• 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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But That Prospective Husbando Has Already Forgotten Him

and then the sound stopped


Afterwards, there was a need to clean up the blood.

It was the last thing they did in the silent surgery, and they did it while there were at least a hundred ponies who were still outside the building. There would be some fluctuation in the exact composition of the group: Fleur was sure of that. For some, their own lives would come calling. Others would get off work, their route home would take them down precisely the wrong street, and then there would be a need to see just what the herd thought was so important. And a few would be moving in and out, possibly to fetch water for a bookseller whose flowing tears had placed her in perpetual need of resupply. Perhaps she was even keeping some of it down.

But for the most part, the herd would be waiting. For a hint, rumor, actual news, for... somepony to come out. And time which passed without true knowledge simply allowed everypony to decide how they were going to erase the gap. A mind lost in vacuum had to fill it with something. If there were no facts, then you started to guess. Enough time spent at that and you might convince yourself that the guesses were the facts: after all, nopony had told you anything else. Reinforce, spread the self-generated false truths, beliefs which would be the worst things because all you could imagine was the worst, all which could exist was the worst because the worst had already happened and in that, she

you

you would turn out to be wrong.

The worst was what came after.

They were waiting. And the mares in the silent surgery had to make them wait a little longer, because there were at least a hundred ponies who were still outside the building -- and there was blood. It might not be possible to seize control of the herd before the scent broke somepony within it, gave the massmind a new direction of Anywhere But Here. They couldn't risk a stampede.

The mares were scrubbing. It was taking a while. Even for this, the surgery was undersupplied.

Fleur didn't doubt that there had been some blood in the room before this: after all, claws got jammed. Felines might scratch each other, and just about any pet had the chance for an outdoor encounter with a thorn. Sweetbark had treated minor wounds: it was why the room had bandages at all. But this much of it (especially when measured as a percentage of what the bird had possessed), in a confined space... no.

They scrubbed, and so much of that was improvised because naturally Sweetbark didn't have the Foal-Castille soap either. The baking soda found a second use as desperation odor neutralizer, and they weren't sure how well it was working because so much of the bloodscent was in their snouts. And they had their own bodies to consider. Both mares used that special soap, and it had kept the stench of the blood off their fur -- but not the stains. Simply going outside with so much of their bodies discolored by red which had begun to dry into crusted brown...

There were no cosmetics left. It didn't matter for the pegasus, who just wanted to be clean and at any rate, could easily pass off the fully-natural look because that was the vast majority of what she'd displayed across the journey of her life. The unicorn was going to try standing off to the side.

The mares had a surprising number of things in common. They were both beautiful. (Only one acknowledged that, and used it as a weapon against the world.) But the pegasus hid herself away, took shelter behind her own mane. And for the unicorn, there were cosmetics. Something which enhanced, but -- it was also an extra layer, carefully placed onto the surface. Use enough of them and that layer would be the surface. It was what you looked at instead of her.

In the surgery, the coral mane had been flipped back: the unicorn had then used some gauze to tie it in a way which prevented it from coming forward again, keeping the long strands away from blood and wounds. And they'd needed to wash themselves before the desperation had been expressed as instruments and glowing screens, make sure their own fur was covered, that there were no contaminants which could make anything worse. No subtle powders.

They moved through the silence, sliding their hooves across the floor. Blood slowly came away (and it had gone everywhere, because of course it had). Neither spoke: subtle nods and gestures sufficed, and... both were exhausted. Worn out on so many levels and for the unicorn, a number of the oldest ones had recently been scraped raw.

The bone-glow screen was shut down. Some borrowed instruments were cleaned and put away: others had to be packaged for their return to the cottage. Neither mare truly looked at the other, for there was nothing left in the way. Even the briefest glance might have gone too deep.

They moved through silence and the scent of blood, with their armor gone. A state where all which could truly be heard was their own thoughts. The price of sapience.

Thought was pain.
So was memory.


The skinny mare looked up as the door opened, with the motion sending tears away from saturated tracks and into fur which could still absorb moisture. There was a little of that left.

The place closest to the entrance had been given over to the bookseller. Behind that, more than a hundred ponies were waiting. But the position immediately next to her -- that had been given to a patch of shadow --

-- Fleur needed a moment to refocus, and then the image resolved: a unicorn mare with fur of naturally-layered hues had been low on the ground, next to where the bookseller had collapsed. They'd been in the surgery for hours, all of that lost time had brought them under Moon, the gathered herd had produced clusters of shadow, and the police chief could be very hard to spot in the dark.

Of course she's here. Now I have to find out what she's been told and worse, what she's decided to do about it. And I already know the first thing she's going to say...

Fluttershy didn't look at the herd, or the police chief. The full, gentle attention of both exposed eyes was reserved for the skinny mare.

"...Bluestocking," the pegasus softly said. "I need you to come inside for a moment. Just you."

The bookseller's jaw worked a few times. A tongue searched for the last pockets of moistening saliva.

"Just me." Barely audible. Volume buried under a mountain of agony.

"...you're her companion," Fluttershy gently stated. "It has to be you. It's been you since the day you promised to love her. You can tell everypony whatever you want after, but... I have to speak to you first. I have to ask your permission for something. Please..."

Slowly, the bookseller got up. It took three attempts, and the dark unicorn finally had to nudge her across the final gap.

"Talk to her," Miranda Rights falsely offered. "And when you're done, both of you are going to speak with me."

Fluttershy nodded. Fleur, about two body lengths back, darkly pondered the absolute lack of satisfaction which was found in being right.

Bluestocking stumbled out of the night, into the too-bright artificial world of the reception area. A quick, automatic projection of Fleur's corona closed the door behind the bookseller, and the unicorn barely held back the wince of pain.

Not defunct yet. But holding back Fluttershy -- she could manage her charge's weight: that hadn't been the issue. Doing so with a hidden field had strained her, fighting to keep her power from twisting against itself -- and then everything which followed had required her to keep casting, over and over. Magic had become painful hours ago, and anything beyond the most minor efforts might send her into unconsciousness. She had to be careful. And with law enforcement lurking outside the door...

