The Elements of Love

by UnweptSchlipps

Calm Before the...

It was about that time again in Ponyville. The time when the orange sun started to dip below the horizon, leaving the beautiful moon to take its place in the starry sky. Or at least, that’s what would have happened, if it wasn’t for the thickening clouds looming overhead.

Most of the citizens of the now-famous village were headed to their houses, enjoying their supper, getting ready for another modest day tomorrow. Unbeknownst to these ponies, however, there was a whole other life going on after the sun went down. The night life. Sure, it probably wasn’t the sort of business seen in Canterlot or Las Haygas, but by Ponyville standards, things were quite interesting. And caught in the midst of it were two ponies, a stallion and a mare, who had gone into town looking for a bite to eat.

Lucky had only swung by Ponyville once before, and that was only to stay in an inn on the outskirts of the city. So, naturally, it was Cheerilee leading the way. “So I take it you’ve never been in Ponyville before?” she asked, strolling through the thinning crowd of ponies.

“In town, no. I have, however, passed by once or twice for a rest,” Lucky replied. “This place is nothing like back home in Las Haygas, you know. On some nights, we wouldn’t even be able to hear each other speak!”

“Yeah well…it might not be much, but it’s still home,” the teacher replied contently. “Besides, I don’t think I’m much for the bright lights and commotion and all that.”

“Maybe you should try it sometime,” the stallion suggested quietly. With a short nod, the two wordlessly continued down the road with no particular destination in sight. Cheerilee looked to her side, pretending to clear her throat while looking preoccupied. Lucky stared forward with pursed lips, sometimes giving a quick glance at his companion. Once, their eyes accidently met for a split second, and their immediate response was to look the other way and act like nothing had happened. Frankly, to the other pedestrians, the duo probably looked quite odd.

Finally, after the silence had gone on far too long, Lucky uttered, “So…do you know anywhere we can…grab a bite?”

Relieved, Cheerilee replied, “Yes! I mean…yes, there’s this restaurant not too far from the school I work at. They don’t close until ten.”

“Sounds good to me,” Lucky said. With that, the two began to stroll along the moonlit sidewalk with Cheerilee at the helm.

And although she kept telling herself it wasn’t a date, that didn’t make her feel any less giddy.

Xxx

The thumping of hooves against bark resounded throughout the orchard, the source of which was an angry yellow cowpony venting his frustration. Standing next to him was a strong red stallion, who did nothing but simply listen. As he slammed the trees with Senor Kickaroo, Braeburn asserted, “What was ah supposed to do, Big Mac? Our mommas always taught us that thieves were no good, right?”

“Eeyup,” was the simple answer.

“We’ve farmed our flanks off fer a living, an’ it just ain’t fair for somepony to get theirs off another’s work, right?”

“Eeyup.”

Stopping to take a breath, Brae quietly asked, “But…I dunno, cousin. Ah wasn’t too harsh on him, was I?”

“Eeyup.”

“Wait…yup I wasn’t, or yup I was?”

The two stallions’ one-sided conversation came to an end when an old mare scooted up to check on her grandsons. Her face was wrinkled in worry (more wrinkled than it usually was, anyway), and she said, “Braeburn, we can hear ya ranting from the house. What’s the matter?”

Heaving a sigh, Braeburn replied coldly, “Nothing, Granny.”

“Now Braeburn,” the elder began in a scolding tone. “You know we don’t take too kindly to liars. Remember what ah said?”

Drooping his ears, he answered guilty, “You’re right, Granny. Ah…ah’m sorry.” He took off his hat like he always did when he was troubled, and slid down the side of the tree tiredly. “It’s troublin’, all this travelling around business. All the stress, the drama. Ah just ain’t well enough to handle the group right now. Especially one in particular…the unicorn.”

“You two don’t see eye to eye?” Granny Smith asked.

Braeburn exhaled another slow breath, collecting his thoughts. Finally, after deciding he need to let off some steam, the cowpony began, “You want me to be honest, Granny? I’ll be brutally honest. I hate his guts. I hate how he’s made his living off of other people’s fortunes. And I absolutely hate his sarcastic, snarky little attitude. We ain’t never gotten along since we started travelling, and I don’t think we ever will. He’s just…caused us problems.”

“Why do you travel with him then?”

“Because we have to,” Brae replied, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “No matter how much I don’t like ‘im, he’s here to stay.”

With an all-knowing smirk, the old pony said with a chuckle, “Well then you don’t have much of a choice then, doncha Brae!”

She gave Braeburn the look of a pony who seemed to knew everything. And it was true; Granny Smith always had something to say about everything. It practically came with the all-encompassing knowledge only an elder pony with years of experience could possess. Braeburn knew this, and listened intently as the wise grandma said, “We all meet ponies we don’t get along with, Braeburn. Now ah ain’t been around him as long as you have, so I can’t judge him. But before you go and do so, sometimes you gotta take a step back and look at him again from a different perspective. Maybe there’s more to ‘im than just meets the eye. Sure, a pony can be harsh. But perhaps there’s a reason why he’s the way he is.”

The elder slowly began to turn around, clacking her walker through the grass. As Braebrun watched her go off, she finished, “You know what they say. Before you can judge a pony, walk a mile in his hooves. If you do, maybe you’ll find some way to get along. Least for now.”

Mentally the cowpony told himself to follow Granny’s advice. But yet they seemed so utterly different; how could they manage to get along? Braeburn leaned against the tree, wondering if what the elder said was right. He wondered whether a farmer and a thief could ever get along, after all the bickering they’ve battled through.

