The Hopeless Stand
Dear Dashie,
How’s the weather up there, sweetheart? Sorry. Dad joke. It’s a reflex by now.
Word on the street is that you and the Wonderbolts are having a heck of a time getting Cloudsdale to sit right again. Runaway clouds. Stray storms. Reminds me of my days on the Weather Patrol. Never had a clear sky until we managed to break down the northern cold front. Didn’t manage that until Celestia put the smackdown on that dang necromancer, Grogar.
Eh, but that was a long time ago. Before I met your mom, even. Way back when I was a respectable young colt. Ha!
But it feels like those good old days are coming back. Rarity’s been a real peach letting me stay and help out around the Homely House. Feels like we’re taking on more needy ponies by the day. Little do they know they’re about to feed, nay, feast upon Aurora Borealis’ World Famous Leek Soup! Got the recipe straight from your gramma. Gosh, she woulda loved to meet you. I gotta bet she’s proud.
Look at me, dragged back into the past again. I swear, I need my head examined. My daughter’s in the freaking Wonderbolts and all I can talk about is stuff from forty years ago. I’m looking forward to the next show you put on. Canterlot Stadium’s getting itself ready for that Equestria-wide tour. I know you’re gonna put butts in those seats like nobody’s business.
I’m so proud of you, Dashie. Don’t forget that.
Anyway, Rarity’s got a new addition planned for the House. Some more beds, another set of showers, real good stuff. Ponies need a little ray of sunshine while you guys rebuild their home.
You need to visit your old man soon, hear? I’m getting Dashie deficient.
I love you, sweetheart. I’ll see you on the silver screen, if I don’t see you in person first.
Dad
***
Light diminished above Ponyville’s cemetery. Flowers bloomed, flags waved, headstones stood like silent mountains. The tranquility was only broken by the scratch of a pencil on paper, and the swish of hooves in grass.
Caballeron steeled himself as he approached the large stallion. His orange sideburns waved like flames in the cooling breeze. The small pencil clenched between his lips moved with swift, sure movements, having tread the same paths many a time before.
“She gets more beautiful each time,” the big stallion said. He let the pencil drop into a bag at his side. He raised the page to the light of the sun and stared at the mare etched upon it. “Am I gettin’ more skilled, or is me memory fading?”
“She was always a beautiful mare.” Caballeron moved beside the stallion. He pulled his hat from his head and held it over his chest. His heart caught in his throat as he read the epitaph: Amber Waves, beloved mother, wife, and friend. “Too good for this world, it seems.”
“Blasted…” The big stallion clenched his chiseled blue jaw. He rested the paper against the headstone, held in place by a single red rose. “The job goes down t’night, then?”
“Quite.” Caballeron set the white Ponyma hat atop his salt-and-pepper-tinged mane. “It’ll be quick. She lives alone at the edge of downtown. We’ll pop in, pop her, and pop out.”
The big stallion grimaced, gazing into the middle distance. “You sure Merry didnae tire ye out?”
“I’ve strength enough.” Caballeron punched the stallion in the shoulder. “Come now, Kiln, you didn’t think I’d lose sight of priorities, did you?”
“Thought ye might lose sight of an awful lot when Merry Mare fills yer eyes.” Kiln stood, hefting his massive body with the powerful pile-drivers he called legs. “Ye ken what she’s capable of, Poni. Yet ye still go back. Is the company that good, or are ye really foolhardy enough tah love her?”
“Well…” Caballeron walked towards the edge of the field, moving with long, purposeful strides yet still falling short of Kiln’s easy lope. He winked up at Kiln. “The company is downright exquisite.”
Kiln grinned, barking out a single, deep, loud laugh. “Then ye are a vaster idiot than I thought possible, Poni!”
Caballeron rolled his eyes. “Love does strange things to us, K—”
He stumbled over a low-set gravestone. A plaque, more than anything. He caught himself with his forelegs, putting him eye-to-eye with the name of the deceased pony: Happy.
Caballeron felt sweat drip from beneath his hat to sting his eyes. He couldn’t dare to blink. His ears thumped with pressure as blood flowed quicker.
Kiln touched his shoulder and pulled him away from the plot of fertile grass. “Do ye think Merry can find yer son? Is it possible?”
Caballeron said nothing as he was dragged lightly away. He cleared a dry throat and licked a dryer tongue across his lips. He gave Kiln a slow nod, refusing to look him in the eye.
“Perhaps she can find me wife as well.” Kiln ran a hoof across his sideburns, though they sprang back up the instant his touch faded. “I’ll owe ye far more than just me life, Poni. I’ll owe ye all that I am.”
Caballeron found his voice through some miracle of willpower. “You needn’t make such a wager, old friend. We walk this road together, after all. We always have.”
“And now just a few steps more.” Kiln nodded, his face a mask of certainty far more palpable than Caballeron liked. “Aye. Just a few steps more.”
***
Sweetie watched intently as the show carried on. It was the quintessential Elements of Harmony tale; six friends would unite against evil, and triumph due to their ties with each other. River was the centerpiece, but the other characters put on a good showing. Monsters were fought, innocents were saved, and plenty of songs were sung.
All of them by Button. He had a warm voice, though a little higher than she might have expected. He had good rhythm, a nice cadence. There were maybe a few brown notes scattered throughout—wince-inducing at that—but he could learn. It was, all told, a very nice performance for an amateur.
The marionettes gathered before the gemstones that were the Elements of Harmony, each color-coordinated to the ones once welded by her sister and her friends. No one really knew what they looked like before the princesses got a hold of them, but it was a recognizable style choice. A song was sung about friendship or somesuch, and then they headed in for the final clash with the chief of the fairies, the Lord of the Sky.
Twilight Velvet chuckled from Sweetie’s side. “I love the thrill of a good final battle.”
Sweetie Belle shrugged, nudging her glasses up her snout. “Spoiler alert, not much of a battle when the Elements are involved.”
“Struggles are not always fought with fisticuffs.” Twilight Velvet winked, flicking her tail to a more comfortable position behind her. “I find the most interesting battles happen within the heart.”
“I could see that.” Sweetie Belle twitched her ears to focus on Button’s voice, half hoping Velvet wouldn’t respond. “Those hurt more when things go wrong, though.”
“Of course,” Velvet said. “The inner battle is the one where you have the most to lose.”
Sweetie squinted, her jaw pulling her cheek tight. Something onstage pulled her away from the older mare: A flash of light and a deep growl. The chief of the fairies emerged from backstage as a fiery bull, with minotaur-like hands grasping a serrated spear.
“You who would tarry
To battle the fairies
Have journeyed far enough
“Now you will face
Both my spear and my rage
On the this field of burning earth”
River strode forward, her hooves sparkling with the magic flowing through the marionette. The crown atop her head shimmered, joining the light of the other five Elements.
