Better Be Cider
The hard part wasn't making Fluttershy write a thank-you note: it was getting her to stop.
It took two days to process everything, and the minority of that time was spent on sorting the initial wave of gifts. It had been an impressive haul -- one where Fleur occasionally had to suppress brief surges of jealousy before reminding herself that Fluttershy wasn't in a position or a profession where she had to earn it -- but the truly difficult part was working out the logistics of the upcoming social calendar. Fleur had been out of the capital's gossip flow for a while, and that meant she only knew which parties were usually the best-regarded: not whether there had been any slips on the social ramps that had left entire soirées skidding into the sewer. She would have needed at least two days of careful Canterlot survey (or one party in the capital, with optional company) in order to sort out any revisions on the priority list -- and that would have been two days entirely to herself: something Celestia would have been a little too happy to directly question.
Fluttershy had committed to one party. Fleur, who couldn't watch the flow of capital gossip from a state of immersion and didn't even have access to any level of riverbank, had been forced to pick the most reliable: the Algonquin. It wasn't necessarily what was currently trending among the city's elite, but it hosted the best cross-section from the upper class along with hosting a number of artists and writers, was known for having conversations more sparkling than the wine and best of all, that unique tendency towards the intellectual made it completely proof against Blueblood.
(He had been there exactly once, and the regulars had determined the best way to go into a battle of wits with an unarmed opponent was to make the impacts hurt. And then it had turned out that the truly hard part was lowering their vocabulary to a point where he could recognize that insults even existed.)
One party, which wouldn't take place for another two weeks: that was the trip which they would both make, as Fluttershy's invitation allowed for a plus-one and even in the event that Fleur found a date for her to bring, escorts didn't always count towards that limit. But she had also told her charge that it was important for her to look as if she wasn't being too exclusive -- and so after the third round of "...but...," four more envelopes had been sent out, each carrying a lesser commitment. The Lady Fluttershy (for so many had used that title as to make including it look mandatory) would be happy to consider attending -- but the needs of a Bearer's life meant she simply couldn't promise to be there. Still, if the host would consider holding a place for her, that would truly be appreciated, and perhaps a more definitive answer could be provided when the date itself drew closer...
That was Fleur's way of buying time: two weeks to prepare for the first major party also provided half a moon in which she could talk Fluttershy into a few of the others. Circulating at the Algonquin would also let her know whether she needed to take any of those four off the list, or add new ones. And of course, it was possible that Fluttershy would meet somepony at that initial event, somepony she could bring to the next, and then the one after that, all the way through Hearth's Warming. Or there might be a different pony flanking her for every gathering. It was the sort of race which was actually a series of time trials, and whoever did the best in the heat of competition just might find themselves invited to compete in the Equestria Express...
...which assumed Fleur could find anypony good enough.
There was no issue in getting Fluttershy to send a thank-you note (which put her ahead of more nobles than Fleur cared to think about). The hard part was keeping her from sending back the gifts, and Fleur had put a hoof down: the only way any package was returning to the sender was if the unicorn said so. But Fluttershy wanted to do something because for her, every gift had come with a bonus packet of guilt. She didn't think she was good enough to be receiving any of it. She didn't see herself as being worth it. And when the thank-you notes were the only thing going back...
There were always interruptions at the cottage: clients arriving or animal residents with problems to solve, most of which they had just finished causing for themselves. Fleur, who had to resolve the one with the puppies, darkly considered that dogs would be classified as a sapient species on the day when they recognized treats buried between the cushions of a couch, driven too deep for a snout to recover, did not unearth themselves upon demand. (Of course, there was every chance that they'd just figured out the truly intelligent thing to do was barking their heads off until somepony recovered everything for them and in that case, they had mastered the first rule of politics and the first embassy was less than a decade away.) And when she'd returned, she'd found that Fluttershy had taken the initial draft note, something they'd been working on together for two well-distributed hours, and added a few... apologies. Minor regrets for the givers having gone to all that trouble when it wasn't truly necessary, and the pegasus hoped it hadn't put them out in any way, really, if they ever found themselves in a financial tight spot, they just had to let Fluttershy know and to make sure the gift retained something close to the full original receipt value, she'd just do her best to never actually use it...
Editing had ensued.
Once a number of written darlings had been killed (no great loss, especially as all of them had been openly regretting their existence), they eventually wound up with something which could serve as a template. It was polite enough to serve as thanks-but-I-won't-be-there for those whom Fleur had already slashed onto the cutting room floor, but could also be readily modified for when a place had to be reserved at the best table. Fluttershy had signed most of them: Fleur had chosen a minority which weren't even going to get that much. Doing so removed a number of contenders from the herd. And she had considered that signing for Fluttershy might mean a twist to the Canterlot gossip which currently had Fleur with 'the other Princess,' but it was known that the Bearers associated with each other and so she could be serving as advisory council for any one of them. It was a chance she could take, especially with two weeks to work on her lies.