And as if on cue, a deep voice quietly said, “Eeyup.”

xxx

Soft music lulled throughout Ponyville’s Dandelion Café, which was where Cheerilee had taken Lucky to dinner. Discounting the few costumers sitting at the bar, they were the only patrons eating in the entire restaurant. Lucky’s head was lowered over his plate, biting into a bagel dandelion sandwich. He closed his eyes as he swallowed the savory confection, having craved for the doughy pastry for the past few days. Sheer ecstasy flooded through his body, and his appetite certainly didn’t feel like going away any time soon.

Cheerilee sat across the table, and compared to Lucky, she looked extremely subdued. Her own sandwich lay half eaten on her plate, covered by a barely-used napkin. She idly began to trace the edge of her glass with her hoof as boredom crept into her mind. Oh well, she thought, staring at her overly-excited companion. At least somepony’s enjoying himself.

Finally, Lucky happened to glance up from his all-important sandwich, meeting Cheerilee’s eyes. They stared at each other intently, and for a moment one could even see the awkwardness exchanging between them. After a full minute of great anticipation, Lucky said though a mouthful of plants, “Man, I love bagels.”

Exasperated, the teacher just rolled her eyes and plopped back onto her chair with the mightiest pout nopony could ever hope to replicate. Realizing his mistake, not to mention all the hardships he had put them through, Lucky apologized, “I’m…I’m so sorry about this. It’s quite rude of me really, especially since I’m in company of such a fine lady.”

Softening her gaze, Cheerilee replied, “It’s alright, Lucky. It’s not you that’s getting on my nerves.”

“Really? You’ve got a pretty good reason to hate me after all,” Lucky uttered sadly.

Cheerilee grasped the stallion’s hoof in her own and replied, “Don’t do that to yourself, Lucky. I don’t hate you, and neither do the others for that matter. It’s a heat-of-the-moment thing, you know? In time, this’ll pass, and everypony will cool down.”

The gambler didn’t seem too convinced however, slipping himself out of Cheerilee’s grasp. Propping his head on his hoof resignedly, he asked, “So why are you down in the dumps then, if it’s not because of me?”

“Well…it's everything, I suppose,” Cheerilee whispered. “I’m just…I’m just a teacher. I don’t save kingdoms or go on adventures, I teach kids about the ones who do. All this being chased around, near-death situations…the looming threat of a shadow monster eating us alive…I don’t know how much more I can take. Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like if Cadance never picked me…”

“You never would have met me,” the stallion answered.

With the barest hint of a smile, she replied, “Believe it or not Lucky, that would be one of the best parts, not the worst.” The duo shared a quick laugh together, and both could feel their cheeks beginning to heat up. If one didn’t know any better…they’d probably say they were two lovebirds on their first date.

After a few minutes of more idle conversation, Lucky’s eyes wandered out the window “Say, I didn’t know this town had a pub!”

“Oh yes, the Moonshine Tavern. That place just opened up a month ago. I’m not sure how much business they get though, I’ve never gone,” Cheerilee replied, seemingly disinterested.

“Well…why don’t we then?”

“What?” the mare questioned, scrunching up her face as though it were out of the question. Giving her best ‘You’ve-Gotta-Be-Kidding face’, Cheerilee continued, “I-I don’t know, Lucky. I’m a teacher; I can’t be seen going to bars and gambling rings…”

“Oh come on, Cheerilee. I want us to have a fun night out together for once. This could be the last chance we get," the stallion begged. “If you don’t like it, we’ll go out right away.”

The teacher eyed the tavern anxiously, its bright neon lights blaring out through the dark night. Admittedly, Cheerilee wasn’t too familiar with going into taverns and gambling and all those shenanigans. Or dating for that matter. Heading down to a regular restaurant with a date was hard enough, let alone going to a bar with him. With the grubby alcoholics, shabby interior, gruff looking patrons…

Finally, Lucky’s voice rang out, “We’ve got time; let yourself hang loose for once. You’ll have fun.” Extending his hoof towards the schoolteacher, he whispered, “You can trust me.”

There it was again. That word: trust. After all that had happened, everything that Lucky had caused, any other pony wouldn’t have given that sort of gift lightly. But as Cheerilee looked into the unicorn’s sincere eyes, she saw something that no other pony could. A spark, a flame, a glimpse of something truly marvelous. And it was this sort of passion that told Cheerilee that she could trust her companion more than anypony else.

Anxiety washed clean out of her system, and she and Lucky’s hooves intertwined tightly. With a charismatic bow, the Trottingham stallion led his mare out of the restaurant, each wearing a huge grin on their faces. “No thieving, I promise,” the stallion said jokingly.

“I think you’ve stolen something already, Lucky.”

“Really? What’s that?”

“My heart.”

Xxx

Meanwhile back at Sweet Apple Acres, Soarin and Redheart had separated. Redheart had retreated back into the barn to make herself comfy, while the pegasus headed down to the orchard. He passed by Braeburn silently, who was busy blowing off steam by bucking the trees. Soarin decided to leave him alone, mostly because the cowpony looked angry enough to snap one of the hardy trees in half.

Finally he came upon an orange filly lying down atop a hill all by her lonesome. Her head was tilted upward and her hooves were crossed behind her head, much like the pose her rainbow-maned idol would make. But when she heard the Wonderbolt’s hoof sifting along the grass, her face immediately lit up with a wide grin.

“Sup kiddo?” the stallion whispered, laying down in the same pose. “What happened to Applebloom?”

“She had to help her granny inside,” the young pegasus replied glumly.

The flier ruffled Scootaloo’s mane playfully and remarked, “Aww, don’t be so down in the dumps. You can talk to me now, right?”

The filly gave a short laugh as she shook her mane back into place. But her glee was soon replaced by a shy frown, as though she were unsure about something. Still looking at the sky timidly, the filly whispered, “Soarin…you promised you’d always be there to help me, right?”

“Well of course, kiddo,” Soarin replied matter-of-factly.

“So…can I ask you something?”

“Fire away, Scoots.”

