Sell Me A Lemon

by Impossible Numbers

A Fruit Salad, Full of Nuts

Lemon Hearts took in the golden tassels of the drapes, the opalescent opulence of the main hall, and the stately columns and paintings standing to attention on either side, and said… “Eh.”

“Isn’t this exciting?” breathed Twinkleshine beside her. “Ah, to be back in the old alma mater! The celestial grail of scholarship and sophistication! Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns!”

“S’all right,” Lemon muttered with a shrug.

Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns did not see many ponies at its reunions, she noticed. Once she counted her own little clique, she was left with maybe two dozen or so ponies. Enrolling at the school hadn’t been easy. In fact, the place had been harder to break into than a bank, and Lemon Hearts – having enjoyed an interesting childhood – knew that from experience.

Over by the salads, she recognized Princess Twilight and her dragon assistant Spike. Princess Twilight: it always paid to be nice to a princess, in case said royal liked to give out favours. She and Spike were deep in conversation with Moondancer, who from the look on her face had been dragged here.

Somewhere in the crowd would be Lemon’s own closer allies – Minuette and Lyra, both traceable by dint of having the loudest voices in the room – but Lemon’s apathy kicked in around this point and she didn’t bother searching for them.

“I can’t wait to see how everyone I knew has gotten on since we last met!” said Twinkleshine, whose face shone at events like this, both from pleasure and from sweat.

“What, all six of us?” said Lemon tersely.

Twinkleshine rounded on her, curls flailing. “Oh my gosh, look at them all! What if I say something without thinking? Look! That’s the Royal Astronomer’s assistant! Her actual assistant!” She breathed so hard and so fast that she became a sneezing bunch of squeaks. “What do I say? How do I say it? Maybe this isn’t such a good idea. Maybe we should come back tomorrow.”

To this unseemly display, Lemon did not respond. She was all too familiar with Twinkleshine’s freak-outs; the mare tended to regard astronomers as most ponies regarded, say, Princess Celestia.

“Come on,” Lemon said, not unkindly given how tempting it would be to clip her friend round the ear. “Let’s get a drink. It’ll give you fake courage.”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly talk to…” Twinkleshine started gibbering.

“And if the talk goes belly-up, at least you’ll get something tasty out of it.”

Annoyingly, the drinks table was unattended. Not even one of them fancy waiter thingies hanging around to serve the quality stuff from a tray. That was the Canterlot style, wasn’t it? To treat everything like a wedding?

“Ah,” she groaned. “Figures. Where’s the barmaid, or whatever?”

Twinkleshine stopped gibbering. “Sorry?”

Cursing, Lemon Hearts patted her dress, wondering which secret pocket she’d stashed the purse into. “To pay for the drinks, you ninny. I said I’d get the drinks this time, didn’t I?”

“Oh.” Blushing, Twinkleshine said, “Um. They’re free.”

“Don’t be daft. That’s fermented grape juice. You don’t pass that around for free. Someone might drink too much.” Lemon picked up a glass with one hoof, despite being a unicorn. She didn’t mind magic, but she’d prefer not to mix it up with her juices right before pouring them down her throat. “I’d best see to it they don’t get the chance.”

Inside her head, however, she slapped herself. Pay for the drinks? You idiot. That’s not how it’s done. Way to look clueless again, you lemon.

Beside her, Twinkleshine swiped a glass and gulped, gulped, gulped until it was empty. She slammed it down onto the table.

“OK,” she breathed. “I… do feel a bit better. Thanks for the suggestion. OK… OK… Wish me luck.”

“You’re welcome,” muttered Lemon to her retreating back.

As soon as she was alone, Lemon downed her own drink and picked up another. She hated Canterlot get-togethers. Everything was so stifling. The room looked like it was trying too hard. And the ponies were worse – well, not Twinkleshine and Twilight and all of them; they were all right – but the usual Canterlot audience had this way of peering over their noses at her. More than once in a long and not-so-prosperous career, she’d been given glances and stares more suitable for stains on the carpet.

Ha, she thought. To a long and not-so-prosperous career. All right, Lemon. Remember the story: you’re an organizer at the Canterlot palace. You do state dinners. Royal photographer, too. Oh, and obviously you’ve got a coltfriend. Make him a big stallion. Simple country soul with muscles like oak and eyes that’d bathe your heart in milk. Likes weddings. That’ll knock ‘em dead.

Then she sighed.

No. They’d see through it right away. Scale it down a bit. Maybe just make him a nice poet, or something.

She downed her next drink and picked up a third. There must be someone in this room she could trust…

Her gaze landed briefly upon Minuette, who was deep in conversation with some gloomy-looking unicorn of the Goth persuasion. Too perky.