Not that the police chief could hear anything. The reception area hosted chirps, mews, barks, rustles, growls --

clacking

-- and while the glass was clear, the office had been directionally soundproofed. You could hear what was going on outside. The reverse didn't apply. Fleur wasn't even sure how much could truly be seen beyond shifting false shadows: the lumen differential between the two environments produced a decent amount of glare.

Bluestocking's head went down. Came up again, pushing against a tremendous invisible weight. But wet eyes stared forward, and the poorly-furred ears forced themselves to remain upright.

"She's dead," croaked the last of the thin mare, and unevenly-worn saddlebags shifted their straps over the narrow back. "You had to tell me that alone. That she's dead. Or she's only going to live for a little while, an hour or two, and I -- get to say goodbye now." All four knees locked. "You can say it. I've been waiting for that. I've known you were going to say it for hours. I'm ready --"

The words you told yourself, to fill the silence. But when they were finally spoken, you had to truly hear them. You had to make yourself hear them and for a moment, Fleur respected the mare's strength.

The pegasus took a breath. Squared shoulders and hips against the mass of an eternal burden. "...she's..."

"-- just say it --"

"...going to need rehabilitation on that wing. That's something for a specialist: I wouldn't want to try it at the cottage. So I'm asking for permission to send her away for a while. There's an estate outside Canterlot, a bird sanctuary run by a noble who -- cares. Her name is Audu, and she knows a lot of bird specialists. She can get in touch with the right pony. But it means having Kori stay at the estate. Audu never charges more than her own costs: she mostly relies on donations. But the specialist is going to be expensive. And I can't send her unless you let me. I can't help any more unless you let --"

The bookseller had been crying for hours. But there were always more tears, and the newest ones soaked into Fluttershy's clean fur as the thin mare pressed herself against the softness of the pegasus' left shoulder.

It went on for a while. Fluttershy awkwardly arced a wing, managed to make a tiny degree of contact. Fleur silently watched.

Finally, Bluestocking pulled back.

"How long?" was just barely choked out. "Can I visit?"

"...you can visit," Fluttershy smiled. "But it's a long trot: Audu's out past what most ponies think of as the capital's borders, plus there's the train. Rehabilitation time is... hard to predict. For a bird her size, a broken bone usually takes about three weeks. But this was a compound fracture. That could be more complicated. I'd want it fully healed before she started to work on getting her strength back, so that'll require a follow-up examination, at least one. I can recommend ponies in the capital. And for the rehab... at least a moon, Bluestocking, and you should really be talking to the specialist about that." A little more softly, "Without the specialist, she'll live -- but I couldn't promise she'd fly again. I don't -- I don't know what you can afford --"

"-- it doesn't matter," Bluestocking whispered. "I'll find the money somewhere." With rising strength, "I can take out a loan if I have to. Or ask Legis for help on where to go --"

"-- who?" the pegasus asked.

The bookseller's lips twisted, and the resulting smile came across as something sincere. It was also rather thin, and more than a little vicious.

"Ponies were talking to me outside," the thin mare said. "For hours. One of them was a lawyer. Who has his own bird. He heard about everything, and he's willing to take the case on contingency. No fees until we win, unless we win, and if we lose, he'll just write it off. He wants me to sue Blueblood. For the cost of -- everything, and then some more besides."

Which put the situation partially into Fleur's domain, and the unicorn stepped forward accordingly. (Not too much: she had no makeup, and was trying to use what few shadows the office would provide for shelter. Which was just about none: it was too bright...) "Contingency's best here," the escort agreed. "But make sure you have somepony read through the whole thing before you sign." Quickly, "You didn't sign anything yet, right -- oh, good. Bring the contract to the cottage before you do, and I'll look it over. But even with contingency -- you're up against Blueblood. He'll get his own lawyers. They'll stall for as long as possible, hoping you'll give up --"

A narrow rib cage was forced to cooperate with the next breath. "-- I won't. Legis already warned me about the blockade. He thinks it'll take more than a year to fight through it: his best guess was fifteen moons. But Blueblood will be paying attorney fees the whole time, and I won't." Through gritted teeth, "I won't stop. Send Kori to the capital. I'll find a way."

Fluttershy nodded. Strands of coral mane fought against the gauze, trying to come forward again.

"Can I see her?"

"...yes. She's on the other side of that door, in the recovery cage. I'm sorry about it being a cage, but that's what was here. But she's sleeping. She'll be asleep for hours."

"I'll let her sleep," declared the newest tears. "I just want to see her..."

Another nod.

The bookseller took a small step back. Her eyes moved from pegasus to unicorn.

"I remember when you came into my shop," Bluestocking unevenly told Fleur, exhausted words rising and falling. "When I found out who you worked for, I decided you'd been scouting the opposition. Checking with her clients, to see what they thought of her. It didn't exactly make me like you." Her head dipped a little. "I didn't like you before that. You're..." and stopped.

Too pretty. You were jealous. I saw that from the start.

Bluestocking took a slow breath.

"I... don't feel that way any more." Shifted back to Fluttershy. "How much do I owe you?"

The pegasus blinked.

"...it was an emergency. You didn't hire me: you didn't choose me. I just stepped in --" and that came with the briefest of glances at Fleur "-- because I was there and I could. I don't have any right to bill you for it --"

The last of the tears fell onto the bright floor.

"-- I pay my vet," Bluestocking choked. "And you're my vet, I'm sorry, I'm sorry for what I thought, for what so many of us thought and said because of what she said. You're my vet, you're always going to be my vet, and I'm sorry..."

Her head went back towards her saddlebags. A trembling jaw struggled with the lid of the left one, and finally gave up. It was clearly easier to just shake the whole thing off and allow the spilled mixture of bits and bird treats to spread across the floor.

Bluestocking never glanced down to see how much had emerged. There were more important things to do.

The thin mare went through the indicated door, closed it behind her. The dark one, who had been watching through the glass, immediately opened the front one and stepped in.

"Both of you together," Miranda stated. "Then Fleur alone."

The internal Perfect was all Fleur could allow herself to express, at least when it came to the purest of sarcasm. She's decided there's something she can charge me with, and maybe she just needs a few more seconds to work out what it is...

I need powders for my fur. The lighting in here is...

...why doesn't she try to shade her jaw? Soften the lines a little. She just doesn't care enough to do anything.

The verbal end of that emerged as a casual "Fine."

