• Published 23rd May 2020
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Bon-Bon the Demon Slayer - ObabScribbler



“In every generation there is a chosen one. One mare who will stand against the demons, the monsters and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer.”

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7. The I in Team

Nonna found Bon-Bon. Of course it was Nonna. Nopony else would have thought to look for her at the playground between Fiftieth and Fifty-First Street, where she used to play when she was just a foal. Not only was it far from the Sweetie-Drops’ apartment block, they all thought Bon-Bon was too old for playgrounds these days.

“Bambolina?” Nonna called. “Will you come down?”

Bon-Bon shook her head, not raising her face. Her forelegs were wrapped around her hind legs as she rocked on her rump at the top of the slide. Her tail trailed down the steps, blowing in what little the breeze managed to sneak between the tall buildings. The air in this part of the city was always stagnant when the pegasi hadn’t been by in a few days. In some towns and cities, they had dedicated weather teams that were on the clock twenty-four-seven. In Manehattan, where there were no crop rotations to worry about and the ponies on the city council employed only a small team of weather ponies, some days you were lucky to get enough wind to lift the smog from the factory district. Bon-Bon felt like, sometimes, that was all Manehattan was: smog and smell and somepony making somepony else’s life horrible.

“Shall I come up to you then?” Nonna asked.

Bon-Bon shook her head even harder. “You’ll fall.”

“I was a champion climber when I was a filly. I once beat your grandfather to the top of the cliff behind his house.” Nonna paused. “I was also very reckless as a filly. I am glad this city has no cliffs for you to climb and give your mother a heart attack as I nearly did to mine.”

“Mom wouldn’t care if I climbed a hundred cliffs,” Bon-Bon sniffed. “Or a thousand. Or a million! I doubt she’d even notice if I fell off one, unless it made me late for dinner with some new financier.”

“Oh, come now, do not talk that way of your mother. She loves you and of course cares what you do.”

That was the problem. Mom was going to care about this but for all the wrong reasons. “Why not? It’s true. Mom and Dad only care that I show up on time looking pretty for their business friends and don’t make a show of myself in front of the other kids at school so they can schmooze their parents.” She gave a bitter laugh. “I guess I screwed that one up. On Monday, I bet every single one of them will be talking about me and so will all their rich parents. Mom and Dad will be furious.”

“Bambolina?”

Finally, she lowered her forelegs, revealing red-rimmed eyes and cheeks streaked with tears.

“Oh, Bambolina!” Nonna exclaimed. “Why are you crying?”

“Because I screwed up, Nonna.” Bon-Bon wiped her nose on her foreleg, not caring that it was gross. It seemed fitting to be even grosser than she already was. “I really, really screwed up and now everything’s ruined. I can’t ever go back to school. I can’t go home, either. Can I live with you and go to the local public school instead of that stupid private one?”

“You are being silly,” Nonna chastised. “Come down and we shall talk of what has upset you. Perhaps your Nonna will take her rolling pin to someone, eh?” She mimed smacking her trusty rolling pin into the flat of one hoof in a failed attempt at humour. “Bon-Bon, you are giving your Nonna a crick in her poor neck to keep looking up at you like this. Will you please come down from up there?”

Bon-Bon released a savage sigh but obeyed. The moment she reached the bottom of the slide, Nonna wrapped her in a hug. She clung to her grandmother for several minutes, neither saying anything. Nonna carefully stroked the back of her head until Bon-Bon stopped sobbing.

“You would like to talk here?” she asked softly. “Or at home?” She didn’t need to say whose.

“H-Home,” Bon-Bon choked. She didn’t need to say either. She had grown up after her parents’ business acumen allowed them to shower her with everything she could ever want: toys, gadgets, clothes, money, it was all hers if she wanted it. Yet they hadn’t given her what she actually needed. Nonna’s shabby house in its shabby neighbourhood had always felt more like home to her.

They walked in silence. Nonna constantly shot her concerned looks but Bon-Bon kept her eyes fixed ahead. It was not until they were inside and Nonna had forcibly sat her on the ugly green sofa that she confessed what had happened.

“There’s this girl at school,” she said, her tone wavering between sad and angry so often not even she could tell which bits made her want to cry and which made her want to break things. “Her name’s Bright Eyes. She’s really quiet and everyone says she’s a stuck-up geek because she barely talks to anypony except teachers when she’s answering every single question in every single class. Cara Orange is always talking really loudly about her in the cafeteria because she shares most of her classes and she says Bright Eyes is just trying to make them look bad. Which, um, they kind of are anyway, since at least half of her clique are only going to pass this year because of ‘generous donations’ to help the school build a new swimming pool.” She scrunched up her face, pausing a moment before going on. Cara Orange was someone who seemed too clichéd to be real. She belonged in some teen novel about teen fillies doing teen things with teen dialogue and lazy teen stereotypes. She was even a cheerleader!

“Bambolina? You are staring at nothing.”

She shook her head, putting herself back on track. “Well, I was doing homework in the library each lunchtime for the past couple of weeks because of that big project we got in History – do you remember, Nonna? We had to pick a historical figure, do some research and then make a presentation to the class?”

“I remember,” Nonna nodded.

“Well, I’m not doing so well in History. My grades are kind of … really bad. Like, I’m failing kind of bad. Basically they suck, but the teacher said I could still get a good report card if I did well on this presentation. So I pretty much lived in the school library every lunch break. It turned out; Bright Eyes did the same, only she did it EVERY lunch break, even when she didn’t have a project due. I think she might have been hiding from Cara Orange and her friends but I never asked. We got talking and it turns out she’s not stuck up at all. She’s actually really nice. She doesn’t have many friends because she’s a scholarship student, so she works all the time to keep her grades up or she’ll have to leave, and she never hangs out with anyone after school because she has a part-time job to help pay for stuff her parents can’t afford.”

“She sounds like a work harder.”

“I think you mean ‘hard worker’, Nonna, and yeah, she really is. The day before I had to give my presentation I asked her if she’d like to go out after school and get some ice-cream or something and she acted like I’d offered her front row tickets to watch the Rocking’ Beats play at the Manehattan Arena or something. She grabbed my hoof and shook it so hard I thought she was going to dislocate my shoulder. Then she got all awkward, turned bet red and ran off.”

Bon-Bon shut her eyes at the memories that surged to the front of her mind. She had blushed scarlet herself, though nopony had been around to see it. Her hoof had tingled where Bright Eyes had held it. Her stomach had flip-flopped all through her remaining classes that afternoon. She had experienced similar weird feelings when watching the Rocking Beats’ guitarist, Tunefull, toss her mane while she played; or when she had seen the mare athletes during last year’s Pony Games. She had always told herself those were just due to the adrenaline of being at a real live concert, or the thrill of the Pony Games being held in Manehattan. The only adrenaline in the school library had been the stuff that rushed through her when a pale green pony with orange hair grabbed her hoof and smiled at her the way other students smiled at their coltfriends after they had given them gifts.

What had she been supposed to think?

“Bon-Bon?” Nonna prompted gently.

“We went for ice-cream today. I got an A+ for my presentation this morning. Bright Eyes was really happy for me when I told her at lunch. She said it was all my hard work paying off, even though she totally helped me find the books I needed. She said she was really looking forward to having ice-cream with me – we were going to try out the Satin Slipper Sweete Shoppe, which only just opened near the school. It was great. We talked for so long, the waitress actually came over and asked if we were going to order anything else because we were taking up a booth. Bright Eyes is so smart, Nonna, and I loved listening to her when she talked about stuff. She seemed to like telling me stuff, too; I guess because nopony ever took the time before. Then … when she said she had to go to work …” Bon-Bon screwed up her eyes. “I … I leaned across the booth and … and I … I kissed her. Right on the mouth. I thought it was, y’know the right moment, since she was leaving and we’d had such a great time together and she seemed really into me and … and I just … I really wanted to kiss her.” She let her face fall into her hooves. “She acted like it was the grossest thing in the world. She pushed me away and ran, Nonna – ran away from me, right out of the ice-cream parlour. I had to pay for what we’d ordered and when I got outside there was no sign of her.”

“Oh, Bambolina.” Nonna’s voice was filled with regret.

“I … I don’t know what came over me. I’ve never wanted to … I mean, I know it’s not … fillies don’t kiss other fillies!” Her voice rose to a pitch that could shatter glass. “What’s the matter with me? My life is ruined and it’s all my fault!”

“Your life is not ruined, Bambolina.” Nonna came to sit next to her on the sofa and swept her into another tight hug.

