• Published 18th Aug 2016
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Anchor Foal: A Romantic Cringe Comedy - Estee



Having realized that the duration of Discord's "reform" may exactly equal his only friend's lifespan, the palace sends Fleur to assist Fluttershy with acquiring a social life and guarantee a next generation to adore. (What could possibly go wrong?)

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Because 'Morals' And 'Standards' Are Two Completely Different Things

It was rare to be in the presence of something which could instantly stop a party in mid-gallop, for the social movement was created by what, by this point, had to be at least three hundred sets of hooves. Parties, in their way, were a kind of herd. A herd had momentum, and so typically had to be steered. Oh, a major event would draw attention, cause a number of paths to curve or even halt -- but the more distant portions, unaware of what had just occurred at the epicenter of disturbance, would just happily continue to blunder along.

(Fleur's duties as an escort had taken her to many parties, and some of those had seen something gossip-worthy break out. There were other times when the event would arise from the introduction of gossip to the undercurrents, added to a few where Fleur had placed a tiny touch of bait into the water just to see how how the fish would react. To let them know a predator was among them, and they had better start thinking about what they were going to give her in order to keep the reels from winding inwards. (Up until Celestia had caught her, all hook snares had been mistakenly presumed permanent.))

In this case, the yellow pegasus had just said 'yes', or rather, "...yes...?" As with just about everything Fluttershy ever said, the vocalization hadn't been that loud. There had been sufficient volume to reach Fleur's ears, and then it had carried across the extra distance to Caramel, where the weight of that unexpected soft utterance had slammed brown ears down against his skull from sheer shock. After that, there had been barely enough left for the reply to drift out to two, perhaps four nearby ponies --

"So..." Caramel, ears now pressed so flat that Fleur wondered if he was capable of truly listening to anything other than his own stunned thoughts, valiantly tried to rally against the impossible pressure of success. "Um... three -- three nights from now? I'll -- meet you at the cottage? Two hours after Sun is lowered?"

There was a long pause.

-- "She said yes, did you just hear that? Caramel asked her out and she said yes!"

"...yes," Fluttershy tried, because it was a word which had recently been uttered and therefore was readily available for additional use.

Caramel swallowed. "I'll -- see you then?"

"...yes."

"Caramel got Fluttershy to go out with him? Fluttershy?"

Fleur successfully resisted the urge to smile, simply listened as the ripple of gossip raced out from the epicenter of impact, a subtle force which was already shifting Ponyville's social life into an unexpected configuration.

"Fluttershy's dating?"

That was when the lyre-playing unicorn missed a note.

"Fluttershy is dating?"

"So..." Caramel, who seemed to have some awareness of just where half of the spotlight was now shining, was going through a certain amount of stage fright as the eyes of an ever-increasing audience focused on the male lead. "Is there -- anything you'd like to --"

Yellow wings flared.

"...I -- have to go," Fluttershy said through the sounds of her first flaps. "...I have to put the cottage to bed for the night."

"Oh," Caramel tried, his expression now very visibly waiting for a social retreat to match the physical --

"...so... in three..." It was Fluttershy's turn to swallow. "...three days. Two hours after Sun is lowered. At the cottage. ...okay?"

Select portions of the audience gasped. Several swayed slightly. Fleur wondered how many denial-dampened puzzle pieces had just seen their colors freshly glow with renewed hope.

The stallion, who had neither script nor prompt box, just barely managed to improvise a nod.

Fluttershy, now about three times her own height in the air, looked down. The single visible eye briefly moved over Fleur, and it was a look which contained questions. It was also an expression which knew those queries would have to wait for the next day, which might have explained something of the lingering hard set to the lower jaw --

-- but then the pegasus was flying away, heading towards the cottage. And due to the speed of rumor, which actually moved somewhat slower than sound, no more than seventy percent of the party watched her go.

Seventy percent -- plus a little more.