"...okay," Fluttershy softly agreed.

Grey-green eyes slowly examined both mares.

"I've been here for a few hours," the police chief stated. "Although I had another stop to make first. But it's been long enough to run some interviews. I have a pretty good idea of what happened at the cottage. And then, according to more than a hundred witnesses, that unicorn took a horn swipe at Kori." With open irritation and a lash of the dark tail, "Something he claims not to remember having done, and therefore it couldn't have happened. He's not even sure why he's here. At one point, he tried to accuse me of foalnapping him --"

"...you spoke to him?" Fluttershy asked, both eyes going visibly wide. "When did you --"

"-- he's in the cells," Miranda cut her off.

Fleur blinked.

She arrested Blueblood.

The so-called Prince Of The Prison, horn locked within the cone of a restraint, trapped in a holding area which probably didn't get cleaned more than once per moon, moaning in open agony as what had to be the deliberate torture of dust worked ever-deeper into his coat...

She arrested Blueblood.
...if I didn't know what you were and what you're going to try with me, I just might have offered you a freebie right there.

"And complaining about it," the police chief added. "Endlessly. I've been trying to figure out how his mark would relate to going for two minutes on one breath -- anyway, when I heard what happened, I went out to the crash site first. Which is now blocked off, by the way: I've got patrolponies taking pictures and redirecting traffic. And once we've got all of the pictures, we have to put most of the stuff in the evidence locker." She took a breath. "And some offices. A few of the spare cells... Anyway, his servants had extracted him from the pile, and he needed medical treatment. He'd just refused to leave without his possessions. Which were still being loaded, right down to the last splinters. Poorly. He was also trying to make some of them do repairs on the spot." Dark shoulders tossed off a small shrug. "Priorities. Something which kept him within the Ponyville limits, and I took him in for inquiries. And medical treatment. He protested against both, and the exact method on that is what initially landed him in the cells. Tail-first."

Fleur carefully kept her features impassive.

Possibly two.
I would have kicked in some shading advice.

"Where he'll stay at least overnight," the dark unicorn continued. "Since his actions qualify for animal cruelty statutes. I'm expecting his lawyers to show up in the morning: his servants will contact them, or the letter he gets to send might arrive first. The 'writing' part is giving him some trouble, though. But there will be charges, because more than a hundred witnesses swear they saw him leap and swing his horn directly at Kori."

They both nodded.

Here it comes...

The police chief took a slow breath.

"The same group," she added, "who equally swear that, upon smelling her blood, he instinctively recoiled in a manner which somehow managed to fling himself backwards. And up. And directly into what is now the world's largest evidence debris field."

...don't smirk.
Don't. Smirk.

Miranda's fur rustled again.

"The doctors did find fresh hoofprint bruises on his chest," the law enforcement official observed. "But when you're going to bring along a Marble Whispers sculpture, and it crashes limbs-down..."

The town protects its Bearers. The herd picked their lie, and a lie which is being spoken by more than a hundred ponies gains a little extra weight.
You've got some idea of what really happened. But it's Fluttershy, and you can't really do anything about it -- can you?

"To summarize," the police chief said, "I've got him for at least the night, and I can make sure the charges stick. But our cases are heard in Canterlot, and it wouldn't surprise me if his lawyers get the sentence down to probation -- which would require him to admit he'd done something. If he keeps going with denial, it'll be worse. That's where things stand on my side of the stile. I thought you two would want to know."

Both mares risked a nod. The grey-green eyes shifted again.

"Fluttershy," Miranda softly told the pegasus, "go check on Bluestocking."

"...she should really have time with Kori by herself," was the protest. "I don't want to interrupt..."

No extra volume, but a doubling of force. "Go."

The pegasus blinked.

"...okay."

And then it was the police chief in the reception area with Fleur, where nearly all of the colors were too bright. The only exceptions were the living ones: a mare who, under the right circumstances, was a breathing patch of shadow, and another whose fully natural hues were currently exposed to the world.

Two mares in a room, and untold ponies on the other side of the door.

Maybe there was something I could have done with the baking soda. At least it's white.

The officer looked at Fleur. Up and down, and then all the way up to the tip of the horn. Back to the eyes.

"What do you know about clockwork?"

It had been a casual query, and that made it a trap. Fleur just wouldn't know what it was meant to do unless she sprung it.

"Not very much," the escort admitted. (She wanted to keep her tail presented in a posture of relaxation, and it meant presenting her tail...) "I don't really own any major pieces. Neither does Fluttershy. I think the only clockwork she has is in the actual clocks. I've seen some more advanced items at parties and the like, though. Some ponies in Canterlot like to collect automatons. I saw one last year which could sketch. It was an import from Mazein. But it was really just rendering a pattern from central plates which somepony swapped in and out of the chest. It couldn't actually see what was in front of it." And with an openness designed to discomfort the other unicorn, "Of course, there are those in my profession who carry --" adding a faint smile "-- let's call them -- toys. I don't use them myself. But they're certainly clockwork! You have to -- wind them up..."

"Oh, good," Miranda lightly broke in. "I thought I'd have to explain that part."

As long as I'm not afraid...
...the clacking...
...she only has whatever power I'm willing to give her, and I'm not giving her anything --
-- the mindless...

"I don't know what you mean," Fleur casually offered.

Miranda shrugged. The outer edge of the left shoulder briefly phased into the scant shadows, vanished and returned.

"Minotaurs usually make the most advanced clockwork," the police chief agreed. "There's a few ponies with marks for it, of course. One lives in town, although he isn't quite up to anything really refined yet. Lack of parts. Gizmo's been talking about going to Mazein himself and taking their classes. But for the most part, it's minotaurs. Making things which click along. A gear here, a spring there, and their creations do one thing. Perfectly. As long as they're kept polished, oiled, and aligned, in a perfectly controlled environment. Because they can't think. An automaton can sweep the floor, but it won't know if you moved a bench, or when your cat is in front of the pushbroom. The illusion of life, almost. But not the reality. Not without thought. And in order to make them work, you have to -- wind them up."

