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Age 6: Happy Father's Day2,052 words
Age 72,930 words
Age 8, First Verse3,330 words
Age 8, Second Verse3,490 words
Age 92,435 words
Age 10, First Verse4,103 words
Age 10, Second Verse3,680 words
Age 11: Happy Hearth's Warming Eve2,055 words

Age 8, First Verse

Twilight had worked hard on the old Friendship Castle. It was a nice enough residence to begin with, to be sure, but it seemed the Tree of Harmony hadn’t really understood how modern ponies actually lived. Oh, it had been alright when it was just her and Spike and Starlight, but, after the wedding—after she got pregnant—it was time for a change. She and her growing family needed someplace to themselves, where they could go to relax after a long day, something more than just another empty office marked “Private.” So, under the guidance of Cadance’s best lithomancers, and with some input from Flash, Twilight had sealed off a whole wing of the palace and converted it, bit by bit, into an actual, livable apartment—quite cozy, if she said so herself—accessible from an exterior stairway that was almost invisible from the front gates.

Twilight was nervously straightening the foyer of said apartment when a knock sounded at the door. She smiled, trotted over, and swung it open, revealing Pinkie Pie, with Whiskey, Tango, and Foxtrot at her hooves, all four of them wearing saddlebags packed almost to busrting. “Come on in,” Twilight said brightly, stepping back to admit them.

“Thanks so much, Twilight,” Pinkie said, following her three little ones inside the castle.

“Mama said you have a dragon!” Whiskey practically exploded. “Where is he?”

Twilight smiled a little, then shook her head. “I used to,” she said, “a long time ago.”

Whiskey gasped. “What happened?” she asked, suddenly concerned.

“He grew up,” she said. “One day, he just…” she shrugged. “...just walked out the door, and didn’t come back for a month or two. I was so worried about him…” she sighed. “But, that’s just what dragons do when they start growing up—they start looking for a cave of their own.” She had a sad, distant look on her face--almost as if she had forgotten they were there. “He still comes back every so often… and brings us some gems, too, while he’s at it. It’s good to see him, but...” She shrugged. “It’s just not the same.” She was quiet for another moment, then looked down at Whiskey and smiled. “Would you like me to invite you over next time he’s around?”

“Yeah!” Whiskey cried excitedly.

“Alright then,” Twilight said with a chuckle. She looked between all three of the little ones. “Why don’t you say bye to your mom, then go on and set your things down?”

Pinkie smiled, then knelt and pulled all three kids in for a hug. Twilight shook her head—they were getting so big already, she could barely believe it. She still remembered seeing them for the first time in the hospital, so tiny… and to think, it had been eight years already…

Pinkie kissed each of them in turn, then smiled. “I love you guys,” she said. “Be good, okay? Auntie Twilight is being very nice to all of us.”

Foxie and Whiskey nodded eagerly, and Tango smiled brightly. “Okay, Mama,” he said.

Pinkie smiled. “Good. Now, go put your things away, and I’ll see you on Monday, alright?”

“Okay!” they said in unison. Tango and Foxie took off running down the hall, and Whiskey glided after them.

“Spare bedroom!” Twilight called. “Second door on the left!”

They heard a door slam, and Pinkie sighed. “Thanks, Twi,” she said. “Sorry to spring this on you.” She chuckled a little. “I mean, I was gonna have ‘em out at the Apples’ place… after all, they sure wouldn’t mind all that room to run around in.” She shook her head. “But, y’know, little Hoedown came a little sooner than AJ was expecting, so...”

Twilight nodded. “Do you know if Softie was able to get back in time?”

Pinkie shook her head. “Don’t think so,” she said. She paused, then chuckled. “No big deal, really—they’ll have another one next year, after all!”

Twilight smiled. “What are they odds they’re already planning for it?”

Pinkie chuckled again. “Oh, come on, Twilight,” she said, “I don’t think they’ve planned a single one so far!”

Twilight snorted, and Pinkie chuckled.

“Speaking of,” Pinkie said, leaning slightly to one side, and glancing down, “How are you doing?”

Twilight smiled, then turned her body slightly so Pinkie could see her swollen abdomen. “Not bad,” she said. “Morning sickness has settled down, at least.”

Pinkie rolled her eyes. “Thank Celestia for that,” she said.

Twilight nodded. “But, another few weeks, and then the real fun starts.”