“How can you say that, Nonna?” Bon-Bon demanded. “On Monday morning, everyone will know I’m a freak.”

“You are not a freak, my little one.”

“Are you kidding? I am a freak. I was already one for not having my cutie mark yet. What kind of pony doesn’t have her cutie mark in high school, for Celestia’s sake?” Bon-Bon shook her head. “Now they’ll not only talk about that, they’ll know I’m a freaky dyke too!”

“Bon-Bon!” Nonna cried in shock. “Do not use such a word!”

Mildly surprised her grandmother knew what it meant, Bon-Bon struggled against her hold. “Why not? It’s true. Why else would I have kissed Bright Eyes? Why else have I never wanted to kiss any colt in school? Why do I like looking at mares in romantic movies and feel disappointed when they end up with the stallion love-interest?” Fresh tears streamed down her cheeks. “It’s time I admitted it, Nonna. There’s no point in trying to keep it a secret to myself anymore, since it’s pretty obvious what’s the matter with me.”

“Nothing is the matter with you,” Nonna protested sternly, grabbing her shoulders to keep her still. “Look at me, Bambolina. Look at me right this instant.” Her tone was so uncharacteristically sharp that Bon-Bon instantly complied. “There is nothing wrong with you. Whether you like fillies or colts, what does it matter? You are still you and they are still them. You have made a mistake today but not the way you think, I believe. You must apologise to this Bright Eyes and explain that you had the wrong impression about why she was being nice to you. From what you have told me, I think she was embarrassed more than upset that you liked her that way. You say she does not have many friends and that other fillies are cruel about her? Imagine how you would feel if you were lonely and somepony spent time with you, only for you to find it was not friendship they were looking for. You would be upset, yes? Maybe upset enough to run away? The heart is a strange, wonderful, terrible thing, little one. It makes ponies crazy sometimes, especially if it has been hurt.”

Bon-Bon blinked at her. “I … I never thought about that.” She had only read disgust in Bright Eyes’s expression, but maybe, thinking back, there had been embarrassment mixed in with her shock. Maybe it was not repulsion that had made her run, but the feeling that she had been used. “Ponyfeathers, what have I done?”

“You did not know, Bambolina. You were too shocked at your own feelings, yes? But I tell you now, those are not bad feelings. They mean that you are capable of love and that is a wonderful thing.” She smiled, though her own eyes were wet from her granddaughter’s anguish. “Love is never bad and neither are you. Fillies, colts, what does it matter? We are all ponies, yes? We do not fall into love with what is on the outside; we fall in love with what is on the inside.”

“That’s not the way everyone else sees it, Nonna.”

“Then they are not worth a hill of coffee!”

Bon-Bon tried to figure that one out. “Coffee?”

“Yes. Oh, wait, no; I mean coffee beans. They are not worth a hill of coffee beans. That is the correct phrase, yes?”

Despite herself, the corner of Bon-Bon’s mouth twitched. “Yeah, that’s right.”

“Ah, there is my little one!” Nonna pinched her cheeks to make the smile wider. “She was hiding in this sad pony I found.”

“Thanks, Nonna.” Bon-Bon’s eyes dropped. “But Mom and Dad aren’t going to see it the same way you do.”

“I will talk to my Candito,” Nonna said firmly. “There are some things mothers must just accept about their daughters, as their own mothers accepted things about them. We are never what our parents wanted. My own mother? She hated that I married your grandfather but I was very happy with him, so sometimes it is good to defy your elders. Your mother has no right to deny you happiness because of what she thinks the world should be like. I have accepted a lot about her that I do not agree with. If she does not agree with who you are attracted to, then that is not your problem, Bambolina, it is hers and I will tell her that.”

Bon-Bon’s jaw dropped. “You’d … do that? But you never argue with Mom!”

“Not when you can hear,” Nonna said grimly. “But you are growing up, Bon-Bon, and you are learning that the world is not as it seems on the surface.” Her grim expression wavered. “I have said that right, yes?”

Bon-Bon nodded dumbly.

“Ach, all this time in Equestria and still I doubt my tongue.” She made a chuffing noise of irritation at herself and spiralled a hoof, as if she wished she could unspool the part of her brain responsible for speech and play a new tune with it. “But now, I think, you need something to make your pretty smile say on your beautiful face.”

“Nonna!”

“Do not ‘Nonna’ me, little one. You have had a nasty time. Let us try to put a happy memory on the end of your today, yes?”

“All right.” Nevertheless, Bon-Bon bit her lip. “I wish I knew where Bright Eyes lives so I could go and apologise now. She mentioned working in some store … something to do with roller-skating? I don’t remember where, though.”

“Come into the kitchen,” said Nonna. “Perhaps you will remember as we work.”

“Work?” Bon-Bon slid off the worn velveteen seat-cover and trotted after her grandmother. The comfort of knowing that her grandmother not only accepted this news about her, but was willing to help her break the news to her parents, made her heart want to burst with gratitude.

“I was going to make some chocolate with you anyway when you got here,” Nonna explained. “You were going to come and see me this evening, yes?”

“Uh-huh.” It was Friday. She always came over and cooked with her grandmother on Fridays, unless Mom or Dad needed her to show her face at home. Sometimes she even stayed overnight and went back to the apartment the next morning, a container of whatever they had made clutched in her hooves.

On the countertop were bags of sugar, cocoa powder, mixed nuts, powdered milk and a stick of butter. Nonna rummaged in the cupboards until she turned up a saucepan and a long rectangular tray. She turned in a small circle, scratching her head.

“What do you need, Nonna?”

“Greaseproof paper. Ah, here it is! It was hiding from me.” She tapped her chin a moment and then flung open one last cupboard, bringing out a bag of mini marshmallows – Bon-Bon’s favourite. “I think we need these tonight, yes?”

“Yes,” Bon-Bon agreed.

Nonna rinsed out the saucepan and set it on top of the gas ring. She picked up a box of matches, hesitated and then passed them to Bon-Bon. “I think you are old enough not to blow up my house, yes?”

“Yes, Nonna,” Bon-Bon said, her voice quavering with giggles this time, not tears.

Thoughts of her day and what the future held were still there in her mind, but for now, she could concentrate on this. The beauty of cooking was that you HAD to concentrate or you would hurt yourself, which tended to drive unwelcome things from your mind for a short while. Nonna had cooked so much when Bon-Bon’s grandfather died, she and Bon-Bon had been forced to take most down to the local homeless shelter or it would have spoiled and done nopony any good.

She lit the gas ring and Nonna clapped her hooves.

“Bravo, Bambolina! Well done. Now, measure out the water to the little ‘one-fifty’ on the side and put it in the pan with the sugar. You can stir them until they are syrup.”

“Don’t you want to do this part, Nonna?”

“No, no.” Nonna sat down heavily in the rocking chair that had been in her kitchen ever since Bon-Bon could remember. “I think I will leave you to do the tiger’s share today, little one.”

“Lion’s share, Nonna.”

“Lion, tiger, whatever. When the syrup is ready, add the butter, Bambolina, and then when it is melted take the pan off the flame and add the cocoa and milk powder. There is a big wooden spoon in the –”

“Drawer by the fridge,” Bon-Bon finished.

“You do not need me, it seems,” Nonna smiled and yawned. “I am sorry, Bambolina. I am very tired.”

“It’s okay, Nonna. Were you … walking a long time trying to find me?”

“A while,” she replied evasively. “When you did not come to see me and it started to get dark, I began to worry.”

“I’m sorry, Nonna. I didn’t mean to worry anyone.”

Nonna only waved a hoof. “Do not let the mixture burn, little one. Burnt chocolate does not taste nice.”

Bon-Bon continued putting together the mixture, her hooves adopting a rhythm that was both relaxing and distracting as she stirred the mixture and watched the bubbles around the edges pop. She added the milk and cocoa powder, watching as the sweet-smelling gloop turned dark brown and took on a slightly bitter tang. Without being told, when she judged it was ready she twisted the dial to turn off the gas flame and poured the saucepan sideways so that it emptied its smooth, creamy contents onto the greaseproof paper in the bottom of the tray. She ran water into the hot saucepan and left it to cool off without hardening until an un-scrubbable mess in the sink. While the mixture was still gooey, she snipped open the bag of nuts with a pair of scissors she knew Nonna kept in a drawer and sprinkled them over the top, along with a liberal helping of marshmallows. Putting a piece of greaseproof on her hoof, she used the flat to press them into the rapidly hardening chocolate, bunched it into a ball and tossed it into the trash.

