Merry Chestnuts and a Happy New Fleur

by Prane

Chapter 14 – Rockin' Around the Hearth's Warming Tree

Finally!

Fleur had been on the hunt for Princess Luna for maybe an hour now, but the whole endeavor felt like it had begun early in the morning, with the dream she had and ruminations over the puzzling nature of Hearth’s Warming. If someone told her she’d be looking for Equestrian royalty to solve the mystery of one Santa Hooves, she’d probably stay in bed. Truth be told, she’d march to her bedroom right now, as the impromptu performance with Octavia left her a bit wobbly in the knee-area, which was even before the aforementioned alicorn actually showed up, with words of praise no less.

It took a great deal of self-control to not slump onto the nearest snow pile.

“Thanks!” Fleur squeaked out a response, immediately wincing at such a lapse of dignity. She had to regain her center—head high, straight as a string, and a delicate smile—and summon proper manners back into the game. She was addressing a figure of importance, after all. “Uh, what I meant to say was that your kind words are appreciated, Princess Luna. Myself, I’m hardly a singer, and it was all Octavia Melody working the strings and, oh, this songbook here. I pretty much just read the right lyrics.”

She beckoned at her partner in song, but Octavia was too busy receiving praise of her own, and just waved apologetically.

“Anyone can read what is written,” Princess Luna stated. She must have read the same column Fleur did, on the rising rates of pony literacy. “A singer practices to do so melodiously, within certain tonalities and rhythms. But to face a demanding crowd, to sing from the bottom of one’s heart and to be truly heard, now that takes qualities no book can cover.” She gave a quizzical smile. “There is no point in downplaying our successes.”

Fleur automatically nodded, even though the point was to discourage anyone from hiring her into a musical, or for the role of a court minstrel, but thankfully that wasn’t the case. Perhaps for the worse? She still needed to hold Princess Luna’s attention to question her, and the other mare was already beginning to look somewhere else. She could definitely use a safe, pleasant topic over which the two of them could bond, and fast. How does one “bond” with royalty, again?

Yes! A light bulb shined over Fleur’s head. She glanced up, surprised to see a pegasus with a lights bundle flying towards the giant Hearth’s Warming tree. The pegasus flew away, but the good idea stayed.

“Your majesty, I would like to request an audience.” Fleur brought her tone to sufficiently high-societal levels, but also with a good dose of official pleading. “There is a matter of great importance, albeit a personal one, on which I would be most grateful to hear your input, if you would be so kind,” she said and threw in a courteous bow, because it couldn’t hurt.

“Look up. Do you see me sitting on a throne, anxious to receive petitioners?”

“N-not… not exactly, your majesty.”

“If you desire an audience, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until after the Hearth’s Warming break, and schedule it with the castle staff. You should have plenty of opportunities to bring up your case in, say, three to five weeks?” Princess Luna replied, giving Fleur the same formal treatment she’d received. However, her stern façade did not last long, and she lightened up. “Of course, if you’d like to talk, I’m all ears.”

Fleur made sure she was as good at understanding words as she was at reading them.

“Talk, your majesty?”

“Talk,” Princess Luna echoed. “As in sharing thoughts through words, even full sentences when the mood strikes. I always had the impression that ponies of Canterlot were excellent talkers, so I hope you’re not going to deny me the opportunity? Or am I not allowed to mingle anymore?” she asked from under a glare.

Only then Fleur realized Princess Luna was joking. Her glare, sharp and piercing as it was, was in fact playful. It brought Fleur a strange comfort—she was expecting a meeting with a powerful yet distant ruler, someone who didn’t want to waste her time on petty matters. She didn’t know the alicorn very well, granted, and on those couple of occasions she was more of a plus-one for Fancy Pants, so all their encounters were strictly formal and filled with pleasantries. They definitely weren’t so casual.

It was as if she was looking at the pony standing before her, but through the usual prism of social expectations, and therefore couldn’t discern her features. Somehow it felt familiar, but then the prism shattered and she saw the mare behind the title.

Princess Luna—no, Luna, she was wearing no crown this evening. Actually, she was wearing no nothing on her head, perhaps to keep her flowing mane intact at the expense of frosted ears. She dressed for the occasion, and exchanged her regalia for warm boots and an elegant, double-breasted charcoal coat with peaked lapels, which Fleur was confident would look great outside the season too. There was also a scarf. It didn’t match the rest of the ensemble, but it probably wasn’t meant to. It must have been something personal, because the craftsmanship was only decent at best, and involved way too much wool.

