The Squeaky, the Snobby, and the Saucepan
In retrospect, Silver decided, it could have gone worse. For the most part, Operation-Get-Invited-To-Twilight-Time-And-Schmooze-With-Royalty had been executed perfectly… except for that blind spot.
Learning.
Silver Spoon hovered over her open notebook, idly chewing the end of her pen and half-listening to Miss Cheerilee’s breezie migration lecture. Princess Twilight Sparkle lives in a library. She’s probably the princess of learning, with that whole book aesthetic going on in her place. Of course Twilight Time was about learning. Well, learning and hobnobbing, but a pony could do two things at once.
I should have asked for history pointers, or some kind of magic methodology lesson. Something. Silver glanced up and scanned her classmates. Thank goodness the safety net broke our fall. Drawing the ire of a princess never boded well, but spread over twenty-five foals instead of two, it didn’t hurt quite so much. Diamond and Silver managed to walk away no worse for wear than Pipsqueak or Cotton.
That said, they could have done without that applesauce explosion. Almost twenty-four hours and two showers later, Silver Spoon still smelled like a cobbler. Diamond Tiara stayed home today altogether, and although Randolph wouldn’t say why, Silver suspected it had something to do with getting all the apple gunk out of her mane.
Silver sniffed her foreleg. With luck, she’d squeeze in a couple more showers before the big event tonight. Three more hours to go. It’s one night. If only she could go to bed now and skip to Wednesday morning. Just one night. Besides, she’s the least-bad of the three. You can do it.
The school bell rang. Classmates slammed their desks shut, crammed their books into bags, and filed toward the door. Sweetie Belle had her saddlebag ready to go well ahead of time and jumped out of her seat before Cheerilee even dismissed the class.
Oh, no you don’t. “Hey, Sweetie Belle!” Silver weaved through the desks, dodged fleeing classmates, and hopped over Scootaloo’s strategically placed saddlebag to land square in front of the aisle, blocking the unicorn’s path. “Sweetie Belle, you’re still coming at six, right?”
“Uh…” Sweetie Belle turned in a slow circle, searching in vain for an escape route. The crowding foals moved too slowly for her to take the long way around, and flanked her desk on both sides. Desperately, she stared at the other Crusaders for support. “At six? Sure, I guess, but…”
Scootaloo shrugged. Apple Bloom doubled over her notebook and mimed coughing.
Silver Spoon narrowed her eyes. “…but?”
“…but you know, I could send Rarity over instead. I mean, I know how excited Mrs. Perfect is to have my sister over for dinner, but she won’t really mind if I don’t show up.” Sweetie Belle coughed a pathetic little cough and fake-sniffled. “Also, I’m sick.”
It was really too late in the day for this. “Okay, future reference: if you’re going to fake sick, maybe start the act before somepony asks the question.” Silver rubbed the bridge of her nose and sighed. “Look, it’s just dinner, Sweetie Belle. Not even a big formal dinner; there’ll be like, four ponies and won’t last more than a couple hours. Three at most; it’s a school night.”
“Ya know, we’re not invitin’ y’all to another Twilight Time,” said Apple Bloom. “Not after what happened last time.”
“I know.” An immense amount of restraint kept Silver Spoon from pointing out that it wasn’t her fault Bloom’s dumb apple project exploded all over the place.
Scootaloo buzzed across the aisle, landing on Sweetie’s desk. She flared her raggedy feathers and tilted her head upwards to take full advantage of the high ground. “Exactly. You don’t even have a real reason for Sweetie Belle to come to dinner anymore.”
Silver Spoon gave a flat stare over the rim of her glasses. “Good to see you keeping up, Scootaloo.”
“And besides all that, you don’t even want me there anyway,” finished Sweetie Belle.
“Honestly? No.” Silver regarded her evenly. “I don’t.”
“So then why—”
“I invited you.” Silver propped her forelegs on Sweetie’s desk and pointed a manicured hoof. “Not Rarity, you. I can’t uninvite you; that’s not how it’s done. Not by proper young ladies, not by party ponies, and not by me.” If Sweetie really didn’t want to come, that was her own fault. She should have RSVP’d before lunch. “So I’ll ask you again: are you still coming at six?”
Sweetie rubbed her hooves together. “Well, I—”
Silver Spoon glared.
“Yeah… guess I am.”
“Then it’s settled. See you at six.” Silver went back to her own desk to gather her things.
Behind her, Apple Bloom whispered, “It’s only a couple hours. Can’t be that bad, right?”
“Yeah,” sighed Sweetie Belle. “I hope so.”
Silver clicked her tongue. “You and me both.”
In the hallowed alcoves of the Wisteria Academy library, three junior students bent around a table and a book. The recess hour was the key time for socializing, power struggles, hopscotch, verbal fencing, playing the trading card market, hostile takeovers, and braiding hair. As the only time Wisteria students didn’t need to triple-check their posture and predicate every sentence with “Yes, ma’ams”, it was not an hour to be wasted lightly.
Only the most important of important things could be enough to skip recess. They couldn’t afford to overlook a single word.
“Are you sure?” Silver Spoon whispered. “Read it again, Brights. Maybe you missed something?”
Brights Brightly III steepled her hooves over the ancient tome. Beside her, Fair Weather twitched her wings nervously. She’d never seen the unicorn this serious before.
“No,” said Brights Brightly. “I’m positive. I read the Wisteria Codex three times last night and twice just now.” She shook her head. “It’s concrete, girls: No appeals from students under ten.” She gestured towards Wondermint, on watch for enemies and tattletales by the stacks. “Wonder’s our closest shot, but—”
“Ooh, right! Wonder’s a whole year older than us!” Fair Weather flapped her tiny wings, dangerously close to breaking the No-Fly rule. “What if she led our appeal thingy? Her mommy’s a grand-alum, right?”
Silver Spoon shook her head. “Wondermint is still only nine, Fair.” She shrugged apologetically. “Maybe her mother could pull some strings, but even then you need like… three fillies to appeal a rule, right?”
“Three fillies at least. For a rule this big, we’d need…” Brights Brightly tried to do the math in her head. She rubbed her hooves in her fluffy round mane and sank into her chair. “More ponies than we’ve got.”
Wondermint looked over from the shelves and offered an apologetic smile. “It’ll be okay, Brights. We can try again in two years, right?”
“I can’t wait two years!” Brights Brightly slammed The Wisteria Codex of Rules, Regulations & Traditions: 8th Edition with a satisfying snap. It did little to alleviate her mood. “Justice can’t wait two more years! Tyranny can’t continue for two more years! This is unwarranted. Unjust.” Brights might have gone further, but she’d run out of impressive vocabulary words. She pursed her lips and sulked. “This isn’t fair. This isn’t right.”
“It’s the rules.” Silver Spoon tried her best to sound gracious, but it came out pouty anyway. She frowned at the pleated skirt covering her flank. “We can’t not follow the rules.”
“Well, it’s a dumb old rule,” insisted Brights Brightly.
Fair Weather hovered over her shoulder. “Yeah!”
“I mean, our moms and dads pay for tuition—”
“Yeah!”
“—so I think that means we should wear whatever we wanna.” Brights flinched and instinctively looked around for Miss Sugarcoat. “…um, whatever we want to, I mean.”
Silver Spoon had to admit that even she didn’t understand the point of such an unfair rule. “Why would our parents buy us all these amazing wardrobes when we can’t wear them to class?”
Wondermint approached the table. “I’m not sure we could do much about it anyway. It’s against the school code, right?”
“But uniforms aren’t in the original code, though!” Brights would know, she’d read the thing fifty times.
“No,” said Wondermint, “but it’s still in the spirit.”
Together, all four fillies stared at the library’s domed skylight. A stained glass depiction of Madam Wisteria picnicked in the grass, surrounded by little fillies dressed in royal robes and tiered crowns. At their hooves lay the school motto: Princesses, All of Us.