She singled out Twilight – Nope. No. Definitely not. Too royal. A princess needed to be impressed, not confided in. True, Twilight was no ordinary princess, but that didn’t change the fact that she was the most senior pony in the room right now. If she thought Lemon was full of it, everyone else would suddenly and by sheer coincidence start thinking the same thing.

Too risky.

Finally, Lemon picked out Lyra Heartstrings. She was usually pretty chill. Lemon went over –

– the moment Lyra turned around and beamed at the sight of someone nearby. “Saffron Masala!? Whoa, I never expected to see you here!”

Lemon stopped barely a few feet from them. Saffron? What?

“And I never expected to see you here,” said Saffron genially. “Still like everything with extra spice, do you, Miss Ponyville Pony?”

“Knock it off. You know what I mean.”

“I do. But long before I moved here, Mother and Father saved for me to go to Canterlot. They wanted the best education money could buy!”

“No way! That’s what my Mom and Dad said!”

“Then of course you know how it goes. Oh, the majesty of the place! The culture! The famous Canterlot cuisine! I knew as soon as I saw it that Canterlot was the place for me.”

“So you saved for a return journey!” Cheerfully, Lyra extended a hoof. “Well, it’s a bit late, but here’s my congratulations! The Tasty Treat is the best restaurant in Canterlot!”

“Many thanks!” Even more cheerfully, Saffron seized it and shook. “I’ve loved every second of it.”

Lemon’s mouth fell open. True, she’d been to The Tasty Treat often enough, but Saffron had just been a friendly face at the other end of a load of soups and rice dishes. And it kind of made sense that Canterlot would attract ponies from all over, yes, but…

Nevertheless, the conversation ploughed on. Lyra said, “How come I never saw you in any classes? Were you studying enchanted cooking?”

“Yes, and a few other courses. Only I dropped out after the first semester.”

Lemon closed her mouth at once and strained her ears to hear more.

“No way,” said Lyra. “I dropped out after the first year! Who knew we had so much in common?” She tilted her head, as though partly sheepish about her next confession. “Of course, I was studying magical music. Say what you will about the other subjects, but Canterlot’s music syllabus was pure gold.”

“I know! I was on it!”

Lyra choked with delight. “No way! Did you get Professor B. Sharp?”

“Yes!”

“You play, by any chance?”

“I used to, back in my homeland. I was even in a band. Sadly, not anymore.”

“I’d love to hear you play. Um… you’re from Indrabhumi, right?”

“It’s the pointy ears, isn’t it?”

“Yeah!” Without shame or political correctness, Lyra continued, “So could you teach me about Indrabhumi music? It’s not something you hear about, not in this city. Anyway, I’ve been dying to find someone with a fresh perspective for my upcoming concert.”

“Oh, uh… yes. I’d be more than honoured! Yes!”

At which point, the sheer flood of enthusiasm drove Lemon to back off, in case she drowned in it.

Two drop-outs, she thought grimly, and guess what? One owns a restaurant and the other owns music. Why don’t they just wave their hard-earned money around, while they’re at it?

She sidestepped around Twinkleshine, who clearly hadn’t drunk enough fake courage; faced with the assistant to the Royal Astronomer, her main conversational gambit seemed to involve embarrassed staring and tongue-tied giggling. Not so absent-mindedly, Lemon knocked her rump on the way past and left her suddenly gabbling with newfound speech.

“You know what’s so fascinating about the Leonid meteor shower every fall!?” squeaked Twinkleshine in desperate terror. “It always intensifies every thirty three years! I’ve seen sketches of the streaks! Of the meteors! Across the sky! Um! Technically they’re meteoroids, but, uh, uh, uh, the parent comet, uh, uh, uh, it, uh, it was two centuries ago! Lovely sketch! By Cool Muesli! Of the meteors! Leonid meteor shower! From the parent comet! That’s what, that’s what’s so fascinating! About! The Leonids! The comet! Sorry, I mean the meteor shower! Meteoroid shower! Aheheheheheheh…”

Lemon wrinkled her muzzle in disgust. There was no helping some ponies.

Now sitting up to one of the round tables, Minuette had persuaded Twilight and Moondancer to sit opposite each other, a pack of cards between them. Lemon paused to watch as Minuette levitated the pack and started to shuffle.

“Wait,” said Lemon. “You’re playing my game?”

“Moondancer’s a little nervous,” said Minuette. “I think this is a great way to break the ice. One for the album…” She turned, smiled, nudged Twilight into a hasty smile, and levitated a camera so fast that even the subsequent flash of light was no match for its speed. “Caption: Minuette and Twilight about to make Moondancer feel better.”

“Snappy,” muttered Lemon.

“I changed my mind…” Moondancer’s chair scraped back.

“Don’t worry! The rules are easy to follow!” said Minuette. Blurs darted from the pack to spaces before each of the two seated unicorns. “I deal four cards in the middle of the table, face-up. See? Then I deal – for each of you two – six sets of four cards each, all face down. See? Now, the aim of the game is to make all of your six sets of cards have a matching four of a kind. Easy, huh?”