The book, which had been set down on the slightly-raised rim of the nearest flat roof which overlooked the event, wasn't entirely sure of what to say. She still didn't have any real idea of how she was managing to say anything at all, and hadn't even tried coming to grips with any reason she might have had for applying feminine pronouns to herself. But she did feel it was the sort of occasion where she clearly had to say something, and so did her best.

"Er," Harem Fantasy said, and immediately regretted it.

The draconequus, who had been watching the party from a position on her left (or above her, with a shrunken body standing on her front cover, he'd gotten bored at one point and gone into the event as a salt lick, only to be become vastly offended when somepony had approached him with the intent of doing the deed and vanished, leaving a confused mare to wonder just how many mugs she'd had that night), didn't shout. He didn't yell. His volume wasn't raised at all and somehow, the single even-toned word was so much worse than screaming could have ever been.

"Him," Discord softly said.

"Er," Harem Fantasy tried again.

"Him, I ask you," Discord peacefully -- peacefully -- continued. "Him."

"Um." Which didn't seem to be much of an improvement.

"I pop back to the cottage," the chaos entity said, "because we've been traveling for a while now, haven't we? Doing research. And when I find my friend isn't at home after sunset, discerning her current location is a perfectly natural concern. Because she could be on a mission, and you have no idea what those can be like."

"Mission." That attempt had the dubious benefit of releasing an actual word.

"Missions," Discord steadily went on, "can be highly dangerous. All sorts of horrible things can happen on a mission. Magic. Monsters. Mayhem. Me."

"You... happened? On a mission?" Complete sentences should have felt like progress, and did not.

"I happen to a lot of people," the draconequus said. "So it is perfectly natural for me to track her and of course, upon learning that she is at a party, to keep an eye on her. From a distance, because ponies still have some odd reactions when I choose to attend. And it has let us see that this Fleur is setting Fluttershy up on a date. With him."

"...what's... so wrong with him?"

"Have you met him?" Still far too soft.

"I really haven't met much of anyone," the book admitted. "Everywhere we've gone, as soon as someone saw us, they ran away. Screaming."

"Well..." A deep, complete unnecessary breath. "There is that."

"Even when you changed yourself into a condiment bottle and waited on the table --"

"-- she," Discord interrupted, "was about to try and dispense from me. I'd like to see anyone take that lying down. Or standing up in a frozen, inanimate, and completely boring way which I'd already had to maintain all the way through their idiotic small talk. Additionally, I was holding horseradish. Do you have any idea what's in that stuff?"

"No," the book admitted.

"It is," the draconequus declared, "nowhere near as interesting an ingredient list as the name might lead one to think. Saying something at that moment was absolutely required in order to prevent catastrophe, or at least spillage. Additionally, it got us out of there before either could begin speaking about their parents. But of all the ponies this Fleur could have chosen --"

"-- it looked like your friend was the one who said yes," Harem Fantasy tried, and automatically fought back any number of visual qualifiers. The night had provided her first look at the pegasus, and she'd quickly learned that anything she had to say about that tail had better be overwhelmingly complimentary.

"But who set it up? Who chose him as the first? Perhaps as the only?" A slow head shake, antler and horn cutting through the air with barely-audible sizzles. "One simply has to look at him in order to understand how completely unsuitable he would be for her. How common he is, with absolutely nothing interesting about him at all. The most notable quality he may possess may be his capacity for transformations, which I assure you is something much less than unique. Breath into toxicity, food into horse apples, and thoughts into lies. Now you might believe that last quality at least makes him somewhat interesting, but the lies themselves are boring. And when it comes to the pony he would be speaking those lies to because given enough time, he always lies..."

"How... how do you know this?"

"It is," Discord said, "rather interesting what one can learn from hanging around a dress shop while one's friend is visiting there. Even if one winds up maintaining the form of a few dozen hangers in order to -- avoid interruptions. I know something of him, Harem, and I can summarize that knowledge quite neatly, even though a rather succinct summary might be seen as order and thus would count as a further irritant. He is, in quick and completely blatant shorthoof --" and there was no rise in volume: simply an increase in emphasis as the twisted body leaned forward, talons gripping and then cracking wood "-- not good enough for her."