“Yes, we’re supposed to all dress alike so we can be equal.” Rich and poor, unicorn, pegasus, and earth pony alike were noble ladies under Wisteria’s roof. Silver Spoon rolled her eyes. “What a bunch of garbage. It doesn’t do anything except make us look boring.”
Fair Weather wrinkled her nose. “That rule’s just there to make the charity cases feel better.”
Everypony from the janitors to the headmistress, from the scholarship kindergarteners to the senior valedictorian knew who had money and power at Wisteria Academy. Everypony knew who mattered and who didn’t, and uniforms—as Brights Brightly eloquently pointed out in the class debate last week—would not and could not change that. Not now, not ever.
Silver Spoon smiled and patted her friend on the back. “We’ll try again in two years, Brights. Fashion tyranny can’t last forever, right?”
Two years after their gallant attempt to challenge Wisterian protocol, Silver Spoon discovered she’d been right. The tyranny of fashion couldn’t last forever… unfortunately.
Older, wiser, and several million bits poorer, Silver Spoon stared into the depths of her closet, at a complete loss of what to wear.
“Let’s see, it’s late September, so I could go with an autumn outfit…” Her eyes slowly traveled from the sweater dresses to the sundresses. “…but summer clothes aren’t out of style yet.”
That didn’t even get into the etiquette factors. At what point did casual slide into sloppy? Where did young ladies draw the line between dressing fancy and showing off?
Dinner parties could be dressed up or dressed down at the host’s discretion, and Mother had not enforced a dress code, for she wanted Miss Rarity’s fashion options to be open. Silver Spoon’s, too.
“Wear? You may wear whatever you like, my love. I trust your judgment.” Mother’s sincere smile implied there would be no kid's table tonight. This was the real deal. Just a tiny dinner party, but still Silver’s first.
Silver Spoon sighed. Designer labels, flowing gowns, jeweled necklines, pleated skirts, brooches, sashes, horseshoes, earrings… so many options. Too many options. In desperate times like these, young ladies such as Silver had one clear choice.
“Brass Taaaaaaaacks!”
She waited until she heard the familiar hiss of bare manicured hooves upon the carpet. Silver craned her neck backwards to pout at him upside down. “Tacks, I don’t know what to wear. Pick something for me.”
Brass Tacks, already dressed in his best tuxedo, stepped in to examine the contents of the closet. He squinted at the dresses, the vests, and skirts. He nodded to himself, as if he’d come to a decision. “As I understand it from Miss Pinkie Pie, the proper attire for a party—especially parties one is hosting—is a smile.” He flicked an ear at Silver’s annoyed huff. “Barring that, your dress code is open.”
This was not at all the advice Silver requested, but she had no time to argue. “Come on, Tacks! There’s too many options and I have to wear something! I almost never get a chance to wear my nice clothes so I want to wear the fancy stuff, but I can’t wear the fancy stuff because it’s rude to outshine the guest but I also can’t look worse than her because that’s even worse!”
The amber sunlight streaming through the window had taken on a pink tinge. It had to be nearly dusk by now. Silver tugged at the door handle, dancing an anxious little jig with her back legs. “Ohhhh, and they’re gonna be here any minute.”
Slowly, the slender unicorn tilted his head. His magic idly adjusted a chiffon dress as he mused, “Such a fuss in the name of Miss Sweetie Belle. Why, if I didn’t know better, Miss Silver, I might think…”
Silver Spoon raised an eyebrow and turned to face him.
A smile flicked over Brass Tacks’ muzzle. “…that you were intimidated.”
Silver clutched her pearls, sputtering gasps of outrage. “Wha—I—no!”
Intimidated? Intimidated?! By that frivolous, free-wheeling, giggly, head-in-the-clouds pile of blank flank marshmallow fluff? In Silver’s own house? At her own party?!
She turned up her nose at the very idea. “Don’t be ridiculous. That filly may have a genius designer for a sister, but fancy clothes do not make fancy ponies.” Silver added another humph for good measure. “For goodness’ sake, Brass Tacks. It’s Sweetie Belle, not Princess Celestia.”
Turning back to the closet, Silver nosed through the summer wear until she pulled down a pleated sweater dress. The green high-necked dress beautifully highlighted Silver’s pearls, and bridged the formal/informal gap with grace. One could wear it from a birthday party to the opera, no trouble.
Brass Tacks nodded his approval at the choice and zipped open the dress so that Silver could step in. “Indeed, Miss Silver Spoon.”
“It’s the pony that counts, you know. The best dress in the world can’t make Squeaky Belle any less of a mushy dork.” Silver’s head popped out of the high collar and shook out her mane. “Like, don’t get me wrong—she’s okay for a mushy dork, but still.” She ran a comb through her mane as Tacks zipped her back up.
Thankfully, after this afternoon’s shower and rosewater rinse, Silver smelled more like a debutante and less like an apple cobbler. “But see, she’s still my guest, Tacks. I wouldn’t want her to show up and feel bad about her wardrobe.” She bent her head so Brass Tacks could pin her braid up. “Mirror, please?”
Silver angled her head to the side, watching the barrette slide into her mane. She grinned at the pearl strings dangling from the green ribbon. “Intimidated. Like, seriously?”
“A passing thought, Miss Silver Spoon, no more. However, if you will recall, I stated ‘if I did not know better’.” Brass Tacks opened the door and followed Silver into the hallway.
He grinned and moved towards the foyer seconds before the doorbell rang. “Fortunately, I do.”
In the shadowed hallway, Silver hung back and watched him go.
Around the corner, the door opened. Rarity exchanged lively greetings with Tacks’ formal invitation inside. Hoofbeats echoed in the foyer. Sweetie Belle attempted a squeaky, wobbling imitation of her sister’s introduction.
Silver—who did not feel intimidated—toyed with her mane, quizzing herself on dinner decorum. Should she come out to meet the guests in the foyer or at the table? Mother was the lady of the house, so maybe she should wait for her first? She didn’t wonder about either question long.
“There you are.” Mother skimmed past, her grey dress fluttering beside glittering horseshoes. Her tail flicked Silver’s chest, motioning her toward the garden. “Come along, dearest heart. Our guests can’t arrive to an empty table, right?”
Silver fell in step beside her. “Yes, ma’am.” A curious scent twitched at her nose. Juniper perfume mingling with something else. “Mother, why do you smell like eggplants?”
“That’s what we’re having, remember?”
“But why do you smell like eggplants?” Silver glanced in the direction of the kitchen and knitted her eyebrows. “You didn’t cook it yourself, did you?”
Mother only beamed.
So that’s where she’d been all night! “Really? All by yourself?”
“It’s a night for branching out,” said Mother. “Since you’re making an effort, I thought I would as well.” She glanced down with a playful little smile. “Nervous?”
“Not at all, Mother.” Seriously, why did everypony think she was nervous?
They passed through the double doors and into the garden. The last slivers of sunlight glowed on the horizon while the shy stars appeared overhead. String lights lit the path to the gazebo, shining off Silver’s mane as she climbed the stairs.
The dinner table—already set with the main course—could fit seven ponies, more than enough room for tonight. Silver Spoon picked a spot beside the rosebushes, eying the chairs adjacent to her.
“This was a wonderful idea, Silver Spoon,” Mother said. “What made you think of it?”
Silver pushed down rising memories of Twilight Time, exploding apples, and the mad dash to realign power shifts. A week of kissing up to the Cutie Mark Crusaders and nothing to show for it but a pointless dinner.
Why hadn’t she invited them to dinner at a restaurant or something? Silver clutched the back of her chair, listening to the approaching hoofsteps. “It seemed like the proper thing to do at the moment.”
“Well, I’m glad you did. I know you don’t always get along with Sweetie Belle. It’s easier to have enemies than friends, sometimes.” Mother’s eyes flicked beyond the fence, towards the rows of thatched roofs silhouetted against the indigo dusk. “It’s no small effort to build bridges, but you’re still trying.” She smiled. “I’m proud of you, dear.”
“Thank you, Mother.”
The start of the evening, to Silver’s relief, proceeded normally and painlessly. Hosts and guests exchanged welcomes, curtseys, and bows before moving into small talk:
“Yes, lovely weather for dinner.”