“You can stand at the head of a nation
You can spread pestilence through the same
But we’ll stand and we’ll fight
For what we know is right
Now let the friendship reign!”
Sweetie jerked back as the light pouring from the Element props surged forward to envelope the Lord of the Sky. Spike’s score swelled to greater heights. Button’s voice burst forth as a dark, gravelly scream. The monster that had plagued the heroes from the very start of the play, who had burnt villages, harried ponies, and set loose hydras, fell with a single, solid blow.
“If only real life was that easy,” Sweetie muttered.
Twilight Velvet sent her a small smile, then turned her attention to the colt curled up beneath her forelegs. Silver Lance mumbled as he was roused by the grand finale. “Did they get ’im?”
“They always do,” Velvet said, rubbing his mane. She pressed her lips together, lowering her eyebrows. “You know, Sweetie, I would think that my daughter—your sister, even—have some evidence that sometimes, it is that easy.”
Sweetie leaned sideways to stretch her right legs out. The joints protested as she eased them back and forth. “Access to Rainbow Power notwithstanding.”
“Point.” Velvet gave Silver a squeeze. She pressed her cheek against his. “I’ve always preferred a good right cross.”
Sweetie snorted. “Not really effective in the battle of the heart, is it?”
“You’d be surprised.” Twilight Velvet lifted Silver to his feet, setting him on wobbly hooves. “Once the show’s over, you go stay with Spike, okay? I’m gonna round up the girls.”
“Yes, Grandma.” Silver toddled off, his eyes half-open. His ears twisted as they sought out Spike’s voice.
The curtain parted, and all the marionettes took a bow. They stayed for one final round of applause before they were tucked back away into secrecy. Sweetie rose to her knees, preparing to push herself upright with her hind legs.
Twilight Velvet touched a hoof to her lips. “Finally found whatever you were waiting for, hmm?”
Sweetie turned her head at just the right moment to send her all but keeling over. Her four legs scrambled to right herself. “I beg your pardon?”
Velvet giggled. “You just seem inordinately excited for the show to be over.”
Inordinately, nothing. Sweetie had a date. “I’ve got some plans that I’ve been looking forward to. Just some stuff.”
Velvet winked before turning around, her head raised to find her granddaughters sitting in the branches of a nearby tree. “I hope you enjoy your ‘stuff.’ I’m glad to have met you again, Sweetie Belle.”
Sweetie curtseyed. “The pleasure’s all mine.”
Sweetie walked slowly towards the stage, letting the churning masses of children slide around her legs. She stopped before the curtain, and considered just pushing it to the side with a spell. She nudged her glasses upward.
She blinked. Something was wrong. Something was niggling at the back of her mind telling her she had—
No dress. No contact lenses. No makeup at all. She was plain, unadorned, so-so. Her heart beat faster than a hummingbird’s wings even as it sunk into her stomach. There wasn’t even time to go home and slip into something simple.
Even so, she was about to turn right around and attempt just that, when a head popped out of the curtain. It had a spiked mane, a brown coat, a well-groomed face, for crying out loud!
“Hay, Twist, is there any popcorn l—” The words and his smile died on his lips as he came inches away from Sweetie Belle’s nose. His eyes widened, and a lump forced its way visibly down his throat. “Hi, Sweetie.”
“Button.” Sweetie Belle felt the old, familiar, hot wash of embarrassment prickle across her cheeks. “Mash. Hi.”
“H-hi.” Button pulled away from her, dragging the curtain along between his forelegs. “You’re here about supper, right?”
Sweetie nodded and, unable to say anything, merely squeaked. “Mm hmm.”
Button bobbed his head, his eyes jumping across the crowd, to the sky, anywhere but her. “I—uh—I thought that—well—I was gonna pick you up at your house. I mean, I’ve still got to clean up here and it might take a bit, but—”
He froze as a strong, purple-scaled claw rested on his shoulder. Spike’s face appeared above Button’s, bearing a predatory smile. “Actually, Button here was just finishing up. Twist and Dinky and I have it from here. You guys just go on ahead and do what you do. Together.”
Button jolted forward out of the curtain, almost as if he were booted from behind. He dug his hooves in and skidded to a stop before colliding with Sweetie. She realized with a start that she hadn’t moved for a good minute.
“You two play nice,” Spike said. “Together.”
He vanished behind the curtain, leaving them to their own devices.
Button ran a hoof through his mane, his voice unsteady and low. “So. Good. That’s cool that you’re already here. I guess that—” His eyes shot to her as his ears fell back. “So you saw the show? Did you like it? I mean, I know it’s for kids, but maybe—”
“It was nice.” Sweetie forced a smile past the typhoon roiling in her stomach. “It was very, very nice. I enjoyed it quite a bit.”
“Awesome.” Button smiled wide, his gaze snapping between her and some vague spot on the ground. “That’s really great. Super cool. Thanks.”
Sweetie blew a breath through her lips that did nothing to calm her. “So… Where d-did you plan on taking us?”
“Oh shoot.” His short tail flicked behind him as he glanced at the café beside the stage. “Actually, would you wait here for a—”
“Monsieur Mash!” A pony—one of the servers at the café—waved from the other side of the picket fence, holding two tickets in the air. “Wonderful performance! Business boomed tonight indeed! I have my end of the bargain!”
“Hold that thought,” Button said with a hushed breath. He skittered to the pony, thanked him, and returned with the tickets in hoof.
“Enjoy your meal tickets!” the server said. The sentence hit Button with a force that caused him to wince from his ears to his tail.
“I—um…” He held out his hooves. One free entrée was scrawled proudly across the cardstock. His face drooped ever so slightly. “Does the café sound good?”
Something stilled in Sweetie when she saw his expression. A warmth overtook her buzzing innards, bringing with it a slightly fuzzy feel. A smile unencumbered by nerves touched her lips as she lowered her head to meet his eyes. “Yes. I would love to eat at the café.”
A laugh bubbled up from Button’s chest. “Good, cuz I think the only other option is hayfries at Hayburger.”
Sweetie shook her head and turned her ears away from the faint snicker coming from behind the curtain. “Shall we?”
“We shall.” Button Mash raised a hoof. It waivered for a second before he tapped it against the pavement. “Your reservation awaits. I think.”
Sweetie Belle took a half-step forward, rubbing her foreleg with the opposite hoof. “Lead the way.”
***
Caballeron waked into the general fray of an evening at Ponyville’s most popular bar. There weren’t many other such establishments around town, and they served good drinks, so the tavern had something of a monopoly on the industry.
The crowd parted around Kiln, giving the large stallion a wide berth. He glanced around the hullabaloo and took a seat. “How’re we gonna find Rhombus in this din?”