It was as she was sliding the tray into the refrigerator to cool that her felt it: a zinging sensation, like pins and needles in her flank. She looked down in time to see the tell-tale yellow glow fade.

“Nonna!” she shrieked. “Nonna, I got my cutie mark!” She slammed the fridge door shut and dashed across to the rocking chair. “Nonna, look! Wake up and see! I’ve got my cutie mark and it’s candies, just like yours!”

Nonna must have fallen asleep while Bon-Bon was wrapped up in cooking. The back of her head rested against the rocking chair and her mouth was slightly open. She always claimed she didn’t snore or drool, but she did. And could rattle the rafters when she was really tired.

“Nonna!” Bon-Bon insisted, jostling her foreleg. It fell bonelessly over the side of the chair. Something about the movement wasn’t right. Bon-Bon frowned and drew closer. “Nonna?” Something didn’t sound right either. It took her a second to notice over her own excitedly pounding heartbeat. Nonna wasn’t snoring.

Because she wasn’t breathing.

“Nonna?” Panic crept into Bon-Bon’s voice as her rational mind froze up. “Nonna! Wake up! Wake up, Nonna!” Her grandmother slid from side to side as she shook her, flopping like an old rag doll. Her chest didn’t move. She still wasn’t breathing. “No,” Bon-Bon breathed, hooves flying to her mouth. “I’ll get help. I’ll … I’ll fetch one of the neighbours. Oh, Celestia, this can’t be happening. This isn’t happening!”

She bolted from the kitchen and out of the front door.


“This is great!” Lyra bounced like she had swallowed pure caffeine without the coffee. “Where do you want to go next?”

“I don’t know,” Bon-Bon said exhaustedly. Even Slayer stamina paled in the face of Lyra’s verve.

They had already made their own candy-floss (after which they had walked away wearing most of it), been in the house of mirrors (in which Lyra had walked into one she thought was the exit), eaten toffee apples (which Lyra had accidentally got stuck in her mane), ridden the ghost train (during which Bon-Bon heightened senses urged her to smash everything that jumped out at them), sampled a tray of special May Day Cakes (Mrs. Cake had thrust more than necessary on them with a wink at Bon-Bon) and bounced on the inflatable castle. Bon-Bon had also held Lyra’s mane out of the way while she brought back all the rich food she had eaten after agitating her stomach with jumping around.

“What else is there?”

“Plenty!” Lyra exclaimed. “How about the hoopla? Ooh, or horseshoe pitching! Ooh, ooh, or the coconut shy! It’s too bad Minuette couldn’t stay with us. She has great aim. I think it’s to do with her great timing. That’s what her cutie mark is about; did you know that? She’s never late for anything and she can keep a beat like nopony I know – and I know a lot of ponies whose living is keeping a beat.”

Bon-Bon remembered the venomous looks thrown her way. “I think Minuette is happier doing her own thing.”

Lyra shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll see her later at the tug-o-war.”

“You’ve mentioned that a couple of times,” said Bon-Bon as they headed towards the far corner of the park, where several poles had been jammed into the ground with coconuts balanced precariously atop them. “Is it a contest?”

“Uh-huh. Teams enter and the each winning pony get a prize – usually a really cute little medal with his or her name on it. It gets inscribed and the winners received them later on in the month. Every year the Apples enter and win. They have soooo many medals it’s not even funny. But this year?” Lyra rubbed her hooves together gleefully. “Oh-ho-ho-ho! This year is going to be different. This year I’m totally going to bet a medal to put on my wall and show to visitors whenever they stop by. They’ll look up, see the medal and say: ‘Lyra, what is that stunningly shiny awesome medal for?’ and I’ll get to say ‘It’s for being named one of the strongest ponies in Ponyville on May Day’ and they’ll be so impressed! Hee-hee-hee! This year we’re going to knock those Apples’ socks off! If they wore socks, that is. Which they don’t. But if they did, we’d totally knock them off.”

Bon-Bon waited for Lyra’s diatribe to finish before speaking. She had learned it was easier not to interrupt. Lyra was less likely to go off at a tangent that way. She was good enough at that already, without any help. “Who’s in your team?”

“Minuette and Noteworthy, usually, but this year Noteworthy’s busy being the Stallion of Winter, so you’re filling in.”

Bon-Bon skidded to a halt. “I am?”

“Sure you are; because you’re my best friend and you totally want to help me out so I don’t end up with my face all covered in mud again. Did I mention there’s mud involved? I’m sure I did. I don’t want to get a mouthful of mud again.”

“You never mentioned anything, Lyra!” Bon-Bon couldn’t help the censure that infused her voice. “When were you going to ask me if I wanted to take Noteworthy’s place?”

“I did!” Lyra paused when she realised she was walking alone. She turned to see Bon-Bon’s expression. “Didn’t I?”

“No.”

“Really?” She frowned. “I thought I did.”

“Trust me, you didn’t.”

“Oh.” A guilty look crossed her face. “But you’ll do it, right? I already entered your name as the third member of our team. You’re the third side of the Music Makers triangle, Bon-Bon! Do you know how many ponies would kill to be in your position?”

Bon-Bon kept up her scowl.

“Pleeeeeease?” Lyra begged. “I really did just forget. I totally thought you already said yes! It’s what I told Minuette and Noteworthy and the pony who took the names down and EVERYONE! You’re not going to make me into a liar, are you? Are you, Bon-Bon?” She widened her eyes and blinked slowly. “You know you can’t resist the face.”

Bon-Bon turned her own face away with a noise of irritation – though whether at herself or at Lyra was uncertain. “All right, all right, I’ll do it; but give me a little warning next time, okay?”

Lyra instantly lost her sad expression and bounced towards the coconut shy. “You betcha!”

Bon-Bon walked much slower, instantly regretting how easily she had caved. She should have put up more resistance than that. Ponyfeathers, putting up a fight was her specialty! She joined the line behind Lyra, head full of thoughts as she processed the day and what was still to come. After a full night of patrol and barely a chance to close her eyes afterwards, she was starting to flag. A yawn tickled the back of her throat. She had to cover her mouth three times before they reached the front of the line.

The pony giving out beanbags looked at her doubtfully. “You okay there, pumpkin? You look a mite tired.”

“I’m fine, thanks,” Bon-Bon replied, covering another yawn. “’Scuse me.”

“Celestia’s shimmery shoes, Bon-Bon, you’re not tired out already, are you?” Lyra exclaimed. “You need to keep your strength up for the tug-o-war.” She nodded at the stallholder. “We’re going to win this year.”

“Are you now?” he asked with a smile. “I reckon you shouldn’t count your chickens before they’re hatched, sweetheart.”

“Why would I want to count chickens?” Lyra asked ingenuously.

“It’s a … never mind. Three throws. Anything you knock down, you win.” He stepped back and blew sharply on a whistle, the noise ratcheting through Bon-Bon’s ears and driving away her sleepiness with the aural equivalent of a big stick with a nail in the end. “Go!”

Lyra threw her first beanbag. It fell substantially short. She threw her second. It sailed over the top of the coconuts. Cursing under her breath, her horn began to glow until the stallholder pointed one green hoof at the sign tacked next to him.

“No magic, sweetheart.”

“Luna’s luminous locks!” Lyra cursed. She hefted the last beanbag, sighted careful aim and threw with a grunt of effort. It landed six inches in front of her. “Celestia’s sweet shiny horn, this is impossible!”

The stallholder grinned and offered three more beanbags to Bon-Bon. “Care to try your luck, pumpkin?”

Bon-Bon eyed the coconuts. She could hit every single one of them easily. Too easily. “I don’t think so.”

“Aw, c’mon, Bon-Bon!” Lyra protested. “You watched me make a fool of myself. It’s only fair you do the same.”

“Your faith in my abilities in touching.”

“So prove me wrong,” she grinned and waggled her eyebrows. “Or are you scared you’ll be even worse than me?”

Bon-Bon’s mouth twitched. She accepted the beanbags. “That would be difficult based on that performance.”

“Ouch!” Lyra licked the tip of her hoof and touched it to her flank. “Burned!”

Bon-Bon was momentarily flummoxed by the suggestiveness of the action. She shook away the thoughts that tried to trample their way into her brain, replacing them with thoughts of aim, heft and gravity. Throwing a beanbag wasn’t as difficult as throwing a spear or javelin, both of which she knew how to do with perfect aim. If they weren’t so prone to get stuck, thus rendering them banished along with the demon they were lodged in, she would use them more often in her patrols.