“And dinner looks delicious!”
“Love the dress.”
“No, this old thing? Just something I threw together. Oooh, but I do love your dress!”
They sat to dinner. The eggplant and roasted mushrooms provided Silver an excellent excuse to stay quiet without being rude. Not that she needed to say much of anything, anyway. Mother and Rarity dove into conversation right away and kept the atmosphere pleasant and chatty.
Aside from the initial “Good evenings”, Sweetie Belle had barely said a word all night. She politely ate her dinner and barely even looked at Silver Spoon, despite sitting next to her. Once, she apologized for wrinkling the tablecloth when they sat down together, but that was all.
Still, two fillies couldn’t sit in silence for two hours. Somepony had to say something, eventually.
“So, um…” Sweetie Belle rolled over a half-eaten mushroom with her fork and looked around for a subject. “I’ve never really seen your garden up close before. It’s pretty.”
Level One polite dinner conversation: the stuff of Wisteria’s kindergarten classes. Sure, Silver Spoon could work with that. “That’s kind of you to say. Thank you, Sweetie Belle.”
Silver glanced down at Sweetie Belle’s wardrobe. Her seashell pink dress had a deceptively simple design: an A-line without frills or sequins, just good silk. She didn’t wear it like armor, or a blue ribbon, or a neon sign. Sweetie Belle wore her evening dress like… a dress.
Not on the attack. Not on defense. For the first time since they’d met, both fillies sat in neutral territory, in neutral outfits, discussing a neutral subject.
Silver Spoon didn’t quite know what to do with that.
A moth fluttered over the rosebushes. It landed in the white roses, and Sweetie Belle tilted her head over the gazebo railing to watch. “Did Mrs. Perfect grow these? Or your butler?”
“You mean the roses?” At Sweetie’s nod, Silver sat up in her chair and smiled. “I did.”
Sweetie Belle turned towards the table with an incredulous expression.
“I did!” Raising one’s voice didn’t constitute good manners, but Silver couldn’t help it. “I mean, Tacks does trim and prune them, but I planted them and I’m the one who waters them in the morning. I use them to brew rose tea.”
Squinting with effort, Sweetie Belle lifted a yellow rose with her magic. The half-bloom would be ready to pick soon. “Oh, like for your tea parties? Huh… weird.”
Certain ponies at this table had some nerve calling other ponies weird. Silver Spoon flattened her ears. “And what’s so weird about it?”
“I dunno.” Sweetie shrugged. “Just didn’t think you did that kind of thing. I always thought you’d get them from Roseluck.”
“Miss Roseluck grows roses for eating and decorating, not tea. Besides,” said Silver, “it’s always better to use what you grow yourself. I’ve done that ever since… hm.”
A couple summers ago, wasn’t it?
“It’s your tea, so you should be the one peelin’.”
Not long after Apple Bloom suggested that Silver should peel apples herself instead of buying apple skins from Applejack.
“Ever since I got my cutie mark. Comes with the territory, you know.”
“Oh,” said Sweetie Belle.
Now ought to be Silver’s turn to pay a compliment. Praising a nice coat or mane might read like passive-aggression, and she couldn’t note the dress (that would be praise for Rarity).
Silver nodded at Sweetie’s mane. “I like your headband.” The white fluorescent material shimmered rainbows whenever Sweetie Belle turned her head. A tacky accessory, to be honest, but the filly pulled it off.
“…oh?” It took a moment for Sweetie to drop her guard. “Oh, thanks, Silver! I picked it out myself.” She shot a proud grin across the table. “See, Rarity? I told you it was a pretty headband.”
Miss Rarity paused in her story—something about meeting Aunt Silver Frames and her friend, Fancy Pants, in Canterlot not long ago—and chuckled herself. “You certainly did, Sweetie. Nopony can be right all the time, I suppose.”
Rarity turned back to Pitch Perfect, swirling her champagne glass. “Anyhow, Pitch, that was when we… when…” She clucked her tongue. “Oh dear, where was I?”
“You’d mentioned a visit to Canterlot Opera House after the art gallery.” Before Rarity could press on, Mother leaned forward. Her ears twitched with interest. “If you don’t mind, what did you see?”
“Not a full opera, I think; it didn’t last more than an hour. Something about a waylaid sea voyage… Candied, I think?” Rarity blinked at Mother’s attentive stare. “Do you know it?”
“One of my first productions! Oh, it’s a wonderful operetta, always good for a laugh.” Mother glanced at Silver Spoon, who blinked curiously at the mention of an opera she’d never heard of. “A laugh from adults, that is. Do you remember who was in it, Rarity?”
And thus, it began. For what seemed like hours, Mother grilled poor Rarity on the director, the staging, the chorus fillies, the conductor, the orchestra, the acoustics, the overture and finale, the libretto and the arias.
Sweetie Belle slowly chewed the last of her eggplant as she put it together. “Silver Spoon, your mom used to be an opera star, right?”
“Um, no.” Silver frowned. “She was the opera star, and she still is. Nopony in the whole world is a better soprano than my mother.” Her voice rose higher than she meant it to, and everypony at the table watched her now. Well, good. Silver lifted her chin, daring somepony to disagree. “Nopony.”
Mother returned to her dinner. A modest smile crept along her face. “I don’t know about the world, dear. The best in Manehattan, perhaps.” She sighed a little. “Once.”
Silence settled over the gazebo. Rarity folded her hooves, suddenly quite thoughtful. Her eyes trailed from the table to the Canterlot mountains and back again. Gently, she asked a question Silver had wondered for two years. “Do you ever consider coming back to the stage, Pitch Perfect?”
Mother gripped the table and stared at her.
Silver Spoon didn’t practice subtlety at an adult level yet, but she still felt the weight and implications behind that question. A question that likely led to one of two things: a cruel tease or a job offer.
Miss Rarity did not strike Silver as the teasing type.
“I can’t say that I haven’t given it consideration, but you must understand, my circumstances have changed a great deal, Rarity.” A diplomatic, careful answer. Mother glanced at Silver Spoon.
Unsure of the appropriate response, Silver Spoon chose to smile.
“At my stage in life,” Mother continued, “I don’t believe it’s practical to return full time.” She rested her chin on her pastern. “Besides that, the train to the nearest opera house is at least a three-hour ride. Laurel’s gone most of the week as it is. I don’t like the thought of Silver Spoon alone all the time.”
“I don’t mind being by myself for a little while, Mother.” Silver folded her hooves upon the table, ladylike and mature—the perfect posture of a pony who ate all her alfalfa and went to bed on time without being told. “I’m not a baby anymore; I’ve got my cutie mark, remember? Plus, I’ll have Brass Tacks with me.”
Sweetie Belle stiffened beside her. Out of the corner of Silver’s eye, the unicorn wrinkled the silk dress with her crabby fidgeting. Heat practically radiated off her coat.
Silver Spoon gave her an odd look. What’s your problem?
Sweetie Belle flattened her ears and turned away.
Okay, whatever. Be a grouchy weirdo if you want.
Luckily, nopony else had noticed Sweetie’s bad mood. Mother didn’t concede nor argue Silver’s point, but she did watch Rarity with brighter eyes than before. “Be that as it may, there’s still the matter of finding work in the first place. I’ve been off stage for over a year, after all.”
Rarity edged forward with an eager grin. “But if the opportunity came up?”
The answer was yes, and everypony at this table knew it. Yet, Mother still hesitated. Why?
Silver Spoon blinked as her mother glanced at her again. It’s me.
The decision teetered on the fence, and only needed a light push from Silver Spoon. She really didn’t mind the alone time—she spent most of the day without her parents anyway—and job opportunities didn’t grow on trees.
Silver couldn’t smell any fine print in Rarity’s offer, nor any hint of expected restitution. However, that did not mean it was without debt. A debt owed by the entire family—if not a lifetime or a generation, then at least for a few semesters.