It was time in which she could teach Fluttershy about circulating within parties -- and would Pinkie be of any help there? It almost seemed as if it might be worth asking: the Bearers had some idea of what was going on now, and that left Fleur free to try and draw upon those talents. Another dress could be commissioned, because Fleur would only tentatively consider that the palace might be paying for too much when an entire nation declared bankruptcy. Two weeks in which to try and convince Fluttershy that she was worth it.
Which, when weighed against some of those who'd sent their tribute, was both understatement and overstatement. She deserved gifts. She was worth any number of free things bestowed from the capital and as far as Fleur was concerned, karma was just making a minor down payment on what Celestia still owed Fluttershy for Bearer services rendered. But when it came to a few of the gifters...
He won't tell her what he really does for a living until they're married, and that's just so she can't automatically be made to testify against him in court.
Her commitment will be absolute, right up until the moment she absolutely commits to somepony else. Again.
Everypony in a group marriage has to agree to the inclusion of a new member and not only will Fluttershy probably not go for that, but the youngest is an utter bitch.
I am not letting her get involved with anything requiring that weird toast fetish.
...they weren't good enough for her.
Ponies who could be rejected outright: there were a few of those, and one of the few gifts to be sent back came from an entirely-expected source. It also arrived a day late, because that one had no regard for clock or calendar. Fleur took some satisfaction in knowing that when the item reached him again, somepony would have to explain Postage Due.
She recognized others as being poor candidates for romance while remaining good ponies to know. (Fancypants would have been among them, but... she also knew why he wasn't interested.) Those were the friendly notes or rather, something very close to being the friendzone ones. Making it almost clear that Fluttershy (or in this case, Fleur, who was the much better judge) wasn't quite interested -- but if they were nice to her, helped out when it was needed, then there was a possibility for things to change! Because gaining resources from somepony in the friendzone was all about dreaming or rather, about finding those too stupid to wake up.
And there were some who initially seemed promising. Those who were truly looking for love, who had the resources to support Fluttershy, and there were even three whom Fleur knew to be at the point in their lives where they had begun to dream of starting a family.
But...
...won't leave Canterlot, and the cottage can't be readily replicated. They'd have to move to the outskirts of the city and even then, there would be a problem with getting enough space for the animals.
Work comes first. There's going to be love, devotion, and truly caring about the children. One weekend in four.
I can accept that puzzle piece as part of a relationship. That doesn't mean she's going to.
...it almost felt like there was a chance now. Ponies were seeking out her charge, and that could make a huge difference in the romantic life of a pony who didn't know what she wanted to look for. The more participants in the race, the better the odds of seeing one reach the finish line. It could take moons, plus the expected time for the pregnancy -- but it was possible that Fleur's sentence might total out to less than two years.
It almost felt like there was a chance.
Infatuation was easy. Sexual attraction could be everywhere. Some ponies saw the marriage ceremony as eternally bonding yourself to a personal decoration, and so tended to rush the process. And with this number of contenders... once any lingering-and-undoubtedly-present fear of the act itself had been dealt with, Fleur could theoretically get her charge laid in less than an afternoon.
But that wasn't the goal.
Celestia wanted Fluttershy to be happy.
With a perfect match for a
blank
white
slate.
Time passed, mostly because nopony had found a spell which would reliably slow down the process. (Fleur had done the research once. The working existed -- and was inextricably tied to a mark which hadn't been seen in four centuries. It was enough to make a pony ask some serious questions about the wisdom of linking certain kinds of magic to a pony's talent, along with a few more about just who'd come up with that system in the first place.) But for the most part, if she took some care to overlook the usual number of veterinary emergencies, the interval between Nightmare Night and the cider line passed in some degree of peace.
It wasn't really possible for Fleur to describe her emotional position as 'optimistic,' at least not without a heavy dose of fur-creasing sarcasm. But she was willing to admit that some degree of progress had been made. Canterlot was opening up for -- some reason --
-- she'd spent just about every minute on her way in and out of Ponyville in looking for 'a greenish fellow with odd teeth' and was no closer to locating him than when she'd started. But when the return commute ended, she'd rested --
-- I have to stop.
I have to put them back in the box. I have to find a new hiding place. When it's that close to me, something could happen. I can't allow that. I need to hide it somewhere nopony would ever look. But it still has to be in a place I can get to in a hurry, if it all goes wrong.
It has to be safe.
But while she had it with her, she was guarded. And while guarded, she had slept. Doing so in a state where none of the dreams were nightmares, where so much was simply memories being lived again. The best of them.
It was something which brought her home.
And she couldn't be there again. Not even in memory, not when there was any part of her which knew it was nothing more than replay, where no aspect could be changed and the ending would always be the same, even when she didn't dream of the conclusion because while she was guarded, she no longer relived it in her dreams.
She would simply awaken. Recognize that the events of the night had been only replay, a filmstrip winding through an internal projector where no edits could ever be made. And when she realized that, in the first moments of consciousness under a Sun she had rested long enough to reach...
the clacking, the mindless clacking
the nightmare began.