“After all this is over,” Scootaloo began, trying to put her words she had been pondering over for hours together in her head. The young pony was nervous indeed, despite the warm smile exuding from her friend. Finally, after a few moments of stammering and stuttering, Scootaloo asked, “Do you think you’ll still come and visit me? And y’know…maybe…maybe I could stay-.”

But Scootaloo’s thought went unfinished. Soarin abruptly sat up erect, letting out a quick gasp. His pupils contracted as he stared out at the dark sky blankly. It was as if he had been attacked by some unseen force, and was now frozen in time.

“Soarin? What’s wrong?” Scootaloo whispered, tilting her head questioningly.

Then suddenly, as though he had been shot, Soarin gave a short gasp and collapsed to the ground. His eyes were still wide open, and mouth seemed to chant some unintelligible noise. Scootaloo could only watch in horror as her friend underwent a mysterious and terrifying transformation.

When the filly tried to reach for him, Soarin’s leg shot out, smacking the filly’s hoof away. Without warning, Soarin shot up to his hooves, gnashing his teeth into a wicked scowl. Scootaloo looked into his eyes to see pure anger, not the tenderness she had witnessed only minutes earlier.

Before she could make a confused comment, the stallion yelled, “Get away, villain!”

“W-what?” Scootaloo stuttered, trying to back away.

Suddenly, Soarin flew into the air, dashed towards the filly, and put his face close to hers, knocking her on her rump. Through clenched teeth, he commanded, “You heard me, you stupid foal! Get out of my sight!”

“But Soarin, I-.”

“Find Redheart or something , just-argh! Just leave!”

And just like that, with no other explanation, he zoomed away into the dark clouds, leaving Scootaloo in the field alone. On the verge of tears, she began to run towards the barn, not even looking back at her so-called friend. In fact, she was so distraught that she hadn’t noticed that Soarin’s eyes were black as night.

Xxx

“Oy mate! Get me a glass of cider for the missus and a maretini for me. Stirred, not shaken,” Lucky shouted to the bartender, leading Cheerilee into the pub. He pulled out a chair for his companion, then he sat himself down at one of the poker tables, winking at the players already there. A cold maretini was set down next to his hoof, and with a satisfied smile he said, “Now this is more like it.”

One of the players, a rather plump looking stallion with a jolly face, welcomed him, “Hello, fella. Don’t think I’ve seen you around these parts.”

Turning up his slick charm, the Trottingham stallion gave a cool smirk, answering, “Aye, I’m new here. Does it really matter, though? A pub’s a pub, am I right?”

With a hearty chuckle, the jovial player cried, “Aha, amen to that, brotha! Amen!” His eyes then lighted on the mare sitting timidly behind Lucky, sipping out of her mug of cider. “Say, I know you! You teach down at the elementary school, no?”

Cheerilee’s eyes widened and she could only respond with a curt nod. But the mare had nothing to fear, for the stallion just gave another bellowing laugh and reassured, “Aw don’t worry about it, ma’am. I won’t tell anybody.” He raised his own mug of cider and began loudly, “What happens in the pub…”

The rest of the patrons raised their glasses in response and shouted, “Stays in the pub!” The sound of joyous laughter and the clanking of glasses filled the modest little tavern. Somepony had begun to play a piano in the corner, accompanied by a few others singing a song. Soon it became a mish-mash of dancing, the swilling of glasses, games, companionship, and basically one helluva time. Everypony in the pub seemed to be in high spirits. Even Cheerilee, much to her surprise.

Above all the noise, Lucky shouted, “So boys, how about a good ol’ gentlecolt game of hold’em?”

The plump stallion and a few others answered the call, placed the few coins they had on the table. Lucky, being the trained professional he was, swiftly dealt out the cards while Cheerilee watched. She couldn’t help but marvel at how easily Lucky managed to fit in with the others. The way a sharp-dressed stallion could fit in with a bunch of simple village ponies; even Cheerilee had to admit it took a certain amount of charm. And here he was, chatting away with the others as though he had known them for life. The schoolteacher could only smile at the goodness exuding from the so-called “thief” sitting next to her.

Finally, the last card was flipped over, and the rest of players revealed their claim for the money. However, with an all-knowing smile, Lucky revealed his own cards, exclaimed, “Haha! Ten high straight, mates! Looks like Lady Luck’s on my side tonight!”

He reached for his glass, only to find it was dry. Levitating the glass off the table, Lucky got up and told his date, “Hey Cheerilee, I’m going to get another. Play for me okay?”

She jerked her head towards Lucky, shouting, “What? Play for--are you mad?”

But Lucky was already on his way to the bartender, leaving a wide-eyed Cheerilee stuck at a table with four gamblers waiting for her to make a move. “You know how to play, doncha?” a skinny shrill stallion asked.

“Well yes…I believe so,” she responded sheepishly. “But this is my first time-.”

“So you gonna stand or fold or what?” he interrupted, tapping the table impatiently.

Cheerilee took a peek at her cards, then to the cards on the table, then back again. She felt all eyes glaring at her, pressuring for her to make a move. Finally, after much internal deliberation, the teacher blurted out, “I’ll stand.”

“Risk taker huh?” the plump stallion said jovially. He dealt the last card onto the table, finishing off the five in the middle. Two other players had already folded, leaving Cheerilee, the skinny one, and the plump one left to play.

Giving a malicious smirk, the skinny one pushed his chips towards the middle, saying confidently, “I’m all in.”

“Bah, you drive a hard game. I fold,” the plump stallion resigned, throwing his cards back onto the table.

With the jolly old gambler out of the game, it was Cheerilee’s turn to make her move. She felt the shrill one’s eyes drill into her, his smirk telling her to call it quits. And with Lucky’s money on the line, she wasn’t sure she should take the risk.

But suddenly, the skinny stallion remarked, “You feeling lucky, sweetheart?”