“You generally don’t look for Rhombus.” Caballeron chucked Kiln in the shoulder. “You stumble upon him when you least expect it.”
Caballeron scowled as somepony spilled their drink at his feet. He shoved the pony by the shoulder; they stumbled into the crowd. “I’ll do the searching. You figure out how we’re getting into the house.”
Kiln rubbed a bushy sideburn. He pulled a sheet of paper from his shirt pocket, on which was scribbled the floor plan of Carousel Boutique. “Aye. As ye say. Mayhap we’ll get through th’ night without makin’ a mess this time. ”
“Wish on, friend.” Caballeron eased himself past a rough bunch of colts gathered around a dart board. A picture of Mayor Applejack was taped to it, offering a more interesting target for their activities. Fun Police was lovingly scrawled beneath her portrait.
One pony must have made an off-color comment, because the biggest brute of the bunch reeled back and socked him right in the jaw. The pony tumbled to land at Caballeron’s hooves. He tipped his hat, turned away from the board, and left the colts to enjoy their night in peace.
A familiar face popped out of the crowd, belonging to a tall, thin pony with sunken cheeks. Caballeron stepped up to the bartender and tapped him on the back. The server’s skin retracted beneath his touch, squirming with a mind of its own. “I see you’ve some interesting customers tonight, Scuttlebutt.”
Scuttlebutt’s body shifted like water beneath an oily film. His skin snapped back into place with an elastic crack. “Poni. I’d expect a crowd like this on Friday, but this is ridiculous.”
“It’s about to get better.” Caballeron leaned against the table as Scuttlebutt wiped it down. “Have you seen Rhombus at all?”
“He’s around.” Scuttlebutt balanced a tray of half-consumed barley brew on his back. “Keeping a low profile.”
Caballeron turned to the ceiling and found little of interest among the stale air and dim lights. “Doesn’t seem like him.”
“If you say so.” Scuttlebutt grasped a cup out of midair before it could shatter against the floor. “He’d have to do something absolutely nuts to stand out among these morons.”
Caballeron tipped his hat back to pat a kerchief against his forehead. “Fate doesn’t much like being tempted.”
Scuttlebutt gave him a smile like a rat about to devour cheese. “Fate can do as she likes, so long as she pays her tab at the end of the night.”
A shout rose from the far side of the bar. A pegasus stood atop a table, a fiddle tucked beneath his chin. He strummed away, a bright smile on his youthful face.
Scuttlebutt growled from deep in his throat. “He’s your idiot. You take care of him.”
Caballeron watched carefully as Scuttlebutt vanished into the crowd, his body stretching and warping to squeeze between the patrons. He turned back to the pegasus, whose song carried above the general row. Eventually, he became the only voice hearable in the entire tavern.
“While I was flyin’ overhead
I chanced a glance at earth and said
That there’s a town that’s worth a visit
An’ place to rest my head
“Drank a pint of beer to clear my throat
So that I’d sing a touch more dear
To all the ears what hear
It echo far and near
From here down to the river
“An’ askin’ for a bed
I walked till I was dead
Tired as you could wonder
After all the land I wandered
In the beauty of Equestria
Five, four, three, two, one
“There’s a mare with no compare
The beauty of Equestria
Toodle-roo-a-dee!”
It was an old bar ballad, if Caballeron remembered correctly. It took strong lungs to keep up with the steady rhythm and constant rhyme. That, and a little too much enthusiasm.
The object of that enthusiasm became immediately apparent: Rhombus’ bright eyes never left the mare seated directly before him. She was a young thing, bountifully pretty, with a trusting smile and attentive ears. Rhombus was quick to flash her a roguish grin.
“What chanced I but to see
A vision of beauty before me
Locks of yellow, struck a fellow
With a song so utterly clear
“A-from my heart the words were burstin’
And in my soul a want was thirstin’
So then just like a fool
I asked her dear, would you
Chance a moment sittin’ with me?
“She said I know you not
But that can be forgot
So rest your weary plot
And we can laugh and talk
Sit with the beauty of Equestria
Five, four, three, two, one
“There’s a mare with no compare
The beauty of Equestria
Toodle-roo-a-dee!”
Caballeron felt a movement out of the corner of his eye just as Scuttlebutt slunk past. A pint was left in his wake, with a note suggesting a generous tip. Caballeron let the note fall beneath the table and brought his nose to the drink. Musty, foamy, enticing. He let his better judgment take control and set the drink back on the table. He needed a clear head for the night’s endeavor.
Rhombus pranced atop the table, his wings keeping him balanced and his fiddle strumming up a storm. The mare—nearly a filly, really—clapped in time, laughing with the enraptured crowd.
“The sittin’ didn’t sit right
Because the day was come to night
And wouldn’t you know my weary soul
She had to head on to her home
“I was fittin’ to be tied
An’ told her if she left, I cried
It’d be a murder to my pride
I couldn’t let her go without a chance
To follow at her side
“Her mother I would kiss
Her father I would thank
The both for comin’ together
To give her such a glorious flank
They sired the beauty of Equestria
Five, four, three, two, one”
“There’s a mare with no compare
The beauty of Equestria
Toodle-roo-a-dee!”
A commotion rose from the dart board. The gaggle of tall, strapping stallions paused their target practice to glare at Rhombus. One put his sunglasses on, despite the darkness in the tavern. He strutted towards the young, dancing pegasus, his shoulders swinging with every swagger.
Caballeron checked the keenness of his spur. Things could get messy.
“From there we made
Our way down to the river bank
Where the linen her mother was a-washin’
So’s that I could grab a drink
“Her father was a-wrigglin’
Mad when he saw her grin and gigglin’
Took a branch and said
Touch her you’ll be dead
Cuz I’ll bash in your head
“I sought but to placate
But found it was too late
His mind was up and made
And so he swung his stave
Because I kissed the beauty of Equestria
Five, four, three, two, one”
“There’s a mare with no compare
The beauty of Equestria
Toodle-roo-a-dee!”
Just as Rhombus reached the last note of the chorus, the big colt grasped his tail between his teeth and gave a tremendous yank. Rhombus tumbled head over fiddle to the tabletop, facing the dark sunglasses of his new opponent.
“You singin’ at my girl, fathead?” The young stallion growled with all the force his drunken testosterone was able to apply. “You singin’ at my girl, fuzzy-wings?”
Rhombus blinked curiously at the stallion. His mouth was a thin, noncommittal line. “Oh. Oh. Oh dear me, I’m terribly sorry.” He picked himself up and dusted off his chest with a wingtip. With the other wing, he pointed at the mare who now sat with her eyes wide and mouth covered. “She’s your girlfriend?”
“Glasses, please!” the mare said. “Leave him alone, he didn’t do anything!”