For Luna’s sake, it wasn’t enough that Sweetie Belle and her Blank Flank Brigade coasted through victory every other week? Now Silver had to be in Sweetie’s debt, too? Pride burned in Silver Spoon’s chest, spiteful and hot. Memories of the Manehattan opera house burned brighter.
Mother did like Ponyville. She transitioned into retirement with all the grace expected of a lady, and truly enjoyed helping new talent flourish. But the Silvers’ drawing room—despite the good acoustics—was no opera house.
Silver Spoon cleared her throat. “Do you know what I think, Miss Rarity? I think that when opportunities like these come up, one ought to take them.” To her mild surprise, Silver didn’t have to force a smile; it arrived on its own. “I’ll be fine, Mother. Really.”
“We could all come and see you on opening night,” added Sweetie Belle.
Mother steepled her hooves over the plate, deep in consideration. Finally, she raised her head. “Rarity,” she said, “did you have something in mind for me, perchance?”
The dishes rattled with Rarity’s little jump. “As a matter of fact, darling, I do!” All aglow, she clapped her hooves and bit back a giggle. “Now it happens that I’ve finished costumes designs for an associate of mine who’s planning a revival of Ponyacci and…”
That sounded like the cue for the fillies to leave. Silver watched Brass Tacks’ magic lift away the empty plates, frowning. She huddled in her chair, quiet as a statue. Perhaps if she sat politely and didn’t attract attention, they could stay at the table.
“Silver Spoon, sweetest heart, why don’t you take Sweetie Belle and go play?” Mother glanced at Rarity, smiling as if they were doing Silver Spoon a favor.
“Yes,” chuckled Rarity, “I’m sure you two don’t want to sit around hearing boring business talk all evening.”
Sweetie Belle pulled out of her chair. Her eyes stayed on the ground. “Sure, okay.”
Again with the moping. Silver had real reasons to mope, but she still managed to put on a pleasant face. Her tail flicked Sweetie’s leg. “Come on, I’ll…” She glanced at the rosebushes. “…show you how to brew rose tea.”
Good hosts didn’t leave guests without something to do. That and Silver didn’t fancy the idea of Sweetie Belle running loose in a house full of breakables.
Sweetie Belle agreed to the idea with a nod. Her mouth twitched, sour and twisted up by unsaid words. She walked in tight, moody steps. Despite that, she followed Silver’s instructions and helped pick roses without complaint. Not even a squeak when a thorn poked her nose.
“Alright, I think this is enough.” Silver nodded her approval at the two small piles of yellow roses at their hooves. Those looked like sharp thorns, however, and she didn’t favor the idea of carrying them in her mouth. “Is your magic strong enough to carry these to the kitchen?”
The sour expression curdled and Sweetie Belle braced her shoulders. “No. Not really.”
Oh well, worth a shot. Silver Spoon shrugged and carefully gathered her bundle of roses into her mouth. She arched an eyebrow. “What are you making that face for?”
“Nothing.” This, of course, meant the exact opposite.
Sweetie Belle grabbed her bunch of roses and followed Silver across the garden and into the house. The chill of late September eased into the warm, still air of the hallway. A bit hot for Silver’s sweater dress, but she’d be fine.
“Nothing, huh?” Silver Spoon smiled around the rose stems. “So, your face just naturally looks like you ate a stinkbug?”
Sweetie’s eyes snapped up. She glared.
It was a sharper glare than Silver expected, especially from the marshmallow. Silver’s tail gave a nervous flick. “Relax; it’s only a joke.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not very funny.”
Sweetie’s pace fell back behind Silver’s.
Silver didn’t need to look back to know the unicorn still followed her.
Hard, angry hoofsteps echoed through the foyer.
Clack, clack, clack.
Clack, clack, clack.
Clack.
Clack.
Silence.
“Why do you always do that, Silver Spoon?” She said it softer than the ticking of the clock.
Silver looked back, yellow roses bobbing in her teeth. “Um… do wh—ow!” A thorn pricked her tongue. “Do what?”
Sweetie Belle spat the roses out. “You KNOW what!” Magic sparked from her horn, bright green and hot.
“I—hey! Watch where you point that thing!” Silver lurched back with a snort. “I don’t know what in Equestria you’re talking about. I didn’t do a single thing to you except try to be polite.”
Slowly, Silver Spoon put down her roses. She narrowed her eyes at Sweetie’s glowing horn. “And if you shoot magic in this house again, I’m telling.”
The glow faded.
“Look, I don’t know what windigo frosted your corn flakes, but you need to quit taking it out on me.” Silver turned her nose in the air and sneered. “Excuse me for trying to be nice. It’s not like I took time out of my day to invite you into my—”
“Oh, shut UP, Silver Spoon!” Sweetie Belle’s voice pitched and cracked and squeaked like a broken clarinet. “I’m not stupid! Maybe you think I am, but I’m not!”
She snorted at Silver’s baffled expression. “Oh, come on. ‘Is your magic strong enough?’ ‘I’m not a baby because I have a cutie mark’? And that mean stinkbug thing from a couple minutes ago?” Her white coat flushed an angry shade of pink. “Y-you’ve been trying to embarrass me all night. That’s the whole reason you even invited me—admit it!”
Silver Spoon rolled her eyes and bent down to get the roses. “Oh please, Sweetie Belle. That’s…”
She began to explain the stupidity of that accusation. She began to demand hard evidence, and wonder how self-centered a filly had to be to assume every little comment was about her. Silver began to brush off the whole thing as paranoia cooked up by an oversensitive filly with a victim complex.
But then Silver looked up again and grew quiet.
Tears glistened in Sweetie Belle’s eyes. She breathed hard, determined to keep them from falling.
Okay, back up. Start again, calmer this time.
“I’m sorry you’re upset, Sweetie Belle, but I wasn’t trying to make fun of you. I wanted to know if you could carry the roses ‘cause they’ve got thorns and I didn’t want to poke my mouth. It wasn’t like—”
Scootaloo. Silver frowned. She thought I was picking at her magic the same way we picked at Scootaloo’s wings. Oh, boy.
Silver sat down and bent her head to look Sweetie Belle in the eye. “It wasn’t like that, seriously. The thing about my cutie mark was about me, not you. I mean, if you’ve got a quicker way to convince my mother I can stay by myself, I’m all for it.” Gently, she laid a hoof on Sweetie’s shoulder to call a truce. “All I want is to get through tonight, same as you. That’s it. Okay?”
The tears dried up, thank goodness, but Sweetie’s cheeks still burned pink and splotchy. “Yeah, sure. And I’m supposed to believe you invited me over to be nice? You don’t even want me in your house.” She shrugged off Silver’s hoof with a hard sniff. “Twilight Time’s not happening, there’s nothing in it for you, and you hate me. There can’t be any other reason.”
For pony’s sake! Why did this filly need to make everything so darn difficult all the time? “Augh! For the last time, I did NOT invite you over to mock you!”
“Then why—”
The words tumbled out before Silver could stop them. “Because I HAVE TO, you stupid, stupid blank flank!”
Silver squeezed her eyes shut. She stomped the floor, embarrassed and outraged and horrified with herself, with Sweetie Belle, with everything. Decorum and logic told her to backtrack, calm down, and apologize. But Silver couldn’t backtrack now, didn’t know how to calm down, and didn’t want to apologize.
Sweetie Belle rubbed her nose and sat. She wrapped her tail around her hooves, giving Silver a suspicious squint. “What do you mean you ‘have’ to? Is somepony making you?”
“Not exactly, but I still, like… have to. I told you before: I can’t uninvite you. It’s in the rules, so that’s the way it is.” Silver rubbed her hooves over her face, trying to realign herself. “Not everypony gets to run around breaking rules whenever they want, you know.”
Silver opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling, waiting for a response.
It didn’t come.
When Silver’s heartbeat returned to normal, she added, “And I don’t hate you.”
Sweetie lashed her tail, still suspicious, but the fire had gone out of her eyes. “Well, okay… maybe. But it’s not like you can blame me, Silver Spoon. You guys mess with us all the time; how was I supposed to know this time would be different?”