That word hit her with the force of a freight train. Sweetheart. And with it came the memory of that dirty, rotten, stinking, creepy, smelly, good-for-nothing miner she had run from back at Trottingham. The way he had come onto her in the mine…frankly it was a memory she would have liked to forget. In fact, just thinking about it made her blood boil as hot as the sun.

Matching the smirk painted on her opponent’s face, Cheerilee said defiantly, “I’ll match it.”

A collective gasp came from the rest of the gamblers as the newbie slid a pile of chips down the table. The skinny pony’s smirk disappeared, and face began to blanch white. He began to stutter something, but was interrupted when the teacher flipped over her cards, saying, “I think...I got a full house,”

“W-what? But I…you were supposed to fold,” her defeated opponent whispered, his mouth agape. He could only watch as his chips were swept away from him and into the newbie’s triumphant hooves.

“Well would you look at that! You won, Cheerilee! Not bad for a first-timer!” the jolly stallion said.

At that moment, Lucky came in levitating two maretinis and a mojito near his head. Seeing the rather large pile of chips on his side of the table, he gasped, “Whoa, what happened here?”

“Turns out she’s a pretty good player, son. She won!”

“Yeah…I-I guess I did,” Cheerilee replied, more in shock than anything.

“Haha! Would you look at that, mate! You’re a good luck charm, ain’t you Cheerilee?” Lucky exclaimed, putting his hoof around her shoulder.

Feeling his warmth around her body, Cheerilee said with a soft smile, “Yeah…we make a pretty good team, don’t we?”

xxx

Redheart sat inside the barn on the walkway above the stalls. A large window-like opening gave way to the bleak night, where it had begun to drizzle. As she scanned the open landscape while soft raindrops moistened her fur, she felt a knot in the pit of her stomach. That eerie feeling somepony gets when something big was about to happen…

She was so caught up in her thoughts that she hadn’t noticed the filly plopping down next to her. Scootaloo’s wet mane hung low over her face, and her coat seemed to have lost some of its color. Concerned, the nurse asked, “Scootaloo, what’s wrong? You look sick. Did something happen?”

Stifling a sniffle, Scootaloo replied quietly, “Yeah…S-Soarin…he got really mad. He started to yell at me…” She hid her face behind her pale red mane, covering the tears beginning to form on her cheek. “I-I asked him if he’d still visit me after this is over…and then he yelled…”

Redheart, looking very disturbed, uttered, “What? Soarin? Well that just can’t be.” She looked out at the orchard, trying to see if she could find the Wonderbolt in question. “I talked to him two hours ago, how could he…”

She didn’t get to finish that thought, however, spying something over the hillocks. It was not Soarin, but something much, much worse. Scrambling to her feet, all she could utter was, “Oh no…”

“What is it?” the filly inquired sadly, slowly getting to her hooves.

With great urgency, the nurse pulled the small pony swiftly into her back, commanding, “Scootaloo, stick with me. We need to find the others.”

Without waiting for a reply, Redheart shot down off the walkway and out of the barn, knowing there was little time to find her companions. But heck, she was going to find them, even if it killed her.

Xxx

A pair of shadowy figures stood underneath an old gazebo, shielded from the rain that was beginning to fall around them. Despite the inclement weather, the two acted like nothing was happening, clutching onto each other for warmth. They had wandered away from the raucousness of the Moonshine Tavern, finding this little patch of perfect silence. It was just a mare, a stallion…and a huge sack of bits plopped right next to them. Basically, the perfect night.

Watching the empty street, Lucky said softly, “My, what a night, huh? It was fun.”

Unable to hide her joy, Cheerilee gave a benevolent smile and said, “Yeah. Probably the most fun I’ve had in a long, long time.”

Turning towards her companion, she said, “It’s getting late. Don’t you think we should be heading back?”

“I don’t know. Maybe…maybe I should rent a room here or something tonight,” the stallion replied, slowly shaking his head.

“What?” Cheerilee uttered, trying to get Lucky to face her. With her brows raised, she questioned, “This isn’t about the others, is it? You have to face them sooner or later.”

“Then why don’t we make it later?”

Letting out a glum sigh, Cheerilee told him urgently, “Lucky…I can’t let you go on like this, letting the others think you’re nothing but a gambler. Something tells me there’s more to it than just that. That gravestone you visited, whose was that? Who was…Justicia?”

The mention of the name made the unicorn wince, and he shrugged his companion off. “Come on, Lucky. We’ve been travelling together for miles…you saved my life more than once!” Cheerilee said, trying to get his attention once again. She had noticed the way he had reacted at the word “Justicia”, piquing her curiosity.

Softening her voice, she whispered, “I can trust you, and you know you can trust me.”

Lucky slowly turned back to his passionate friend, staring into her shining green eyes. He could see the tenderness, the sincerity radiating from those harlequin orbs. For the hardened gambler, this kind of sincerity was something he hadn’t come across in a long time. The words of Braeburn came to mind: Ah think it’s time you put a little faith in us fer once. At that moment, Lucky realized just how right the cowpony was.

After biting his lip hesitantly, he finally uttered, “Well Cheerilee…you’re right.” Leaning onto the railing of the gazebo so that his hooves were drenched from the rain, he said, “I didn’t just one day decide to rob everypony of their cash. I began to do what I do…out of necessity.”

Facing the cold bleak night, the gambler from Trottingham began to recant his tale. “My real name is…or was…Silver Dime Jr., after my dad. How ironic, since we didn’t have a single dime to our name. My pop was an investor or something like that. Not that it mattered; he was never there. He left when I was just a colt, so it was just me and my sweet old mum. Every day my mum would make me some stale old bagels with homemade jam, because that was all we could afford. But we got by, and for a while, everything was…alright.”