"Still not seeing your point," Fleur genially (and, internally, very reluctantly) admitted. "If you're using this as the lead-in to whatever you're going to try and charge me with..." Which, with actual law enforcement serving as direction instead of what had to be a burgeoning grudge, would be nothing at all. She'd made sure to --

"There are no new charges against you at this time," Miranda tightly stated. "You made sure to cover your own tail there. A full class on invoking the sufficiency clause, all delivered on the gallop. I can't get you on breaking and entering, because any court would agree sufficiency existed. I'm not stupid enough to try pressing that charge in the first place, not when you were trying to save a life."

Knowing it was a lie, unwilling to believe that the words would actually work, "Then we're done --"

"-- it's about how we got to the point where you had to break in," the officer half-spat.

I don't --

"I'm sure that speaking in circles gives you some pleasure," Fleur pleasantly stated. "The same pleasure as your job, where neither activity actually accomplishes anything. But Fluttershy and I have had a truly long day. One where it's far too late to shop for beds. Plus neither of us ate much of anything since this morning, and I'd prefer that she collapse on a full stomach." And risked the first stage of the turn. "So if you'll excuse me --"

"-- I conducted interviews," Miranda told her. "Enough to know where the lie starts, and that I won't be able to crack it. But the lie begins at the cart, Fleur. For the cottage, ponies were willing to tell me exactly what happened. And what happened was clockwork."

Fleur stopped turning.

Facing slightly away from features which needed expert care (and that wasn't going to come from her), "Admittedly, it would explain why Vlad can't think properly. But I'm pretty sure he's actually breathing. Which is despite popular demand --"

"-- clockwork," and the word had been a hiss, the snake lining up for the strike, "requires power. Kinetic energy. For minotaurs, that's internal, flexible springs, coiled tightly. And in order to get them tightened, you -- wind them up. There's usually a key somewhere on clockwork, or a mouth-crank. You rotate it and feel the resistance to further movement building up in your jaw. And when it's too hard to push, you have to stop. You're storing just enough potential energy to go kinetic later, because you're only trying to give it power for the one thing you want it to do. The only thing it can do."

"This is very boring," Fleur decided, and told herself it was true. A proper trap would have latched onto her hocks by now. She wanted to get out of the room and scrounge for m'changa. Not that she expected to find any, because Sweetbark's low-stress occupation clearly didn't require a supply of headache medicine. "Does Gizmo explain it any better? Because a subject this dry clearly requires an expert --"

"-- only so far," Miranda half-whispered: words meant as field-slung darts, targeted for Fleur's ears alone. "Because there's only so far you should go. It's possible to force the spring into a tighter coil, if you push past the point of resistance. And you tell yourself -- it's just giving the clockwork more energy. Extra power. But what actually happens is that you're stressing the mechanism. Some of the smaller gears can't handle that much. The system can break down very easily. Because it takes a lot of complexity to accomplish just one thing, when there can't be any thought. And minotaurs have a word, Fleur. εκκαθάριση."

"I don't know what that means." And I hope that just destroyed your throat.

It hadn't. "For when someone is being deliberately offensive, insulting, in the hopes of getting a reaction. Because when you put too much potential energy into clockwork, it isn't necessarily released in a steady flow. It can all come out at once. It explodes, because εκκαθάριση in Equestrian means 'winding you up'. Minotaurs know what happens when you push too hard. Clockwork and people. They explode, Fleur, explode like a pony who's been pushed past their limits by insult and offense, explode because --"

Hoofsteps. Short, quick ones meant to cross a small portion of the gap, with extra impact on each planting. Adding punctuation, as displaced bits and bird treats were sent flying away.

"-- you just. kept. winding."

I...
...I didn't...
...it wasn't me, I don't control how anypony else reacts, what they do, if I could control anyone then they would have

Defensive, because she had to be, and she wondered how much the herd could see through the glass, if they were mostly looking at her tail and she wasn't giving them enough to look at... "If you're trying to blame his actions on me --"

"-- for the cottage," Miranda snapped, "I think I've got the truth. You couldn't just tell him to leave, and I get that, Fleur. I talked to him for nearly an hour: I wanted to flush my mouth out with a drinking trough after two minutes. Just telling him to go might not have worked. So you went for humiliation. A masterclass, really: let's hope there aren't any ponies with that mark, or we'll need a new school building once they all find their teacher. You wanted to humiliate him, and you wouldn't stop. You made sure to follow him back to the cart, you had to get the last words in, and you did it all in front of an audience." The left forehoof slammed against the floor. "You wound him up. You kept winding, until the spring couldn't take any more. And a simple mechanism, which can't hold all that much -- kicked a gear. The machinery lashes out, and then you're galloping for this office while shouting about sufficiency and covering your tail."

No.
This wasn't my fault.
I'm not --

Silence. The reception area didn't seem to be designed for it. This was the sort of quiet which echoed. It filled up every last bit of space, overflowed and started to work backwards through time.

"You're not the type which usually goes quiet," the dark unicorn stated. "Thinking about --"

No.

"-- you're asking me to predict how somepony is going to react under pressure and be responsible for it!" She'd turned back and that was fine, she was allowed to look directly at the officer even if some of them would try to claim that was a crime, but she had to make sure her head was up because she wanted to look down on the other unicorn, and simply lowering her aching head could probably be used as a pretext to claim presentation of a weapon. Preparation to charge. "As one of the only ponies in the world who thinks she understands my talent, officer, would you mind telling me which part of it includes either precognition or mind control?"

It was safe to say: the ponies outside couldn't hear her, and both of the mares in the back room were equally shielded. But all it did was make those grey-green eyes narrow.

"You pushed him to the breaking point." It was possible to see every muscle going tight under the dark fur, and Fleur hated that because it meant she was truly looking at the mare. "You knew you were doing that. I'm pretty sure you were enjoying yourself. You pushed him to the breaking point, until it was just a question of what broke. I don't believe you intended for him to lash out at Kori, Fleur. I'd even like to think there's enough of a soul in you to regret what happened, and because it's you --"

She had to sound desperate. It was in her best interests to come across as desperate, she needed desperation and so it was a good thing to have it present and ready to go. "I never wanted her hurt, she's innocent --"

The furious words were spat, and the glob began to soak into her fur.

"-- because it's you, I don't."

It's not my fault.
It's not my fault.
I didn't mean to
the clacking, the mindless
it was an accident

The dark mare's head tilted slightly to the right, and then the rage was gone. There was something else creasing the shadowed fur now. A simple matter of curiosity.

