from your stock and store. But I don’t want you to lie to me. I don’t need the pity of your heart, as sincere as it may be.” Princess Celestia smiled sadly, moving her hoof from Crescent’s lips over his cheek and slowly down his neck. “Don’t spare me a single emotion, painful or sweet.”
“As you wish, my princess…” Crescent genuflected as best he could while keeping his head in position to be caressed by Celestia. “Some words are not my own, after all. I merely take them as they come. And if sometimes my selection is imperfect… I hope you forgive me.”
Celestia deigned to bow her head down, hair sweeping grandly in the low candlelight, almost seeming to provide its own luminescence as it flowed ethereally. Her lips came down on Crescent’s forehead, holding beside his horn for a long moment before she pulled back with a smile. “It’s already forgiven.”
A smile grew on Crescent’s face, as he backed further into the room and indicated the table. “Here’s a small tea service; not bad for a cell, right? Or perhaps… we could just dance a little.”
Celestia considered the options, slowly stroking her chin before silently stepping to the center of the room and swaying to unheard music, in a rhythm that seemed to be intimately familiar to her.
Without missing a beat Crescent stepped into time with her, pressing his head to her chest plate, sighting contentedly and releasing another recitation. “Love’s riddles are, that though thy heart depart,/ It stays at home, and thou with losing savest it;/ But we will have a way more liberal,/ Than changing hearts, to join them; so we shall/ Be one, and one another’s all.”#
Well, I stumble through the dark and light a candle
And the path the wax will take, no one can know.
And you said it looks like snow, or maybe clouds,
And I think it looks like Heaven.
Outside of Ponyville proper, opposite of the Everfree forest and well within the broad land between the town and Canterlot, though not too close to the railroad tracks, there was a sprawling, gated expanse, with a manor set upon it, with another right beside it, similarly gated. The Rich manor, and the Lode manor, the two richest families in Ponyville; though, from the size of the grounds, the styles of the houses and the sizes of everything concerned it was clear the Rich family was, appropriately, the richer of the two.
Inside the Rich manor, Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon were rushing through the halls, towards a room in the back of the place. Through the doors was revealed a lushly-decorated space, brightly lit with colorful lights and blasting the most popular music, the entire space thumping with the power of surging bass. There were tables laden with sweets and savory treats, and all kinds of beverages. “I told you, Spoon. I just have to ask, and they’ll do anything. It helps that I’m such a good filly.”
“Wow, Tiara. You were totally right. This is amazing! And we get to stay up as much as we want to enjoy it?” Silver Spoon looked around the room in muted awe. She was used to indulgent surroundings. But the whole scope of the place was quite impressive. It wasn’t a birthday party, or national celebration. Just something that really only mattered to the two of them. “Did you tell them what it was for?”
“Well, duh! Why do you think they went so far? They really, really like you, you know. They think your family is good enough to associate with, and they think you’re good enough for me. But I could have told them that. I know how spectacular you are.” Diamond winked to her fillyfriend and laughed softly, trotting to the dessert table for a slice of cake.
Silver blushed deeply, reflexively adjusting her glasses and strolling more sedately to the table loaded down with sweet treats and fancy vegetation. She got herself a plate and started loading on slices of white cake, strawberry cupcakes and small fruit bits, in contrast to Diamond’s grazing of richer chocolate foods and heavier flavored cress and mustard greens. “Diamond… you’re always so bold. I can’t thank you enough.”
“For what?”
“For everything you’ve done for me. Standing up for me, teaching me how to be strong like you… letting me kiss you…” Silver adjusted her glasses again and panted a little bit, quickly gobbling down cake and fruit, as well as some ice cream. Anything to keep her mouth from embarrassing her before her passionate, and often strong-hoofed, fillyfriend.
The other filly turned on the spectacled one, looking her over with a jaundiced eye. She moved forward quickly and planted her lips impertinently on Silver’s lips, as soon as the other had finished swallowing her glut of food. Though the kiss lasted on a few seconds it was long enough to let Silver taste the spicy greens and decadent chocolate on her lips. “Like I’d stop you, Silver…” Diamond whispered her words breathily, pulled herself close to the other filly.
Silver gasped once the kiss had ended. She still was not quite used to Diamond’s quick ways, the hot, rapid verve of her personality. She was so slow, sedate, much more hesitant, even after some growth under her tutelage. Rather than try to match the passion, she leaned in her head. “I love you, Diamond…”
Rather than react with her trademarked energy, she simply leaned into the contact and held it. “Love you back, sugarlump rump…”
So we make it into a ring and make a mold.
And we melt above the flames the whitest gold.
When hot and cold collide what’s left in place
Is forever and ever.
Fancy, filigreed doors opened up with a sparkle of unicorn magic, allowing two figures admittance to the Canterlot ballroom. “As you might imagine, her majesty has been waiting for you. But she wanted to drag out the anticipation because it is, after all, something of an occasion. Princess Celestia will not be joining you for any of this, she has been called away to some kind of official inspection.” Lime Sherbert, the green-coated lady-in-waiting and maid to Princess Luna motioned into the room. “I will be having dinner elsewhere. So, no service this evening, but I doubt that will be much of a problem.”