Casual or not, it wasn’t polite to stare, and Fleur quickly came to her senses.

“Non!” she protested, half-wondering what was the question again. “I mean yes! I mean, of course you can mingle, Princess. And talking, yes, I’d love that! Uh, I’d love that,” she repeated, quieter the second time. She didn’t want to be taken for a lunatic.

“Allow us some space.” Luna nodded at the ponies accompanying her which Fleur thought to be mere onlookers. Armored or incognito, the Royal Guard could act professional when they wanted, and a stealthy thestral would certainly fit their ranks. But of course Rarity’s idea of Chestnut one day enrolling was still preposterous.

Luna led Fleur away from the general crowd and cheer, which was not an easy feat considering how many ponies had already flooded the Victory Plaza. They poured in from the streets, most notably the Promenade, but their advance was held between the fountain and the tree, where the stands were. On the sides and in the back, they could catch a break.

“I feel I say this every year, but the City Council have really outdone themselves this time,” Luna said with pride. “The Crystal Empire was a welcome change, but this year’s Vanhoover brings us back to our roots. Finer needles and minimum sheen also bring out the baubles and lights more, and you obviously can’t have a tree without those. But, you’re not supposed to question the gifts given in good faith,” she chuckled. “What do you think, Fleur? Are you enjoying the festivities?”

Fleur agreed vehemently. “Very much so. In Canterlot, there’s always so much going on, from private events, charity auctions, restaurants serving seasonal treats, oh, and the trees, they’re so overt in the streets, windows, gift wrappings, everywhere! It really is something special. Or communal decorating of the big one? It’s always been amazing to me that a historical event can bring together young and old, you know, and even ponies who don’t know each other. A-and the idea that you bring one piece of decoration and you take home one provided by the city is simply marvelous.”

“Once again: casual talk. You don’t need to praise every little thing to keep me here.”

“I feel I should. Where I come from, we don’t celebrate so… vigorously, so to speak.”

“Are you perhaps from Pearis? I’m going by the high Prench in your accent,” Luna ventured a guess, and when Fleur nodded a confirmation, she asked, “You don’t sing much in the streets there?”

“Ha! Funny you should mention that, because I’ve never actually sung like that before. When I was younger, it has been told to me that singing in public equals disturbing the peace.” Fleur imagined her mother’s face if she learned that street performance was her daughter’s letter of introduction to the ruling class. Sour, twisted with disgust, with a big “Quoi?” written all over. She couldn’t help but giggle. “I was never on board with such a logic, but the older I got, the less I cared. You can have a silver tongue, but silence is golden, and my job never involved talking much in the first place, let alone singing.”

Luna leaned in. “If it’s any consolation, mine doesn’t either. But that’s what soundproofing magic was made for,” she said and straightened up. “Speaking of jobs, mine is to listen to my subjects. I recall there was a matter of great importance which you wanted to discuss. What would that be?”

There was a couple of ways Fleur could put it into words. Are you secretly Santa Hooves? Was that you who put a silver-bound diary material under a tree for me? Are you running a Santa Hooves network, to cover as much of Canterlot as you can during one night? Why is my diary missing a key to its lock, did you forget to pack it? Do your guards dress up as reindeer, and do you really go in through the chimney?

All were terrible, but luckily Fleur had a perfect backup plan.

“I dream of boats,” she deadpanned.

Well, she never said it would be suave.

“I beg your pardon?”

Confident that Fancy Pants would kill her if she’d fallen from grace tonight, Fleur decided there was only one way she could go, and that way was forward. Her day had an adventurous start, and an adventurous finale it shall receive.

“I hope it’s not too pretentious of me to ask”—she knew better—“but there’s this leitmotif in my dreams I can’t really put my hoof on. It’s been with me since forever, or at least long enough to make a difference. I dream of ships, those cruising through air and across water, sometimes massive and mighty, on other times small and sleek. Usually sailing under a black flag, if you know what I mean. And, uh, I’m the captain in those dreams.”

It was perhaps a textbook example of how parents took after their children. In the times before Chestnut, Fleur would never utter such a convoluted self-fulfillment fantasy with a straight face. However, it still got hot under her earmuffs, as the social points she’d gathered with the performance were now burning into ash.

Luna said nothing so far. Luna listened.

“You’re guarding our dreams, Princess, so you must know everything about what is going on inside our heads while we sleep,” Fleur said. She was playing a long game here, but the blank diary was irrefutable proof that Santa Hooves could eavesdrop on dreams. “I was wondering if I could maybe ask you for some guidance?”