"What was that thought?"

Fleur blinked. She blinked because it meant that if nothing else, her eyes were under some degree of control. "And now I'm supposed to put my thoughts in your head. Let's do it verbally: I think you're going too far --"

"-- you can't see yourself from the outside," the officer cut in. "So you don't know what your face was like just then. Your expression." A little more softly, "Congratulations, Fleur. You didn't completely change my mind. But you did give me something to consider."

Talking faster, letting the anger come in because there was just so much of it and she didn't understand that, but pain was a weapon, she'd been in pain for hours and she had to hit something, and what did her expression have to do with anything? "-- so if you're ready to acknowledge that you have no legal basis for arresting me in front of the entire herd, if you can admit that we're done --"

"Maybe you do have a soul," Miranda softly considered. "Somewhere." Followed by a snort. "I'll do you one favor and not start asking about whose just yet. I'm not arresting you tonight, Fleur: you're right about that. Not for this. I couldn't make a charge stick, and the herd wouldn't take it well." Her head shifted back to center, and with the speed of a backlashed corona, the curiosity winked out. "But I still know what you are. And I'm still watching."

She turned. A flicker of green-grey field touched the door, something strange happened to the energy's hues, and it seemed to Fleur that the exit didn't open up so much as the door repelled itself from the frame.

The police chief cleared the opening, vanished into shifting darkness. Something which left Fleur in full view, with no shielding glare on the glass. No makeup, nothing, and ponies were beginning to focus on her --

-- she projected her own field, fought back the pain long enough to get the door closed again (and locked this time), then retreated to the darkest corner available. Something which didn't represent enough of a change, and she was counting on the renewed glare to do most the work.

Her head hurt.
It was a surprisingly deep pain.
She was tired.
If she closed her eyes for a minute, she could try to look inside herself and find the pain. Tell it to leave.
...that was stupid. It was a foal's thought. The sort of thing which arose when you didn't know any better.
That was one of the precious things about innocence. Knowledge was what told you miracles weren't possible.

She just had to wait for Fluttershy to come out. That would let her learn if there were words to come and even if the accusations did somehow arise from her charge, getting to the end of them would give her the chance to find food. Painkillers. Rest.

Dreams.

the mindless clacking

Until then, she would be alone. Forget about the ponies outside, and the two in the back room. She was actually alone. She was used to that.

Alone with her thoughts.

It was an accident.


After a while, Bluestocking came out, followed by Fluttershy. There was a moment when the still-tearful bookseller had trouble with the door, right up until Fleur noticed and belatedly unlocked it. The thin mare stepped into full view of the herd, said something and for all intents and purposes, that was when the headache got really bad.

The cheering was harsh enough. Fleur didn't know what idiot had originally decided that hoof stomping was an appropriate form of applause, but now assumed that the moron of first invention had either been deaf or had lived in an area without cobblestone streets. She was prepared to take minor comfort (but not pain relief) in the fact that the originator was probably dead, but then realized she didn't know and as the sound grew, considered whether she needed to personally resolve the matter.

Ponies streamed into the office. Most of them surrounded Fluttershy, who still had her mane tied back and so got to favor the crowd with a two-eyed blink of astonishment. There were more cheers, and some of the unicorns tried to work with multiple field loops so they could hoist her into the air, but then one of the more intelligent specimens remembered they were working with a pegasus and just asked her to hover for a second. Fleur, who was using what she was convinced to be the last of her field strength to get all of the bits out of the way (and with so many hooves to work around, no less), got hit by the resulting cheer and nearly had her corona wink out right there.

And of course that was when some of the stragglers decided to come up to her. Because not only did the settled zone know that Fluttershy had an assistant, they were dealing with Fluttershy and of course her charge was dealing with the open adoration by pushing it at somepony else. No (or rather, ...no), it wouldn't have been possible without Fleur: somepony had to get the glow-screen working, especially when the charge had been so low. And then there was the matter of holding Kori in position, making sure the fractures were properly aligned...

So now some of them were surrounding Fleur. Fortunately, none of them were stupid enough to try picking her up, at least not in the physical sense, and... in soon-to-come retrospect, it surprised Fleur that none of them tried to ask her out. They were surrounding her (and she was without makeup, without anything), the proximity was there and she was fully familiar with the phenomena of 'We just came through something horrible? Let's make out!', if mostly from escort training and a few specialized roleplay sites. But a few of them just wanted to mill around her and babble at her while making fur-to-fur contact which really should have been paid for in advance, and she couldn't make them go away.

Ponies came in. Ponies came out. She was almost certain that some of them had been Bearers. There was a brief glimpse of purple fur on a rather low level, and it reminded her that she'd never searched for the glasses. Pink sped in, slowed down long enough to drape forelegs over Fluttershy's shoulders, said a few words to Bluestocking and blurred out. Fleur spotted one mare who shouldn't have been out at all: heavily, massively pregnant, looking as if one wrong word would trigger labor on the spot and given all of the words being kicked around, the odds didn't seem to be in her favor.

Pregnancy was the goal. Foals. Happiness.

Fluttershy was a long way off from all of it. But there were ponies milling around her, brushing against the pegasus, talking and making incidental contact along with some which Fleur was sure had been a little more deliberate, she started to fight her way towards her charge because somepony had to screen all of it and she wasn't sure anypony in this group would ever qualify, she went past where two stallions and a green pegasus mare (because of course it was a pegasus mare) were congratulating Caramel on standing his ground in the face of a bear and just guess which one he was paying the most attention to...

...and Fluttershy was at the heart of it.

Trembling, here and there. Her wings vibrated a lot. She kept tucking her tail away, trying to get it all out of sight, or at least away from being stepped on.

But Fleur reached her side (which just made things get louder). And somehow, until the last fragment of the herd had found its way out the door, Fluttershy stayed.


They were cleaning again.

It had stuck them in the too-colorful office for far longer than Fleur had ever wanted to be there. But it was necessary. They couldn't face charges for breaking and entering: the sufficiency clause applied there. For the sake of additional protection, utilized supplies would need to be replaced: doing so meant any court would consider that part of the matter closed. But when it came to something like 'And we had a couple of hundred ponies in here, sorry about the mess,' you had to clean. Plus there was supposedly somepony on the way to pick up Kori, even at this Sun-forsaken hour because of something to do with Twilight and Spike and... all Fleur really understood was that mail had been sent. Private courier, probably. But they had to meet the pony making the transport, and then they could leave.