“I had no idea she belonged to you.” Rhombus chortled, brushing back his blue mop of a mane. “I mean, I had the inkling here that she was her own mare, doing what she wanted.”
Glasses reached up to grasp Rhombus by the neck, but the pegasus danced away. “She’s my girlfriend,” Glasses said, “and we don’t need you musclin’ in, horseapples-for-brains.”
“Heavens to me,” Rhombus said, stepping backwards off the table, a chair as his stepstool. “If I hadn’t found out she belonged to you, I might have done something stupid like—”
He grasped the mare by the shoulder, spun her around, and planted a deep, harsh kiss on her lips.
Caballeron rested his head in his hooves. “Oh Creator, here we go.”
Rage most pure and foul radiated from Glasses’ voice. “You freak! You freak!” He lifted the table aside and charged right for the Pegasus.
Rhombus extended a wing with a snap. A glint of metal whipped past Glasses’ face, sending his sunglasses flying. The metal bounced off a mug, careened against a dim lantern, and landed with a thud smack-dab in the center of Applejack’s portrait.
It was a small blade, nearly as thin as a sheet of paper. Combs tipped the back, rather than a handle, to allow it to rest secure and concealed beneath Rhombus’ feathers. The metal was two-toned, with veins of a darker color waving their way across the surface. A thin line of red trickled down the blade, discoloring the picture.
Glasses collapsed with a howl, clutching his bleeding ear.
Rhombus ended the kiss with a shove, sending the mare stumbling back. He brought his face close enough that his breath tickled Glasses’ untrimmed whiskers. “You mouth off at me again, I’ll take your nose off at range.”
He trotted towards Caballeron amongst a silent crowd, his face light and unconcerned. He winked at the fallen mare as he passed. “Thanks for the kiss, beautiful.”
She curled up and turned away, wiping her mouth with a swift hoof.
Caballeron tried and failed to keep his teeth from grinding as Rhombus took a seat beside him. “I hate you sometimes, you know.”
“Come on, Poni.” Rhombus’ coltish good looks sparked into a laugh of exhilaration. The bar returned to business as usual around them, with Glasses and his girlfriend making their way out the door. “You love to hate me and you know it.”
“No,” Kiln said, taking the third chair. “We just hate ye.”
“That’s rich, Kill.”
“It’s Kiln. With an N.”
Rhombus rolled his eyes, leaning his forelegs against the table to grasp Caballeron’s untouched beer. “The N is silent, Clopcrates. If you can’t even pronounce your own name right—”
Caballeron put his hoof down with a table-rattling thud. “Stop antagonizing each other. We’re on a job.” He glared at Kiln, staring the big pony down until he relented. “You have a plan for us?”
“Aye.” Kiln spread the floor plan across the table, pointing out several markers. “Second floor: This is the bedroom and the bathroom. First floor has another room with only one entrance. Most likely places for her to hole up if she’s spooked.”
Rhombus took a deep swig. “And I’m sure you’ll be happy to go tearing down every door you meet. It’s why we brought you along, Kill.”
“Kiln.” A hefty hoof tapped lightly at the rear entrance. “If we move quickly an’ quietly, we can take her before she has a chance to notice somethin’s wrong.”
Caballeron nodded. “I’d rather not raise the alarm if we can help it. Fill us in; how are we going to do it?”
***
The café was gently lit by bright candles at every table. There was a small indoor area, but part of the charm was the open air eatery, right in the center of Mane Street. One could enjoy both the delicious food and watch the ponies, griffons, and other sundry creatures walking past. Dinner and a show, essentially, especially when street performers would set up shop across the street.
So, the owner and proprietor had set up something of a reward for performers who gave his customers something to enjoy. He gave out meal tickets as thanks for a boost in atmosphere, among other things. It made the spot across the street a coveted position for the street musicians of Ponyville.
Button Mash clutched his tickets tight as he stood before the server pony. He cleared his throat a few times before he felt comfortable speaking. “T-table for two, please.”
The server looked from him, to Sweetie, to him, and back to Sweetie. He smiled. “Of course, Monsieur Mash! Had I known you intended to use the tickets immediately, I might have set up a table already.”
“Believe me, it was a surprise.” Button allowed himself a chuckle. Thirty seconds later, he suspected it was going a little too long. “Yeah. It’s okay.”
They were led to a seat right beside the picket fence surrounding the café. Stars peeked out from among the sparse clouds, glinting among the purple and red shades of the evening sky. Button tilted his head back, his breath caught in his throat. “Wow.”
“It really is a nice night,” Sweetie said. She leaned her cheek against her shoulder in that way that made Button’s heart feel like it was going to rattle right out of his chest. “Thank you for inviting me.”
“N—No thanks needed. I…” Button rubbed his chin and found a stray whisker that Snips had missed. He pushed it from his mind and pulled out both seats. “I really wanted to thank you. I mean, for even showing up and… It just…”
She took a seat, and he sat opposite. He wrung his hooves together beneath the table and fought against the jittery feeling pulling his eyes from hers. “I-I… The sheer fact that you would even come, that you would even consider it, it just…” He shook his head, blinking back a sting in his eyes. “It blows my mind.”
Sweetie Belle brushed a lock of mane behind her ear. “I’m happy to.”
Button Mash scoured his mind for something, anything, to say. His eyes and ears shot towards the stage, which Spike was separating into individual boards for travel. “The sh-show. Did you like it? I mean, I’m sorry you had to suffer through my voice—”
“No!” Sweetie Belle’s head popped up as her mouth popped open. “No, you voice was very nice. It was a very nice show.”
Button gave her a lopsided grin. “For an amateur?”
Sweetie lifted her glasses aside with a spell and rubbed an eye. “Well, my sister says you’re only an amateur until you get paid for it.”
Button snorted despite himself. He covered it up with a feigned cough. “I guess that makes me as professional as they come.”
“It does.” Sweetie Belle leaned back to allow the server to place a lemonade in front of her. Button did the same. “I don’t think I’ve seen that play before. Where did you find it? Is it an older one?”
“Oh, no, no. It’s pretty new.” The hair on the back of Button’s neck rose as the tart flavor rolled through his cheeks. “I wrote it.”
“You?”
Button winced at the outburst, his teeth pressed firmly together. He gave her a small nod as he all but shrunk into his seat.
“That’s amazing!” Sweetie leaned in, her smile brighter than the moon peeking over the horizon. “I had no idea you were a songwriter.”
“I-I’m not, really.” Button’s brief shame was overpowered by the brute force of his nerves returning. “I just came up with the lyrics. Spike wrote the music.”
“That still makes you a songwriter, Button.” His name came out as a laugh, warm and cheerful.
It was infectious. Button couldn’t help but laugh her name as well. “Sweetie… I’m probably not up to your level.”