Slowly, carefully, Silver gathered the roses into her mouth. “No offense, but I don’t need to set up a fancy dinner just to laugh at you, Sweetie Belle. Besides, nopony else is here. Who am I going to embarrass you in front of? My mother?” She froze.
Mother. Oh no.
“What’s the matter?” Sweetie Belle lifted an eyebrow.
“Please don’t tell Mother I yelled at you, Sweetie Belle.” Silver stared up at her guest, ears plastered flat against her mane. “Please? Please? You gotta understand, I didn’t mean—it’s… you jumped down my throat and I got upset for a second.”
Sweetie’s curly tail flicked across the hardwood. She stared back, blank and unreadable.
“Please, she can’t know! Not after what Rarity did for her—not when we’re in her debt.” Silver Spoon’s bottom lip wobbled. “She’d be so disappointed.”
The clock rang seven. As the seventh chime faded, Sweetie sighed. “I wasn’t going to, Silver Spoon. I like Pitch Perfect too; I don’t wanna upset her either.” Green, wobbly magic gathered her share of roses back into their bundle. “Rarity didn’t do that so you’d owe her, though. She wanted to be nice—you know, Element of Generosity?” She chuckled. “It’s kind of what she does.”
If anything, that made it worse, but Silver felt too tired to try and explain. It’d probably be pointless anyway. “It’s getting late. We’d better hurry with the tea.”
“Okay.” Sweetie grabbed her half of yellow roses and followed.
By the time they reached the kitchen, the tension and rotten mood seemed to have dissipated. Not completely, but enough to be civil. The fillies stuck to safe, customary topics nopony cared about, pretending the drama of the past ten minutes never happened.
Sweetie set her roses next to Silver’s on the counter, already peering into cabinets for supplies. “Okay, so what first? It’s just tea, so we just like… gotta get some water in a teapot and put petals in it, right?”
Silver bristled at “just tea,” but tried not to show it. “Teapots come later. While you’re in there, get the little saucepan on your left and put two cups of water in it.” She fetched a colander from the drawer and placed it over the double sink. “I’ll pluck and clean the petals. We’ll go on from there.”
“Why are we using a saucepan for tea?” Sweetie bore the copper pan above her head, peering inside. “I thought you used a kettle.”
Around a mouth full of petals, Silver muttered, “Saucepan’s bigger.” A lot more went into it than that, but the condensed version would have to do. Her tail pointed at the drawer next to her. “Cups are in there.”
“Okay.” Water gushed into the first cup, then the second. Carefully, Sweetie Belle poured them both into the saucepot. With nothing left to occupy her hooves, she turned her attention towards Silver’s plucking. “Need any help with that?”
She didn’t, but Silver nodded anyway. “If you want, you can put the petals in the colander.”
Slowly, Sweetie’s magic lifted five petals from the plate. They hovered in the air a moment, their edges fluttering in the green glow of her horn. “So… um. You really don’t hate me?” The petals dropped into the colander.
Silver looked up to see Sweetie’s tentative expression. She tossed aside a bare stem and blinked at her. “No, of course not.”
Sweetie Belle flicked her ears and smiled.
“I just don’t like you.”
“Hey!”
Her umbrage rolled off Silver’s back like bathwater. She shrugged. “Don’t know what your problem is; you don’t like me either. Ponies don’t like each other sometimes. It’s like, whatever.”
Silver finished stripping the rose and checked her progress. More than halfway through the pile, good. “Besides, you can’t honestly expect me to like you after all that stuff you did.”
“What?!” Sweetie spun around, dress flaring at her heels. “I—but—you—the stuff I did?!”
“Uh, yeah.” Silver stripped another rose. “Stuff you did.” Maintaining civility was important, but she would not be guilted into a senseless apology. “Don’t pull that innocent victim act on me, Miss Sweetie Belle. You’re the one who fell in with ruffians and troublemakers.” She spat out a mouthful of petals. “You started it.”
“I started it?! Are you insane?”
“Inside voices, please.”
“Who’s the one that’s been laughing at us for two years straight, Silver Spoon? Who’s been calling me a blank flank and constantly picking on me every single day?”
“Nopony likes drama queens, Sweetie Belle. You are a blank flank, unless you got a cutie mark in invisibility. I never said anything that’s not true—and yeah, as a matter of fact, you DID start it.”
Silver tore another mouthful of petals and dropped them in the colander herself. “You want to talk? Let’s talk about ponies who go out of their way to embarrass somepony at their own cuteceañera, Sweetie Belle. Nopony says one unkind thing to you—not one thing—all week and you decide to ruin the only cuteceañera somepony ever gets.”
“Well, we had to do something! Diamond Tiara was about to rip poor Apple Bloom apart!” Again with the dramatics. Sweetie Belle saw Silver’s eyeroll and wrinkled her nose with a snort. “We saw you guys about to pounce on her. You were being mean, the way you’re always mean to ponies you don’t like.”
“Right, and Apple Bloom rubbed her fake loopty-hooping cutie mark in our faces to be nice, I suppose.” Silver polished off the last clutch of rose petals with a hollow laugh. “Nopony minds when she’s a liar and a showoff, but oh, it’s suddenly bad when Diamond does it for her acrobatics act?”
“You mean her butler’s acrobatics act,” sniffed Sweetie Belle. “She sat on her butt and didn’t do squat.” She side-glanced the copper saucepan. “Like always...”
Silver’s mouth drew into a taut, grim line. Slowly, she turned around. “Diamond Tiara,” she said, “works harder than you and the Crusaders and the entire school put together. She does more in an hour than most ponies do in a week.”
The faucet turned on with a flip of Silver’s muzzle. Petals jerked and sloshed under the water. “I’ve seen Di run her tail ragged getting up before sunrise to practice for hours and hours and hours to win. She puts everything into what she does every single time.” Silver clenched her teeth and shook the colander hard. “And every time, you guys crash in and win without even trying. Of course Diamond didn’t do those flips herself—whenever she does anything, you ruin it! You wreck everything you touch and everypony throws you a parade!”
Sweetie Belle leaned on the counter and crossed her hooves. “Then I guess I’m the one who needs glasses, ’cause the only parades I ever see are for you. You and Diamond Tiara have half the school drooling at your hooves for being rich and popular. Not because you’re nice or funny or help ponies—no, it’s because you think you’re better than everypony else.”
When the faucet turned off, Sweetie grabbed the colander and dumped the petals in the saucepan. “You’re the meanest fillies in school and everypony—for some reason—still loves you for it. You wanna tell me that’s fair, Silver?”
Silver put a hoof to her chest and scoffed. “I am not mean!”
Mean was Bankroll tripping the scholarship kindergarteners into puddles. Mean was Palanquin pulling a Foxglove Maneuver on Brights Brightly at the Spring Social. Mean was leagues and leagues away from some light teasing every now and then.
“Yeah, we poke fun at ponies once in a while—who doesn’t?” Under her breath, Silver added, “It’s not like you don’t deserve it most of the time...”
Sweetie Belle’s ears shot into the air. She hooked her hooves over the saucepan, nose to nose with Silver Spoon. She gave her a long, hard stare. “So you called Scootaloo worthless for not being able to fly because she deserved it?”
“That—that’s not what we said.”
“It’s what you meant.”
Silver Spoon’s ears drooped. “No, but…” Her eyes flicked up.
Sweetie Belle’s glare seared.
Silver’s eyes darted away. “I didn’t mean she deserved it that time. That was different.” She rested her chin on the rim of the saucepan, breathing in the scent of copper and roses. “You pushed us. We saw your routine and we got sc—nervous.” Silver wrapped her tail close and dragged her gaze upwards. “We got nervous… and, yeah. We did something mean.”
“And for no good reason, either.” The glare softened, but didn’t vanish. “I get nervous all the time, Silver Spoon, but I never tried to hurt anypony because of—” She paused. Sweetie Belle sighed, and all the tension slumped out of her shoulders. “Actually… maybe I can understand that. A little.”