The warm smile he had from remembering his favorite childhood confection soon faded. Looking down as though he were paying respects, Lucky continued, “But then one day, my mum…she got sick. She worked down at the coal mines all day until dusk. She had been breathing in that nasty dust her whole life. At first, I thought it was some kind of cold. But she…she just kept getting worse. We didn’t have the gold to help her, so I tried to take her place in the mines. But they wouldn’t let a young one even near the tunnels.”

“So I…I did the only thing I knew. I began to steal things. Sneak ‘em through one of them tiny little vents, and pawn the valuables for a bit of cash at one of them underground markets. Ain’t nothing to brag about or anythin’, but I was a pretty good little thief.”

“But the vendors never took me seriously. Who would? I was just some…some blank-flanked little colt trying to sell some silver platters he stole from a damned eatery. Sure, they gave me some gold. But it was never enough…to save her.”

The stallion began stroke his mane, which was now wet from the unforgiving rain. The weather was starting to become a full-blown storm, and a chilling wind swept passed the duo under the gazebo. But nonetheless, Lucky kept going, with Cheerilee listening quietly. “Then one day, after a particularly bad day of selling, I was so mad…that I just ran. I didn’t come home for three days, just wandering the alleys. And in doing so, I stumbled into one of those underground gambling rings. They were playing poker, and boy were they heavy spenders. I saw all those coins stacked on the table…I had never seen so much gold in all my life!”

“I’ll never forget when this stallion wearing a top hat said, ‘Hey kid. You wanna join?’ I was hesitant; I only had about fifty coins in my pocket. But something about that stack of money told me, ‘Screw it. I’ve got nothing to lose.’”

With a short chuckle, he said, “That first round…my first game ever played…and I ended up with a royal flush on the final turn. They looked at me like I was a cheater, but the stallion who invited me said, ‘Let the kid go. I doubt he even knows what that means.’ So I kept going. And the wins just kept coming and coming. The coin kept flowing in, and at the end of it all, I had to get three bags to carry all that money.”

“They were hesitant to give a kid all that cash. But that top-hat stallion (his name turned out to be Hoofington, like the city) stopped ‘em. As I was heading out, I could hear him say, “Lemme tell you boys, that kid is something special.”

“Another one said, ‘He ain’t special. He’s lucky.’ And let me tell you, I really liked the sound of that.”

He puffed out his chest, reliving the excitement from winning his first load of cash. “When I walked out of that poker room, I had 5000 bits…and a cutie mark to boot. That first time…it will always be the best feeling I’ve ever had. I was so excited; it was more than enough to pay for my mum’s healthcare. I ran home as fast as I could. It would have been the first time I had been home in three days.”

But his temporary grin was wiped away once again, and the stallion found himself unable to stand up. He sat down on the steps of the gazebo, paying no heed to the raindrops spattering onto his head. He whispered, “But when I got there…I found her lying face-down on the floor, with blood pouring out of her mouth.” His voice was shaky, and he hid his face from Cheerilee so that she wouldn’t see the tears sliding down his cheek. Closing his eyes, he took in a deep breath and added, “Flies had already found her. I-I didn’t need a closer look.”

He sat there in the cold rain, trying to push out the memory of his mother’s bloodied face out. Miss Cheerilee could only sit down next to him, unable to think of any comforting words. Lucky barely made any sound, trying to stop the flow of tears trickling from his eyes. He did his best to control his breathing, which was mostly a collection of shaky gasps.

Finally, once he was sure the tears we gone, Lucky raised his reddened eyes and continued, “So I…I didn’t know what else to do. I found Hoofington, told him I’d like to play some more. He asked me where my parents were, and I just told him I ran away. He asked me my name, and I said ‘Lucky.’ And just like that, he took me under his wing. Taught me the rules, how keep a poker face, even how to count cards.

“And…that’s how I became a gambler. The only pony who ever beat me was my best friend, Snake Eyes. He was an orphan too, met him when I caught him counting cards. We were…still are…the best duo of gamblers anypony’s ever met. We made a name for ourselves in Trottingham; we emptied the pockets of almost everypony in that entire city, whether it was from gambling or petty thievery.”

He could feel Cheerilee’s eyes glaring at him, so he shrugged and said, “Yeah, we still couldn’t resist sneaking some poor sucker’s wallet right out of his pocket. What can I say? Old habits die hard.”

“I’m guessing that’s how you and those miners met, huh?” Cheerilee whispered.

“Yep. Turns out, thievery and losing are two things ponies absolutely hate. Some didn’t take too kindly losing half their week’s savings on a game of roulette, then realizing we had taken the other half when they weren’t looking. Sent some thugs to kill us, so we had to book it out of there as fast as we could. Made it out by the skin of our teeth. We ended up at the Mareongo Casino, near Los Pegasus. Made a lot of coin there too. Until, after a while, we were bounced out again.

“Finally, we found our way to Las Haygas. We saw the bright lights and the jingling pockets, and we knew it was the perfect home for street urchins like us.”

Wiping his snout and pursing his lips, Lucky quietly added, “I liked it, sure. But…I still have nightmares of my mum…seeing her all pale…the floor stained with blood. When you saw me at that graveyard, I felt so angry at my father. Angry…at myself. I just wish I could’ve been there. I wish…she wasn’t alone.”

“I’m so sorry,” the teacher replied, placed her hoof on his.

But Lucky moved it away, giving a callous chuckle before saying, “Heh, you and everypony else I’ve heard that from.” The gambler quickly caught himself, however, apologizing, “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound rude. Trottingham was just a lot of bad memories.”

Lucky and Cheerilee stood up together, moving back underneath the safety of the gazebo. “When Cadance selected us, I never thought it would lead up to this,” Lucky confessed. “I’ve never cried about this before, probably because I’ve never told anypony about this before. I guess if I’ve learned anything from all this, it’s that things catch up to you eventually.”