“That comes with time, patience, and practice.” Sweetie gave the menu a double-take, like she hadn’t seen it before. Her eyes flicked across the choices as she spoke. “Have you written anything else?”
“I mean, kinda.” Button followed suit, picking his favorite meal out immediately. “Nothing I’d want to show off in public, though.”
Sweetie pressed her cheek against her hoof. “What about me?”
“Definitely not!” Button leaned back in his seat, tilting his head up to see the stars twinkle. “No, I don’t think you’d like it. No, not really. It’s just bad.”
Sweetie tilted her head, her mischievous smirk twisting Button’s innards. “I think you’re wrong.”
“You haven’t even seen it.”
“That’s why I think you’re wrong.”
“You’ll know I’m right when you see it.”
“So prove it.”
“I don’t wanna.” Button’s smile widened by the moment. “Better you think it’s good than for me to prove it’s bad.”
Sweetie paused to sip her drink. “I’m gonna hear that song.”
“No you’re not.”
“I totally am.” Sweetie wrinkled her muzzle. “And you’re gonna sing it for me.”
Button’s grin was starting to hurt, but he didn’t care. He touched his temple, closing his eyes and speaking around the hiccups hopping from his chest. “Alright. Alright, if you insist. Just not tonight.”
Sweetie let her shoulder slump. “No?”
“You gotta give me time to fix it up, right?” He pressed his hooves against his glass and felt the cool condensation dampen his coat. He rested his foreleg against the napkin, giving his eyes something to look at beside Sweetie. “You gotta give me time to make it good. It’s gotta be perfect if I sing it to you.”
“Not necessarily,” she said, her voice hushed.
The tone broke the last of Button’s reserves. He looked her right in the eye, past the frameless glasses, through the crystal clear irises.
“But you should do your best.” The stars dimmed in comparison to the light in Sweetie’s heart. “That’s all anyone can ask.”
“It’s what I want to do,” Button said. “I want to do my very best. Always.”
Sweetie took a deep, soft, slow breath. She leaned her head forward. “I know.”
“Ahem.”
Button’s ears snapped to attention, swiveling to face the server who stood right next to their table. “Um. Hi.”
“Are monsieur and mademoiselle ready to order?”
“Order…?” Button shook his head, bopping his forehead. “Ah, food! That’s right, we’re here for food. I guess.”
Sweetie narrowed her eyes, hiding her smile behind her hoof.
“I’ll have the potato pot pie.” Button twisted to Sweetie, a thought occurring to him. “Or, er, are you ready to order, Sweetie?”
“I am.” Sweetie Belle floated her menu to the server’s waiting hoof. “The fruit salad, and can I have the oranges on the side?”
“Of course, mademoiselle.” The server folded the menus across his back and performed a short bow. “I shall seek to be as unobtrusive as possible. Should you need anything, merely raise a hoof.”
“Thanks,” Button said. He glanced across the road to see Spike hefting the various pieces and parts of the stage onto his back. The dragon gave him a thumbs-up, and then set off towards Button’s house.
“I did have a question.” Sweetie Belle twiddled her fork between her hooves, letting her tail wave lazily back and forth behind her. “You said you wrote the story… but isn’t it just the same old story about the Elements?”
“Well, yeah.” Button rubbed the back of his neck, forcing his coat to lay flat. “I mean, the story’s older than Celestia, but the script was my own. It was just a story I really wanted to tell.”
Another sip of lemonade, another adorable pucker. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. I—” Button Mash scratched his cheek, thinking over the jumble of words about to tumble from his mouth. He took his time, seeking the choicest morsels to share. “I guess the thing of it is that those old stories? The ones that stick with us? The ones that people keep retelling? It’s because those stories are powerful. They’ve got… a real impact. A solid core.”
He crossed his forelegs atop the table, sucking on his lower lip. “I think that they’re still around because somewhere, deep in the very core, every single one of those stories is built on truth.”
She let loose with a cheesy grin. “‘What is truth?’ as they ask.”
“Laugh it up, why don’t yah?” Button rubbed his muzzle. “What was your favorite story when you were little?”
“Wasn’t much into fiction.” Sweetie shrugged. “I was more likely to read Coloratura’s biography than anything.”
“Hay. There’s a story built on truth.” Button lowered his eyebrows, wrinkling his forehead. “There’s a lot of stories out there that are really neat. Fantastic adventures. Whimsical friendships. Deep romances…” Something got caught in his throat. A couple of coughs later, he could push past it. “But if that’s all there is to them, I don’t think they’ll last. The kid grows up and forgets them, or find they were fiction and decides that the whole thing’s bunk.”
He chuckled, puffing out his cheeks. “I think we all went through a ‘Real life’s not like that!’ phase, right?”
Sweetie Belle turned away, her cheeks heating up. “I can imagine.”
“But you get a story built on a foundation of truth… it can stick with you.” Button patted his chest, just above his thundering heart. “Y-you get in a hard time and you can think back to that story. You can remember ‘Yes, this is real. This is good and right. This matters.’”
Sweetie lowered her head, but her eyes looked over her glasses to him. “What’s the truth behind River’s story?”
Button blinked away the moisture in his eye. He brushed his spikey mane with a hoof, wiping the tear away before she could see it. “You’re never alone. Not really. There’s always someone ready to stand beside you, if you’ll let them.”
Sweetie Belle leaned back, letting her ears rest to either side. “That’s the honest truth?”
“It’s the powerful truth.” Button spread his hooves, bent at the knees. “And if that truth is all I have to give to those kids, I’ll give it gladly.”
Sweetie bit down on her lower lip, suppressing a giggle. “So the stories that last the longest are the ones with truth behind them, right?”
“That’s my feeling, yeah,” Button said. “Generally speaking.”
Sweetie looked to the stars. Her coat shone in the light of the moon, all but glowing by herself. “How do you explain Daring Do, then?”
“Daring—” Button laughed. He slapped his knee and sucked a breath through clenched teeth. “Point taken. She’s just a little fantastical, isn’t she?”
“Only a lot.” Sweetie Belle puffed her chest out, bobbing her head to the beat of an internal song. “Another one bites the dust…”
“No. You know what?” Button lifted himself straighter in his chair, gripping the backrest to steady himself. “No, actually, it is built on truth.”
Sweetie raised an eyebrow. “Enlighten me.”
“The world is an awesome place and deserves to be explored.” He clapped his hooves together with a decisive blow. “Q.E.D.”
Sweetie Belle shook her head slowly. “And you got all of that out of ‘I’ll get you next time, Daring Do!’?”
“Oh yes, of course.” Button solemnly bowed his head. “You see, the struggle between Daring Do and Ahuizotl is really an allegory for the constant battle between ponies and their own primal nature.”