Fluttershy's future happiness was still a problem. The current state was somewhat improved.
It had been a relatively calm day. In terms of medical needs, they hadn't dealt with anything worse than porcupine needles, and the cat eventually wound up stalking out of the emergency room with the tread which stated no humiliating defeat had ever taken place and the bandages were false evidence planted by an anti-feline conspiracy. Clients were paying before they left, and one of them had asked for a copy of the bill with a Canterlot accent -- something which was instantly echoed by his companion, and then quickly followed by the standard request for a cracker.
Hearing pony and parrot arrive hadn't surprised Fleur too much, because there were ponies who moved out of the capital: the cost of living was too high, you were stuck next to the Aviary and had no appreciation for good cooking, and a few who'd gone to look for palace intrigue would become disappointed when they discovered there wasn't enough of it. And Sweetbark wouldn't have taken them on because a bird with a five-decade lifespan was clearly going to die eventually.
But Fluttershy had been gathering herbs from the attic when the stallion had arrived. It was something which had provided Fleur the opportunity to examine the visitor's puzzle -- and that was all it took to recognize him as exactly that: a visitor. One who had taken the train to seek fresh veterinary services and a chance at fantasies which had pieces rubbing up against each other: something he was dearly hoping would serve as a sneak preview.
She'd asked a few casual questions, then entertained his request to be in the examination room during the talon trimming through denying it. (It was entertaining to her.) But she'd also watched him look at Fluttershy as she'd brought the happy grey parrot back to him, and she knew they'd both be returning.
The cottage's regular visiting hours had ended for the day: the irregular ones were effectively perpetual. Fleur hadn't returned to her rental, because there was a promise which had to be kept. And she refused to simply wait for the arrival of the night's hired substitute -- not Snowflake, because he would be where they were going -- because to wait while doing nothing was a waste of time. It had put her in the examination room, taking inventory because there were always things to reorder and with more of the bills being paid, it was possible to do so with some expediency --
-- it took a moment to truly identify the source, because she frequently heard some version of it while she was on the grounds. There were birds everywhere, and some of the territorial claims came in a warbling contralto --
-- that's not a bird.
The realization did not freeze her: soft pink carefully set the spools down, while a glowing quill finished adding the suture thread to the next order form. She simply rotated her ears until she was certain of the source, set everything down, winked out her field, and moved as silently as she could, stopping within what few shadows existed in the doorway. Watching and listening, while some part of her wished for darker fur because there wasn't all that much in the way of shadows and white lightly kissed with grey wasn't exactly good at hiding.
She had been taking inventory, because it was better than simply waiting. Fluttershy had chosen to clean up the sitting room.
Fluttershy was singing.
There were no words within the melody. It was a nearly-pure expression of notes, with a little bit of humming near the center. Some of the vocal downbeats were accompanied by matching wing movements: her charge was hovering near the windows, with a polishing cloth carefully pressed between forehoof and glass. If her body dipped, so did the tones: when she rose, the song ascended with her.
It was a surprisingly strong voice: not for volume, but in mastery of the music. The pegasus had what almost felt like an instinctive understanding of how the notes needed to proceed, and perhaps that was something which had come from speaking to so many birds. Hearing the words within the music meant hearing the music itself, and if you were going to sing back...
They were bright notes, like those of a contented canary. Fleur listened from the doorway, while dozens of animals sat in perfect silence within cubbyholes. Perches provided something closer to box seats, and a lighting fixture served as a chipmunk gallery. They were all just... listening.
Fleur had never seen her charge like this. She hadn't known it was possible, and when it came to imagining what could be -- her visions tended towards what she considered to be the real. This had never been included.
She's... happy.
And Fleur didn't know why.
Was it because there had been no deaths on that day? Bills had been paid, there was a new client (and one which showed that as long as ponies felt they had a chance with Fluttershy, there was a chance for commuter traffic), and some of the gifts had made the cottage that much more comfortable? Any of those factors could have contributed. It was just that...
The slightly-oversized wings flared a little more. Clean glass squeaked somewhat as the cloth moved up, and that too melded with the song.
...I've never seen her like this.
It wouldn't last. Fleur, who understood the world a little better than her charge, had seen the chance for progress, even managed to picture the prospective end of her sentence -- and was very carefully not being happy, because there was simply too far to go. Contentment could shatter with the lightest rap of a hoof, and when it came to peace... that was the one which didn't need to self-destruct, because a world which saw you at peace would instantly declare war.
Happiness was transient at best, which was why Fleur hadn't defined success in escaping her durance as putting her charge into a lifetime of euphoria. The best possible match would still find Fluttershy with somepony whom she would occasionally argue with or, given her charge, somepony from whom she would flee when a disagreement arose. There would be hard times, misunderstandings, and incidentally, labor was the single worst pain anypony could go through, so the whole 'I want foals' thing was going to be sincerely regretted until the contractions stopped.
Somepony she would be happy with equaled somepony with whom happiness would continue to be possible. That was the best anypony could hope for. But she was happy now, and... Fleur didn't understand.