Pinkie took Twilight by the hooves. “You’ll do great,” she said. “I mean—you’re a Princess after all. You can do anything.” She chuckled. “Not to mention that you have Cadance for a sister-in-law; I’m sure she’d be happy to help.”

Twilight blushed a little. “Thanks,” she said. She looked into Pinkie’s eyes, then leaned forward and pulled her in for a hug. “Oh, I miss hanging out like we used to,” she said, her voice suddenly thick. “What happened?”

“They happened,” Pinkie said, a faint note of sadness in her voice. “I mean—we all got a little older, a little more married, a little more pregnant—”

“And I wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world—” Twilight added.

Pinkie nodded in agreement. “—but they don’t make things any easier, now, do they?”

Twilight shook her head.

They held each other in silence for a moment, then Twilight pulled away and held Pinkie at arms’ length. “Have fun at your convention, okay?” she said.

Pinkie nodded. “I’ll try,” she said. “It is a business trip, after all.” She chuckled. “And I’ll be sharing booth space with Pony Joe again, so we’ll see how that goes.”

Twilight smiled and patted her on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “You’ll do great. Now go out there and knock ‘em dead.”

Pinkie laughed. “That’s a health code violatio-o-on!” she sing-songed with a grin. She reached up and patted Twilight’s hoof. “I know what you mean. Thanks,” she added..

Twilight smiled. “You better get going,” she said.

Pinkie pulled her in for another hug. “Keep in touch,” she said.

Twilight nodded. “I will.”

Pinkie smiled, then pulled away and walked to the door. She opened it, then stepped halfway out, before turning back and calling over her shoulder: “Bye, kids! Love you! Be good!”

“We will!” came the faint, familiar chorus.

Pinkie smiled, then stepped out. Twilight watched her go with a smile on her face, then sighed, turned, and walked towards the bedroom.

Twilight knocked at the door, then poked her head inside. The room was a little small, but she’d managed to fit three little trundle beds in here, side-by-side. Whiskey was already laid out on one of them, staring up at the ceiling, Tango had already upended his bags on his bed and was rooting around for something, and Foxie was carefully spreading a quilt on hers, making sure the edges and corners were all even.

“Hey, kids,” Twilight said softly, and all three of them looked up. “When you’re all done in here, go on and head into the living room. There’s books and games and stuff in there, and I think Rory might be waiting for you, too.” She grinned. “And I’ll bring some cookies by in just a minute, okay?

Whiskey and Tango nodded, and Foxie replied with an “okay” of his own. Twilight left, pulling the door closed behind her. When the latch clicked shut, Whiskey rolled off the bed and stretched her wings, Tango finally found what he was looking for—a well-worn copy of The Moon Has A Harsh Mistress, by R.A. Hamloin—and Foxie glared at her work, then scoffed irritably and turned away. The three of them filed out, Tango with his book in his teeth. As soon as they were in the hallway, they froze.

The three of them looked up and down the hall, but every door looked exactly the same. Whiskey fluffed her wings nervously. “Um… she said the living room?” she said. Foxie nodded.

Tango sighed, then spat his book on the floor. “Auntie Twilight?” he called.

“Yeah?” came the faraway reply.

“Where’s the living room?”

A faint pause. “Three doors to your right, left side,” she called back.

“Thanks!” Tango replied brightly. He picked up his book off the floor again, then trotted away, head held high. Whiskey and Foxie glanced at each other, then followed.

They stepped into the living room and glanced around appreciatively. Like the rest of the castle, this room was purplish crystal, but this one was carpeted, making it a little easier on the hooves. Tall bookshelves lined the walls, but, rather than thick reference volumes, these were filled with storybooks, novels, music records, and board games. A few feet inward from the shelves stood a ring of deep, plush couches, with lots of room on the rug in the middle for playing, wrestling, dancing, or just lazing about.

And, in the corner, sat Rory.

She was a few years older than they, so they knew her basically by sight only. She was a unicorn, with a pink coat and a dark blue mane, with stripes of aqua throughout. She had pulled up a small writing desk to the corner where two couches met, with books and worksheets spread on the cushions around her. She glanced up as they entered, and they saw she held a pencil crossways in her teeth, and, with the bags under her eyes, she looked extremely tired. She scowled at them a little, then turned back to her homework.