“How?” Silver gripped the side of the saucepan and considered the Crusader in her kitchen. “What did you do?”
Sweetie Belle sprawled on the tile, one hoof on the saucepan handle. “Remember that play me and my friends did a few weeks ago?”
“...No?”
“It was about three princesses in olden times?”
Silver Spoon blinked.
“It starred all three of us, and Apple Bloom played a grand duchess?”
“Like, literally no clue.”
Sweetie Belle rubbed her temples. “It had nice costumes…?”
“Oh!” cried Silver. “Oh, right! Peachy Pie told me about those costumes at tea the other day. I didn’t know that was you.”
“Yeah, neither did anypony else. I wrote and directed the whole thing. I even starred in the leading role.” A bitter and spiteful cloud crossed the unicorn’s features—there and gone in a blink.
Silver knew that expression well.
“I did all that work, but everypony only cared about Rarity’s costumes.” She scratched the back of her neck. “I got really, really super mad and ruined a costume Rarity made for Sapphire Shores to get back at her.”
Wait. Did she say Sapphire Shores?
Silver knew Rarity’s business had found success, but she had no idea it had attracted the likes of The Pony of Pop. Sweetie Belle namedropped her so casually, too. Did she not know what a big deal Shores was, or did this type of thing happen all the time?
“So, what happened?”
“Nothing.” Sweetie rose to her hooves and smoothed out her dress. “I fixed it before anything bad happened.”
It sounded like that story had a lot more to it than that, but Silver decided not to pursue. “Good thing you did. Rarity’s a nice pony, I’m sure she didn’t mean to show you up.” She grabbed one of the saucepan handles. “Can you help me get this on the stove?”
Sweetie nodded and got the other side. “Scootaloo’s a nice pony too, Silver Spoon. It’s not like we’re out to get you, you know.” Together, they slowly lifted the pan and pushed it onto the stovetop. “Uh… I’m not allowed to use the stove anymore. You’ll have to do this part.”
“We’re just boiling water, it’s perfectly…” Silver reconsidered the Crusaders’ disaster record. “I’ll get it.” Five minutes to boil ought to do it. She adjusted the temperature and let the stove heat.
Silver Spoon sat on a stepstool, keeping an eye on the pot. “Anyway, the flag thing’s not the same. We’re supposed to show each other up in a competition. We—I—knew a winning routine when I saw one. Scootaloo being nice or mean didn’t have anything to do with it.”
Sweetie shuffled her hooves, perhaps calculating the chances of another fight. “Then what did?”
“Stakes. We couldn’t lose that time.” Silver closed her eyes and let her head thunk against the counter. “Didn’t matter in the end. You guys still won.” She couldn’t help the ice crawling into her voice. “Like always.”
“That still doesn’t make it okay,” said Sweetie Belle. “It’s only a competition, anyway.”
One eye opened. “Easy for you to say.”
The unicorn snorted. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“No offence, Miss Sweetie Belle, but if you lost the flag, then who cares? You can bounce right back and go into a game of hockeyball or whatever like it’s no big deal—”
Sweetie tilted her head. “...hockeyball?”
“—but ponies like Diamond and me have so many ponies to answer to.” Silver’s hoof stretched toward the foyer. “You’ve seen those portraits in the hallway, right? That’s every single pony I have to live up to. I’ve got standards to uphold. A legacy.”
“Oh,” said Sweetie Belle.
Not a shocked “oh”. Not an “oh” of understanding or regret or hesitation or confusion. An “oh” of observation. The blandest of bland responses. She blinked back at Silver, not unsympathetic, but wholly unimpressed.
Silver pursed her lips. She hadn’t expected tears of sympathy, but she deserved more than a simple “oh”. Lashing her tail, she turned back to the saucepan. “I knew you wouldn’t get it.”
A flat laugh. “You are so conceited, Silver Spoon.”
Silver’s jaw dropped.
“You heard me. What, you think you and Diamond Tiara are the only ponies in town with anypony to disappoint?”
Sweetie laughed again. “Have you SEEN my sister? You know my sister, right? The sensational seamstress, the brilliant fashion designer, the most elegant unicorn in the history of ever? A pony that’s saved Equestria—” she paused to count. “Three times by now? Rarity’s off all the time being amazing and I’m… here in Ponyville.”
The nagging sensation Silver had felt in Princess Twilight’s library came back. Stronger this time. The feeling that she’d overlooked something. Something huge. Silver Spoon tread lightly. “Maybe, but nopony expects you to—”
“Exactly!” Sweetie stamped her hoof with a clack. “She’s Rarity, the Element of Generosity and I’m just… just some dumb kid with a blank flank.” She sniffed wetly. “You’re right, Silver. Nopony cares what I do, even though I try all the time to stand out and be the cool, pretty one for once.” She kicked the cabinet, but it didn’t make a sound. “I’m invisible and it stinks.”
Silver Spoon didn’t find much to say to that. “Yes,” she said. “When you put it that way, I suppose it would.”
A loose thread in Sweetie’s tirade nagged at Silver’s mind. A thread slowly unwinding, leading her to a place she should have been ages ago.
If Miss Rarity worked with Sapphire Shores, her outreach had to be huge. At dinner, she’d mentioned attending Prince Blueblood’s airship christening with Mr. Fancy Pants. From what she’d heard, that came from personal reputation and nothing to do with wielding the Element of Generosity.
The pieces snapped together.
Oh. Oh, Celestia.
Element of Generosity. Best friend to Princess Twilight Sparkle. That was how Sweetie Belle got into Twilight Time.
I’m an idiot.
The room lurched. Horrified, Silver Spoon stared blankly at Sweetie Belle, who stared back, perplexed.
Sweetie Belle, sister to Princess Twilight Sparkle’s best friend. Princess Twilight, personal student to Princess Celestia herself.
And not only Sweetie Belle. It was all of them: Apple Bloom, sister of the Element of Honesty. Scootaloo, so close to Loyalty they may as well be blood.
The Cutie Mark Crusaders didn’t just have connections. They had THE connections. The best in Ponyville. Maybe the best in Equestria.
I’m the biggest idiot.
“Silver Spoon? I think it’s ready.”
“What?” Water bubbled under Silver’s nose. “Oh!” She turned the stove off, squinting through the steam. No harm done, thank goodness.
Sweetie Belle tossed Silver an oven mitt. “Are you okay? You looked kinda out of it.”
“No, I’m fine. I got distracted.” She offered a watery smile. “Alright, so the tea’s done. Now we transfer it.” Silver gestured toward the jade teapot waiting on the counter, pre-set with cups and saucers. “Careful, this scalds.”
Silver Spoon managed the front of the saucepan while Sweetie Belle lifted the back. Carefully, slowly, they tipped the saucepan and let the tea strain into the jade pot.
As the last of it dripped in, Sweetie closed her eyes and inhaled. “Wow, Rarity’s gonna love this! I don’t think she’s ever had this kind of tea before, either.” Her green eyes flicked up to Silver Spoon. She frowned. “You sure you’re okay? I thought you loved making tea.”
She must have started brooding again. The watery smile returned. Silver forced it wider. It wouldn’t do to be quiet around company. “Oh, I do. You did a lovely job helping me, by the way. Thanks, Sweetie Belle.”
“You’re welcome.” Sweetie smiled back, but it didn’t last. “Um, not that I mind you being nice to me, Silver Spoon, but…” She fussed with the collar of her dress and chewed her lip. “We don’t need to be friends just because you think you owe me.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Sweetie Belle. Of course I want to.”
Something brushed against Silver’s hoof. A stray rose petal hadn’t made it into the tea. Silver gave it a quick sniff and popped it into her mouth. “It’s fine, really.”
“Yeah, alright,” sighed Sweetie. She rocked back on her heels, watching Silver chew. A slow grin crawled across her face.
The unicorn gasped and leapt backward. “Oh my gosh, Silver Spoon!” She pointed a shaking hoof at the teapot. “Oh my gosh!”