“I thought being rich would solve everything when I was little. Heck, I guess I still believed it. But it didn’t solve nothin’. Just…covered it up,” the unicorn whispered while shaking his head. Looking down with a shy smile, he uttered, “I…I don’t know why I’m telling you this, Cheerilee. I guess…I just had to get that off my chest. It felt…it felt good.”

Cheerilee once again took his hoof with hers, and this time, Lucky didn’t jerk it away. He was surprised at the warmth radiating from her, breaking through the cold veil that surrounded them. With the smile that earned her the title of Passion, the mare told her friend, “Thank you for telling me Lucky. I know it must be so hard for you. But…I want you to know that we’re your friends now too. I know Braeburn can be harsh, but he cares just as much as we do. We’ll always be there for you.”

The two’s faces were near each other’s, and for a few seconds, they stared profoundly into each other’s eyes. Lucky saw the sincerity, the love, the kindness, the passion that made Cheerilee the remarkable mare she was. As for Cheerilee, she found a pony that she could finally understand. A pony whose thick skin was simply a façade, covering up the sadness that hid underneath.

Putting her lips up to his ear, she uttered, “I’ll always be there for you.”

“Know what?” the unicorn asked.

“What?”

Moving his lips closer to hers, he whispered, “I believe you.”

The two were tied together, their warm embrace enough to tackle the harsh storm blowing around them. They closed their eyes, and their lips slowly began to inch closer to the other’s…

But sadly, it would have to wait. For out of the freezing wind and pattering rain, a frantic voice called out, “Lucky! Cheerilee!”

The duo opened their eyes and began to scan the area, a task easier said than done due to the curtain of fog and darkness. But finally a shape formed out of the mist; a mare wearing a wet nurse’s cap on her head.

“Redheart!” Lucky exclaimed, releasing Cheerilee. “What are you-?”

Suddenly, two more figures appeared, a filly and a cowpony. Braeburn pointed behind them, trying to shout something over the sound of rain. Lucky turned his gaze to the direction of Brae’s hooves, unable to see what was there at first. But suddenly, a flash of lightning illuminated the area, revealing a mass of dark figures swarming the tiny village. And not only that, but shrouded figures as well, carrying a blue star on their robes.

With horror, Lucky could finally understand what Braeburn was shouting. “The Frost Stars. And the Shadowmares! They’re coming!”

Comments

[GrouchoMarxDisciple]

This story really needs more love.

[seatiger19]

This was so heart stopping...

I can't breath!

[dragon191917]

Hmm, it's never a good thing when our two worst enemies team up. I also dare wonder, when is that young apprentice who knew a lot going to show up? I'd hate to see him working for the bad guys. He seemed so innocent for a Frost Star.

[Aquillo]

Yo. Aquillo of WRITE here for the requested review.

First of all, a quick break down. As a general rule, I hold that there is no story so terrible it contains nothing of worth, nor one so perfect it contains no flaws. It’s the latter part of that which I carry with me into reviewing, which means I will be blunt. I will be honest. I am not here to mince words propping you up; I will not say what I like about your story. I will say how I think it can be improved. I do this because it saves both my time and yours: it allows me to complete the function of reviewing faster and more accurately. As long as you bear that in mind and don’t come out of this thinking that I hate both you and everything you’ve ever written, we should get along fine.

And with that said, on with the review, which is formed of a general selection of things that bugged me enough that I needed to justify why.

---

Punctuation

Direct address

You get bonus points for having a good grasp of grammar. This story is generally clean in terms of mistakes.

On the other hand, I’ve yet to review a single story which hasn’t ended with finding a mechanical error, and yours is no different.

Direct address needs to have a comma before, after or around the name of the person being addressed. Aka,

Scoots, that’s my bag.
That’s my bag, Scoots.
That, Scoots, is my bag.

There’s a few times when you don’t do this. That’s not to say you’re never correct, just that it occurs too often to be simply a typo.

You’re not in trouble Lucky.
what was it you wanted to talk about Princess
Ah course Yer Majesty…Ah mean Cadance.

Find and destroy.

Style

LUS

You have a problem that’s commonly called LUS (lavender unicorn syndrome) in the fandom. It’s a shorthand way of saying that someone repeatedly replaces either names or pronouns with short descriptions of the character, and that it’s done often enough to make the story difficult to read.

Three instances of this are shown below, ordered so that the first is the most forgivable and the last is the least:

“Soarin could see the worry on the cowpony’s face, so the flier rubbed the filly’s mane”
“the Wonderbolt.”
“the Element of Self-Sacrifice assured.”

The reason for this ordering is simple: there is not much of a leap between “Cowpony” or “Wonderbolt” and Braeburn or Soarin, but that last one really is unforgivable. You established who was each element some time ago story wise, and so at this point I have no idea who's saying this. I have to drag myself out of immersion -- effectively, pressing pause -- and go to look it up. Trust me when I say that’s never a good thing, author. You want your audience to be as engaged as possible with the story, not pausing it every few seconds to go and flip through their notebook.

There’s one good solution to this: Use pronouns and names whenever possible and reserve the descriptive names for when they’re relevant. Reminding people that Soarin’s a wonderbolt just before he’s about to do some flight tricks is, for example, acceptable. Bringing it up in a place where it has no relevance -- such as him eating a pie -- is, however, not.

Narration

You have an interesting style of narration; I’m still undecided as to whether it adds to the scene or detracts from it. If I was a betting man, though, I’d hedge towards the latter: your story seems too intent at times at reminding me it is a story, and your writing isn’t good enough for me to be pleased about that.

Examples of what I mean by this are shown below. No ordering this time.

“Perfect timing too, for at that moment”
“He and Cheerilee were doing as they were told”
“Turns out, Redheart’s hunch was correct.”