“Of course.” Luna got the analysis going rather eagerly. “The most common cognitions associated with ships are, off the top of my head… sea, sky, travel, trade, freedom, perhaps going into the unknown. Sounds to me like you’re an adventurous soul who likes to be in charge of her life. A rebellious one, if you crew your vessels with criminal element,” she gave an inquiring glance. “Quite the unconscious for a model. Or are you asking for something specific?”

Easier than expected. Luna was practically asking the exact questions Fleur wanted her to ask. Maybe she was suave.

“Yes, actually! I attended a lecture on the magic of dreams once.”

She skipped over the reason—excusing herself from a boring party, pretending to be sick to lose an admirer, scurrying through the first open door into a lecture hall.

“I’m not an expert, but I think the scholar said that our dreams are made of things we have already seen when awake. If we know someone well, they will appear to us clearly. If we don’t—for example if we’ve only met them once—they will be hazy, but believable,” Fleur said, hoping that Luna didn’t see an airheaded filly in her, and that the academic foundations she was laying in were believable too. She layered them with genuine confusion. “But last night, I’m not even sure if that even makes sense, I had this strange dream where I saw, or tried to see a mare, but she had no appearance…”

Luna stopped dead in her tracks and laughed. She truly was full of contrasts this evening: royal, yet striving to be casual. Dark and elegant, but cheerful as she stood against the partially illuminated tree behind her. Taking interest in Fleur, yet right now grinning at her like a well-informed school filly would grin at her clueless friend over a secret of sorts.

“A masterful play.” Luna was clearly trying to keep a straight face. “I expected an excellent Canterlotian talker and you haven’t disappointed. You lured me in with a song like a siren, shared a tale of ships and sailors, ask innocent questions about my area of expertise, and just when you’d have me lulled into a sense of security, you were probably going to ask me something oddly specific? Perhaps related to this season of generosity we’re having?”

“It was you, wasn’t it? The mare in my dream.”

Luna opened her mouth, then closed it again. Whatever first response she had, she instead sealed it behind her lips arching in a mysterious smile. Fleur wasn’t sure she wasn’t imagining things, but she spotted a glimpse in the alicorn’s cyan eyes. It was as if Luna had expected the question, which could only mean everything and nothing at the same time. To Fleur, it meant more of the latter, but she didn’t complain considering that she was likely being outsmarted right now.

“I yearn for a snack. Frosted blossoms,” Luna shot out of the blue. “Would you care for some too?”

Before she realized, Fleur was already holding a packet of ginger-cinnamon treats in the shape of flowers. It turned out the far side of the Victory Plaza had a second Hearth’s Warming village rich in foodstuffs and hoofcraft stands, not as crowded as the first one, but with a dedicated area for eating. The seats Luna led them to were secured from wind with decorative barrels and warmed with brightly burning lanterns. The benches were cold in touch of course, but for an outside spot it was almost cozy.

Fleur remembered to press the issue. Cookies weren’t going to silence her! Even such delicious, crunchy winter cookies…

“Why visit me of all ponies?” she asked between the bites.

“I don’t have a specific pattern if that’s what you’re asking, but neither was my choice random.” Luna’s bites were significantly larger, breaking off half a treat at a time. “Let me repay you with some talking of my own. In the Dreamworld, what speaks the loudest are emotions. Every night sounds much like this”—she pointed to the endless crowd of revelers passing by—“and it’s impossible to pick everyone’s particular fear or desire. What the general public feels, yes. An individual, no.”

Fleur got the idea. Crowds at fashion shows had their unique cadence too, they formed their own ambiance. She could never tell which one pony was expecting what, but reading the entire auditorium was a piece of cake.

“Unless someone from the crowd starts shouting,” Fleur said.

“Or singing,” Luna added. “The same is true for the Dreamworld. When strong negative emotions occur, it often means a pony is struggling to deal with a troublesome matter, and those draw nightmares into their dream. I look into those cases and, if it is necessary, intervene. I occasionally drop by later as well, to see if the situation is under control. It’s like a routine check-up,” she explained. “Your case is most curious. Forgive my nosiness, but I understand that you’ve faced a lot of stress recently?”

A shiver came down Fleur’s spine. From raindrops hitting the window of her bedroom up to tears soaking into her pillow, the dark memories were there, but they were merely that: memories, things that had happened once. Morning crosswords, weird music, life breathed into the walls of her house—those were the things she’d faced recently, and they were much brighter.

“It’s in the past.” She waved her hoof. “I’m back on track!”