“Uh…” said Moondancer, looking hopefully at Twilight.

“Don’t worry.” Twilight levitated one of her sets. “This can be just a practice game. It’s only until the awards ceremony.”

Which I’ll be ducking out of, Lemon thought hastily. Aloud, she said, “So it is my game, then! I invented this one!” She peeked at Moondancer’s levitated set, and rudely reached over and slapped the lot down, face-up. “If you’ve already got four of a kind, you put them face-up, all right? Nab any head start you can get.”

For a little longer than Lemon felt was entirely necessary, Moondancer glared at her. Then, tight-lipped, she levitated another set of cards.

“I’m surprised you showed up,” murmured Moondancer. “I remember you said you hated this place.”

I did. Bunch of uptight sourpusses. Give the tutors here a cushy job, and they act like every class is a funeral. And what’s with the “safety codes” anyway? I broke half of them, and nothing happened to me. “Stuffy codes”, more like.

“What? Me? What a load of garbage.” Lemon barked a laugh. “Thanks to this place, I went on to become head of state dinners. At the palace.”

“Very impressive.” Twilight nodded, beaming at her. “However unpleasant something might be at the time…”

Oh darn it. A heartwarming lesson already. We haven’t been here more than ten minutes!

“…if you just hold on and believe in yourself, you’ll –”

“Only I looked up the records of Canterlot staff,” said Moondancer, ice in her voice, “and I don’t remember seeing ‘Lemon Hearts’ anywhere on the list of names.”

Lemon laughed. “Oh, they do that all the time, and even I don’t know why! Administrative error? Beats me. I don’t do pencil-pushing. My love is elsewhere.”

“Anyway, you need a full qualification to be accepted at the palace. They only take the cream of the crop.”

Lemon laughed again, but the “disarmingly enthusiastic” approach clearly wasn’t working. It usually worked against the likes of Twinkleshine and Minuette, who were far too polite to challenge any of the codswallop she said. Even Lyra gave up in the face of Lemon’s brutal cheeriness. But Moondancer didn’t like being pushed, and she certainly didn’t like too much cheer. Lemon had long since marked her down as an aspiring bureaucrat.

In which case, Lemon’s face shut down. “If you say so, then,” she said, indicating in her tone that the sentence continued, “then oh deary me, it must be Celestia’s given truth, because Moondancer said so. Oh, well, that’s me told.”

Not that she wasn’t happy with saying things like that. Only… Princess Twilight was sitting right there, and she probably liked to receive speech with a little less salt than Lemon was used to dishing up, or indeed used to dishing out.

Opposite from Lemon, she saw Twinkleshine and Lyra take their seats, the latter dragging a third one for her new friend Saffron. Twinkleshine’s face was somewhat red, but had the laid-back look of one who’d just had a dream like a mouth full of sublime chocolates and the finest wines.

“Talk went well, did it?” Lemon said, contriving to sound less impolite than usual.

Twinkleshine spoke, but joy and exhaustion had reduced her speech to a series of giggly sighs.

“I think she’s made a new friend,” said Lyra, surfacing briefly before diving back into her own conversation.

“Oh? Did you show him your astronomy certificate?” Lemon said with spit in her mouth. “Or did you tell him you were friends with a qualified historian?”

“Did you mention me?” Drawing up another chair, Minuette sat down heavily and put a forelimb around Twinkleshine’s shoulders. “I hope so! How wonderful to think we could still be friends with the good and the great!”

A round of applause and scraping chairs: Princess Celestia had just stepped in through the main entrance. Twinkleshine and Lyra shot to their hooves at once, whereas everyone else rose slowly and stamped more moderately.

Twilight coughed and grinned. “Uh… well, it is nice to see how well our old school friends are doing, isn’t it?”

“Mmm,” Lemon hummed. On the stage at the far end of the hall, she could see Princess Celestia ascending the steps to the microphone.

Silence descended, as did the standing ponies.

In one movement, Lemon grabbed a nearby chair, spun it round, threw herself on it, and kicked her rear hooves up to rest on the table. Since someone had been about to sit down on said chair, the resulting groan and thud gave her a spark of amusement while she contrived to look innocent.

But Celestia’s booming speech rushed clean over that spark. Already, she was talking about “fine young mares” and “remarkable talent” and “inspiring successes”. Bah!

All gazes were focused on Her Royal Highness. Suited her fine: Lemon swiped a drink from a nearby table and resigned herself to a semi-comfortable slump. She was going to need that drink. Well, she always needed a drink, but this time the desire was far more urgent.

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Comments

[axxuy]

I don't think I've seen too many fics about Lemon Hearts. She's shaping up to be quite a character here.