Tango made a beeline for the nearest couch and climbed up onto it, then cracked open his book. Whiskey strolled over to the shelves and began examining the records—maybe looking for one of the classical dance pieces she was always fussing about. And Foxie trotted towards Rory, with a broad smile on her face. “Hi Rory,” she said. “How are you?”

Rory sighed dramatically, then dropped her pencil and gritted her teeth. “‘Princess Aurora,’ if you please,” she said testily.

Tango looked up as the temperature in the room dropped by several degrees. Foxie stood frozen in the middle of the carpet, mid-stride, her eyes wide, staring at the imperious Aurora sitting on the couch.

At the sight of the look she was shooting his sister, Tango growled to himself, then closed his book and hopped down from the couch.

“But Rory,” he said plaintively to her, “I thought only alicorns could be princesses.”

“I’m half alicorn,” she responded, turning to him. “That’s good enough.” She tilted her head back slightly, staring down her nose at him. “At least, good enough for you.” She turned back to her homework and picked up her pencil. “Now, be quiet and let me work.”

Tango growled—then grinned wickedly. Foxie glanced towards him and saw the grin—and she took several sudden steps backwards, her mouth making a little “o.” Whiskey, hearing the commotion, poked her head back around the couch, and, seeing Tango’s half-manic smirk, trotted around to the front of the couch and sat down, smiling. This was going to be good.

Tango cleared his throat, making an effort to smooth out his smile, then bowed low. “My deepest apologies, your Highness,” he intoned gravely. “‘Twas a grievous error on my part to think you less than your station.”

Whiskey giggled, and Aurora turned to stare at him, eyebrow raised.

“After all,” he continued, eyes glittering “not only are you the daughter of Her Royal Highness, Auntie Twilight, but your patience, your humility, and, not to mention, your good humor are all worthy of veneration themselves.”

Aurora slowly set down her pencil, her face an expression of mixed confusion and dawning fury. Whiskey snorted and let out a laugh, then tipped over sideways and lay, wings, spread, kicking her legs in the air as she tried to stifle further giggles. Even Foxie was starting to smile.

“I mean,” Tango continued, with just a glance at his sisters, “With such a personality as yours, it’s only a matter of time before you are granted you your wings. After all, only the greatest and most worthy of equines, the paragons of righteousness and grace, are granted alicornhood—and, as you’ve said yourself, you are, indeed, worthy of the honor.” He paused, then cocked his head. “Well, to be honest, you haven’t said it… but, with an attitude like that, you don’t really need to…”

Whiskey laughed again, a sharp, barking guffaw, and demure little Foxie giggled. Even Tango himself, as he glared daggers at Rory, had a little hint of a smile on his face.

Aurora stared in disbelief between the three of them, then snarled. She didn’t know how, but this dumb little brat wasn’t just teasing her—he was humiliating her. In her house. In her living room. When all she wanted was to be left the hell alone.

This could not stand. It was time for the gloves to come off.

And she knew just where to stick the knife.

Aurora took a deep breath, then looked Tango in the eye. “At least I have a daddy who loves me,” she snarled.

Instantly, Tango’s expression fell—from smug self-satisfaction, to uncomprehending horror. Foxie clapped her hooves over her mouth, tears already forming in her eyes, and Whiskey, still on her back, froze.

Aurora grinned. Then she twisted the blade.

“After all,” she continued, “Whenever my mom goes to Canterlot, she always takes me with her. She doesn’t just dump me in someone else’s lap, make someone else take care of me. Maybe that’s why your daddy doesn’t love you,” she said. “Because no one loves you.”

Tango, tears running down his cheeks, tried to fake a snarl. “You take that back,” he hissed, his voice trembling.

“No,” she snapped. “Just because you don’t want to hear it doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”

Tango whipped his head away, as if he had been struck. Whiskey rolled onto her stomach and began to stand. And a tear ran down Foxie’s face. Aurora glanced between the three of them, then grinned to herself. That’ll learn ‘em.

Then, without warning, Whiskey flared her wings.

And Aurora realized, very suddenly, that she had made a mistake.

* * *

“Are you sure about this?” Flash Sentry asked nervously.