Maybe the cider is just that good.
The thought almost made her smile. Canterlot residents had been known to go through a lot to reach the right wine-tasting party: Fleur had simply needed to go through a few different positions. Apparently Ponyville had its own version of the desire to sip and snob, especially since Fluttershy had made it clear that the occasion was considered to be something of a party. Admittedly, it was one where you had to wait in line, but there had always been those waiting to have their invitations checked before entering a Canterlot estate. Skipping part of that delay was one of the best reasons for arriving fashionably late -- if you didn't mind missing out on the early gossip. Fleur did.
But the cider sales were supposed to begin in the morning. The cottage's normal work hours were over, and that meant Sun had been lowered.
"It's sort of a town party."
Maybe it was some sort of night festival to celebrate the launch of the season. With free samples for the Bearers, along with anypony who was accompanying them --
-- no. She remembered now: Fluttershy had said the line formed the night before, and then there was more waiting during the day. They were --
-- we're going to be standing in line all night? For some kind of drink? It took a three-century vintage just to get nobles shuffling forward for an hour! And while Fluttershy required less sleep than usual, Fleur's needs were somewhat closer to pony standard: she was about to be up all night and she'd already committed --
"I told Rainbow I don't want to go this year."
-- her tail, which hadn't been given enough time to consider a true lash, turned the movement into more of a minor flick.
She wasn't going to go. She... said it was hard to be away from the cottage for that long...
Of course, that had been without Fleur's ability to bill the palace for the cost of a temporary caretaker. So now Fluttershy could go without worrying (or, more realistically, with somewhat less worry), and with that touch of extra freedom -- she wanted to attend. Going to something she'd described as a party, of her own free will. She'd been the one to suggest it --
-- it's fair trade. This was the agreement. She committed to a party. I'll go stand in line with her.
All night.
Without rest.
In autumn.
...Rainbow had better have tweaked the schedule again.
She didn't want to interrupt Fluttershy: not when her charge was actually happy --
I've never seen her like this.
-- and that meant Fleur wouldn't be the one to shatter that fragile state. She went back into the examination room, as quietly as she could. Resumed the inventory, because work still had to be done.
And up until the moment the hoof rapped on the door, she listened to the song.
There was a bundle of cloth and stakes sitting outside the cottage's front door, close to the back of the borrowed cart. A bulging ridge of fabric ran around sections of the fabric's perimeter, and the slightly-winding cylinder of pressure suggested an inner length of rope. The black-edged glossy scorch marks, gleaming somewhat under Moon's light, were making more of a definitive statement.
"What is it?" Fleur asked, because that felt like a good lead-in for the real question.
"...a tent," Fluttershy softly answered. "I loaded up most of the cart while you were... saying whatever you said to Angel. I just didn't get this in yet."
The rabbit had been caught visibly sizing up the temporary: Fleur had decided to cut off a few problems in advance. "Oh. Good. So we don't just stand in line all night."
With open surprise, "...no. We get there early, and then we can just put up whatever we have room for. Ponies get mad if you take up too much space, though. At least from what Applejack says. I've..." The hesitation was slightly longer than usual. "...never done this part. Not... going out there the night before. It's always been the morning with Rainbow, and the line was so long... you didn't always get cider. They used to run out all the time, before we could reach the stand." A little more quickly, "That's gotten better. You can show up late now and still have a good chance to get some mugs. But ponies still try for the first tapped barrels. And because they know it's going to be a long wait in the morning... they try to have fun the night before."
She's going to something she described as a party. Because she wants to.
There was a time when Fleur would have seen that as progress, and it was a time which had to be scheduled for after the real question.
"How did the tent get hit by dragonfire?"
Moon visibly shifted position.
"...it's a mission tent." Her charge paused. "It's a tent we use on missions. It's not officially assigned or anything. Twilight's put a few workings on it, but enchantments aren't her specialty and she really doesn't make devices, so some of the spells have to be recast. But Rainbow put a little copper wire in there, so it holds the heat better. That sort of makes it a wonder. Twilight was wondering if that made her magic wear off faster --"
"-- the dragonfire," Fleur carefully interrupted, "is the important part."
"...it's a mission tent," completely failed to explain anything.
"So it's classified."
The elegant forehead furrowed. "...no. Just -- embarrassing. At least for Spike, and he couldn't help getting sick. The thin line there is from him. Sneezing."
With what felt like too much calm, "And the giant splash running down one side?"
"...the big dragon."
The hopelessness was kept entirely out of her voice, which just allowed it to burrow down into her stomach and set up a dance party. "And that happened because...?"
"...that's the classified part," Fluttershy softly replied. "But don't worry. The tent's still good. Even though it smelled strange for a while. Did you know copper has a scent when it gets hot enough? I had to give everypony some Doctor Groomer's so they could get it out of their fur."
The unicorn just looked at the cart for a while, because the other option was continuing to think about a future in which her charge was regularly sent out to fight dragons.