“Give my regards to your husband and your uncles. They’ve been very kind to me this time.” Bad Apple the caramel stallion nodded his head, pomade-slick black mane shining in the many bright lights in the ballroom. “And so have you. I take it you’ve warmed to me a bit?”
“I’ll admit… I find you less questionable these days. But only because her majesty and I have found ways to compare our emotions and have even taken in a third who understands separation, though without any details. Her majesty, of course, honors your wishes to be unknown.”
“All the better to spare her from my vile huckster stench.” Bad Apple nodded smartly and trotted slowly into the room.
“I always find you smell of apples and distant lands.” Princess Luna strode grandly to the door, leaning her head down to touch snouts with Bad Apple. “I have been advised, by a benefactor whose name need not be revealed, to confess my passion and my love. For I am a mare with needs of a natural mare, and driven to be a feeder of pedigrees; but I would not that my foals be old-field colts. Were I to ‘get an heiress or heir I would their sire be vaunted afore all the Principality.”
“And on that note, I’m off to see if my husband wants to go out. I hope he says no.” Lime laughed softly and saw herself out, closing and locking the doors as she departed.
Bad Apple looked around the room. It had practically been set for the gala. The whole place was decorated to the nines, with streamers and confetti all about, and tables piled with food of all description. “Have you been visited by the future Mrs. Sparkle-Pie?”
“Nay, but her contrivance for the decoration of revels. I did think that you would prefer some to-do aside from dull cakes and ale.”
“When you, of all ponies, consider cakes and ale to be ‘dull’ then I know you really want some excitement. You didn’t hire DJ P0n-3 for mood music, did you?”
“Tush! Nah, nay, my beloved silly heart. ‘Twould be overmuch. Yes… I had hired Octavia Philharmonica and her party, but she refused to work without her beloved. ‘Tis no great loss. All the music we require be the beating of our hearts and the pant of our breaths… but let that pass, for the nonce. There be time enough for such symphonies of flesh and blood. Now, we need only avail ourselves of this feast.”
Bad Apple was already drinking from a glass of sparkling carrot juice, holding a plate piled with vegetables. “I’ll drink to that. Later on we can worry about feasting the other way. I think we both plan to gorge ourselves silly.”
And they said our love would fade,
It gets stronger everyday
And they say that beauty fades,
You’re more beautiful than ever.
They said we’d drift away
We’re still standing here.
And it feels like every day’s our anniversary.
At the Sweet Apple Acres farmhouse proper there was a party in full swing. It was a real hootenanny, with victrola-provided jaunty country music, laid out with apple-related main dishes and snacks, all happening in a spare party room whose floor was covered in sawdust and peanut shells, giving the impression of a barbecue and hoedown.
Granny Smith sat in a rocking chair, lightly dozing and shirking her responsibility as chaperone. Taking up her slack was Applejack, who mostly sat back and looked on the scene with an expression of approval. Before her eyes were the Cutie Mark Crusaders, and Zecora.
The four folk were all there for the same thing, but the two couples were like night and day. Applebloom was line dancing up a storm, laughing at Zecora’s game attempts to follow along. But she was laughing at herself, which made it perfectly fine. As contrast, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo were separated by some distance, not looking at each other at the same time, and putting more focus on their snacks than on any kind of personal entertainment.
“Come on, all y’all! Come join us in dancin’! See, even Zecora’s givin’ it a try. An’ she’s good at it, too!” Applebloom called out to her friends with bright cheer, pressing up against Zecora’s side.
“Yes, little ones, come and try!/ Or at least look one another in the eye.” Zecora dropped a quick wink, and went back to her increasingly-competent line dancing.
Scootaloo looked up first, her wings fluttering a little bit with the quavering of her heart. She did not immediately duck back down again, allowing her to catch Sweetie Belle’s eye. The effect was like two similar magnetic poles contacting, their heads almost shooting down as blushes spread across their faces.
“Little fillies moon and sigh…/” The zebra leaned in to kiss Applebloom on the cheek and give her a wink. “But at least they gave it a try.”
Applebloom winked back and bounded around suddenly, circuiting Zecora several times. “Everypony can’t be like us. Nothin’ beats bein’ able t’say yer in love!”
Unseen by any of the other ponies in the room, Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle had moved closer together. Though they never looked at each other Scootaloo whispered, “Love you.”
Sweetie glanced quickly aside, a deep blush coloring her cheeks. “Love you more…”
Some say things worth having take some time.
As they get older they get better.
And they said our love would fade,
It gets stronger everyday
And they say that beauty fades,
You’re more beautiful than ever.
They said we’d drift away
We’re still standing here.
And it feels like every day’s our anniversary.
In the royal gardens of Canterlot two pegasus royal guards strolled casually under the moonlight. One was a large, strong sort with piercing golden eyes, some extra piping on his barding indicating he had a status above an ordinary guardspony. The other was more willowy, slightly smaller, but still with all the dignity of a royal guard, even if his face was marked with a deep cranberry blush.