He wasn't angry. Anger would have been so much easier.

"Fluttershy," Discord calmly stated, "can do better."

"It's just a first date," the book desperately told him. "Sometimes that's what allows the protagonist to meet the next member of the harem. Somepony shows up wherever they're dating, and it makes the date go wrong while adding somepony else in so more things can go wrong later. Usually in a funny way, at least while it's early in the story. Or sometimes they get through the whole date, the main character oversleeps the next morning, has to eat on the gallop, and then crashes into the next candidate while they're on their way to work." She thought that over. "It helps if one of them has a piece of toast in their mouth. Does Fluttershy like toast?"

"She is being taught," the chaos entity said, not seeming to have paid attention to any of it. "How to date. Because she wants something. And at the end of the lessons is him?"

"Maybe he's just an early test," Harem Fantasy tried. "A trial gallop? A false romantic lead to lure the reader into the deeper chapters?"

He took another breath. A slow, steady, completely controlled one, an inhalation where nothing around them changed. And perhaps he was simply trying to stay concealed in all ways, to not disrupt a party which his friend had attended -- but it didn't feel as if such stability was natural for him. It simply felt...

...dangerous.

He floated the book up to his paw, snapped talons against each other.

The bloom of light, lost in the radiance from the gathering below, took them away. And with the excited babble of fresh gossip still sounding below them, only Harem Fantasy heard his final words.

"She will do better."


Fleur had been to many parties after arriving in the capital, and counted more than one of them as debuts. There were different social circles in Canterlot, varying levels of power, and so she'd wound up in positions where she'd effectively had to introduce herself again and again -- with some of those positions coming after the central event had ended. This was yet another in the series, and for her to have become the lesser subject of discussion at a debut generally would have led into, at a minimum, some long-term plans towards dominance, with some chance of instantly unleashing inspired bursts of twisting rumor.

But in this case, the focus of her prison sentence was Fluttershy. There were other potential routes to freedom, but all currently existed strictly within the realms of fantasies and what-ifs which chased Fleur into the more forgiving parts of the nightscape, at least until she awoke to find that the daring escape hadn't truly occurred and she was still trapped in Ponyville. Announcing herself to the settled zone had the potential to create long-term benefits, perhaps even something which would find the key to getting her out -- but if that didn't happen, then the task was still before her, and somepony had to take the initiative on getting it solved. For lack of all other unfairly-sentenced candidates -- there was a chance that somepony out there deserved this, but she remained certain that pony hadn't been her -- Fleur had to be the one who moved things forward.

She had been planning for it to happen in a public setting all along: the more visible, the better. (To have it take place at the party was simply luck, and Fleur accepted the tenth-bit in payment towards the massive debt owed to her by the very world.) But the idea had always been there: start the gossip flowing. It had taken less than a minute for most of the gathering to learn the news, with some extra time required to pick up the stragglers. (There would always be a few whose social blindness qualified as disability, who would typically find out about the change in the world's order just in time to be introduced to any prospective children.) Those in attendance would go home, head to work the next day, and some would talk to the ponies around them, pass news on over a boring lunch comprised of last-of-the-season flowers. Some of the words would be distorted by then, of course, and a degree of course correction might normally be required -- if only Fleur had the connections to insert herself in the path of the changes and fix things: occasionally manageable in Canterlot, currently impossible within Ponyville.

There were those who said gossip traveled faster than the sounds which carried it. This was scientifically, magically, and patently false. Gossip briefly froze in each mind which received it, was dissected, could have words subtracted and added while, depending on the recipient, any part of the original which survived might be carefully misunderstood. It took time for gossip to navigate the paths of distortion, and you could never be completely sure what would arrive within the twitching ears of the final recipient. But in this case, the story was simple, and so Fleur was confident that the heart of it would echo all the way to the last link in the social dominance chain.

"Fluttershy is dating."

