Preunification Anon

by Spooples

V - The Integrity and Chivalry of the Earth Ponies of Marestricht

You wonder how any of these earth ponies or unicorns could truthfully say they “enjoyed the mineral springs.”

How could they? You mean, how could they really? Sure, they can sit in the soothing waters for fifteen minutes before getting too hot and calling it quits, but there’s so much they’re missing out on.

They can’t know how it feels to lazily float across the surface of the springs, letting the bubbles tickle your underbelly and the mist ooze into your feathers. They can’t open their ears and let the crisp sounds of their village truly settle in; the distant buzzing of nightlife, the clopping of hooves on cobblestone, the trickling of the stream in the far-below orchard. They can’t even know how it feels to sculpt the mist around you, making a disc to lay on when you get too hot, mustaches and swords to enact your wildest fantasies, or other things to enact your… other fantasies.

If the springs weren’t public, of course. You’re not a complete degenerate, you swear. Still doesn’t stop the last few earth pony visitors to enter the springs, see that a lime green pegasus would be their only other company, and walk right back out.

You would like to think that the news of your brave and heroic actions probably haven’t reached those over-preeners yet, but if that were the case you’re pretty sure they’d have killed you for intruding by now, like all the other sky rat thieves.

Sky wanderer thieves.

You stop sculpting your latest project, the subject already forgotten and the motivation already lost. Why’d you just think that? You’ve been desensitized to that word for months now. Sapphire Lily had taken every opportunity to remind you of just what you are.

”From how she described you, it seems to me like Lily had a lot more to lose than you did, sky wanderer.

Oh, that’s why that word stings so much now. It sounded so… fresh coming from Lucky Favor’s mouth. Fresh and well-deserved. You really pushed that mare. You didn’t defend Tia when Apple Seed did.

Alright, brain, I know you like to go off on a tangent sometimes, but now you’re just being a cunt.

You frown as your mist sculpture slowly releases tension, saturating into the orange fog around you. You’ve known Apple Seed long enough to differentiate his usual, grumpy-but-straightforward stoicism from his unusual, grumpy-and-evasive stoicism. The plan went off with a few hiccups and somepony was injured, but now it’s okay because Anonymous was getting treatment, right? Apple Seed is in his home village now, surrounded by family and friends. So why did he just… tune out?

Whatever. Probably some stallion thing. You know colts can have a hard time with their emotions.

Speaking of having a hard time with one’s emotions…

The thatch door to the springs opens. You know who’s on the other side based on a) just how slowly the door opens, almost like a guilty foal was on the other side, and b) that Lucky Favor spends a concerning amount of time inspecting the craftsmareship and artistry of the surprisingly sturdy door.

When the white unicorn’s baggy eyes finally meet your own, she freezes in place. You continue to gaze in her direction until giving a shrug and turning away. She’ll probably just mosey on over to the next open spring anyways, like the unsure earth ponies. You give your hind hooves a kick to glide to the far end of the mineral spring.

The Aldenn’s roof is open, and you can lean your forelegs on the edge of the stone precipice to overlook the village of Marestricht in all its glory. Even with the sunset’s pink light dissipating into a cool blue, you can still see the village’s many nooks and crannies.

Gotta give it to these mud horses, they sure can sculpt some mud.

”I didn’t know pegasi were buoyant,” Lucky Favor almost whispers, although you have no trouble hearing it.

You also have no trouble hearing her hoofsteps clop against stone as she slowly walks to the edge of the mineral spring. You turn back to her, tilting your head. Her gait is slow, but not leisurely. She’s really leaning into that guilty foal approach.

“It wasn’t in your uppercaste books?” you ask. Of course, you’re not one to talk, being a pegasus who lives several thousand cubits above the rest of ponyfolk.

Lived.

Lucky’s cyan eyes flick to your own before returning to the edge of the spring as she hesitantly dips a front hoof in. “I’ll have you know that unicorn uppercaste education is Equus’ academic nonpareil,” she half-says, half-mumbles as she struggles to touch the first step under the bubbling water.

You snort. You’ve noticed she tends to talk like that sometimes, but you can’t find out just what triggers it.