“What?” Was it the tea? Silver checked the jade pot for cracks or chips. She couldn’t see anything wrong. Nothing weird with the stove, either. “What is it?!”
“I can’t believe it!” She grabbed Silver’s shoulders with both hooves and pulled her close. “You totally saved my life just now!”
“I…” Alarm faded into confusion. “…I don’t… what?”
“That one rose petal you ate was poison, but you ate it before it went in the tea. You saved me!”
Silver rolled her eyes. “Come on. Roses aren't poisonous.”
“That one petal was.” Sweetie barely kept the laughter from her voice. “Actually, since that tea was for Rarity too, I guess you saved both our lives!”
“Why that one petal and not the whole rose?”
“That one fell on the floor where all the germs are.” The unicorn nodded soberly. “Also, a witch cursed it.”
How a witch managed to even get inside the house—presuming that witches even existed (they did not)—much less curse Silver’s rose petals raised even more questions. Silver’s gut said that Sweetie Belle had answers for all of them.
“Okay, so a witch did it. Apparently.” Stone-faced, Silver Spoon peered over the rim of her glasses. “How come I'm not dead if it's poison?”
“Because... um... it's your rose!” Sweetie Belle beamed, quite proud of her answer. “You raised it, so it doesn't wanna hurt you.”
“You’re making this up as you go.”
“Nuh-uh!” squeaked Sweetie Belle. “I know it’s true ‘cause unicorn powers are good with poisons.” With all the confidence of a Canterlot councilmare, she puffed her chest in triumph. “If you’re so sure, prove it wasn't poison.”
“I can't, I ate it!”
“Exactly. You saved my life. Now you don't owe me anymore.” Sweetie Belle giggled and bumped Silver’s shoulder. “See?”
“I think I’m starting to.” The façade broke. Silver shook her head and laughed. “Fine, fine. I saved your life.”
“And we’re eternally grateful.” Sweetie Belle poked the edge of the silver tea tray. “By the way, how’re we supposed to carry this all the way to—”
In one fluid motion, Silver Spoon rolled the tray onto her shoulders, tea, sugar bowl, and all. “I got it.” She checked her hair in the reflection of the saucepan and trotted out the door.
Sweetie trailed her into the foyer with wide eyes. Mesmerized, she watched the smooth roll and bob of the tea tray balanced on Silver’s shoulder blades. The teacups didn’t even rattle. She glanced between the jade teapot and the prim, clipped pace of Silver’s hooves. “How are you doing that?”
Silver Spoon allowed herself a proud smile. “Talent, of course.”
“Oh, of course.” Sweetie Belle huffed, but a smile lurked beneath. “What was I thinking?”
As the garden drew closer, a silence fell between them. A draft swept through the open doors and into the hall. Their dresses rippled and snapped at their hooves.
When they reached the double doors, Sweetie paused. “Hey, so… are we still enemies, or… like, what?”
Silver Spoon thought about it. “I’m not sure.”
They weren’t friends, she knew that for certain. However, when Silver searched for that familiar smolder of resentment, she couldn’t find it. No prickling stabs of annoyance. No oily disdain. Not much of anything.
“Hm.” Silver flicked her ears. “You know what? I don’t think we are.”
“Then what are we?”
Silver shrugged.
Water spots and wrinkles mussed the edge of Sweetie’s dinner dress. She’d picked up a weird grease stain from somewhere—probably when she’d sprawled on the floor. In her own weird, dorky way, it actually suited her better.
“Maybe we’re not anything,” said Sweetie Belle. “Maybe we just… are.”
Silver stepped into the starlit garden and smiled. “Yes, that sounds about right. We just are.”
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adorable
Dammit Sliver Spoon! You were this close to having a moment of real empathy for another pony. But you just had to make it about connections and status at the last second
Maybe the rose petal wasn't poisoned, but, Miss Silver, your idea of how ponies should regard one another definitely is.
And that's not Diamond Tiara's fault, because for all her flaws, I remember that one actually wanting to spend time with ponies for reasons other than just to use them.
7746403
At least Sweetie appears to have gotten some insight into the other side. Genuine insight. And, well... let's not forget, using Twilight Time to become popular and get favours was Sweetie's idea. They share several character traits, methinks, and neither would be happy to admit it.
that was sweet... kinda?
nice update
7746403 It's a step in the right direction at least.
This entire fic is just an extended lesson in why children should never be exposed to the cutthroat world of upper-class politics. Silver learned how to manipulate ponies before she knew what a pony was. And it's only now that she's slowly beginning to realize that that's stupid.
And it is hilarious to be reminded that the only thing the Crusaders did that was even remotely deliberately cruel was upstaging DT at her own party, and Silver and DT have been using that to justify things like mocking disabled children and playing the victim long after the Crusaders stopped being a threat. Just gotta love children.
Wisteria Academy is long gone. There's no longer a question of who's top dog, or who has the best connections. Silver Spoon just found out that she's been playing see-saw on a rigid plank, and the ball was never in her court.
Up next, Diamond Tiara.
hmm silver spoon you think karma might be the reason the CMC wins in the end? anyway it's going to take a lot more before silver spoon is anything resembling redeemable.
Oh my god I love this story so much. It just has this richness to it that I don't think can be adequately described, at least, not by me. Silver's first dinner party was perfect, just the right mix of being a polite lady hostess and I'm a little filly that has a hard time doing and saying everything right, so a lady in progress I suppose. This chapter provided such great insights to both Sweetie's and Silver's inner thoughts about one another. I was so happy about the chapters ending, it was so perfect. It was a great moment. A perfect moment.
While I have many other stories to read in between 'The Silver Standard' chapter updates, know that I will still be very eagerly awaiting the next chapter, because very few stories are as good as this one!
Silver may be close to figuring out that it's all pointless
And we're once again reminded that Silver Spoon's alignment is definitely Lawful Snobbish.
(Diamond Tiara, for all of her intense personal focus, is a lot less concerned about Rules and Propriety.)
Nice moment of rapport between her and Sweetie. She's the CMC Silver should, for all sorts of reasons, get along the best. I hope this trend of de-buttifying continues with her.
That is...just about perfect.
Great chapter. The core irritant to Silver Spoon of the CMC has always been how those three seem to win at everything without putting in significant effort, due to an increasingly improbable set of lucky circumstances each time. This chapter made me realize that Sweetie Bell episode really acting like how Silver Spoon acts all the time (except for the part where she directly yells at her sister, Silver wouldn't do that to a superior.) Really, the only difference between the Adorabullies and the CMC versus Sweetie and her sister is that Rarity always seems to pull focus because she's an incredibly talented adult, whereas the CMC tend to pull focus just by being lucky.
Another good point about Wisteria. By Wisteria standards, nothing except the teasing about a disability would come even close to bullying; Silver Spoon has a much warmer attitude to all three of the CMC than she does to Brights Brightly or Palenquin.
The ending point though, that the CMC feel burdened by a lack of expectations almost as much as the Adorabullies feel burdened by expectations, seems crucial, and it gives the two fillies something to bond about. Definitely laying the groundwork for Silver to switch sides down the line.
How you write such a perfect story I will never know. This stuff I absolutely brilliant.
Rarity is Best Pony. So I like how you give the reader an equivocal view of her actions here.
Of course Perfect Pitch loved the stage. But she had to leave it behind and to make her peace with doing so took considerable effort, effort she undertook for her husband's and her daughter's sakes as well as her own. Rarity's offer essentially defines that as wasted effort. And is that so generous a thing?
But how could Rarity see that? She hasn't been through a tenth of what Pitch has--not marriage, not motherhood, not downward mobility. And even if she could see it, would her response to it be any different from Silver Spoon's?
Which may indeed be the correct response. "Out of the mouth of babes..."
Perspective is key. We're all the heroes of our own stories, and that means that someone else has to be the villain. But when adversaries actually sit down and compare notes, they may find that a lot of what they attributed to malice wasn't nearly as bad from behind another pair of eyes. Still bad, certainly, but not irredeemable acts of evil. Furthermore, they might discover that the other side has motives and lives beyond the conflict.