“You know, Rosy… it’s never been easy for us. I didn’t expect it to be. I think I knew, from the first minute I saw you, when I knew you were… like me, that we were going to be in it for the long haul.”
Rosy Cranberry nodded slowly, solemnly, pressing his head against his husband’s neck. “It was so hard to hide for so long. Until the moment you told Princess Celestia. When her blessing came down… I have never felt so free. Every eye that would have judged us passed over us like water. All the tongues that were wagging stopped. And I had you. My big, strong Golden sweetheart.”
Golden Stare stood a little taller, and strode a bit more confidently. “You gave me the strength to go on. When I thought about getting out before I got hurt, the look on your face made me realize it was all worth it. It’s always been worth it. Every minute. Every second. When I’m standing there at the palace gate with you beside me, I almost can’t stop the smile growing over my face. But one of us has to have a little restraint. That blush of yours is bright enough to light a Hearth Warming tree.”
The aforementioned blush grew in intensity, his head pressing tighter against his beloved hubby’s neck, his pace slightly trembling as he drank in the love and warmth of the bigger stallion. “You make me happy. Every day, it’s the most special day of my life. Every day is our wedding. Every day is when we retire to Cloudsdale to putter and raise birds.” Rosy laughed a little and kissed Golden’s neck. “And every day is the first time we met.”
Golden turned slightly to kiss his husband on the head, just below his helmet. “I hope you mean that. Because I know one thing for a fact. I’ll always be there for you. No question.”
And they said our love would fade,
It gets stronger everyday
And they say that beauty fades,
You’re more beautiful than ever.
All across Equestria, in vastly different environments, at varied times and with no rhyme or reason beyond the celebration of the passage of time, love was in full bloom. Expressed or implied, new-minted or long-cherished, it was present and beautiful. It was what made Equestria grand.
They said we’d drift away
Well as long as we’re together
It feels like every day’s our anniversary.
*: “The Anniversary” by John Donne
#: “Lovers’ Infiniteness” by John Donne
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Voltaire eh?
Fun fact:
Voltaire once wrote a paper making fun of a French noble, so the noble once called him out of the house for a private meeting at night. The noble's guards started beating him while the noble watched. When he went back to his house and told everyone what happened, his guests all mocked him. When he challenged the noble to a duel to the death, he was thrown in prison.
'Canción' is feminine in Spanish.
Therefore the title should be "Las canciones de Voltaire"
You MUST do [url= http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bD8b-QpL0eo]"When You're Evil" for Discord
Not sure why my link isn't working. Here it is again: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bD8b-QpL0eo
Another striking piece, nothing short of amazing. Keep doing that voodoo that you do!
I just found Aurelio Voltaire Hernandez, his music is awesome. Will read later, then make a real comment
I haven't read it yet but YES Voltaire! Nice to see I'm not the only one who uses his songs as the basis/inspiration for stories.
487196
As an old time fan, I know the song well. And I always intended for Discord to get that song. He fits it to a T.
487173
And here's me trying to actually learn Spanish. I'm very bad with gendering, at least as far as remembering which is which. Let me see if I can correct the overall title.
Dammit, you brilliant bastard. I am stealing your idea now.
(oh god cupcakes + straight razor cabaret, YOU ARE GOING TO LOVE MY PARTIES!)
487409
And not Lyra.
Holy hell sir, you continue to amaze me. Now to go listen to that song.
Oh bravo! I loved this story and all the wonderful couples...I liked Silver Spoon getting some love and Zecora was adorable as always. Braeburn is so adorable! And eee! Cranky and Matilda!
This was classic.
490714
This very nearly had 23 Couples, all the ships I support, including two more cases of foalshipping (One was Dinky/Pinchy, the other is going to be in the next story). I also wanted to include Spitfire and Soarin, and the Cakes. But I decided to cut back a bit.
Thank you for singling those coples out in particular. SilverTiara is a VERY underappreciated ship.I like to promote it where I can.
490495
Hehe. Oh man. I can't believe that. I will do that song justice.
491389
I almost forgot to ask, why didn't Fleur seem to recognize Swallow and Aggie, you'd think they'd be memorable enough?
492278
She's not really looking. She's sort of filtering things out because there's a lot on her mind. Plus the tables are arranged such that you can't see your fellows too well. And as a last thing, she met them once at a dark-ish club. So there's little chance actual recognition would result in recall.
493094
They are sort of a unique couple and she definitely looks at them, even with a disinterested, angsty filter I would think she'd realize who they were.
Oh, I agree that we need some more Silver Tiara, I can imagine those two would be cute when they aren't being pricks to everypony else to boost themselves.
There's something unique and ineresting about your Applecora pairing, I'd like to see more of it. (Other than that one about racism.) Whenever I read these sort of sweeping, rapid-scene-change romance stories, I always hear this song in my head. You're rapidly getting closer to being my favourite fanfic author.