“Ah, I see.” Sweetie placed her hooves against each other, lighting her horn in a faux halo. “I too have often watched my primal nature tumble off a cliff or become crushed by a collapsing temple.”
“Point taken. Again.” Button let his pattering laughter subside. “Stories being fun is important, too. Hugely important.”
Sweetie Belle tilted her nose back. “Maybe that’s the biggest truth.”
“Yeah.” Button Mash slurped up the last of his lemonade, raising a hoof to call the server. “Maybe you’re right.”
***
Sweetie found her mouth dry, and it had nothing to do with the six cups of lemonade that she’d drank that night. Nor was it the delicious meal she’d shared with Button. Unless it was totally the meal. Maybe it was less the meal and more the company.
He was taller than her. Not by much, but enough that she had to look up to see his amber eyes. He was mostly leg, thin at the waist, and with a narrow snout. There was some muscle packed in here and there, tucked away for safekeeping by the training he did as a volunteer firefighter; he and the other young stallions around town.
They’d almost saved Rainbow Dash’s cloudhouse that one time. Almost.
He stared straight ahead as they walked side-by-side, but her eyes kept returning to him. She fought to find something, anything, to say, but nothing came to mind. So she decided to enjoy the silence of the night air, feeling the warm breeze against her skin and letting her heart trill at the memory they’d shared.
A bell along the roadside, the closest fire bell to her house, rocked back and forth on its rope. The hammer brushed gently against the bell, humming out a tender song.
Dang girl, she thought. You couldn’t have picked a better night.
They paused on Sweetie’s porch, facing each other, trying desperately to decide whether to look at each other or anything else. Eventually, Sweetie’s eye locked on his and held tight.
“Thank you,” he breathed.
“Y-yeah.” Sweetie lifted a hoof, halted in mid-movement, and switched to rubbing her knee. “It was great.”
“Do…” Button tried again, this time with air in his lungs. “Would you like to do it again next week? Or maybe I can see you after Sunday’s meeting? Or sometime?”
“I—” Would love to, she thought, but a chill ran down her spine as a reminder. “I might not be in town this weekend. Or next week. There’s a trip that… that I might be taking.”
“Oh.” He lowered his head, grasping at a tight muscle in his neck. “Okay. I guess that—”
“B-but after I get back!” She took a step forward, bringing herself inside his personal space. That same rosy tinge touched her cheeks far more keenly than the makeup could have ever brought it out. “After I get back, I would lo—I would enjoy it very much.”
Life returned to Button in a flash of his eyes and a bounce of his hooves. “Really?”
“Yes.” Sweetie’s lips babbled without her direct control, but with her unwavering consent. “Yes, Button Mash. Very much yes.”
“Great!” Button laughed the loudest he had that night, as if alerting the neighborhood to his glee. “That’s… that’s awesome! That’s—” He looked to the left and right. He must not have found what he was looking for, because he came right back to her. “Look, when you—just let me know when you’re gonna be back. I’ll have it all planned out. Just… Yeah, that’s about right. Just let me know, okay?”
“I will.” Sweetie’s cheeks hurt, but it was a good hurt. It was exercise. It was practice for all the smiling she was gonna be doing later. “You’ll be the first to know.”
“Yes! Okay, yes!” Button backed away, and almost tripped over the edge of the porch. “I, um, I’ll look forward to it. I’ll see you soon, then?”
“Yes,” She said, unable to say much else. “So very much yes.”
“Okay.” He turned his body around, but his head was still towards her. He tripped over her bushes before finding the strength to navigate. “Okay! Bye! Goodnight!”
She waved. “Goodnight, Button!”
“Goodnight!” He ran into the street, clicking his hooves at the apex of every leap. “Whoo!”
She leaned against the door and watched him for as long as she dared. She breathed a deep sigh and slid down, reaching up to grasp the door handle.
Her ears lay against her head. Her showroom light was on. She hadn’t turned it on before she left. Shadows moved around behind the curtain. The click of hooves on her wood floor sounded from the far side.
Someone was in her house.
She swallowed hard. “Button? Button!”
She glanced around, but he was probably too far away to hear. Her magic glimmered as she grasped a rock from the garden around the Carousel Boutique. Her hoof gripped the door, her hind legs braced themselves, and the rock prepared its assault.
She swung the door open and was immediately assaulted by a particular orange-coated pegasus mare. “Oh my gosh, you’re back! Was the date awesome? Was Button a gentlecolt? Are you gonna date him again? Has he already asked you to marry him? Have you declared your undying love forever?”
“Scootaloo?” Sweetie Belle pushed her away, letting the rock drop having bashed in no skulls. “What the heck are you doing in my house?”
Scootaloo landed, letting her purple wings slide around Sweetie’s middle. “You’ve got a spare key on the sill of the second-floor window.”
Sweetie Belle frowned. “No I don’t.”
“Okay, I have a spare key on your second-floor windowsill.” Scootaloo dragged Sweetie into the showroom, where she took to the air once more. “Fill me in! Was it awesome? Was it awful? Are you at least better at the whole romance thing than Apple Bloom? Please tell me you’re better at this than Apple Bloom.”
“It was nice.” Sweetie Belle’s tail swished forward to cover her cutie mark. “It was a very nice dinner during which we had a lot of fun.”
Scootaloo waited for her to continue. “That’s it?”
“What do you mean?”
“No tearful declarations? No awkward proposals? No painful encounters with an old rival? No tragic revelations about your physical makeup?”
“What?” Sweetie reeled back, scrunching her muzzle. “No! None of that!”
“Huh.” Scootaloo slumped in midair, a look of intense concentration in her eyes. “That’s how my first date with Rumble went, at any rate. I must’ve lucked out.”
“Scootaloo,” Sweetie said, “you have always been an inspiration to me. Sometimes, you inspire what not to do.”
“Fair enough!” Scootaloo fluttered down to give Sweetie a squeeze. “You done good, kid. Not bad for a first date then?”
“No. No, not at all.” Sweetie hugged back and nuzzled her friend’s neck. “Good enough to want a second.”
“Sweet!” Scootaloo’s smile dimmed a bit, not quite fading away. “How about that offer you got from that griffon guy? That one with the big chin? Thought about that?”
“Yeah.” Sweetie walked over to Carousel Boutique’s waiting area. She slumped into a chair beside the pile of old magazines. “And I’m still not sure. I kinda feel better about it, but…”
The door thumped with the force of a heavy hoof.
Scootaloo glanced back. “You expecting more company?”
“I wasn’t expecting you.” Sweetie Belle stood up. After a moment’s thought, she lifted an umbrella from its perch and hid it behind her back. “So, stay close. Okay?”
Scootaloo snapped a smart salute. One with the wrong hoof, but it was the thought that counted. The door rumbled more insistently than the last time.