Her first throw was restrained. She didn’t want to make this look too easy. The beanbag barely tapped the lowest coconut, which toppled off its perch and onto the ground. Both Lyra and the stallholder cheered. He would fetch it afterwards, when she had finished her other throws. Bon-Bon hefted the second beanbag, still using barely a fraction of her true strength. This time the coconut she was aiming for toppled at an angle, striking its neighbour and bringing that one down too.

“Hey, wow, you got three in just two throws!” said Lyra. “Good going!”

“I just got lucky.” Bon-Bon sized up her last throw, picking the highest coconut this time.

“What are you going to do with them?” Lyra persisted. “Hey, could you make those yummy coconut crèmes you made during Winter Wrap up? The ones with the dark chocolate and bits of real coconut inside?”

“Hmm? Yeah, sure.” Bon-Bon figured she should miss this one, since she didn’t want to make her skills look too good. The highest would make the miss look believable. If she threw too wildly after two excellent throws it would be obvious she had fudged it. A near-miss would make her look average – not terrible but not remarkable either, just the way she liked it.

“Cool! You’re the best, Bon-Bon.” Lyra smacked her lips at the sweet-tasting memory. “Ponyfeathers, I love you and your candies.”

It didn’t matter that there was the rest of a sentence; hearing ‘I love you’ from Lyra, directed at her, had the same effect on Bon-Bon’s brain as dropping a toaster would have on the fish in a fish-tank. Her head twisted to look and she threw without thinking.

“Whoa!” the stallholder ducked as it flew over his head and smacked into the side of his stand. The fabric ripped as the force of the hit exploded the bag and dried beans scattered everywhere. He uncurled from his crouch, brushing them out of his ginger mane. “Careful there, pumpkin.”

“Sorry.” Bon-Bon’s cheeks flamed, though not entirely from nearly hitting him.

“No worries. The stitching must’ve been loose on that one.” He lifted and lowered one shoulder. “It happens. You can have another throw if you like.”

Bon-Bon shook her head. “I already got three coconuts. That’s fine. I don’t want to take up anypony else’s turn by being greedy.”

He lifted and lowered just one shoulder again. “Alrighty then. I’ll just fetch your winnings.” He trotted towards the fallen coconuts, carrying three new ones to replace them on the poles.

Lyra snorted behind Bon-Bon.

“What’s so funny?” Bon-Bon asked, cheeks still hot.

Lyra continued to giggle behind one hoof. When she could speak again, she said, “You … hee-hee-hee … you … ha-ha-ha …”

“Lyra!”

“You beaned him with beans!” she said in a single rushed breath, then fell into fresh giggles at her own wit.


By the time the tug-o-war actually rolled around, Bon-Bon was regretting her own weakness more than ever – and also her strength. She had allowed herself to be manipulated into doing something she knew was a bad idea. What had she been thinking? She hadn’t been thinking; that was the problem. She just hadn’t been able to resist Lyra and now she had to take part in something where she would be expected to look like she was trying her best without actually trying at all. In fact, the only trying she could do was trying to lose. Her true strength would have flung every pony on the rope into the sky as hard as Twilight had thrown her flower tiara.

“This is so great!” Lyra exclaimed.

“You’ve said that before,” Minuette sighed. “Several times. In the last five minutes.”

“Because it is!” Lyra continued to hop from hoof to hoof in anticipation. “Look, look, look, there’s Applejack’s team! They don’t look so hot without Big Macintosh, do they?”

Bon-Bon watched as Applejack, Apple Bloom and Rainbow Dash trooped up to the rope that had been stretched over a specially dug mud pit. Apparently Lyra had not been the only one to alter a themed team by recruiting from her pool of friends. Rainbow Dash turned and took several melodramatic bows before Applejack yanked her tail and she took up her spot in the centre of the group. Apple Bloom, being the lightest and probably only still on the team because she had been part of the original Apple family line-up, was at the front. In the absence of Big Macintosh’s formidable weight, Applejack had opted to place her own strength in his stead as their anchor.

“Who are they up against?”

It was one of the first times all day that Minuette had spoken and not just been answering a question or making a snippy remark. There was a gleam of anticipation in her eyes that had not been there before. Bon-Bon knew that this time it wasn’t because of Noteworthy, since he and the rest of the May Queen’s entourage were already on the far side of the mud-pit. All four Stallions of the Seasons stood as readily as any royal guard while Twilight looked down at proceedings with a somewhat self-conscious expression. Minuette’s gaze was fixed on the tug-o-war in the foreground. Apparently Lyra was not the only one who relished this competition, even if Minuette was less inclined to admit it at the same volume.

“The ponies from Quills and Sofas,” Lyra replied. “See?”

Sure enough, Davenport, the stallion who owned the store, was walking out with his two assistants. The smaller mare and even smaller stallion looked nervous, which said a lot for Applejack and Rainbow Dash’s reputations. Bon-Bon doubted they were frightened of cute little Apple Bloom, however much she tried to look tough.

Twilight exchanged a look with Spike, who exchanged a look with Mayor Mare, who nodded. Spike passed the nod back to Twilight, prompting her to raise both forelegs off the sides of her throne and clear her throat loudly. Spike fed the microphone stand up through his claws, holding onto the bottom and wavering a little to make sure the mouthpiece was level with her face.

“Mares and gentlecolts!” Twilight said in a passable impression of Mayor Mare’s opening gambit. “We’re about to start Round One of the tug-o-war contest.” When the cheers had died down she continued. “The reigning champions from last year will take on all challengers. If they are defeated, the team that defeats them will take on challengers in their place until only one team is left standing.” Yet more cheers forced her to wait. Eventually she finished, “So, without further ado, will both teams now take up the rope?”

All six ponies grabbed the rope between their teeth. In the middle a small pink hankie had been tied to signify the very centre of its length. If the hankie passed over either edge of the mud-pit, the team on that side was declared the winners and the round was over.

“And let the tug-o-war … begin!” Twilight dropped her hooves, the signal to start.

Instantly everypony watching started calling out advice and encouragement. Each team strained at their end end of the rope, throwing themselves backwards in an effort to dislodge the other. Despite the Quills and Sofas staff being on the small side, Apple Bloom’s size balanced the strength of either side. This was not a walkover, as many might have thought, especially since Rainbow Dash had chosen to strap down her wings and the small unicorn stallion was prohibited from using magic.

“Ap-ple-jack! Ap-ple-jack!” The staccato mantra rang out in tandem with, “Rain-bow-Dash! Rain-bow-Dash!”

“Go for it, Apple Bloom!” yelled a high-pitched voice. A tiny orange pegasus filly buzzed a few feet into the air and then dropped back. Next to her, Winona barked and pawed the air as if agreeing. “You can do it!”

Davenport arched his neck. He had planted himself at the back as his team’s anchor but the life of a salespony was not as good as life spent on a farm or working the weather for building up muscle. His hooves slid forward several inches no matter how hard he dug them into the soft ground.

“Ap-ple-jack! Ap-ple-jack!”

“Rain-bow-Dash! Rain-bow-Dash!”

“Apple Bloom!” Bzzzt! “Yay, Apple Bloom!”

Applejack made a noise that sound like “Now!” with a mouthful of rope. As one, she, Rainbow Dash and Apple Bloom allowed a little slack and then jerked their heads upwards. The Quills and Sofas team stumbled and the little unicorn stallion missed his footing. With that, they were lost. They didn’t fall into the mud but the pink hankie passed over the pit and Twilight stood up to declare the round over.

“The winners are Applejack, Apple Bloom and Rainbow Dash!”

The resultant clamour made Bon-Bon’s ears ring. Apparently everyone was pleased that the champions, even in their altered line-up, were victorious. Below Twilight’s throne, Big Macintosh smiled beneath his mask.


Three rounds later, the Apple team remained undefeated. Rainbow Dash had whipped the crowd into a frenzy in between proving her mettle. More than one pony remarked that the last time she and Applejack had competed in a tug-o-war they had been on opposing sides but all agreed that they made better teammates than adversaries. There were certainly a lot less injuries and collateral damage when they were on the same side.

“We’re up!”

“You’re already up,” said Minuette. “You’ve been up all day.”

“I’m just flying high on good spirits and positivity. I am so ready for this!” Lyra shadow-boxed to prove her point. Her form was terrible, Bon-Bon noted absently. One quick pop past her defences and she’d be out like a light. “C’mon, girls, we can win this. Say it with me!” Lyra cupped her ears with her hooves. “I can’t hear you.”

“We can win this,” Minuette said unenthusiastically, though her eyes retained their gleam. It had been building as Applejack, Rainbow Dash and Apple Bloom kept emerging victorious. “Although I wish Noteworthy was here as anchor instead of …” She trailed off, her meaning clear.