Lucky’s hoof makes contact with the stone under the water. She sighs under her breath before she retracts it and plops her haunches onto the edge of the stone. Lucky’s back hooves are slowly deposited into the springs, then her hindlegs, then her belly, before she daintily lowers the rest of her body in with a splash.

Well, there’s room for two, you guess. It’s not like you’re taking up any of the space under the surface anyways.

But, Lucky Favor does as Lucky Favors do, and misreads the atmosphere. She starts to trudge through the water in your direction, before the first step ends and she abruptly plunges into the bubbling depths with a cut-off squeak.

You hold back a giggle. The unicorn should probably keep in mind the raw height difference between her and the average visitor of the earth pony springs.

Lucky’s head is almost instantly back above the surface, her maroon mane splayed across the top half of her face. She half-blindly doggy paddles the rest of the way to your end of the spring, a pout the only recognizable feature on her face; embarrassed or determined, the two are indistinguishable with this mare.

“C’mon, filly,” you can’t resist to purr, clapping your hooves together like a proud parent. “You can do it. Come to momma.”

Lucky Favor hmph!’s before she finally makes it to your side. You smirk at the tinge of red in her cheeks too early and too noticeable to be from the heat of the springs. Lucky wipes her mane from her eyes with her hooves before she settles her haunches on the circular stone step.

Her scowl deepens before she seems to resign herself to a sad fate. Her eyes flick to you once again before flicking away. All the while, you say nothing as you turn back to Marestricht and hum a nonchalant tune.

”I apologize for attacking you, Max Gusto,” Lucky Favor finally says.

You turn back to the unicorn with a raised eyebrow. As far as apologies go, that kind of sucked ass. She said it too clearly and directly, like somepony reciting a magical contract. Besides, it isn’t so much that she attacked you you’re miffed about. You kind of had to get her to that point. If you hadn’t pushed her that hard, Sapphire Lily wouldn’t have revealed why she was still being kept alive, and you wouldn’t have been able to…

…buck up so spectacularly.

You sigh and look away. “Meh. You lasted longer than I would’ve. Then again, I’m lowercaste scum, so far be it from me to compare our bullshit-tolerances.”

You can practically see the uppercaste demeanor melt off Lucky’s face. Her eyes lower guiltily at your words. She turns away, ears splayed flat. She draws into herself, bringing her forehooves to her chest. “I—” Lucky starts, her voice once again that in irritatingly direct tone, before she stops. The unicorn says nothing for a while until she looks at her haggard reflection miserably. “Apple Seed was right,” she mutters. “I do take out my frustrations on others. I’m just…” Lucky trails off in thought before she turns her whole body away from you.

Lucky’s voice is quiet, as if she doesn’t even intend for you to hear her at all, as she murmurs, “I’m just… tired, I suppose. Tired of everything.”

You’re tempted to reach a hoof forward to comfort her, but what good would that do? You were never good at this comforting business to begin with, and now the words don’t even start to form in your mind. You’re both elated at the fact that it’s your first night free from the Red Garden, and… well, tired, as well.

”Though, Apple Seed was wrong to compare me to Anonymous,” Lucky Favor mumbles. “I’ve never met somepony like him.”

Ah, there’s your opening.

“Hmmmm,” you hum, laying your chin on the edge of the hot spring. The cool mountain air of Marestricht and the humid mist of the hot springs battle for dominance. “I dunno. You and your coltfriend are a pretty good match.”

From the sound of that quick splash and almost imperceptible squeak, Lucky Favor flinches at your question. “Oh, we’re not a couple,” she says. You don’t have to be a pegasus to hear that disappointed lilt in her voice. “He’s just my housecarla until--… Well, I guess he won’t be my housecarla for much longer…”

You could just leave it as is. You don’t even really know – or, truth be told, like -- Lucky Favor all that much. And you have no idea about just what’s between that colt and Lucky. The way she transformed into a wistful maiden at the end of her sentence there also set off some needy virgin alarms.

Still, no matter how much you want to continue to sit in silence, you can’t shake off the lingering familiarity of the sadness in her voice.