Fleur wanted to rest. To eat something. To have the pain embedded in her skull pretend to go away. To sleep, even when she knew what the cost would be.

I want to go home.

But they were cleaning, and she had reached the point where her end of it was being done entirely by mouth and hoof. Sweeping up shed tail hairs with a pushbroom's grip in her mouth, because she couldn't use her field again until morning. And the cleaning of the reception area was taking place in silence, because anypony who spent a lot of time around Fluttershy had to get used to that.

"...you held me back."

It never seemed to prepare Fleur for the actual words.

She let go of the grip, and wood clattered to the floor. Looked across the room at Fluttershy, ten body lengths away, and found a single visible eye gazing back because gauze knots only lasted so long. Waited.

"...don't deny it," Fluttershy softly said, and a shapely left foreleg kicked the scrubbing cloth away. "I've been held by unicorns before. Twilight tried to move me once. Not lifted: moved, and when her field was invisible, so it would look like I was moving myself. It's part of why things went wrong, because she's not very good with a hidden field."

"Hardly anypony is." Which wasn't her best option for opening words, but she was fairly sure those sentences didn't exist.

"...but she thought it was what she had to do, and... we had a long talk afterwards. She hasn't done it since." The pegasus took a step forward. "But you did it, back at the cart. I know it was you."

"How?" She didn't intend to deny anything: just for starters, she didn't know the unicorn population of Ponyville well enough to pick out a suitable subject of blame. But Fluttershy had sounded certain.

"...it was... soft," her charge quietly said. "I don't think you meant it to be. But that's how it felt, Fleur. Not the tingle, and my whole body feeling like it was falling asleep. Just -- soft. And you're the only unicorn who can do that."

She hadn't meant to. But she had been wrapping Fluttershy in her field night after night. There was an instinct in place...

"It was me." And there were times when honesty brought no pleasure at all.

They looked at each other. One gazing across and down, the other with wings partially unfolded and slightly flared. It was almost as if Fluttershy was considering how to level the playing field.

"...I was heading for Kori," the pegasus softly reminded her. "Directly for Kori."

After the kick. And we really need to talk about who taught you how to kick like that, because I want to know if they have any tactics set aside for a horn. By the way, when you keep saying you're stronger than you look, exactly how much stronger are we talking about?

"Yes." Holding her position, maintaining her ground. One of the earliest lessons.

"...to try and help her," came the quiet accusation. "And you held me back, when we didn't know how bad it was yet. When seconds could have made the difference, Fleur: seconds. You could say we had that time, because of how it worked out. But you can't ever assume. You didn't know, not then. It might have been all the time she had left. And you would have been holding me back while it ran out. While Kori died."

it was an accident

"Why?" her charge finished, and waited.

Fleur took a breath. Sent words and useless truth across the gap.

"Because you're my responsibility."

The blue-green eye got wider.

"...Kori was dying --"

"-- the cottage catches on fire," Fleur placidly cut in. "I want you to imagine that, just for a minute: the cottage is on fire, and you're trapped inside. I'm coming over the bridge, and I can see what's happening." Her powder-free tail lofted into a position of perfect peace. "How many animals would you like me to save while you burn to death?"

It should have made the pegasus shrink in on herself: at least, that was the reaction Fleur had been hoping for. Instead, the slightly-oversized wings flared out to their full span.

"That's not fair! I wasn't at risk! Just Kori! We didn't know how long she had, and don't tell me your mark is for that! You held me back, just so you could call for Sweetbark!"

Fleur had to keep her head up. A unicorn with their horn lowered was looking for a fight, and this was a fight because a pegasus with their wings flared to that position was on the verge of challenge, her charge was challenging and Fleur couldn't allow herself to respond, but she was tired and she hurt and there were echoes in her ears...

"I've known about Sweetbark for weeks. Snowflake told me. How she just pushes everything off on you, any case that's even a little risky!" Her fur was starting to shift against its best grain, and there wasn't a stabilizer left to prevent that. "To let herself be perfect! It's a lie, Fluttershy! I've known for weeks, but you've been dealing with it for years! She just pushes it all off to you, and I've been behind the cottage. I've counted the graves --"

The incredible tail lashed.

"-- without her, I wouldn't have the cottage! I would have lost it!"

Violet eyes, tinged with grey, slowly narrowed.

Calmly, "Explain that."

Fluttershy swallowed.

"...I'm not a licensed vet..."

"And she's a vet who shouldn't have her license," Fleur evenly countered. "Keep talking."

"...I had... two choices. My parents had money put aside for my education. They thought it was going to be weather college. But when I got my mark, and they knew it wasn't... they let me take control of it. I could have gone to veterinary school. But I didn't have enough. It's more expensive than weather college, because my parents had a legacy discount in place. I would have needed student loans, lots of them. And even with what the palace offers for covering interest, the principal would have been... a lot. Enough that I would have been in debt for a long time, if I couldn't get anypony to come to me, and... a mark for communication, Fleur: not medicine. Communication helps, but..."

The visible eye slowly closed.

"...some ponies won't come to you, if you aren't properly marked for the job. They don't respect you. Twilight got that, before her wings: she's not a marked librarian. There were ponies who felt she was talking a place which should have been theirs. I thought... with the cottage, as cheap as it was, with all the land attached... I'd at least have a place to live, and somewhere for the animals to be. I could study on my own."

The wings began to droop.

"...a... friend helped with that. Books and instruments. But I wasn't getting much traffic to the cottage. Ponies looking to adopt pets: they found out I did that early. Grooming. And that was just about it. Sweetbark... if she didn't send animals to me, then I wouldn't have had the chance to help. Grooming services and selling eggs weren't enough to live on after my original funds ran out and the property tax bills started to come in. I wouldn't have had anything..."

"So she loves you," Fleur stated, and held back the other half of the bomb.

Fluttershy's visible eye shot open.