But that was just the first step, because that gossip would come with a coda: Fluttershy was going on a date with Caramel. And upon hearing that portion, the topic would shift somewhat. It wouldn't be so much about the fact that Fluttershy was dating at all, and go a little more towards the stallion who would be her companion for that first night out on the town. Given how many mares had approached Fleur after seeing her in Caramel's company, it was easy to picture a flow of desperate mare traffic heading out to the cottage, all the better to talk Fluttershy out of it, and so Fleur resolved to be there rather early the next morning.

For Fluttershy to be dating Caramel... it had set the party abuzz, told ponies that the world no longer operated quite as it once had. And it was possible that the two might connect-- but Fleur, who had been using hours in learning about the stallion, had more than a few doubts. She also had no delusions about seeing her sentence end in less than thirteen moons, at the moment she heard a newborn's cry force itself past the closed delivery room door. Fleur had looked ahead to the possibilities of that first date and as far as romance was concerned, perceived something much less than success. The most major triumph she could hope for would be of a different sort entirely.

The party was still talking about the news, and some of that discussion would go on long into the night. She was standing in just the right place to see what happened when the words reached Pinkie, and thus got to witness a tail spontaneously uncurl itself. The baker, following the landing from the impressive (and spontaneous) high jump, had immediately broken into full gallop, not stopping until she'd reached Twilight -- and that meant Fleur got to watch the news as it sunk into alicorn ears.

It seemed to take three repetitions: the first brought confusion, the second created a series of ear and feather twitches, and the third finally sent purple eyes wide -- just before they narrowed, at the moment when the alicorn began to visibly search through the party. Fleur suspected she knew just what (or in this case, who) was being sought, and so spent the next portion of the night circulating somewhat faster than before. As it turned out, Twilight had magic, access to several forms of power, and an Element waiting somewhere in the wings -- but she didn't seem to be capable of navigating the social dance. Fleur, who wanted a little more time before trying to explain herself, consistently remained two twirls ahead, and most of her subsequent views of royalty were brief glimpses of a lightly-swishing streaked tail -- which, half an hour into the chase, finally unleashed one mighty lash of frustration before its owner stomped away from the entire gathering, horn oriented not on cottage, but the library tree.

There were other ponies to avoid, of course. Fleur pleasantly noted the presence of six 'I-thought-I-was-undercover' officers, and just as pleasantly failed to speak with any of them. There were a few conversations where six seconds in that pony's presence turned out to be six hundred percent of the time required to learn there would be no need for ever speaking with them again. And then there were ponies she had been hoping to see and didn't: the Rich family patriarch never appeared, nor did she get a single glimpse of anypony whose interactions would confirm them as a Bearer.

But the party went on, and she continued to meet those who might have influence: not the mayor, but some of those who worked in Town Hall. Members of the weather team, but not the coordinator. Some stayed until everything was shut down, while others were only there for a few minutes, and one cyan blur only paused in her flight long enough to line up the swoop, just before removing a large quantity of free food from the refreshments area.

Sweetie... well, the filly had a bedtime. Fleur wanted to get close enough to at least thank her for coming: she was starting to feel as if that was something the filly didn't hear very often. But the perpetually-maintaining space around the child was a little too open for casual venturing while Twilight was still on the chase. Beyond that, there wasn't that much time available before her mother came out to collect her, and... Fleur got to regret not having had the chance to say even that much, because it seemed as if just about nopony wanted to even get near Sweetie. The only one she briefly spotted in the filly's vicinity was the sugar-dusted white stallion, and that was probably because he seemed to be only slightly less new to the settled zone than she: some overheard gossip strongly suggested he was the owner of the upcoming rival candy shop, which explained a lot about why he kept moving into places where the musician spouse of the original store's owner wouldn't see him.

She danced with a few ponies, when she felt there was somepony worth dancing with. She paid careful attention to every beat from the band, and was thankful to hear things so much less familiar. There were few connections made, and not as many interesting or important ponies as she might have hoped for. The majority of the puzzles had been boring ones, and she hadn't gotten to assemble anywhere near as many as she would have liked: too many ponies around, for just about the entire duration.