Your style feels almost conversational at times. I’d describe it as being distancing, too: the writing reminds me too much that I’m reading a story rather than the writing being used to ferry the story into my mind.

That’d be fine, though, if it was consistent, if every part of the story was aimed towards this ideal. It’s not, though, which makes sections like these jar me out of the story: I’m halfway into being immersed when along comes a self-aware sentence to jerk me out of it at the last minute.

Either spread the style out over the board or reduce the instances of it. Your story’s in a halfway house at the moment, and to my mind, it suffers for it.

Third Person, Alternating

You write inside third person alternating. The problem with it is how you're handling it.

I’ll explain further by expanding on what third person alternating is: third person narrative is when the story is told based on descriptions of a character in terms of he, she, it or occasionally they. Third person alternating is when you are privy to the thoughts and perspectives of multiple characters: you are not just limited towards the one person’s viewpoint.

The problem with your handling of it is with the transferal of viewpoints: rather than waiting for a natural break in the narrative, such as a scene break, you jump perspectives frequently -- including, on a few occasions, within the same paragraph. There are precious few things more confusing in a story than this: it leaves the reader confused as to just whose thoughts they’re being given, just whose perspective they’re seeing things through.

I’d deeply suggest rewriting a few scenes so that they’re only seen through one character’s eyes. Don’t be afraid to cut a scene in two to do so -- it’ll be far more natural, I assure you.

Dialogue Tags

You tend to place dialogue tags -- he said, she whispered, yatter yatter -- on nearly every piece of dialogue, regardless of how much impact they add to the scene. I would deeply suggest not doing this: dialogue tags are highly inefficient ways of assigning ownership towards a section of dialogue. It should either be clear who is saying what before they say it, or a short description of an action taken in tandem to the dialogue should be added to assign ownership and expand on the scene. Dialogue tags themselves should be kept in reserve, if only to stop an endless wave of synonyms for “X said adverbially”.

Show vs. Tell

You suffer quite badly from this, and you should bear in mind that this is coming from someone who’ll regularly argue that “Telling ain’t that bad”. As before, some examples down below, and then I’ll progress onto defecating opinions talking about them.

“Redheart was fazed by this as well, although not as visibly as her cowpony companion.”
“A few times they had some close calls with some wandering mages, but with some quick use of the shadows, the two managed to slip by undetected.”
“The two ponies sighed, relieved that they had finally found the elusive library.”
“Then he turned around, trying to escape to tell his comrades.”

Why these are all examples of telling is because they are straight up giving us the information. I don’t get to see Redheart being fazed; I just get told that she is. I don’t get to see how relieved the ponies are; I just get told it. I don’t get given the extra detail needed to make the scene breathe inside my head, I don’t get fully immersed into the world you’re trying to bring to life. There’s nothing I can really interact with here. You just shortcut your way past the description, and that’s problematic.

The difference between showing and telling’s like the difference between being told your mother was murdered and having it happen right before your eyes. One’s devastating; the other’s psychologically scarring -- which means it has impact. It touches you that much more, affects you that much greater.

Obviously, the difference here isn’t going to be quite so marked, but it is a difference that will be noted. Your audience will not be as drawn in; they will be that much more detached. The second example given here is a good place to start with this: It covers in one sentence what could’ve been happily stretched out into paragraphs. Not that that’s a bad thing, but nobody here’s going to remember how they managed to slip past the mages. It’s not going to resound inside anyone’s mind. It is, in short, a missed opportunity, and there are few things in this world more terrifying than that. Take it from an old-at-eighteen geezer.

And as for the last example, well, that’s just treating your audience as idiots. I don’t think anybody thought the mage was running away from Braeburn because he suddenly remembered he’d left his oven on. We’d figured out that he was trying to escape by this point -- telling us it adds nothing and belittles the intellect of your audience. Don’t do that.

Plot

Minor incidents becoming huge ones

You have a tendency to overstate things, or to treat them as having greater significance than the events themselves convey.

Two examples of this would be the Braeburn and Lucky argument in chapter four and Scootaloo’s smackdown in chapter two, though there are several others. In both cases, the events seem to have a far greater impact on the characters than they do on me as a reader. I’ll expand on this individually below.

For the first, the argument itself lasts less than four lines: it’s more of a spat than the near blood vendetta you seem to have morphed it into. Having any conflict between characters is good -- to be welcomed, even. It makes things interesting. You do need a solid base to start this off on, though, and at the moment you lack this. I’ve seen schoolchildren who’ve had worse arguments than this and still shrug it off. It feels too unrealistic as is.

The second is... well, anticlimactic again. Scootaloo’s supposed smackdown to end all smackdowns can be summarised thusly: “I don’t care what you think and also you’re an insect”. It’s hardly something to write home about.

You say Scootaloo has venom in her words. Put it in, because at the moment this is... highly unrealistic. There is no-one so stuck up that the idea of someone not caring what they think is going to rock them to their core; neither is just being called an insect going to leave you “angry and distressed”. You’re putting far too much weight on what your characters do without actually showing us that weight, and it jars, badly.

Why not use the Elements of Harmony?

In both senses: I’ve only read up to chapter nine, but I can still think of no particular reason why these Elements of Love need to be used over the ones of Harmony. There’s no reason given, or even hinted at, for Cadance’s insistence. This becomes even worse when you take into account that her kingdom’s already invaded: she had one set of elements already prepped, but isn’t using them in favour of training up her own set. That’s... bizarre, author, and not in the good sense.

The second sense’s more to do with the fic as a whole: Why not make this about the bearers of the Elements of Harmony? If the answer’s that you wanted the group to come together over this, why not write an AU fic with the Mane six? Why use a clique of background ponies, secondary characters and OCs at all? People are emotionally invested in those characters: they care about what happens to them. To be frank, I do not care about what happens to your characters -- except for Lucky, which is strange as he’s the OC. Aside from him, though, your cast is hardly lovable.