"...what? I don't... I don't want to be with her! I know she doesn't want me! She barely dates, but it's always stallions, and she --"

"-- she loves you," Fleur repeated. "There's something I was told once, by someon -- somepony who was in exactly the same kind of relationship. That's how I know there's love."

The "...oh, really," had a touch of dryness holding together the wet center of panic.

"'She must love me,'" Fleur steadily quoted. "'Or there wouldn't be those times when she didn't kick me.'"

Fluttershy's mouth opened.

"...oh."

"It's abusive," the escort harshly stated, and was unaware of her ears tilting back. "She uses you. Maybe you get some benefit, the same way other victims tell themselves there's a positive side to the pain. A place to live, or nice things, or not having to wonder how much worse things would be if you were on your own. But it's still an abusive relationship, Fluttershy, and it's gone on for years. I held you back because there was exactly one chance to call her out in front of the town. I didn't ask for that chance. I didn't want it. But I wasn't going to let it pass, because you're my responsibility."

Most of what she knew about her own tail at that moment regarded the lack of highlights. The lashing would have come as a surprise.

"And you're not happy," Fleur volleyed across the gap. "Every vet sees the high-risk cases, every vet but her. You get your own share, and then you get hers. You don't get enough of the softer visits: where it's just a trimming, or a quick herb mix. Where you can be happy, knowing this one is easy and things will get better. All you get is a reputation: the cottage is where animals go to die. While she gets to be perfect, and now that's over. You don't deserve to be hurt like that. You get all of the stress, all of the pain, and I get to see how much it takes out of you every day. Given enough time, it kills, Fluttershy, because that's what abuse does. They know what she is now, and they know what you are."

"...but.... but without her..."

She reared up, and forehooves slammed into the floor. Framed drawings vibrated, and three of those sketched by the youngest came crashing down.

"They were cheering you! Cheers you've had coming for years, because you didn't turn away. Didn't run."

The wings were vibrating. Threatening to flare, and both missed the sounds which were now coming from the front door.

"...but it was Kori's life --"

"-- and it's your life! How many animals do I trade for you, Fluttershy? None. I come for you first, no matter what you're screaming. I get you out of the fire, because you're worth all of them --"

The unlocked front door opened.

It didn't make much of a sound: just enough to catch the edge of their attention. The chill air wafting in drew most of the notice, and the yellow-brown left foreleg which forced its way across the threshold did the rest.

"They..."

Both mares looked at her. Waited.

Based on her posture, Sweetbark was addressing the floor. Fleur darkly waited for her to criticize the cleaning.

"They... said you were here," the false vet finished. "The two who would speak to me, just so they could tell me -- where to go. I..."

And that was all she had. All the words there might have been for her, as the final scraps which could be scavenged at the edge of the torched pasture.

Lies could last for a very long time, if you were skilled. Being lucky didn't hurt. But when they were caught, and there was nothing else... that was when lives burned down.

Fluttershy looked at Fleur, and the escort struggled to keep the pain out of her eyes. Turned to the earth pony, who wouldn't look at the pegasus. Who wasn't really looking at anything.

"...I think we need to talk," her charge finally requested. "We've needed to talk for a long time..."


It was the sort of conversation which mostly took place in silences, and that was after you factored out Fluttershy's involvement. Fleur had, on a subconscious level, adjusted to her charge's typical low level of volume: she'd trained herself to snatch those faint syllables from the air. But with Sweetbark...

Fluttershy was standing right in front of the earth pony, who was still mostly addressing the floor. Fleur was a few body lengths away, watching. And to some degree, it was easy enough to interpret their body language, even when she was relatively late to the class. But she needed to strain herself to hear any part of it, and when all she could pick up was Fluttershy... then Sweetbark was being very quiet indeed.

The escort absently wondered how Fluttershy was getting any of it. Required subset of the mark talent, probably. Some animals made very little noise.

Just about the only thing she could hear was her own charge. And when there was only one side of the conversation...

"...I don't understand. How did you even get through veterinary school? I know they usually don't do practical exams, but students have to spend time with an active office, and they file reports with the teachers. Mr. Hareiot's written about his partner's brother..."

Vacuum met Fleur's ears.

"...oh. But your uncle really should have..."

Aural emptiness echoed for a while.

"...it's nice that you got to train with your family, but they did too much for you. It's not just checkups. Being a vet is about... facing death. Postponing it, when you know that we always lose in the end. But that's just the cycle. Death is necessary. But having a good life first is better, and that's our job..."

Absolute audio absence set up camp.

"...and sometimes ponies think I'm a lepidopterist. I understand, Sweetbark: I do. Nopony needed to know that you were supposed to be... running a kennel. With your mark, you could pass. It was just a matter of doing the work. You don't always need a mark, not for everything. You could have done the work... but you didn't. You always found a way where somepony else was doing it for you..."

A black hole of sound pitched a tent and decided to stay the night.

"...all I'm saying is... maybe you should go back to school, in your spare hours. Do it right. Hire a partner, who can supervise you in the office. There's therapists you could see about the phobia. And while you're doing that, and even after, we could... split the load. Because there's thousands of ponies in this settled zone, and sometimes it feels like there's almost as many companions. You pushed some towards me, but others went to Canterlot, and... I think I'm trying to say that there's enough clients for both of us. Just... take some of the hard cases, when you're ready. And let me have more of the soft ones. We'll both be healthier that way. Maybe even... happier."

The void of decibels lingered.

"...just think about it. Please. We're all tired. I know you need rest, and Fleur should have been in bed hours ago. We were... supposed to be shopping for -- it doesn't matter. Not tonight. Just get some rest. You'll feel better for it, I promise. And you can tell me what you decided in the morning. Afternoon, even, if you really need to sleep. ...please?"

They left the office about an hour after that, once Kori's pickup had arrived, taken the sleeping bird's cage, and flown over the dark horizon. The escort and caretaker moved through a silent settled zone, taking the same road for a while, and neither spoke until they reached the point where their paths split. There was an offer to be at the cottage on the next day (or at this point, sometime after the next Sun-raising), it was accepted, and one went home. The other retreated to her nest, tucked herself under blankets, and considered herself lucky to wake up nearly screaming five times. It meant she was still capable of waking up.

And by the time Sun next gazed down across the chilled land, Sweetbark was gone.