But on the whole, it hadn't been a bad party. It didn't have the wealth or presentation of a high-class Canterlot gathering, but it did have an advantage in that once you took out the lead musician and future sugar-stirrer, very few of the attendees actively loathed each other. And when the time came to close it down, the gathering dispersed without fights. For every pegasus who could no longer fly in a straight line, there were two waiting to take them home. Things shut down evenly, peacefully, and without a single neighbor having come out to complain. Given that, Fleur readily acknowledged Pinkie as having more expertise at some parts of the craft than any number of Canterlot hosts.

Not much in the way of new connections, very little which she could currently see a way to use, and a host of ponies whom she'd left still believing in the dream of winning her just because she hadn't found a reason for disposing of their fantasies yet. In that sense, the gathering had been something of a failure. But Fluttershy was now officially on her way, and when looked at as a party alone...

She waited until just about everypony else had left, when it was down to a volunteer clean-up crew and the hostess who'd had very little trouble recruiting them. And then she approached.

"Thank you," she told Pinkie, and made sure the words came out as sincere. "I feel -- a little more welcome than I did."

The earth pony didn't respond immediately: it took a few seconds before her teeth could release the pushbroom's grip. And then she turned, looked directly at Fleur, body still and eyes solemn.

"That's part of why we have parties," she quietly said. "So everypony can feel a little more welcome. Because it's hard, coming to a new home, when you don't know anypony here, and you had to move really fast, and you just feel -- lost."

Fleur blinked. Managed, just barely, not to pull back --

"Fluttershy told me," the baker went on, "that you had to come here really really quickly. And I know what that's like, when you just have to leave. Maybe it's even a little worse when you can see where you used to be, at least on a clear day if you're facing the right way. And I even know that when you're pretty, there's ponies who won't talk to you because you're pretty. Some of them didn't come tonight, but -- a lot of ponies didn't, because there's work and kids to take care of and lives, but a few were here. Mostly for the food. But maybe some of them will change their minds..."

Fleur exhaled, found a smile. "Everypony seems to talk to you."

"Of course they do! Because everypony knows me!" The briefest of pauses -- and then a smile came back. "And I'm cute. Ponies talk to you when you're cute. Sometimes it's hard to make them stop talking, because being pretty means you're too good for some of them and cute means those same ponies might think they have a chance."

Fleur, fully aware that when it came to any one-to-ten scale of appearance, the majority of pony approach courage started to run out around eight, gently (and non-condescendingly) nodded. "Can I help you clean up?" It would be a chance to keep talking with a Bearer, one who seemed willing to talk and didn't seem as if she would be asking any awkward questions --

"-- no. You were the guest of honor. You just go to bed," Pinkie smiled. "But thank you for asking, because a lot of ponies don't. And..."

This pause was longer, enough for Pinkie to take a slow breath.

"...I know you've been spending time with Caramel. I know a lot about Caramel, because ponies talk in bakeries and sometimes they talk about him. I know he's not the worst stallion. But you haven't known him that long, and maybe because you're becoming friends with him, you thought encouraging him to try was a good idea, and --"

A much deeper breath, and the blue gaze briefly dropped.

"-- she said yes," Pinkie continued. "I didn't think she would ever say yes, or -- even say anything. Just fly away, or charge through if there was no room to fly. And to say yes to Caramel -- he's not the worst stallion, but he's nowhere close to the best, and when it's him and Fluttershy, they..."

She scraped her left forehoof across the ground. Looked up.

Fleur used the opportunity. "Ponies talked to me too, Pinkie. Mares. A few of them, after they saw me with him. I think I know what you're about to say. Can I just say something first?"

Pinkie nodded. The curls didn't bounce.

"I won't let him hurt her," Fleur stated. Watched Pinkie, and waited.

Ten heartbeats passed, and she felt every one of them.