It's probably a bit early to ask Silver to make peace with Scootaloo or Apple Bloom, but at least now she understands why she should. Their connections aren't the objectively best reason, but they are one that resonates with Silver's mentality. Now comes the really tricky part: Convincing Diamond Tiara that there's some merit to the Crusaders.
7748597 And, well, since this story seems to be following the show from Sil's perspective, they've got a few episodes before CotLM. We basically saw part of LoF come into play, and I see a number of episodes in the list before then that we might see, or at least, events might be mentioned, should the author choose to incorporate them.
It's super effective! Silvy knows how to use her frames.
Also, I died of squeeing and it's not even past the first scene
and who clearly bribed the author
Use the Force, Spoon!
I just gosh darn just love when Silver goes full Sherlock like this.
Also why did my train have to reach the terminus at this moment, god damn it
(hours later)
That filly is ice cool under pressure. At least on the outside.
At first I thought Silver was being childish but then I thought about it a bit more and realized actually no, that's a perfectly sensible precaution when you're dealing with a filly who can burn things in scientifically impossible ways.
God damn. The best filly. This is the definitive Silver Spoon and I just adore her to bits .She just can't see herself through any kind of a normal lens.
Well, you would know!
The Silver/Sweetie scenes were so adorable and brilliant. Sweetie Belle isn't fire and grit like Scootaloo, or... apples and apples, like Apple Bloom. She's the heart, and she really healed some of Silver's wounds here.
And now, the long gulf until Day Of The Butt Marks. Well, except for the bit where Silver fights Tirek, which I guess is coming next chapter.
I very much enjoy the synthesis and resulting truce arrived at here. And it is good to be reminded of the parallel between SS and DT and the Crusaders on the one hand, and (principally) Sweetie and her sister on the other. It's not perfect, of course, in that it's difficult to think of cases of Rarity failing upwards in the same way that the CMC do fairly regularly, and Rarity's efforts and talents are clearly aligned in a way that often isn't the case with them. But it's there, and it's perfectly understandable that those looking in on those residing in a sphere closer to the beneficent flame of The Plot would feel envy, both Silver seeing the Crusaders, and Sweetie her sister--besides the orthogonal issue of popularity and wealth which has DT and SS in the light of favor. The opposite role of expectations, though, might be the best part there, and it's nice that at least Silver seemed to appreciate it rather than continue with grass-is-greener. I was wondering what you'd do to lead to the split Silver and Diamond for the election, and this seems like an important step.
The flashback fit well, not only in having an appropriate transition back to the present, but in reinforcing in a few ways the unfavorable change (in many respects, if not all) in Silver Spoon's circumstances to contrast with the ever greater recognition of Sweetie's social capital in comparison to where it began--and more so, her original estimation thereof. And there's the contrast between her then pushing against the rules, and now acquiescing to them, perhaps because then they were something that kept her the same as everyone else, and now, they're one of her ties to who she was then.
You dear author are a wonderful writer, never once did I consider that I would read a story about Sliver Spoon and find it so wonderfully spun, you bring life to this character and her rational and reasonings and make it enjoyable to read even though she's a brat, but I love how your building the slow change this character needs to fit the main mlp story line.
Wow, it took this long for Silver to notice that the CMC have connections?
7863400
Even the show did that. Diamond had to loose her one remaining friend so the Crusaders had a chance to break through her tough-as-diamonds façade, since she had nopony left to prove anything to except herself. And she was tired of that. Very, very tired.
Silver Spoon, on the other hand, got her redemption the moment she kicked Diamond Tiara when it became expedient to do so. Apprently, she didn't have to get better, just be bad to the right target.
*sneaks in through the back, pretending these replies aren't fifty years late*
7771690
Ah, I was waiting for this one.
To be precise, it took this long to fully contextualize the CMC's connections. Rarity, Rainbow, and AJ all wield power but in a small town, that power is hard to see, because when everypony knows everypony the connections seem smaller. Yeah, Rainbow is well respected in Ponyville, but so is Shoeshine and Bon Bon. The Mane Six are all so casual and their great exploits are so rarely talked about or directly seen. Besides Rarity and maybe Fluttershy, Silver rarely even sees them for more than six seconds.
On the other hand, Silver at least knows the Mane Six are very good friends, and one of those friends is a princess now. The wheels started turning back in Twilight Time, it just took a sec for her to catch up. She likely would have caught it faster if she hadn't been busy feeling guilty about Pinch.
7746403 7746537
Staying Safe > Practically Everything Else
The finding of common ground might give Silver Spoon a moral and emotional reason to ease off on the CMC rivalry, but empathy's not enough. That reasoning might work for a few days, maybe a few months, but for this to stick, she also needs a solid pragmatic reason. Saving one's bacon is a pretty good reason.
7747404
Lawful Snobbish is such perfection I'm angry I didn't think of it myself. I've been angry for like a month what the heck that's brilliant and also how dare you.
7756739
Nicely observed, Glad you noticed the functionality of the Wisteria flashback.
7748148
Excellently observed as always, Ed.
Despite the (still true) reasoning given earlier of Pitch aging out of the stage, she could still find work in Manehattan for at least another decade, had Laurel not run into money trouble. Not only that, Laurel still got to go back to doing what he was already doing as an appraiser, albeit outside his chosen field of art every time he has to appraise another modern mishmash of abstract canvas he throws up a little in his mouth).
Not to mention this job offer is likely temporary, so it's more like a small taste of Pitch returning to her calling before going back to vocal coaching. Or even worse: her career actually DOES resurrect in Canterlot...which means either leaving or pulling up the family's roots again to move to Canterlot.
7755349
....
*looks at the current draft for the next chapter*
.... Somebody's been leaking my notes.
7863538
The jealous anger of a good author is high praise indeed.
7863538 The Mane 6 remind me of my grandfather. For all his retired life... the entire time I'd grown up around him, he did little more than play golf and watch TV. No one outside of his old military associates knew much about his experiences in the war. Even his sons didn't know much of the whole story. But my bother, a history major, pressed him for an interview of his time in the WWII Pacific Theater. And that's when we found out that he'd single-handedly led the defense of an island against a Japanese force ten times his unit's size, twice leading charges to repel enemy advances while carrying two submachine guns. After that battle, a Japanese commander surrendered to him and presented him with his family's katana, saying he'd never thought an American could fight with such ferocity like a samurai.
My grandfather received 2 Purple Hearts, 2 Silver Stars, and 4 Bronze Stars and was nominated for the Congressional Medal of Honor. A paperwork error was what kept it from him, and when a 4-star general who'd known him heard about it he told my grandfather he could have it resubmitted and approved. But my grandfather simply didn't want to be bothered. Speaking about it in that interview, it was the only time I'd ever seen sorrow on his face and his voice softer than I'd ever heard it when he mentioned he'd lost many friends over there. The war was over and he was done with it. He'd done what he had to do for his country, and that was all there was to it. He had many other stories, some about the Korean War, and some about his time as a diplomatic envoy to Saudi Arabia in the late 1950's.
My grandfather had accomplished some incredible things. And no one in our town knew in the least.
My grandfather on my mother's side served as a medic in Europe. He was part of the first troop movements to reach one of the major concentration camps. He died when we were only 13 and 11, so we never had the chance to ask him about it.. but I don't think he would have said much. According to my aunt, she could only recall him talking about it one time when he was pressed for information. "I never would have believed human beings could do things like that to another human being," was all he said.
https://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=i%27m+not+your+stepping+stone&&view=detail&mid=8649A2E43889EDC14A7A8649A2E43889EDC14A7A&FORM=VRDGAR
https://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=sugarloaf+don't+call+us%2c+we'll+call+you&docid=608026908341110241&mid=4542D77946D026A286A04542D77946D026A286A0&view=detail
Dammit, PP.
8169173
how do you get 2 purple hearts?
i always forget the school is named after her... wisteria would be ashamed of the way these supposed polite young ladies act.