"What are the other bundles?"
"...blankets. Some food, so we can eat some dinner when we get there and have breakfast in the morning. Water, because we can't go into Applejack's house every time we're thirsty and there's always a line for the trough. The fast-cooker, because you can use them outside and there's something I want to try. One light. And a journal, because I'll be up longer than you will and there's an article I need to read. It's about cat wrapping."
"Cat wrapping," felt like the kind of phrase you couldn't repeat carefully enough.
In an almost clinical tone, "...winding cloth around them so they can't claw you. I can usually talk them out of trying anything. But Opal gets nasty when Rarity tries to bring her in. So I'm going to read the article, see if I think it'll work, and then I'll give the journal to Rarity so she can send a bolt of cloth under the bed and wrap Opal with it. Because Rarity can carry Opal all the way to the cottage in her field, but she doesn't like holding her too tightly and from what she says, having a cat claw at the inside of your field all the time is really uncomfortable."
Yes, but that's just claws in general. "Cat wrapping," Fleur slowly said. "Got it." She was still looking at the tent. It had patches. Some of the stitching looked experimental, which mostly meant that the bitch had been trying out different patterns along the way. One of the patches seemed to have been taken directly from a dress, and so Fleur could say that it was now leading its best possible life. It was possible to see where some of the copper wire was, because the tent had taken a lightning strike and electricity liked to conduct along copper wires, so those scorch marks were arranged accordingly.
You couldn't really say it was a tent which had been through some things, because the sentence would break under the weight of understatement. It was a tent which hadn't so much had a life as it had been through a prolonged agony of repeated resurrections. Fleur was sure it was a tent which had stories to tell, and all of them were classified. Which meant that if tents could talk, she was completely sure the only thing this one would be allowed to say was 'Kill me.'
That can be her tent. Fluttershy had slept in it before. Fleur was -- probably going to be up all night, because even sleeping separately would still have her in hearing range.
It was going to be a long night, there was exactly one light and worse, one journal. The journal would be available for reading after Fluttershy was finished with it. An endless night where all you had available for entertainment was a veterinary journal had a few differences with one spent in Tartarus, and chief among those was the scant hope that the ultimate prison might gift its prisoners with a tiny library.
"...I know it's a little cold," Fluttershy said. "That's what gets put on the schedule. But it'll be warmer near the Acres, because that's where the party is and Rainbow wants ponies to remember that she warmed things up for them. Especially when we get to winter and ponies start blaming her for the snow." Thoughtfully, "Do you need a scarf? You're taller than I am, so I don't think I can get one of my jackets to fit you. But I could drape something over your back --"
"-- I'll be okay," Fleur carefully cut her off. "The trot will warm me up. How many hitches does this cart have?"
"...just one," her charge apologized. "So I'll pull. Don't worry: I'm --"
"-- stronger than you look," Fleur automatically finished. "How long does it take to reach Applejack's land?"
"...with a cart? I'm not sure," the pegasus admitted. "So it could be a while. It'll only take me a minute to get you that blanket --"
"-- I'm fine," the former escort semi-repeated. "Let's get started."
Fluttershy loaded the tent, then got her shoulders into the hitch and began to steadily walk towards the bridge. Fleur kept pace on the left where the road's width allowed it, found herself getting ahead when they reached the arch because somepony had to scout.
Up all night.
It was a lot to go through for a drink.
But Fluttershy was happy...
The white unicorn stallion was looking at the note.
In the most absolute sense, he was capable of reading it. There were characters written on the half-folded paper and he had recognized them as words: therefore, reading had taken place. And he understood that ponies sent thanks when they received gifts or rather, he understood that other ponies did that. He had never sent a thank-you card in his life, because his existence was something which all of Equestria should have been giving thanks for at all times. This hadn't happened. His mailbox did not overflow on a daily basis, and so he saw no need to make up for everypony else's shortfall.
A note, or card, or whatever the plebeians were calling them these days... that was expected. However, what would have been perfectly natural had been accompanied by things which were not. For starters, there was the signature. He was almost completely sure that 'Fluttershy' would have been a much longer word.
(He didn't recognize the name. He tended to forget anything for which the memory would embarrass him, and had somehow managed to keep this policy from covering his entire existence.)
Additionally, notes came in envelopes, and this one had managed the feat. It was just that the envelope had come in a box.
The box had been full.
He'd recognized the contents, or at least the general style. It was what he'd asked his servant (whose name he didn't have, because the ones who lasted long enough to recognize still weren't worth greeting with a personal identity) to pick up on his behalf. It was a perfect gift.
"This was perfect," he told the servant.
"Yes, sir," the other pony said. He was currently making eye contact with the dining room table, because there was only one pony who ate in that room and that stallion didn't feel servants were paid enough to look at him. He still had some difficulty with the concept of their getting paid at all. Looking after him should have been treated as a universal honor, which meant the universe was supposed to be paying for it.
"Even though you commissioned and mailed it," he generously complimented. "Based on my idea, of course. Which is why it remained perfect."