“Sure about what?” Twilight said, pulling a sheet of cookies out of the oven. She examined them carefully, then set them on the counter: golden brown, perfect circles—just like the recipe. She tried to make dinner and treats for everyone whenever her duties allowed, which, as much as she hated to admit, wasn’t very often; though she wasn't as good a homemaker as Pinkie Pie, she’d read enough cookbooks and culinary texts that she knew the basic principles, at least. And it just seemed like the motherly thing to do, anyways.

“Having WTF over,” Flash answered. He reached for a cookie, and Twilight gently slapped his hoof away. “Sorry,” he said, then sighed. “I mean… they haven’t exactly been kind to the neighbors, and, uh…” he swallowed. “I know you could use your rest…”

Twilight laughed, reaching for a spatula. “Come on, Flash,” she said. “I’m pregnant, not dying. Besides,” she said, “I’m in my second trimester. Now’s the easy part.” She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks for your concern, though.”

He sighed, then ran a hoof through his mane. “I’m concerned for the castle, too,” he said, as Twilight scraped the cookies off the sheet and onto a plate. “I mean—Rory will bounce back. She always does. But…” he swallowed nervously. “What if they try one of their stunts in here? I can’t imagine how long the crystal will take to grow back from… well, from whatever it is they’re planning…”

Twilight laughed again, then pulled a jug of milk from the fridge. “Flash,” she said, now digging for a few glasses, “You worry too much.”

He grinned. “Dearest,” he said gently, “I’m the captain of your guard. It’s my job to worry.”

“Doesn’t mean you need to be so darn good at it,” she said with a smile. She arranged the glasses and milk on a tray, then lifted the plate of cookies in her magic. “Come on,” she said. “Grab that tray. I just hope—”

Suddenly, a scream echoed down the hall, followed by a crash. Twilight froze, then dropped the plate, shattering it on the floor, and sprinted down the hall, Flash galloping right behind her. Twilight skidded to a halt in front of the living room and threw the doors wide.

The doors opened on a scene of carnage. Scattered papers fluttered through the air. Whiskey straddled Aurora where she lay on the carpet, pummeling her with her with her hooves and shrieking incoherently, while Tango and Foxie frantically tried to pull her off. Aurora herself screamed, tears running down her face, hooves raised in a futile effort to stave her off. Whiskey raised her arm again, and blood dripped from her hoof.

“STOP,” roared Twilight.

Light flared from her horn, and Whiskey and Aurora were torn apart. Flash and Twilight ran to Rory, who now hung in the air, sobbing incoherently. Flash took her in his arms, and Twilight, with a sharp eye and little probes of magic, did a quick examination: nose bloodied, but not broken. Third incisor loose; it’ll heal. Bruise rapidly forming over left—no, both eyes. Hurt, but not injured, thank Celestia.

Twilight reached in and hugged her blubbering daughter, kissing her on the forehead. She looked up and into the eyes of Flash, who shot her a hard look. Twilight nodded, then turned to face the kids. She felt a black rage boiling up inside her—here she was, helping them! Giving them a place to stay! And they attacked her daughter! How dare they—?

And then she saw them. And the fire went out of her, as if quenched by cold water.

Whiskey lay where she had fallen, her wings flapping disjointedly, like some stricken bird, weeping—not crying out of fear or anger, but weeping, pouring out all the sorrows that her little heart could hold. Tango and Foxie had extracted themselves from the heap the three of them had fallen into, and were trying to shush her, but to no avail. As Twilight watched, Tango glanced up at her, then away—but, in that splinter of a second, she saw the tears on his cheeks, too.

Almost without thinking, Twilight lunged forward and swept the three of them into a hug. Whiskey reflexively wrapped her arms around her and squeezed tight, sobbing even harder. Tango and Foxie embraced Twilight too, and began to bawl themselves.

Twilight closed her eyes and took a deep breath as the three little bodies shuddered against her. Put away the Mama Bear, Twi, she told herself. It’s time for the Friendship Princess to come out. The Princess, not the Mama Bear...

“Flash,” she said carefully, “Take Rory to her room. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Dear,” he responded, just as carefully, “Do you know what you’re doing? Or shall I—?”

“Flash,” she repeated. “Take Rory to her room. Please.”

For a moment, he did not move. Finally, Twilight heard him murmur something fatherly to Aurora, then turn and walk from the room, closing the door behind him.

Twilight pulled the kids in tighter. “Don’t worry,” she said to them, starting to rub Whiskey’s back. “Don’t worry… you’re gonna be alright…”

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