Sweetie sent the chain in place with a great deal of care, then cracked the door open. “I’m sorry, but the Boutique is closed for the evening.”
A coltishly handsome face greeted her from the far side. A pair of sunglasses sat atop his head, looking a little out of place late at night. “Sorry to bother you, ma’am. I’m new in town and was hoping to get directions to the local inn.”
“Oh.” Sweetie Belle glanced down the dark road. “If you just follow this down, you’ll get the Town Square. Cross to City Hall and follow right and you’ll reach—”
The door came off its hinges.
Sweetie was shoved to the ground. Scootaloo flapped her wings hard to launch herself away. A stallion easily as big as Macintosh walked in, making room for the coltish stallion and a third, older brute. The big guy looked right at Scootaloo. “Rhombus, take care of her.”
Rhombus leaped into the air, spreading his wings. He favored Scootaloo with what was almost a charming smile. “I’ll give you a head-start, precious.”
Scootaloo’s gaze snapped between the assailants and Sweetie. She growled and picked the umbrella up, swinging it like a sword. “Screw you, sleazebag!”
The eldest stallion nodded to Sweetie. “Grab her, Kiln. We’ll clean up after—”
His ears lay low against his skull. His teeth ground as he rubbed his temples beneath his Ponyma hat. “For the love of—Rhombus! Be gentle! He wants the pegasus, too!”
Sweetie looked out the door, through the old stallion’s legs. The rock from the garden still sat on the porch, as ready for action as it ever was. She gripped it as tight as she could and let it fly, straight for the big stallion’s head.
It collided with the force of a carriage crash. The stallion’s eyes rolled back in his head as he careened for the floor. He caught himself with his forelegs, shaking the dazedness from his head.
Sweetie leapt to her hooves and ran. She ran for the single most secure room in the house: the Inspiration Room. One door with a sizable lock. One window too small for any of the stallions to climb through. “Scootaloo! Come on!”
Scootaloo missed Rhombus’ head by a mile. He danced and pranced around her, posing after each failed attack. “You know, ma’am, you paint a rather striking picture. Just where have you been all my life?”
Scootaloo landed a blow against his shoulder. He didn’t seem to notice. “Planning your funeral!”
He caught the umbrella. He clicked his tongue. “Naughty, naughty.”
A blow to her knee knocked the umbrella from her grip. She fell from the air, screaming and clutching the injury. Sweetie Belle looped a spell around her tail and dragged her along, towards the potential safety of the Inspiration Room.
Rhombus landed right in front of her. She refused to stop. She lowered her head and aimed her horn right for his neck.
He slapped her, causing her to fall to his right. He spread his wings and tiptoed to Scootaloo’s side. “You’re both quite brave. I admire that in a pon—”
In one smooth motion, Scootaloo stood up, grabbed his mane, and punched him with all her might. He swore with the deepest, darkest curses Sweetie had ever heard.
The big pony, Kiln, grabbed her around her waist, holding her forelegs and wings against her torso. Blood matted his orange mane. “Rhombus, ye’re embarrassin’ yerself.”
“Ruddib mawr!” Rhombus squeezed his nose tight, his tongue trying and failing to find Equish. “She brog by dose!”
Scootaloo squirmed in Kiln’s grip. “I’ll break your wings next, you slimy eel!”
Sweetie pushed herself off the ground, wincing at the bruises appearing on her face and legs. She looked up to see the older pony strutting closer, tipping his hat back with a grumble.
The rock lay across the room, unmarred by its use.
Her horn flared as she propelled it to its favorite head. “Hay, meathooks!”
Kiln frowned at her. “Now that’s a bit uncalled for, do ye nae—”
His grip on Scootaloo loosened as the projectile found its mark. Scootaloo shot forward, grabbing Sweetie’s shoulders and dragging her into the Inspiration Room. They locked the door behind them, set the sewing machine up to barricade it, and leaned against it.
Sweetie looked to Scootaloo, her limbs trembling. “Wh—who are they? What do we do?”
“Don’t look at me! I’m no—” Scootaloo tilted her head back, cocking an ear. “You hear that?”
“Hear what?” It was faint, bit it was there. It was insistent. It was something she’d been trained to know meant trouble.
The fire bell was calling its volunteers.
***
Just a few moments before, Button had heard Sweetie calling his name. He’d rushed to see what was up, but found little in the way of actual trouble. He saw Scootaloo rush out of the house to hug her friend, saw them go inside, and decided that perhaps it was a false alarm.
The three thugs prowling around the neighborhood, though? That was something to watch out for.
He peered from behind a shrub, hoping against hope that he wasn’t being a creeper himself. They were rough customers, all told, muscular and dark of eye. On the warpath towards something nefarious, too, judging by the way they kept looking around.
“Please be nothing, please be nothing, please be nothing.”
They approached the front door of the carousel and knocked. Button kicked himself and moved closer.
“I’m new in town,” the shortest stallion said, “and was hoping to get directions to the local inn.”
Button leaned against the bush, breathing a great gulp of relief. Just a false alarm. Nothing disastrous at—
The big stallion kicked the door down. Button Mash’s blood came to a boil in an instant. “Hay! Hay!”
They didn’t hear him. They were already inside. Inside with Sweetie Belle. And Scootaloo, too.
“Sweetie!” Button took a step forward, but stopped with a scrape of hooves on pavement. The biggest stallion was five times his weight. The others weren’t much better odds. Rushing in would get all of them killed. He had to do something! It was an emergency!
An emergency like a fire.
Button flipped around faster than his legs could keep up. He thundered down the road at a speed that made his lungs ache. The fire bell stood tall, a beacon of rescue and safety. He grasped the cord in his teeth and yanked with all his might.
The peal rang through the whole city. It reached the ears of every volunteer, everyone who’d promised help in time of need. Button yanked again, and again, and again, until he was certain that the message had gotten through.
But it would take time for the others to show up. Time Sweetie and Scootaloo didn’t have.
He kicked himself again, and charged back the way he came.
Light poured from the gaping door into the street. Shadows moved within the light, depicting three unsavory characters. Button nearly tripped over the bush before he had the presence of mind to leap over it. He came down funny on his ankle, but he could push through the pain. Sweetie needed help. Sweetie was in danger.
“Hay!” He stood tall in the doorway, hoping to at least distract his opponents from their goal. “Hay, um, doofuses! Yeah, that means you!”
Three sets of eyes turned from the Inspiration Room door. They regarded him with emotions ranging between disinterest and disgust.
“Bring down the door,” said the pony with a salt-and-pepper mane. “I’ll shut him up.”
Button’s heart all but exploded. He gave a mighty shout and charged for the stallion.
With expert timing, the older pony brought a hoof up to meet Button Mash’s chest with a crackling blow. Button’s legs stood ramrod straight as he toppled. Fire broke out in his torso as the air left him. Pain like none he’d ever experienced blazed beneath his skin.