"You mean that," Pinkie said.

Fleur silently nodded.

"She's older than me," Pinkie told her. "A year. But we all forget that sometimes. We treat her like the youngest, all of us. We have to let her make her own decisions, and... I hope this is the right one. Because it doesn't feel like it."

There was strength under that slight layer of padding. Fleur could almost feel it, standing so close. Pinkie was trying to decide if something was funny ha-ha or funny-off, and wouldn't react well to the latter. The Bearer of Laughter took the welfare of her friends very seriously, and anypony who endangered that just might wind up on the receiving end of a final punchline.

Fleur wasn't afraid of Pinkie, because she both understood where the emotions came from and wouldn't let Caramel hurt Fluttershy. But she was beginning to recognize why some ponies might start to worry. A mare who knew everypony, talked to everypony. That was what the rumormongers of Canterlot aspired to, and this pony had achieved it simply through hosting parties, along with a light touch of being cute.

As an earth pony, the baker's kicks could do a lot of damage. As the settled zone's conversational hub, her words could do even more.

"Things changed when we all met," Pinkie softly told her, told the night. "They changed again after Discord, and then when Twilight changed. They changed after Trotter's Falls --"

Where? Fleur thought she'd seen the name on a map once, when she'd first been planning --

"-- and then when Applejack --" Stopped. Her head and body both shook: a rapid series of back-and-forth half-twists, physical motion meant to create mental centering. Fleur waited it out, and the bright colors finally steadied their position again.

"Things always change," Pinkie finished. "And now they're changing again, because that's what life is. I'm going to trust Fluttershy, because sometimes we have to and we don't. But change isn't always good, and..."

She looked directly at Fleur.

"Don't let him hurt her."

I already said... "I won't --"

And with the sentence coming in like a razorwhip, the tail-mounted weapon slashing to cut, "Don't you hurt her. Ever."

The Bearer turned, tilted her neck down for the pushbroom again -- then glanced up.

"It was a fun party, wasn't it?" Pinkie asked, with her smile bright, pleasant and happy. "Good night, Fleur."


It took Fleur some time before she fell asleep, or even reached the blankets. There were things to plan, a personal cleanup to go through added to a final review of the night, filing memories away until the moment they might become important. (Chief among those was putting the name 'Applejack' onto her list of ponies to investigate: she suspected she'd just heard the name of another Bearer.) But eventually, she reached the moment when she could rest. She lay down, closed her eyes, and began to think about a pegasus.

Joyous. Joyous Release.

It was, in small part, attempting to trick her own nightscape. Having the metallic as her final waking thought in order to find that beauty awaiting Fleur in dream. Reflecting on the reflection of light off dark blue wings, and then considering how illumination might play across hindquarters, that rib cage and rich obsidian mane, the warmth from yellow eyes...

I never asked Pinkie why that music was playing.

And so something else met her in the dark.


Pinkie felt that life was the state in which things always changed: Fleur believed the purpose of life was to work for stability and then maintain it. There was a certain inherent conflict to those views, and Fleur couldn't see any reconciliation on the horizon. But things did change and when Fleur trotted up the final approach to the cottage shortly after Sun-raising, she found one of those changes waiting for her.

She didn't visibly start: the view of the cottage opened up all at once as you turned that final bend, and she'd learned to brace herself for whatever might be spotted there: for starters, the existence of a now-departed tiger hinted at the possibility for a fresh arrival. Given that, the presence of Fluttershy standing on the path's side of the bridge was a lesser level of surprise -- especially (if only in retrospect) given the way so many birds had flown overhead during Fleur's trot in, followed by immediately circling towards the cottage. But it was still a change, and Fleur's legs carefully brought her to a stop.

It was possible for many things to change over the course of a single night, and Fleur was fully aware that Fluttershy's mind could be one of them. She took the lead.

"I did say I'd found a pony who wanted to date you."

Fluttershy was just... looking at her. Still with a single eye: this time, it was the left which was exposed. That eye wasn't doing a lot of blinking.