"Perhaps... that's why she sent it back to you?" the servant risked. "Because it was so perfect, only you could truly benefit from it?"
"Don't be ridiculous," the unicorn immediately snapped. "I'm not a mare! What possible use would I have for this?"
The servant said nothing, which was generally the preferred state. In this case, the unicorn felt it was because he'd just come up with a perfectly legitimate point. It had been his own brilliant idea, he'd even given brief thought to creating a full fashion line built around it if that hadn't felt so much like work -- and here it was again.
"A throw dress," the unicorn said. "It's perfect. You put on the dress. And then whenever there is danger to my fur, you throw the excess fabric over me as protection."
The servant nodded.
"I made it long enough to get across the average puddle."
Again.
"I thought she would appreciate the genius behind the waterproofing," the rather miffed gift-giver declared. "That way, when it gets tossed over me after providing passage across a puddle, my fur remains dry."
"It is rather complicated," the servant tried, and did so while wondering how that level of complexity compared to, just by way of not-so-random example, filling out unemployment forms. It had been a week and in the most local variety of time, it had also been about forty years. Unemployment compensation felt like it would substitute quite nicely for retirement benefits, at least for the next moon.
You didn't always receive unemployment vouchers from the government when you quit, but the stallion had his very own clause.
"What's this she put above the name?" the unicorn inquired. "Just to verify, of course. Her writing is horrible."
The servant carefully squinted at the single word which existed between greeting and signature.
"'No'."
The unicorn stallion possessed what could be described as a unidirectional vocabulary. He only truly understood what 'No' meant on the outbound.
"A perfect gift," he declared. "Refused."
He looked at his invention. Went back to the note for a second, and then momentarily considered the food on the table. It was cold now. Mares made food which cooled off. He didn't understand that. Mares cooked and that meant eventually, he would find one who was good at it.
There were many things which the unicorn didn't understand and luckily, he considered all of them to be unimportant. 'Thermodynamics' was just as easily dismissed as 'personality, need for.' And when it came to this newest mare... there had been a pony who had spoken of her. That pony had made it very clear that the mare was extremely desirable: the single best mare to have. And if there was something which was best to have, then the unicorn was going to be the one who had it. That was simple logic.
Carefully, because questions implied he might not know something and he needed to sound like he was testing everypony else, "She's in... 'Ponyville', is it?"
The servant risked a nod.
"Is that in Equestria?"
"...yes?" The servant had never met the mare and, just for a moment, would have completely understood her.
"Since when?"
"...recently?"
"Then there's no help for it," Blueblood declared. "I'll just have to go there. What does 'Postage Due' mean?"
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My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
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Fluttershy singing: such a simple and adorable moment. I wonder how horrified Fleur De Lis would be if she took a step back and saw herself objectively starting to care about her charge's happiness beyond the requirements of the job? Beautiful.
Also, I've decided that when Blueblood was at the Gifted School, he became the only Unicorn other than Twilight Sparkle to be completely unaffected by the machinations of Clear Coordinator. The reason in his case being that whenever Clear Coordinator attempted to subtly hint that blackmail might be occurring, Blueblood utterly failed to understand what Clear Coordinator was implying until Clear Coordinator eventually simply gave up.
Oh no.
At least Rarity will get another shot at him.
I hope her aim is better this time.
Seems Fleur has never heard of cluster headaches.
btw
He
dipped
Is that optional?
Discord has aquired a new target.
10261182
I wonder what Blueblood's magic rankings are... Lol if they're actually pretty good.
----
"Wonder" pun! Nice!
----
And the mystery of Fleur's past, continues!
----
Fleur cares about Fluttershy's happiness...!
And what better for a blank slate, than someone who's... uh... What's Fleur's own puzzle look like, I wonder.
----
Blueblood! And Servant!
Hmm... How many pairs of people are involved in this story... Discord and Harem Fantasy, Fleur and Fluttershy, and now Blueblood and Servant!
--------------------------------
Typo:
wears off faster > wear off faster
I didn't expect Blueblood to re-appear in this story as some form of antagonist and/or curb to stomp.
Look like Fleur and Flutters are in for a waiting line pre-party. Those can get fun when the bottles and the weed get passed along the line. Always new people to chat with.
Behold, the candidate I was just thinking of while reading this! I was wondering if that peculiar character would make a cameo but he didn't even get that!
Could be great if he made a comeback in another story thought.
Oh god, why him, I am almost afraid to ask WHY she is searching for him...
10261182 Eventually Fleur will go "I wonder why she's so happy. There's nopony here but me."
Love is blind. Also deaf, dumb, and really dumb.
10261292
Perhaps we'll see him return in an Anime-Style Battle against his arch-nemesis. The power of Burnt Toast versus the power of Tubs of Jelly!
Absolutely not. Nopony deserves that.
That said, Fleur may have taken a turn for the overprotective. The slate won't get any less blank if Fluttershy never gets the chance to find out what she likes. And if the only thing she has to latch onto is that protector, well...