“That’s exactly my point,” Luna said. “During the check-up I was surprised to see your negative emotions gone, and replaced by pure, genuine happiness. A complete turnaround. If it’s not too personal, I would like to know what happened during those couple of weeks to evoke such a change?”

“I learned that I can’t have foals, but then I adopted a filly.” Fleur said, trying to divine how big of a reveal it could really be for a pony capable of browsing someone’s—anyone’s—unconscious mind. Did she know that Chestnut wasn’t fond of her? Would she even care if she did?

“Thank you for sharing,” she just said, turning the cookie packet upside down. There weren’t even any crumbs left. “It appears my concern was misplaced. With such a radical influx of positivity, I suspected a trick or foul magic in the works, but I am glad it was nothing of sorts.”

Much to Fleur’s relief, Luna didn’t pursue that line of inquiry. Perhaps when full, Luna would talk more about Santa Hooves?

“Thank you for watching over us. I won’t presume to understand your job, but I imagine it takes vigilance,” she said. “Do you have a lot of dreams to visit around Hearth’s Warming? A lot of check-ups?”

Luna shrugged. “Only those I impose on myself. After the Weather Corps conjure the first snow, I start visiting dreams and shaping them to get everyone in the holiday mood. I tint the scenery white, spin the right tune, add decorations. Those are all minor changes which don’t affect the essence of the dream, but are rather putting a seasonal skin on it.” She raised her eyes to the top of the giant tree. “Just what Canterlot does when awake anyway.”

It was easy to take all the Hearth’s Warming decorations for granted. One day there was none, the next they were all deployed and ready to shine. Fleur always assumed it was a natural response of business owners to increase profit or prestige of their venues, and while for many it might have been the only reason, every such change was building the right atmosphere. It didn’t matter if you colored the snow green, cooked winter-theme treats or simply participated in a snowball fight—as long as you did it with a holiday spirit in mind, you were doing your part.

Luna was doing it too, just on a different scale.

“Putting a seasonal skin,” Fleur repeated. “You mean changing some old, boring cargo into presents?”

“You continue to impress. Not everyone is capable of remembering their dreams with such details.”

“In my own defense, it wasn’t a very lengthy one. I walked into the hold to check on some machinery I think, you were there, we talked, and then suddenly I found myself drowning in presents while those awful creatures are shredding the hull,” Fleur recounted to the best of her memory. She felt she was missing a piece. “The whole thing kind of crashed the moment we started talking about, oh, what’s his name? Santa… Santa Hugs?”

“Hooves,” Luna corrected. “You don’t believe in him, do you?”

“I, ah”—Fleur looked for the nearest lantern to blame for her reddening cheeks—“I’m considering whether to or not.”

“Perhaps that uncertainty is at fault?” Upon seeing Fleur’s confusion, Luna explained herself. “Your dream collapsed under the weight of Hearth’s Warming gifts, literally and figuratively. I wouldn’t exactly put them on a touchy subjects list, so the reason is likely that your unconscious mind was, through the imagery of presents, exposed to a thought or a memory it usually keeps at bay,” she said. “There was also a name.”

“A name?” Fleur replied, surprised. That part of the dream she definitely did not remember.

“Oriflamme,” Luna gently said. “I don’t mean to pry, and if you tell me to leave you be, I shall respect your privacy. But I strive to do more good than harm while I’m in the Dreamworld, and I wonder if there’s a connection between your dream’s collapse, the idea of seasonal presents, and this Oriflamme character?”

Needless to say, there was.

Author's Note:

Hello there! Thank you for reading my story. I am no longer writing pony fiction, but if you want to support my current creative endeavor, check out my content on Twitch!
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Happy (and Slightly Belayed) New Year! It’s been a while since I wrote pony, but this story deserves a proper ending, so I hope I could get close to the atmosphere I’ve started building in... March 2018. My, my! Let’s see what’s in store for us, and although it’s a bit past the prime time, have a spin of Rockin’ Around The Christmas Tree by Brenda Lee.

One chapter remaining - but by the time you read this words it will be already up! Also, apologies for making you read all the prior chapters (because there’s no way you remember the plot, and if you do, please be my secretary!). I hope you will find them worthwhile nonetheless, yay!

Comments

[Jedi Wolf]

It lives!

I'm still trying to piece together Chestnut's history involving Luna.

[Bhals4]

Funny enough I saw the update and was like chestnut I love chestnut memory don't fail me now

[redmar]

I accidentaly saw this had been completed. I can't remember everything but this chapter does stir my memory about what happened before.