"There are ponies," Fleur said, "who are attracted to you. He's the one who's acted on it. I know he's interested in you, because I've been talking to him. Several nights over the past week. Maybe he's the first to ask, but he's not going to be anywhere near the last. And he's not necessarily going to be the only one you ever go out with, because love at first sight is for books and movies." Poorly-written, badly-rendered, lying texts and films. "He's your first date. What you learned last night is that ponies can and will sincerely ask you out, and that's something you're never going to forget."

The blue-green regard was starting to feel like more of a -- stare.

"So the next thing we have to do is get you ready for your first. We've got a few days to prepare. That means conversation practice, picking out a place to go because you don't want him choosing everything, and we're going to talk about getting you a dress --"

"-- you've been talking to him," Fluttershy softly said. (Fleur, slightly surprised by the interruption, nodded.) "Did he mention Shimmy? He loves her. I know how much he loves her. I was the one he came to, after Sweetbark wouldn't see her. I... was the one who had to figure out what was wrong with her, and that meant I was the one who had to tell him she could never be cured. That the sickness had been in her blood when she was born, it just took time before it showed itself, and all anypony could do was make her medicine, medicine that never keeps longer than a week, medicine which lets her run and climb and get into everything and poke her nose into his snout to wake him up in the morning. He loves her so much..."

"He talks about her a lot. The things she tries to get away with, mostly." With a ferret, that was always going to be a long list.

With words on the verge of quavering, "...did he mention how he didn't pay for hardly any of it?"

"No," Fleur steadily, softly replied.

"...did he tell you about how he spends on the mares he dates?" Fluttershy quietly asked. "...he buys them gifts. Huge gifts, bigger than he could ever afford on what Bon-Bon pays him, but he can buy those gifts because he doesn't pay for other things. Like his rent, he's supposed to be always behind on his rent, he goes to parties when he's low on food and he eats a lot of grass when there's less parties around. Shimmy's medicine is so hard to make, just getting the plants for some of it was... it was hard, and then he paid a little, kept coming back for more medicine while he didn't pay any more and I needed the money for feed and repairs and books and property tax and... everything, Fleur, I needed money for everything and he didn't pay me because he was buying gifts. He dates a mare for a few moons, they always break up and then he dates somepony else, there's always somepony new in town who doesn't know about him yet and he spends on them when it should be Shimmy and rent and food."

Fleur stayed where she was. Tail steady, head held just so, listening to her charge and distant birdsong as the notes carried through the cool (and cooling) autumn air.

"...he had to... be shamed into paying me," Fluttershy softly said. "...he'd told me he didn't have any money and then I saw him leaving Mrs. Wonderment's with a device for Ratchette. That's who he was dating that winter: she didn't know about him, but she's Ponyville's mechanic, she hadn't been here that long and he thought she'd love something she could just take apart. He was probably right... but I saw him, I tried to say something and he told me... he'd won a raffle. From Mrs. Wonderment... well, you'd have to know her, but she doesn't even really do sales unless whatever she's trying to get rid of already exploded at least once. He lied right to my snout, and I wanted to confront him, but -- somepony else did it first. And it shamed him so much, especially once the word got out, that... he's always kept up since. With me. But with everypony else... ponies talk, they talk to my friends and sometimes they talk to me because they don't want to think about what could happen when they come here, so they talk about anything else. I don't think he's changed, not that much, not with everypony else, and..."

A deep breath, with that gaze now nearly all the way into stare. It was... becoming slightly uncomfortable.

"...you want me to go out with him."

Fleur nodded.

Several seconds later, "...on a date," emerged, mostly to provide emphasis.

"Yes."

And finally, with so much of the pain crammed into a single syllable, "...why?"

It was a cooler morning than the last few had been. Autumn being shifted towards winter, one wing flap at a time, with the wind changing direction to suit. Things were blowing more from the North now: a reminder of ice masquerading as crystal.