He heaved himself upward. His chest screamed. He swung a wild punch and hit thin air.
The older pony took even, measured steps back from every blow Button threw. He looked Button Mash up and down, his mouth a faint grimace. “I admire your spirit, at least.”
Button snapped his teeth. “What do you want with Swee—eeee!”
When the pony’s next attack hit, something definitely snapped. Tears streamed down Button’s face as he screamed through a clenched jaw. His hind legs fell out from beneath him. His forelegs struggled to keep him upright.
“Caballeron,” the big pony said, “we’re through!”
“Bring them as quietly as possible.” Caballeron circled around Button Mash, cracking his fetlocks. A metal brace on his right leg flipped out to reveal a sharp blade. “To kill you would be a waste. You’ve got strength, boy. You’ve got drive. You could change the world if you knew what you were doing.”
Button pushed forward in an attempt to headbutt Caballeron. The stallion caught him by the forelegs and sent a swift kick into Button’s gut.
Caballeron let him drop to the floor. He gave him another kick—one aimed at his ribs—that sent him rolling. “I’ve changed the world. It’s not as hard as it looks. It changes you, too. Are you ready for that sort of change, boy?”
Button Mash pushed against the floor, but it stayed solidly in place. The edges of his vision faded to black. His body pleaded for unconsciousness.
“Ah.” Caballeron knelt beside him, tipping his hat back. “There’s the spirit, boy. There’s the fire. Never stop fighting.”
Caballeron kicked Button Mash in his broken ribs. He kicked his gut, his head, his back. Button curled up, trying and failing to protect the softer bits of his body. His head flopped against the cold floor.
He saw, as his vision faded in and out, that Sweetie Belle was held tight in the grip of the big pony. Scootaloo was out like a light, draped across the pegasus stallion’s back. They moved through the Boutique, paying him little heed.
Button Mash summoned up the last reserves of his strength to send a mighty blow flying at Caballeron’s head.
The blade flashed. Button fell, a deep gash across his chest. He stared up at the ceiling, his breath coming in spurts, the bright light overhead darkening with the outline of a pony’s face.
“Be careful how you change the world, boy,” Caballeron said. “Sometimes, it changes for the worse.”
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Also, well timed for yesterday's episode, which had another character in basically this position.
I'm happy Sweetie is impressed by Button's showmanship, singing voice, writing... etc. It helps put together this puzzle of why would they be attracted to each other on a deeper level, and what would make them good partners for each other.
... Come to think of it, being able to write and direct people in a production (which is somewhat what Button did, yes?) is another application of puppeteering, isn't it?
Like RadicalDishonesty said, this is an incredibly well timed chapter.
Would Kiln be so eager to help if he knew/thought Merry was the one who killed his wife? Also, is the "n" silent? I don't think it is, but I could be mistaken.
That play by Button was pretty good, even if I suspect it will be outdated within a few years. Of course, it should be possible to change it up by changing the puppets.
Speaking of the music, you do better at songs than anyone else on this site, even if I'm not sure how the music is supposed to be. It fits with the story, but is good by itself.
That dinner scene was very sweet, you've met your minimum daily requirement of *hnghh*. Also, it appears that Rarity is better at keeping secrets than Rainbow.
I loved the fake out with Scootaloo, although I didn't expect her to be kidnapped along with the others. Seriously, if she had used the technique I had suggested she probably could have defeated all of them, even if they would have needed to be taken to the hospital afterwards. Ah well, maybe she'll make herself some cool ice armor later.
Thanks for the chapter, I'm looking forward to the next one.
This chapter the action returns to Ponyville.
I saw a alt ending of that story on this site where Celestia appears, takes the soul of the match girl, brings her to Equestria and turns her into a pony.
Now I'm not the 'Wars expert, but old Pappy seemed like he did his best for Anakin. Sure, he made him do a lot of difficult things, but he also taught him quite a lot, got him a good job, and seemed ready to save Anakin's wife's life when the time was right. He also saved his life and gave him a shiny new body.
All the changlings will waddly fatly through the streets in peace!
Ugh-oh, the second most motherly pony Twilight knows (after Celestia) is now her mother-in-law. "Uhm, you know Twilight, Bulk and I would be happy to babysit any grandfoals you give us... if that's alright with you."
Tell Cadance to get on my level!
Yes, yes it did.
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Hey! Just because I know that chemtrails from the Breezy migration release diluted Ambrosia to keep the populace docile, or that when Hurricane tried to assassinate Celestia there was a second hitman on the grassy knoll (a diamond dog named Grassy Gnoll), doesn't make me a conspiracy theorist! You're just claiming that because you were told to by the earth pony bakers who run the world!
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This reminded me why Merry is a villain, right off the bat. I wonder if Cab knows what his wife did? That's going to come back and haunt him.
Strange, I thought you said Spike didn't develop wings? He's certainly showing off his wingman-skills here.
Should be of the Deputy Mayor, she'd make the most fun police ever!
Does he work two jobs or has he just not found working under Mayor AJ agreeable? Either way, I pity the poor stallion who passes out in this bar, they might now wake up...
Charming, yet also a complete flankhole. I like Poni's crew already.
Man this scene was sweet. I know it's kind of obvious with the title, but singing does seem like the best way to a mare's heart. Even Rhombus knows that!
Sounds like a parable to me. The truth isn't in the details, it's in the lesson. Hopefully not everything about Button's play will need to change in the end.
I love that Button was smart enough to do this instead of just rushing in and making things worse. Props to his brains.
And now I'm rooting against Caballeron again, so I guess it worked. Not sure how Button will be up and ready to chase after Cab with those bruises and a hole in his chest though.
So the main plot has kicked off, and Button has been given the push he needs to become a hero, if he's got the stones for it.
Man! I just LOVE these chapters! Keep up the awesome work! Btw, I know I asked this in the last chapter but when there's a song in a story, I really like to know the tune while reading it. I assume you wrote these lyrics, which is totally cool (!), but I was wondering if it was inspired by a song or something. If not then I'll just make a tune on the spot. Btw, I don't know if this is me but I'm hearing Rhombus in a Irish accent for an odd reason, but still awesome character! Really funny! Again, keep up the awesome work and can't wait for the next one!
You know what I just realized? Unless I'm remembering wrong, this is the first story in this continuity to not feature an adorable baby speaking gibberish.
Either you added this line in response to the new episode, or this is a really amazing coincidence.
Great chapter, but you really need an editor!
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From now on, when there's a song in a chapter I'll put a link to the tune in the description. (Unless, of course, I write a song that isn't just using the music of another one.
)
Rhombus' song is based on 'The Rocky Road to Dublin'. (He totally has an Irish Brogue!
)