Bon-Bon’s ears flattened. Before she could respond, however, Lyra threw a foreleg over her shoulders.

“Bon-Bon may not weigh as much as Noteworthy but she’ll be a great anchor. You’ll see.”

“I still wish you’d asked me before putting her name down. We could’ve asked anypony else from Music Makers.”

“Bon-Bon will be great,” Lyra insisted, squeezing her friend’s shoulders.

With secret reluctance, Bon-Bon wiggled out from Lyra’s hold. “Why are you so competitive all of a sudden? I thought you liked Applejack and Apple Bloom never did anything to you.” Rainbow Dash, on the other hoof, had emptied more than one raincloud on them because she thought the prank was funny. Yet Lyra had not known Rainbow Dash would be on the opposing team; her banter this morning had been with Applejack, who could be stubborn but was hardly a pony to pick fights.

“Oh, I do like her.” Lyra shrugged. “It’s just part of the game, y’know? It’s more fun this way.”

“You sound like Pinkie Pie. Are you sure you’re not her wearing a Lyra costume?”

Minuette shuddered. “Don’t even joke about that. Can you imagine a Lyra-Pinkie-Pie hybrid?”

Bon-Bon matched her shudder. “Enormously messy hair and no attention span.”

“No cake left uneaten in Ponyville.”

“Random comments from dawn to dusk.”

“Personal space would become a thing of the past.”

“Hey!” Lyra protested. “Quit bonding over my flaws!” She folded her forelegs. “Personally, I think a hybrid of me and Pinkie Pie would be awesome.”

Bon-Bon and Minuette exchanged a look. “I just hope she’d be an earth pony,” she Minuette. “Can you imagine that personality mix with unicorn magic?”

“I said quit it!”

“Um, hello?” A nervous looking indigo mare stood in the doorway of the tent where they had gone to wait for their call. She shuffled nervously from hoof to hoof, yellow mane swinging. She had a splatter of mud on her flank. “You’re, um, up now.”

“Cool!” Lyra instantly forgot her irritation and marched after the mare. “We’re going to kick some Apple butt!”

Minuette took a few steps after her, then paused, looking over her shoulder. “Are you coming?”

Bon-Bon nodded and followed. She had to play this safe. She couldn’t have a repeat of what had happened at the coconut shy. There her slip could be passed off as an accident. If she used too much strength and defeated Applejack’s team too easily it would look odd. Neither Lyra nor Minuette were heavily built and nopony in Ponyville thought quiet, unassuming Bon-Bon could do much except make candy and style her mane well.

When they were all in position, Twilight raised her forelegs. “Will both teams now take up the rope?”

Applejack leaned out from behind Rainbow Dash to grin fiercely at Lyra. “Get ready to lose for another year, sugarcube!”

“I’ll cube your sugar!” Lyra called back.

“That didn’t even make any sense,” Rainbow Dash said as she picked up the rope between her teeth.

Bon-Bon took a grip of the end and set both her hooves and her resolve. “Lyra,” she said through her mouthful. “It’d help if you grabbed this thing.”

“Oh, yeah.” Lyra tapped her own head with a balled hoof. “Sorry. Got a bit caught up in the moment there.”

When they were all finally ready, Twilight gave the signal “Let this final round of the tug-o-war … begin!”

The rope went taut. Bon-Bon was surprised at just how much force two mares and a filly could produce. Her head snapped forward and she pulled back reflexively. The entire rope moved towards her, causing everypony attached to stumble – including Minuette and Lyra.

“What the hay?” Rainbow Dash’s shout was muffled but understandable enough.

“Heave!” Applejack replied.

“Minuette!” Lyra responded in kind.

Apparently one aspect of perfect timing was the ability to time when to pull during a tug-o-war. Minuette’s gaze focussed like a laser cutting through diamond. She was fixated on the taut-to-slack pattern of the other team’s rhythm and gave instruction of her own to match them.

“Pull now!”

“Heave!” shouted Applejack.

“Now!” Minuette yelled a few seconds later.

“Heave!”

“Now!”

“Heave!”

“Now!”

It was turning out to be an evenly-matched round. Bon-Bon planted her hooves and concentrated on her acting skills. She looked like she was pulling as hard as anypony else when in actual fact she was doing her best impression of a bag of wet cement. Lyra and Minuette’s struggles elicited some guilt but she worked past it.

“Iss not workin’!” Apple Bloom sounded like she had bristles in her tongue. The rope was enchanted so that wouldn’t happen but she was biting pretty hard. Her little hooves skidded over the grass as she fought to keep purchase. “Pull harder!”

The bandage over Rainbow Dash’s wings rippled as her wings instinctively tried to flap. “Like before!” she ground out.

“Now!” Minuette yelled again. Lyra and Bon-Bon pulled.

“Now!” Applejack yelled the moment they began to slacken. Her arched neck straightened, as did her teammates’. The rope shot forward unexpectedly.

Almost.

Bon-Bon recognised the move from when they had used it on Davenport’s team. Recognising it and compensating for it, however, were unequal undertakings. Lyra squeaked in surprise, rearing when the rope abruptly seemed to be theirs and her forehooves pedaled the air. Minuette grunted as Lyra backed into her.

Before they could right themselves, Applejack’s team yanked hard on their end of the rope. It hurtled towards them. So did Lyra, since she was only on two feet and her stance was unstable. Minuette’s hind legs skidded forward while her forehooves jammed into the ground, knees locked.

“Gotcha!” Rainbow Dash crowed.

There was a moment in which Bon-Bon could have just let it happen. Afterwards, she cursed herself for not allowing the situation to unfold the way that seemed obvious. They had been bested, and by a trick they had seen used on somepony else. She should have copied Minuette and slid forward like she couldn’t easily stop herself. Yet in that moment, something inside her suddenly rebelled. She pulled on the rope, just once, with more strength than she should have. Apple Bloom yelped as her hooves left the ground entirely, followed by Rainbow Dash, whose wings struggled madly to free themselves as she took flight without them. Applejack struggled gamely but to no avail.

What are you doing? The roar of the crowd came back to Bon-Bon in a rush. She hadn’t realised she had stopped hearing them. Everypony was watching. Everypony could see her. Everypony could see what she was doing. They could SEE.

She scooted her hind legs around her front hooves and allowed herself to be dragged on her backside into the mud-pit.

“The winners are, um …” Twilight looked at the six ponies thrashing to get out of the mud-pit. “It’s … a tie?”

Bon-Bon splashed to the side and heaved herself out. She had tipped into the pit on her belly. So had Minuette. Lyra, on the other hoof, had not been so lucky. Since she had been rearing, she had toppled in face-first and gasped her way to the side. Apple Bloom, being so much smaller, had completely submerged and had to be picked out by her sister. Rainbow Dash fought her way to the side and ripped off the bandages restraining her wings with her teeth. They flapped, pristine and unmuddied – the only part of her that wasn’t now streaked with brown.

“Mares and gentlecolts!” Twilight’s voice trembled a little over the tannoy as she tried to suppress giggles. ““The winners are Applejack, Apple Bloom and Rainbow Dash AND Lyra, Minuette and Bon-Bon!”

Lyra slipped and slithered in and out of the pit as she tried to get out and take a bow. Bon-Bon clambered out to offer a hoof but several ponies were already running forward to help. Soon all six competitors were standing, muddy but victorious, as those watching applauded.

“I told you I’d cube your sugar,” Lyra coughed at Applejack.

Applejack just looked at her for a beat. Then she laughed, a deep belly laugh that made her muddy hat jitter on her muddy head. “You surely did. Well played, Lyra. You sure do got some team there.”

“Yeah, they’re the best,” Lyra grinned. “Yours isn’t too bad, either.”

“So … we won AND lost?” Rainbow Dash sat down and blew a hank of mane from her eyes. It slapped back down wetly. “That’s so not awesome.”

“Actually, sugarcube, I think it’s mighty awesome.”


“You were amazing, Apple Bloom.”

“Yeah, totally amazing!”

“Nopony could beat you all day!”

“Yeah, nopony!”

“And you were up against full-grown stallions!”

“Yeah, full-grown!”

“Not even Diamond Tiara or Silver Spoon can say they’ve done that!”

“Yeah, they can’t!”

Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle rattled around the bench where their friend sat, performing an intricate dance with Winona to keep from tripping over the equally exuberant dog. Apple Bloom smiled, wrapped in a towel, as Granny Smith rubbed her down to get the worst of the mud off.