The uneven legs had been relentlessly pacing around the steadily-deepening groove for some time. (Harem had noticed that the hoof tended to lead, and then the claws dragged a little.) The initial track had carved itself out under him in the cave, sinking into the rock under the force of a hard glare. She presumed most of the rest had come from natural wear. And some friction, because the bottom occasionally glowed with heat.

He was currently in up to his waist. She was considering whether to suggest widening it, as the current spacing was about twenty progressively lower circuits away from giving the wings some trouble. And every so often, he would mutter something to himself about never telling the librarian.

The book watched from the nearby table. (There had been no table when they'd entered the cave, but he was often considerate in small ways.) And as she did so, she tried to think of something helpful to say.

It wasn't easy. Harem was almost entirely sure that books weren't meant to think. She was supposed to inspire thought, even if most of those would have been about how the wrong rival was getting ahead. But she'd been thinking for a while, she was thinking for herself, and...

To Harem, it seemed that the main thing about being someone who could think was that eventually, you got around to wondering what would happen when the thoughts were made to stop.

As concepts went, it didn't strike her as a very reassuring one. And when it came to thoughts, that was the one she didn't want to have. She'd tried not having it over and over, and it just didn't seem to work that way.

So she thought about what she could say to him, something which could help.

"I'm sorry your favorite lost."

His neck pivoted, allowing him to look at her. Then it just kept pivoting, allowing him to make constant eye contact (when she didn't have eyes) while still making his way around the track.

"Some readers leave the story when that happens," she added. "They've picked out their favorite and when that one loses, they feel like they don't have any investment left. Like the story can't have a good ending, because it's not the one they wanted."

He seemed to be listening. At the very least, his ears were pointing in the same direction. That didn't happen very often.

"And it can be worse when it's your very first story, and your first rooting interest," Harem noted. "Because it's more personal. They say you never forget your first husbando. But the important thing --" and she felt as if she was warming to the topic, doing so at the same moment when the glow of heat was beginning to dim "-- is that there's still some story left! And if it goes well, maybe the author can convince you that this is what was meant to happen all along --"

"He wasn't strong enough!" Talons and paw slashed through the air, and sundered pieces of atmosphere dropped to the cave floor.

"He wasn't smart," Harem countered over the sound of shattering nitrogen. "And I know he was still your favorite --"

"-- because he had power!" The crooked snout released a snort. "Well, power as some ponies define it. Wealth. Material goods. The ability to provide protection or, with him, to at least hire it. There was something to work with!"

"But he wasn't smart," the book repeated. "I think she might need somepony who's at least a little smart. And he wasn't a good pony, either."

He didn't seem to have heard the last part: his pace quickened. "And he couldn't stand up to her. To her. Anypony with real power would have been able to tell her off. To push her away. To make her not have done all of that --"

"-- a smarter one would have seen through it."

There was something strange in his eyes. There often was, and he usually removed it and took a closer look: the typical result was to declare it wasn't strange enough and toss it back. But this time, it was solely in his expression. A curious intensity --

"You," he petulantly muttered, "interrupted me."

"I had something to say."

-- or lack thereof.

"Fluttershy would interrupt me," he muttered. The pacing evened back out, if only in speed. The legs were more or less hopeless. "I could have made him perfect for her. Perfect. One snap --"

"-- but then she wouldn't have been in love with him."

He was silent for a while. She suggested widening the groove, and he did so just in time to keep his wings from being caught.

"Thank you, Harem." And paced all the more. "Details. I couldn't sabotage her because Fluttershy spots when I'm doing something, far too often. More than anypony in the world. There are times when she just knows. It is extremely annoying, especially when I'm just trying to do something for her."

The words were still petulant. But there was something softer there.

"Perhaps the best thing I could ever do for her," he added. "Something Fluttershy wants, when she finally wants anything at all. And we both know I can do a better job than -- that one. You saw her." With a traveling shrug, "Well, you see what she's like."

To some degree, Harem had. She'd spent more time in proximity to the two mares than ever before. And when a talking book was trying to keep its silence, with nothing more to do than watch...

"There's something odd about her, don't you think?"

He kept looking at Harem. His neck had gone through multiple pivots, and none of the fur was even slightly creased.

"The way she acts," Harem added. "I was seeing it after a while. She's not like other ponies. Not the ones from stories. Not most of them, anyway."

And then she had it.

Thinking was strange. The concept of having to stop was... something she didn't want to consider right now. And her knowledge was so limited, she hadn't had the chance to learn very much -- and yet, there was something deep within which she could draw on. Subjects of comparison.

Thought could be strange and terrifying. Realizations had the potential to be exultant. And for a single triumphant moment of comprehension, Harem Fantasy felt truly alive.

"Anypony who acts the way she does," she quickly spoke, "moving from a position of strength a little outside the herd, trying to dominate and establish power, is usually --"

"Power," he repeated, and his twisting expression suggested he'd just thought of something big.

(He had. Some of that was a matter of scale.)

"Yes! Just about anypony that concerned about where they stand for power --"

"-- he didn't have enough power!" the draconequus enthusiastically declared. "Not just as ponies see it, but as it truly exists! Fluttershy needs power in her life! Those who can fully wield it, who can dominate over something like -- that one! Who can stand up to her! And once that's done..."

He smiled: the worst smile in the world. His body flashed, reappeared over the restored cave floor, dropped a bit and then regained his footing, at least for the one limb which had something approaching a foot. Talons reached forward and carefully took up the book, being careful not to scratch the covers.

Harem pushed on. "-- is actually going to be --"

He lightly pressed a digit against her front lettering.

"-- mmph! Mmm ph mmm!"

"We can talk about it later," Discord told her. "For now... there's a little trip we have to make. Discussions to conduct. And some of those we'll be seeking don't respond well to noise. Or language. Or... well, we can probably reject those ones early. I'm told that's what preliminary screenings are for!"

He raised the digit.

"Where are we going?" Harem risked.

"Oh, you'll love it," he reassured her.

"I will?"

"As long as I'm with you and making sure nothing happens. I don't recommend making the trip on your own. Or arranging for anyone to send you." He transferred the book to his paw, began to lift the talons. "But I'm told that ponies swear by it."

The tips of the claws touched. Paused.

"Or rather more often," Discord politely corrected himself in the last moment before they vanished, "at."

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