Asking the really deep questions here. Though the only one who might be able to answer them is currently popping around the world with a sapient novel.
There's been plenty of discussion about how Fleur isn't really one for many of the Elements, Honesty and Generosity especially. She's more or less Magic-neutral, certainly doing good work with Loyalty, and you could say Kindness is growing on her. But this bit really captures her alienation from Laughter. Someone so obsessed with the future and how much of it she has left can't ever enjoy the moment. Yes, the good times don't last, but obsessing over the fact ensures they'll end before they even begin.
It should be quite interesting to see Fleur's reaction to the cider line. This very much is not a wine tasting party. And Blueblood arriving in Ponyville... oh, that can't possibly end well. The question is just how many ponies will get their kicks in before he retreats.
I just want one thing at this point. Discord to actually ask Fluttershy what she wants. Because I'm hoping the answer might suprise them both.
Yeah... you may have overegged the Blueblood. Just a pinch.
I kind of wonder who will freak the worst when
Fleur realizes that Fluttershy has a crush on her
My Personal Order
Discord
Celestia
Fleur
I filed this story in the AU Folder
https://www.fimfiction.net/group/214857/triptych-continuum-rebooted
Haha, man. Loved this chapter. Thanks for the update
I wonder what's going on with the box. Why would it be unsafe to have it around and why it can't stay in her living space but has to be outside of it. It's really sad that only the presence of the totem lets her sleep peacefully. Maybe that could change?
Wild how close we got this chapter to seeing if Fluttershy has changed at all puzzle-wise without actually seeing it yet. Anticipation builds! I hope they have a chance to have some interesting conversation hanging out in the tent next chapter.
It was supremely cute when Fluttershy was singing and Fleur snuck in to listen in the doorway. It's interesting to me that Fleur is almost more drawn to her for her voice than for her looks. I like that Fleur is determined to still follow through with her commitment to go in line despite thinking it'll kind of be a bad time just because she made a promise and it would make Fluttershy happy.
Oh lordy. THAT overbearing enema of a unicorn is coming...
Ah, a welcome diversion. I have to work today and I need something to blunt the bad mood.
And Blueblood coming to the Cider Festival? This could be fun...
EDIT: No - just the Apple Family harvest. I wonder of Flim and Flam will turn up again...
10261182
I'm not so sure. I doubt very much whether Coordinator would have bothered with Blueblood at all. Blueblood has nothing to useful to offer him.
10261695
A great deal of money? Easily parted from fools, I hear.
It's a pity Blueblood isn't British: he'd be a shoo-in for the Upper Class Twit competition.
10261695
He's a blithering idiot, of course. But he's incredibly wealthy, and a high-ranking member of the nobility. Which in Equestria, it would seem, is much more important than simply being intelligent in some circles. Besides, it's Clear Coordinator -- he'd look to acquire literally anypony with even a tiny level of power.
10261764
10261771
Wealth is a valid point, of course, but I do wonder where Blueblood would sit* on the cost-benefit analysis given that his influence appears to be largely in a negative direction.
...And the Upper Class Twit of the Year is one of my very favourite bits of Monty Python. It is also pretty much the first bit I remember.
* Of course he is sitting on it! You wouldn't expect him to stand, like a common pony, would you?
10261843
Very fair to say! But then, that was kind of the premise of what I suggested. This was the Gifted School, after all -- they would have been foals. Clear Coordinator meets young Blueblood, who's from the highest level of the nobility below Princess Celestia herself, and practically oozes money from every orifice, and at that age, what else matters?. Of course Clear Coordinator would have tried to get Blueblood on his side...
...right up until it became obvious that in Blueblood's case, not even the wealth or breeding makes up for what an utterly useless waste of blood and organs he actually is. At which point, Clear Coordinator just stopped bothering.
Incidentally, since Malandy brought it up:
10261256
I think in this situation, it'd be somehow more irritating if Blueblood actually did have above-average field strength. Oh, we can all roll our eyes about the privileged boy who coasts by on wealth and breeding when he's useless in every way, but there's just that extra little itchy niggle if it turns out the annoying privileged boy is... actually pretty good at what he does.
Draco Malfoy wouldn't have been an interesting antagonist if he turned out to be too hideously incompetent to actually challenge Harry Potter, you know?
10261900
According to the comics, at least, Blueblood is a very good diplomat. Just an insufferable boor when not on duty. I don't think Estee is importing that character trait here.
Wait, Blueblood is coming to Ponyville because Fluttershy, who he can't remember anyway, refused his invitation?
*gets popcorn*
Personally I’m waiting for the twist with Blueblood. Estee only jumps on bandwagons to hijack them.
Remember when she wrote Permanent Record? And most people thought she was just doing her take on “those wacky, destructive CMC,” stories that were so popular at the time. We all know where that led.
Now she appears to be doing “arrogant, useless idiot Blueblood...”