“You’re gonna need a real bath when we get home,” the old mare cautioned. “You could knock a cat off a trash-can with that stink. What the heck was in that there mud?”

“Just mud, Granny. Applejack and Rainbow Dash got covered in it too.”

“Well I can’t say for Rainbow Dash, but Applejack’s goin’ in the tub too. I’m only glad Big Macintosh weren’t with you today. He always splashes the rug when he takes a bath in front of the fire. Lansakes, one of these days we gotta get us a separate one for him to use.” Granny Smith chuntered on as the three fillies swapped looks that needed no words and giggled to themselves.

A hoof waved in front of Bon-Bon’s face. “Hey, Bon-Bon, you in there?”

“Hm? What?”

“You weren’t even listening to me!” Lyra pouted.

“Sorry, I was just watching … sorry. What were you saying?”

“I was SAYING that I’m glad you were there today.”

“Me? Why? I didn’t do anything special,” Bon-Bon said quickly. “If I’d been more use, we wouldn’t have fallen in.”

“Feh.” Lyra waved dismissively. “We always go in the mud. It’s like our very own tradition. We’re used to it, aren’t we, Minuette?”

“It’s a real thrill to keep traditions alive,” Minuette deadpanned, rubbing one foreleg with a sponge that had already turned brown.

They had been taken to another tent where wash basins, soap and other cleaning apparatus were already waiting. Since nopony else had fallen in the mud, they had the place to themselves.

“You guys sure upped your game this year,” Applejack remarked as she surveyed her poor hat. It was an old thing, threadbare in places and showing signs of all the adventures she had taken it on. It dripped dejectedly at her. She sighed, placed it on the bench beside her and reached for a wash basin. The water steamed invitingly.

“We had a secret weapon this year,” Lyra declared.

“You sure did.” Applejack smiled at Bon-Bon in a way that made her wary. There was no malice to it, nor the fierce stubbornness that had been there during the tug-o-war, but the warmth in her expression provoked Bon-Bon’s long-held caution over getting too close to other ponies.

Her interactions with Applejack in the past had always been pleasant and polite but not exactly in-depth. Bon-Bon would not call herself Applejack’s friend; more a polite acquaintance. She wouldn’t really call herself ‘friend’ to anypony except Lyra, and even that was only because Lyra had refused to accept anything less and had the advantage of living next door, so her refusals could be loud, long and made every other neighbour mad until Bon-Bon let her in the house. Pinkie Pie frequently called herself a friend to everypony in Ponyville and it was true that she could make Bon-Bon smile as readily as the next pony, yet from Bon-Bon’s perspective she still would not use the word ‘friend’ to describe their relationship. She was content to let Pinkie think they were friends so the inquisitive pink pony left her alone, but an actual friend? No.

Yet Applejack’s smile now was warmer than that of a mere acquaintance. She chatted like they had known each other for years, not just exchanged words while buying apples in the marketplace. Bon-Bon found herself pausing, trying to examine the situation again to see if she had read too much into it.

“Pass that there soap bar, would you, sugarcube?” Applejack pointed to the one beside Bon-Bon. “Much obliged. I don’t know what you did out there today, but it sure worked.”

Lyra swelled with pride like a mother whose foal had won an award. “Like I said, it’s all thanks to our secret weapon.”

Bon-Bon noticed Minuette’s expression and added, “Actually, I think it was mostly Minuette’s excellent timing and the fact that your team had already won so many rounds. You were already tired when you got to us.”

“That must’ve been it.” Rainbow Dash grumpily dunked the whole top of her head into her basic, swishing from side to side so that her mane turned returned to its many colours. She flipped her head back with a brusque, “No way you guys could beat us otherwise.”

“Rainbow Dash!” Applejack held up both hooves against the spray of dirty water that cascaded over her. “Watch where you’re flingin’ your mane!”

“You’re just mad because this was your first time and you had to share the limelight,” said Lyra.

“I’m not mad!” Rainbow Dash replied hotly.

“I think you were fantastic, Rainbow Dash!” Scootaloo buzzed over, abandoning her friends to console her idol. “You were the real star out there today.”

“What am I, chopped greens?” Apple Bloom sniped amiably. “A second ago you were tellin’ me I was the best.”

“You’re awesome in a different way,” Scootlaoo replied after a moment of thought. “Your awesomeness comes from you being the only filly in an adult pony competition. Rainbow Dash’s awesomeness comes from her being Rainbow Dash!”

Rainbow Dash smiled and scrubbed the top of Scotaloo’s head with one damp hoof. Her ire extinguished as easily as a molotov cocktail tossed into waterfall under Scotaloo’s admiring gaze. “Aw, thanks. But you know, I got an extra bit of awesomeness from how loud you were cheering for me.”

“Really? You could hear me over all those other ponies?”

“Could I? Scootaloo, you yelled so loud they heard you all the way in Cloudsdale. I’ll bet the pegasi up there all looked at each other when they heard you and said: ‘There goes Rainbow Dash, being awesome again’.”

Scootaloo laughed happily. Applejack rolled her eyes, though her smile didn’t dim. There was something so domestic and comfortable about the scene, as if conversations like this had happened many times before and would happen many times again – and every pony involved would value them just as much with each repetition. These ponies knew how much they meant to each other and appreciated both their qualities and their shortcomings without rancour.

Lyra jabbed an elbow into Bon-Bon’s ribs. “Hey, Bon-Bon, you sure are taking this whole getting-so-dirty-you-can’t-see-your-coat-anymore thing well. I would’ve thought you, of all ponies, would hate to get so muddy. Listen, after we get cleaned up do you want to go get something to eat before the closing ceremony?”

“Uh…” Bon-Bon’s mind struggled to catch up. She was still processing how comfortable she felt with these ponies – and the terror that triggered. She was breaking every rule today, it seemed.

“You okay there, young ‘un?” Granny Smith had paused in extracting the bow from Apple Bloom’s hair to stare across at Bon-Bon. “You’re shakin’ like a dog tryin’ to pass a peach pit.”

“Granny!” Applejack exclaimed. “That’s disgustin’!”

“You’re tellin’ me, Why d’ya think Winona ain’t allowed to eat peaches?” Granny eyeballed the dog, who wagged her tail and barked like she hadn’t a clue what the problem was.

“Bon-Bon?” Concern etched Lyra’s tone. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Bon-Bon replied. “I just … just …”

What to say? How could she admit the sudden terror that had possessed her at the thought how much she wanted this. She wanted to be secure in the knowledge that conversations like this would happen in the future, too. She wanted other ponies to know how much they meant to her and how much she appreciated both their qualities and their shortcomings, too. She wanted them to know her – properly and fully, all the things that made her who she was today, just as they knew each other. Most of all, she wanted this shared knowledge without the trailing heartache that came with her life as it stood now. She wanted the mask to be real; to be Bon-Bon of Ponyville, who hated getting dirty and could sit in a tent on May Day chatting with other ponies like she hadn’t banished a demon from the orchard of Sweet Apple Acres just last night.

“Sugarcube?” Applejack got off the bench to feel her forehead. “You sickenin’, darlin’?”

Bon-Bon sucked in a breath. “I just realised how dirty I am!” She forced her voice into a screech, dived for the sponge and scrubbed at herself so furiously it made everypony laugh.

“You could give Rarity a run for her money an’ no mistake,” Applejack chuckled.

Bon-Bon rubbed at her face with the suds until she couldn’t see any of them anymore.


“BonBonBonBonBonBon–” A mass of energetic filly hit Bon-Bon the moment she stepped out of the tent. She caught it and swung it around to absorb the momentum that would otherwise had rendered them both in a heap on the ground.

“Dinky?” she exclaimed.

“BonBonBonBonBonBon!” Dinky continued to chirp.

“Take a b-breath, sweetie.” Derpy landed next to them and retrieved her daughter from Bon-Bon’s bewildered hooves. “S-Sorry about that. She was s-so eager to s-see you she ran away from m-me.”

“I saw you, Bon-Bon!” Dinky struggled in her mother’s grasp. “I saw you when you fell in the mud! It was really funny!”

Derpy shot her an apologetic look, one eye sliding sideways to the other ponies emerging from the tent. “H-Hi everypony. That was a g-good show you p-put on.”

“We aim to please,” said Applejack.

“Did you see me, Bon-Bon?” Dinky asked. “Did you see me waving at you? I shouted as loud as I could for you to win, but I guess I must not have shouted loud enough because you didn’t.”

“We’re all winners, sugar-nip,” Applejack replied for Bon-Bon, who didn’t know how to respond. “Every last one of us.”