"He didn't tell me about what happened between the two of you," Fleur told her charge. "Two mares did, the night I met him, right after he left. They told me that and -- a lot of what you've told me. When you're seen with Caramel, it makes mares want to talk. I think he's been having trouble finding new ponies to date. Ones who haven't been told yet, or those who won't believe everypony else when those mares start to talk."

Nearly twenty seconds passed, along with one lost degree.

"...you knew about him?"

"I found out."

"...and you want me... to date him?"

"He's attracted to you."

"...he's attracted to pegasus mares. They're most of what he dates..."

It almost made Fleur want to smile. "And what did you think you were?"

Her charge pulled back without moving: her legs leaned backwards, her torso tilted, she seemed as if she was about to rear up -- but her hooves stayed just where they were.

"...different," Fluttershy softly answered. "...just -- different. Fleur... if you knew about him... about what it's been between us... why?"

"Because you need a first date," Fleur told her. "Something easy. Something simple. That's all this is, Fluttershy: a first date. It's just like your first flight camp. It's for learning the basics, and then you'll be able to do more."

This silence was somewhat longer than usual.

"...I hated flight camp."

Fleur blinked.

"...a lot," Fluttershy quietly said. "Because flight camp was where... a lot of things went wrong."

The yellow hooves were still holding their position. But now they were beginning to vibrate.

"...the basics, so I can do more... it -- doesn't work that way..."

She spotted the moisture beginning to coat the lone visible pupil, the little dip of the head, and spoke quickly. "If you went to flight camp," Fleur said, "you know about safety attendants."

A tiny nod, with most of the motion propelled by tremble.

"I won't let you get hurt," Fleur told her charge. "I won't let you fall. There's a reason I chose Caramel for your first. But in order to find out what the reason is, you have to go out with him. At least once. And after that..."

After that is the next lesson.

"Will you try?" Fleur asked, and did so because Do you trust me? was a question most frequently asked by those nopony should ever trust.

The wind slowly changed.

"...yes. What are we doing today?"

"We can --"

-- it was going to be more working on small talk to start, only with a fresh emphasis on topics to avoid. But that was when the next flight of birds went overhead, singing something more than alarm. And just as those echoes started to fade, Fleur heard the hoofsteps pounding up the path behind her, along with the squeak of cart wheels: a pace which seemed far too quick for a mere incoming warning regarding Caramel.

She stepped aside just in time to let the frantic mare finish a rather abrupt stop without actually colliding into anypony: the desperate unicorn clearly hadn't been expecting anypony to be on that side of the bridge. And then Fleur retreated a few body lengths away as Fluttershy quickly trotted up to the cart, looked at the unresponsive skunk in its cradle of blankets and desperate hope. Some soft words were exchanged with its pony companion and then that unicorn went past them, over the bridge, heading for the cottage.

-- wait. We can wait. Again.

Fluttershy turned, began to follow --

-- glanced back.

"...come in."

The wind hadn't finished twisting. Solstice and the accompanying Fall Finale were still some time away. The ice existed in no place other than the layer which had just formed around Fleur's heart.

"...what?" It was a surprisingly good imitation of her charge, if a completely inadvertent one.

"...you helped. Yesterday. And if you're in the room with me, instead of just... waiting... then you can talk to me while I try to help Phillipe. You'll be... teaching."

The lone visible eye was steady. Patient.

"...we won't lose all those hours because things happen, because something always happens. We won't be wasting time. We only have three days, less now, and... I think I'm going to need a lot of it. Please... come in?"

I don't want to be in there.

But it keeps us from wasting time. I've already lost so much time to that pasture, and wondering if he's going to come back...

Yesterday was a mistake. Yesterday turned into what she just asked and she can't ask me for that.

I can talk to her while she works. We don't lose hours.

I'm going to do something wrong. I always --

We only have three days.

"Just..." Her throat had gone dry. "...just for now."

Fluttershy nodded. Fleur followed her in.

And that, for what turned out to be all intents and purposes, was when Fleur's sentence truly began.

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