10261360
he will probably encounter discord first, I cannot wait to see what sort of idiocy he try’s with him, I wonder if it will be so unbelievable stupid as to leave discord speechless
I'd say that implies that there is a group marriage in which every other member agreed to let an "utter bitch" in -- and it still might be the case -- but then, look who she calls "that bitch", and you realize she just might have a lower threshold for bitchiness before she considers somepony a bitch than Fluttershy would.
Estee, do you watch Zero Punctuation? It's just seems too much a coincidence that both yours AND Yahtzee's most recent outputs involve toast boning: https://www.escapistmagazine.com/v2/ion-fury-void-bastards-zero-punctuation/
Not that I'm complaining.
10261360
It's like a brilliant trap. I've suspected for a while now that Fluttershy would fall for Fleur, and I think this sums up why Celestia's gut reaction will be to throttle the 'caretaker' she'd assigned.
Maybe I'm the only one, but I suspect that Fleur interpreted Blue Bloods gift completely differently. Seeing as how his qualifications for a 'throw' dress also seem synonymous with 'tearable.'
10262225
Could Permanent Record really be considered a deconstruction? Ultimately Bobbi Brassie DID have a point.
10261336
oh gods no. That one meeting with Hughbert would be... Disastrous.
Sidenote: I suspect that Mister Jellius and Blueblood might annihilate each other on contact.
10261548
The Box's contents is precious to Fleur. If Fleur keeps it where she lives, (her paranoia is telling her) that increases the chance that someone will take it away because THEY know where it is through dint of it being near her.
As for Blueblood coming to Ponyville...
BLUEBLOOD sails into the distance on the blast wave of the ORBITAL FRIENDSHIP CANNON.
TWILIGHT
(staring at the receding rainbow)
Wait, why was there an Octarine stripe this time? Fluttershy? Rainbow? Has that always been there?!
FLUTTERSHY
N-no. That was new...
FLEUR
(standing nearby, SHOCKED to find herself wearing a NECKLACE representing THE PARADOX OF TOLERANCE)
What, and I don't use this word lightly, the FU-
Roll credits.
"good enough to receiving any of it"
"good enough to be receiving any of it"?
"might meant a twist to the"
"might mean a twist to the"?
"I'll only take me a minute"
"It'll only take me a minute"?
Another good chapter; thank you for writing. :)
Oh, dear Faust. This reminds me of a story.
An earth pony gardener managed to produce a interesting new strain of Maclura pomifera whose fruit were devoid of almost any real pigmentation whatsoever, but had developed an azure tinge to the latex that would ooze out if the fruits were cut or bruised. The Prince, passing by one at a garden party immediately demanded a dozen of the trees to line the approach to his residence at a pittance of bits. Despite the overly cheap price, the gardener immediately agreed and Blueblood walked away satisfied.
When asked, the gardener simply stated that he'd always wanted to give the Prince a bunch of horseapples to match the one he already was.
10263455
reminds me of a silly story, i think it's called "lovey dovey", about a pony NAMED "lovey dovey", who has a strange knack for reading ponies' "love lines", and helping them find their "soul mates".
then one day she gets a client she can not read...
yes, she ends up marrying him.
10279849
No, she was actively keeping a sexual predator from justice. That's what I like to call a no-no.
The more I think think on it this story explains Fluttercord too well. To use Flier's puzzle metaphor imagine is Discord's puzzle is utter madness with Out restraints or borders, he can't love because it's too wild and lacks a boarder. While Fluttershy's is just an empty border, nothing inside but space. So put pieces with no boarder with a boarder lacking any peices.
Of course that is very much an end stage goal, there are yet miles and miles to tread before coming to the conclusion. After all we only got to see where the Mane Six ended up, not what happened in between. Who they dated but didn't end up with, crushes, infatuations and the like. Like Cannon this could end with FlutterCord, but the journey is the meat of the story.
Can't say for sure if I'll continue reading this, since based on where I think it's going, it's going to end in a terribly depressing fashion.
Still, I thought you should know that I think you've really nailed the characters of Fluttershy, Celestia, and Discord. So congratulations on that.
Finally caught up on this story. I'm loving the character of Fleur, she's a great protagonist. You did a great job setting up her backstory to be a compelling mystery, and her worldview and personality are great fun for a viewpoint character. (You can never go wrong with an eternally-scrappy underdog). I also like how Fluttershy is portrayed.
As for the romance aspect, it's pretty obvious by this point that the story will end with Fleur/Fluttershy, but guessing the end doesn't stop the journey being fun.
10261182
First, Twilight was affected by CC's machinations. Just wasn't directly blackmailed.
Second, 100% agree about Blueblood. Blackmailing is based on fear, and really, is there anything a paragon of everything could possibly fear? Well, except for not having a mirror nearby when he need one but that's what lesser beings are for, right?
10988567
I remember reading that when Queen Victoria wanted to sit down she just sat, confident that someone would see to it that there was a chair under her.
IMO, same attitude.
10261409
You may have forgotten the number one pony who'll freak out when they realize that Fluttershy is crushing on Fleur:
Fluttershy.