“Is that because you fell in the mud too? You don’t look like you fell in. You’re all clean. Did you take a bath? Mommy makes me take a bath when I’m dirty. I don’t like it but Mommy said at least I don’t have feathers. Feathers are way worse because when they get wet they make flying really, really, REALLY hard.”

“Yeesh, kid, take a breath,” said Rainbow Dash.

Dinky gazed at her, confused. “I take breaths all the time. If I didn’t, I’d turn a weird colour and fall over, like Tinsel. She’s a filly in my class and whenever she doesn’t get what she wants she holds her breath and Miss Porcelain has to fetch somepony from the office. Sometimes her mom comes in to tell her off and make her promise not to do it anymore but she never listens. I think she’d weird. Do you think she’s weird, Bon-Bon?”

“Uh…” Bon-Bon stammered. She didn’t know how to deal with Dinky’s attention. It was one thing to be an occasional babysitter who walked her to school. It was another for Dinky to feel attached enough to seek her out at a public event where their paths would not otherwise have crossed.

“Excuse me?” said a voice so soft it was almost a whisper. As one, they all turned to see the speaker. Fluttershy’s entire body seemed to list backwards under their collective stare but she stayed put. A year ago she probably would have flown away in terror. “Um, I was just, um, that is … Twilight is about to do the closing ceremony and she sent me to fetch you. If you don’t mind,” she added, twisting one forehoof into the ground so hard she created a divot.

“She is?” Lyra yelped. “Aw, ponyfeathers! I guess we won’t be getting any grub first, Bon-Bon. We must have taken a lot longer to clean up than I thought. I should start wearing a watch. Only, y’know, not, because I always lose them and then make myself late for everything looking for the watch just so it can tell me I’m late. Watches are stressful.”

Rainbow Dash looked between Lyra and Dinky. “Did someone give them too much sugar?”


Twilight sat on her throne, looking just as awkward about it now as she had at the start of the day. Beneath her the four Stallions of the Seasons stared stoically ahead. Mayor Mare fussed around them, crisscrossing with Spike as he fussed around the microphone. It had become his de facto job during the day to make sure Twilight could be heard even from the back of the crowd and he was obviously taking it very seriously.

“That’s my daddy,” Sweetie Belle said, pointing to the white Stallion of Spring. His moustache was completely free of his mask now, making him easier to recognise. “Hi, Daddy!”

Magnum didn’t wave back but he did smile and wink in her direction. Beside him Caramel stood with chest puffed out, clearly proud that his usual clumsiness had not afflicted him today. Noteworthy and Big Macintosh stood behind them, still resplendent in their costumes.

“Mares and gentlecolts!” Mayor Mare said into the microphone. It squealed a little as Spike hastily readjusted it to her height. “We’ve all had a wonderful time today, haven’t we?”

A chorus of affirmations took several minutes to die down.

“Wonderful! Well, today wouldn’t have been possible without the hard work of some very special ponies.” She shook out a sheet of folded paper and twitched her glasses on the end of her nose to read off the names of the ponies who had worked behind the scenes to make the day possible. It seemed like she was naming every single pony in Ponyville, which eventually precipitated shifting of hooves and hushed whispers from bored onlookers.

Lyra nudged Bon-Bon. “So what did you think of your first May Day in Ponyville? Pretty cool, huh?”

“Pretty cool,” Bon-Bon agreed. Tiredness lapped at the backs of her eyes. She fought down a yawn. “And busy.”

Lyra smiled. “And next year will be even better, since we’ll be joint returning champions for the tug-o-war with the Apple team.”

Bon-Bon’s stomach lurched. Next year. Where would she be this time next year? “Sure,” she replied. “Sounds great.”

“Are you okay?” Lyra peered at her, brows pulling together in a frown. “Granny Smith was right; you really don’t look so good.”

“I’m just tired, Lyra. We’ve been up since dawn, remember?”

“I guess so.” Lyra looked unconvinced even when Bon-Bon smothered a yawn. She looked back to the front when ponies started stomping their applause and Mayor Mare gave way to Twilight.

“First of all, I just wanted to say thank you to all of you for choosing me to be your May Queen this year. It really has been an honour and I’ve enjoyed every second of it. Thanks especially have to go to the four ponies holding me up here right now, so can you please show your appreciation for the Stallions of the Seasons.”

All four stallions looked pleased at the acknowledgement and the applause.

“I think Mayor Mare already named all the other ponies I was going to thank. In Canterlot, ponies don’t do anything like this to welcome in the Summer. They don’t know what they’re missing out on. From the moment I arrived in Ponyville, everypony has made me feel welcome and included. Some days it feels like I’ve always lived here and I just wanted to say thank you all for that. I feel like I belong here and choosing me to be your May Queen is a privilege I won’t soon forget. Neither will I forget all the wonderful things I’ve seen and done today. I hope none of you will either. Ponyville truly is a special place and everypony here is just as special. I hope you all know that.”

“Quit making us cry!” shouted somepony.

“We love you too, May Queen!” yelled somepony else.

“Can I be your May King?”

Twilight laughed. Her horn glowed and her flower tiara, looking more wilted than this morning, rose into the air. “Welcome, Summer!” she said loudly, clearly reciting from memory. “We hope you choose to stay and warm our hearts the whole season as much as they have been warmed today!” She threw the tiara into the air. This time nopony flew to catch it and it landed in the crowd.

“Who caught it?” Lyra craned her neck. “I can’t see.”

“It looks great on you too, Rarity!” The shout answered her question as if the speaker had heard her. “I changed my mind; can I be YOUR May King?”

Twilight’s horn sparkled and there was a brief flash as she teleported to the ground. She was one of the few unicorns who had learned how to cast that spell and it was always impressive to see. She thanked the Stallions of the Seasons, encasing Spike and the microphone stand in magic to keep him from falling when he toppled over. The informality of what she had done acted like a signal and everypony began to disperse. Crewponies went off to dismantle the tents and stalls, ponies with cleaning gear appeared with brooms and rakes and the Stallions of the Seasons finally removed their masks to become themselves again.

Bon-Bon raised her eyes to the sky, automatically calculating the position of the sun and how much time she had before nightfall. If she headed home now she could grab a few hours of rest. It wouldn’t be ideal but it would be better than nothing. After such a busy day she didn’t imagine she would have any trouble falling asleep.

“A bit for your thoughts?” Lyra poked her.

“Would you stop doing that?” Bon-Bon rubbed her ribs, even though there was no way Lyra could even leave a bruise. “You’ve been poking and prodding me all day.”

“I’m tactile,” Lyra shrugged. “Hey, are you impressed I know what that means?”

“Yes, Lyra, I’m impressed.”

“You sound like Minuette.”

Bon-Bon turned and started to walk off. “I’m heading home. Are you going to stay here?”

“And do what?”

“I don’t know. Help clean up?” A vision of Lyra’s messy house zipped out of Bon-Bon’s memory bank. She shook her head. “Never mind.”

“Don’t you want to go get dinner?” Lyra asked.

“How can you want to eat? You’ve been stuffing your face all day?”

“Yeah, but we both know where most of that ended up. Besides, that was festival food. It doesn’t count. Café Magnifique’s still open, or there’s Sugarcube Corner, or –”

“No, I don’t think so, Lyra,” Bon-Bon interrupted. “Not today. I’m tired.” She covered another yawn. “Right now, all I want to do is sleep.”

“Oh.” Lyra looked disappointed. “Well, I’ll walk you home then.”

“No, you don’t have to do that. Stay and go for dinner with your friends – Noteworthy’s sure to be hungry after carrying that throne all day.”

Lyra looked at her oddly. “They’re your friends too, Bon-Bon.”

Bon-Bon’s automatic response was denial. She managed to keep it behind her teeth and instead just repeated herself. “I’m tired, Lyra, but don’t let me cut your fun short. Go, have dinner, enjoy yourself.”

“But …” Lyra frowned, as if she couldn’t figure something out and it bothered her.

“Thank you for today. I had a great time – even if I do need to have a dozen showers to get the rest of the mud out of my mane.”

“Well … if you’re sure …”

“I’m sure.” Bon-Bon waved as she walked away. “See you, Lyra.”

Lyra waved disconsolately. “See you, Bon-Bon.”


Bon-Bon felt the call of the Lunar Sword long before she approached her front door. It chittered in the back of her mind. She immediately went upstairs to the attic and removed it from its hiding place, holding the scabbard flat across her upturned hooves.