In all honesty, I can’t think of any solutions to this that couldn’t be solved through AU, and that bugs me. If you were writing original fiction, it wouldn’t, but you’re not: you’re writing fanfiction, which means you’d best have a damn good reason for not using the main characters in a role they were made for. And at the moment, I cannot see one.

Braeburn’s magic truth telling powers

I’ve seen writers do this to Applejack. And now I’m watching you do it to Braeburn. In all honesty, I have the same question for you as I do for them: Why?

Why are you giving your characters something this ridiculously overpowered? Why are you giving them such an easy way to get through scenes? Why are you deliberately installing something that adds to author laziness and a general lack of really satisfying solutions towards problems? Why, why, why?

Urrgh. Sorry, you may have caught the brunt of some pent up annoyance there. Point still stands, though: Why? It’s a cop-out, plain and simple, and you use it as such. That part where Braeburn uses his truth telling power to maneuver his way through an interrogation? Imagine all the ways that could’ve gone without him having that power, imagine all of the possibilities and imaginative solutions towards that problem. You have silenced all of them, stifled them under the horrible allure of the lazy way out.

Consider what I call the “pony in a hole” problem. You have an earth pony, a unicorn and a pegasus trapped inside a hole in the ground. Getting the latter two out’s easy: one flies up and the other teleports. But the earth pony? Well, you have to think of a way to get him out -- the problem is actually a problem to the writer, a challenge. You have to exercise your imagination and come up with a way to get him out of that hole. And that is far more interesting that unicorns teleporting or pegasi flying: that is the human mind working under limitations to find a solution to a problem.

And the problem with Braeburn’s power’s that it solves too many problems: it’s like a master key. Unsure if someone’s telling the truth or not? No need to exercise some linguistic cleverness -- just sic Braeburn on them. Want to know the answer to a question? No need to have another character weasel it out of ‘em -- Braeburn’ll do it for you. It’s just... So many missed opportunities, so many interesting places the story could’ve gone lost because of one addition that, as of yet, serves no purpose whatsoever. Why do it, author? Why cripple yourself?

Cheerilee ain’t passion

And in what is probably going to be the smallest point, I disagree with your assertion that Cheerilee represents passion. From the scene of her which you gave, she’s far more suited towards devotion. Looking after your students doesn’t really strike me as being very passionate: I intend to associate that with a point more fire and zeal than she really displays here.

I’d suggest changing the scene in which this crops up. Modify it so that Cheerilee is showing demonstrable passion, enough so that no-one can argue against it.

Characterisation

Braeburn

He’s noticeably OOC. I can’t see any of the overly proud, talkative character from Over a Barrel here; he’s more like an AJ/Big Mac cross than an actual Braeburn.

That’s not to say that he doesn’t have a character, though; it’s more to say that it’s not really like the one from the show. You’ve added in too many things that are simply not there to begin with and haven’t really played up what we do know. Change that round: make the additions gradual and what we have seen marked. ‘Cause at the moment, the only thing connecting the two characters is a name and a description. Personality wise, they’re distant relations, probably thrice removed.

Oh, and Braeburn’s line “Ah ain’t never gone far from Appleloosa” makes utterly no sense given that Appleloosa was only one year old when we first saw Braeburn, who was noticeably not one year old. Unless you’re suggesting that Braeburn spent most of his life sitting in the desert waiting for people to build a town round him, he might not be that much of a shut-in.

Cadance’s speech

There’s a few instances where Cadance -- and Luna too, in her few lines -- uses language which is... inappropriate for the formality we’ve seen so far. Here’s one example:

“Well a gal’s gotta do her research!” Cadance stated.

There’s a few others. Find and destroy.

Handling Characters

You have a tendency to treat your characters as a group rather than as a collection of individuals, which is a shame seeing as you went to the effort of making them into a group of individuals in the first place. Not many do that, so kudos.

Your problem here partially crosses over with your one about perspectives: you don’t really give us a chance to know how a single character reacts to a scene. Instead, we’re treated to a whirlwind of events and happenings without really being given a chance to focus on the individuality of each character. In other words, you treat them as being a single character with multiple bodies, and the characters suffer accordingly.

Why this is a problem’s simple. Here:

Once upon a time, Discord got loose. Celestia summoned the Mane Six to defeat him; Discord played their flaws against them, but they eventually overcame these through the power of friendship, and turned the trickster Discord into stone.

In that summary, Pinkie, Twilight, Fluttershy, Rarity, Rainbow and AJ were reduced to a single character called “the mane six”. This character was still affected by events, still changed over the course of the story, but all the individuality has gone. There is no Fluttershy. There is only The Mane Six.

And if you can remember the show -- and you really should: it was a brilliant episode -- then you’ll recall that they did have individual responses, that each character reacted to the temptation differently. And it was far, far more entertaining than a blanket reaction, which is what you are stumbling close to doing on occasions.

My advice to you here is to slow down and make use of your character’s individuality. Come up with a different way to react to the same problem that is natural/intrinsic to their characters. If you’ve crafted them well enough, then the scenes should not only flow naturally, they should be a damn sight more interesting.

And as a side note to that, your characters at the moment display some symptoms of being a bit cliche -- Lucky in particular. Not that there’s nothing wrong with cliche: it’s a good starting point for any character, which is why they’ve become cliche. There’s a reason why they’re a starting point, though: you need to develop them beyond this. Do that, add some little extras and depth towards your characters, and you’ll be set.

And... That’s that. Nothing else really to say. Aquillo signing off.

[UnweptSchlipps]

1913837
Thank you so much for the insight, sir. Although it might be hard for me to rework everything since I've gone really deep with this story already, I'll be sure to use this advice in my future endeavors!