“You’ve really got to stop doing that,” she said aloud. “You’re giving me a migraine.” It was like a high-pitched sound that had bypassed her ears and gone straight for her brain without losing any of the unpleasantness. “You knew I’d come back. I came back every other day I went out, didn’t I?”

The chittering faded to a swirling presence now she was close enough to hold it. The sword really did act like a cat that wanted to be touched and threw a tantrum when she didn’t do as it wanted. Bon-Bon sat down, put it on the floor and held it down with one hoof.

I’m the master here, she thought at it. Pet owners all had to learn eventually to assert themselves over their pets, otherwise the fight for dominance became problematic. When you were dealing with a thousand-year-old sword those problems could be much, much worse. You don’t dictate to me. You do as I say.

The sword’s presence swirled. A taste started in the back of her throat, like coal dust and paint fumes. She coughed and glared at it.

“Quit that! You know I’m right. Princess Luna gave you to me so you could help me fight the demons. Well, I can’t do that if I can’t rely on you to do as you’re told. All it takes is one moment of losing concentration and I’m dead. I know you’re mad because I haven’t taken you with me on patrol yet but you aren’t exactly giving much of a reason to.”

Could sullen be a smell? This thing was messing with all of her senses in its displeasure.

“You’re being childish.” She blinked. “And I’m arguing with a hunk of metal.”

The sword flared in her mind. It was not just a hunk of metal. It was glorious. It was royal. It was power incarnate.

“None of that does you any good if you don’t work with me instead of trying to punish me for leaving you alone.”

Alone. Lonely. Darkness. A thousand years of loneliness in the dark. The memory wasn’t her own but she felt it as acutely as if it was. She gritted her teeth and slowly ran her hoof along the scabbard, as if stroking a frightened animal.

“I get it, okay? You were locked away for a long time. Compared to a thousand years, a few hours should be nothing to you.”

Should be. Wasn’t.

She sighed. “I can’t use you when you might put me in danger. We have to learn to work together before we actually … well, work together.”

Patience?

“Yes, patience.”

She was in danger when she went out. She could use a sword. A sword would keep her safer than fighting the darkness with a sword. And this sword liked fighting darkness. It hated darkness. It hated hated hated HATED –

“Stop!” Bon-Bon fell backwards onto her haunches at the potency of the sword’s emotion. “That’s what I’m talking about! I can’t have you with me if you’re going to pull stunts like that.”

Regret washed over her.

“Being sorry doesn’t help. You can feel sorry all you want after you get me killed.” She sighed harshly. “You have to know when to be quiet.”

How? How could it know? How could it ever know what she wanted if she never spent any time with it? How could it learn how her mind worked, the way it had known how the ruler of the night’s? How could it memorise the shape of her mind if she locked it away and –

“All right, all right, maybe … maybe I haven’t been fair to you either. You’re not just any sword so I guess I shouldn’t have treated you like one. I’m sorry.”

Surprise. A master apologising to a weapon?

“We’re going to have to do a lot of things differently, I think.”

Just as long as she didn’t put it back in the lonely darkness, it could cope with that.

Bon-Bon sighed harshly and got to her feet, slinging the strap over her shoulder and back. She went down to her bedroom and threw back the covers, glancing once more at the lightened sky outside. Summer evenings were a blessing sometimes. Hesitating only a moment at the absurdity of what she was doing, she unslung the scabbard, climbed into bed and laid it next to her.

“This is weird, even for me,” she muttered.

Yet as she shut her eyes, the sword’s presence curled protectively around her mind and she drifted off to sleep with images of May Queens, coconuts and mint green unicorns dancing on its presence like a stage for her dreams.


“There’s still no sign of her.”

Fancy Pants let his head fall into his hooves. Somepony rubbed his back but he waved them away. The panic that had initially speared through him had been replaced with dread as the hours turned into days and the days passed by. Fear gnawed at him like a starving dog presented with a meaty bone, yet when he spoke, his voice was as dry and flat as hot asphalt in high Summer. Years of elocution and brutal etiquette lessons had taught him how, if not to actually keep his head in a crisis, at least to sound like he had.

“I don’t understand it,” he said. “How can there be no sign of her?”

“Well, it’s not exactly like there’s no sign. We know she went out.”

“A missing jacket doesn’t mean anything. She often gives away her things.”

It was one of Fleur’s most endearing qualities. Canterlot was not a hive of homelessness and vagrancy, the way some cities were, but there were still ponies there who fell on hard times. Fleur seemed keyed to recognise them in the street and, while her response could be categorised by some as inappropriate, she literally gave them the clothes off her back if they looked cold or sad. Pretty clothing always lifted Fleur’s mood when she was sad, so to her it was the perfect remedy, even if those ponies often had no idea how to respond to her gesture. It was quite possible she had given away that pink jacket she had been wearing recently. Equally possibly, it could mean that wherever she was, she had voluntarily gone there and dressed to go out first. The fact that she had gone missing without a note or any other indication of what she had been thinking created a tight knot of anxiety in Fancy’s gut. Fleur was shallow and too preoccupied with superficial things but she was kind-hearted and wouldn’t hurt a fly. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something had happened to her and, whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

“It’s not just the jacket, Fancy,” said the other pony. “The neighbours said –”

“I know what the neighbours are saying. I spoke to the authorities about it, didn’t I?” Over eight hours in a single room at the Canterlot Police Headquarters, being interviewed by ever more apologetic ponies. Fancy had reported Fleur being missing. Why would he have done that if he had anything to do with it? The neighbours who said they had seen her leave with him and not come home had only given those statements after they were questioned as a result of his concerns.

“They’ll find her, Fancy.”

Fancy sighed and finally raised his face. His brother looked down at him, a mixture of concern and discomfort twisting his mouth into an uncertain line. Natty Pants had never been the most diligent of siblings, more focused on having a good time than courting good relations with a brother who was still just a colt while he was in college. As such, his way of dealing with Fancy’s stress was to fake it and hope the rest fell into place. His comforting words rang hollow.

“I’m going out to look again.” Fancy got abruptly to his feet. He couldn’t stay here like this, locked away in his town house where nopony from the press could get at him. The scandal of a stallion like him being a pony-of-interest in a police case threatened to give his mother a heart attack. Even so, he could sneak out the back, disguise himself or something and go looking –

“Where?” Natty put his hoof directly on the problem. “Where can you possibly look that the police haven’t already checked? Or that you won’t be recognised?”

“I don’t know!” Fancy snapped, as close as he ever came to losing his cool. “But I have to do something. Fleur is missing.”

“I know. I got the memo.” It was an ill-timed attempt at humour. “Sorry.”

Fancy looked away, marshalling his face so the flash of anger didn’t show. Fighting with his family wouldn’t help. Usually, when he fell out with one or more of them, Fleur was the one he went to. He felt her absence like missing his own shadow: they had been together so long he had never even questioned her being there and her loss felt intrinsic in a way he couldn’t put into words. He hadn’t even realised that until now.

“Look, Fancy, just sit down and be rational. What can you do? Honestly? The police are doing their jobs. They’ll find her, wherever she is. Somepony somewhere has to have seen something useful, and as for those changeling rumours the newspapers have been wittering on about, well, Princess Celestia’s anti-changeling shield is the ultimate in bug repellant, right? Shining Armour himself developed it and taught the guards how to keep topping up its power without killing themselves like he nearly did. But if you go outside now you’re going to be accosted and accused of being one of those creatures, just like the last time you tried to go out. Those ponies don’t care that their theory makes no sense, or that you were with me when Fleur went off with whatever impostor her neighbours cooked up. They’ll eat you alive and Mother and Father will barbeque what’s left. Think about it. Do the smart thing.”

The smart thing not necessarily being what his heart demanded he do.

Fancy Pants drew a deep breath and forced himself to sit back down on the elegant sofa. He fiddled with the edge of the wooden frame. Fleur had always hated this sofa. She said the dark green was ugly, just like the rest of his sitting room was ugly. She had begged him to allow her to redecorate the place. Now he wished he had.

Fleur, he thought desperately. Where in Equestria are you?


Side-flings, Homages and Downright Rip-offs

“Her name’s Bright Eyes. She’s really quiet and everyone says she’s a stuck-up geek because she barely talks to anypony except teachers when she’s answering every single question in every single class."

--Bright Eyes is one of the lead characters from My Little Pony: Tales, sometimes called G2.

"Cara Orange is always talking really loudly about her in the cafeteria because she shares most of her classes and she says Bright Eyes is just trying to make them look bad."

-- One of the Apple Family's relations as seen in Applejack's cutie mark flashback.