…

You hope you don’t regret this.

"How long?" you ask. You turn towards Lucky and lean a foreleg on the precipice.

The unicorn’s eyes turn to you, and yep, you can definitely recognize that sadness. “Pardon?” Lucky asks.

You reach forward and poke her chest with each syllable as you say, “How long have you known him?”

”What’s gotten into you?” Lucky yelps as she bats away your hoof. She pouts at you, but when she sees the serious look on your face, she sobers up real quick. "Um… A few days. Why does it matter?"

Oh, she’s got it bad.

There’s no going back now, Max Gusto. You’re feeling all kinds of pity for this filly. You’re going to steer her in the right direction, hopefully well away from the burning crash site of your own romantic life.

You hum, making sure to twist your muzzle as you inspect the mare in front of you. Said mare is becoming more nervous by the second, as if you had a tragic secret you were going to tell her… just after this dramatic pause.

Actually, that’s exactly what’s happening right now.

"Did they ever teach you what a sky wanderer is in those fancy uppercaste schools?” you ask.

Lucky Favor retreats, once again looking off in shame. "No,” she says, her ears lowering slowly. “I just knew you didn’t like to be called it.”

Hmm… Stressed-Out Bitchy Lucky Favor, or Depressed Self-Pitying Lucky Favor? Which one would you save from a burning building?

“Well, methinks it’s time you learn,” you start, pushing off the stone precipice to send yourself floating across the springs. “Now, fair warning, the meaning of the word ‘sky wanderer’ is a little hard to understand for landlubbers. I don’t want to confuse you with all the complex fractions or cultural idiot-secrecies.”

“Idiosyncrasies,” Lucky says without thinking.

Well, if she wants to be a smartass…

Hm. You think you can catch two fish with one dive.

“Alright, miss smarty pants,” you say as you grab a glob of mist and begin to roll it into a thin cylinder. “I’ll tell you a story so you can really understand what a sky wanderer is. Take notes, because there’ll be a pop quiz afterwards.”

Lucky Favor tilts her head at your display, but otherwise doesn’t interrupt.

“Let’s say, there are two young sky dogies living in a village. A filly and a colt, inseparable buddies. You can probably guess where this is going-- What’s with that look, miss poutysnatch?”

Lucky Favor is back in mopey pony mode as she says, “You don’t have to keep using slurs. I get it. I acted up in the Red Garden.”

“Huh?” you ask, before it clicks. “Oh! No, sky dogie is a pegasus term, it’s not a slur, at least to my vast and unicorn-esque knowledge.” That gets an upwards twitch of Lucky’s lips. “I guess the landlubber word would be… Cloudborn? Guanlow?” You tap your chin thoughtfully, but your inner reflection comes up thoughtless. “Huh. I dunno. What do you ponies call a foal without a guardian herd or parents?”

Lucky’s eyes lower in reminiscence. You hope she isn’t thinking about a certain white filly. “Orphan,” she answers.

You nod. “Yep, that’s the one. Now pay attention! And start writing in that notebook of yours.”

You circle back to Lucky and hold her hoof out before plopping your gaseous iteration of a writing quill in her frog. It doesn’t stick to the unicorn’s hoof, obviously, and dissipates into the surrounding mist once it makes contact, but Lucky Favor’s mouth twitches into an amused smile.

Good. There’s no room for petty depression on Max Gusto’s Wild Ride.

“So, the filly, right?” you continue. “Her name is…” You glance at your roguishly beautiful reflection. “…Limey. And the colt’s name is Horizon Swift.”

Lucky’s moodiness has taken a one-way trip to the deep end of the springs, but her cynicism seems to still be intact as she interrupts, “Horizon Swift sounds a lot more authentic than—”

“Yeah, yeah, write a novel, why don’t ‘cha?” Lucky responds much better to your chiding than last time. There’s that satisfied, somewhat pretentious smile you can’t bring yourself to hate. “Anyways, so Limey and Horizon Swift, right? They’re both, uh… ore-fans, living alone in a big village in the sky. They only got each other, and it’s looking to be that way for a long while. Neither of them has any particular skills -- not even a cutie mark between them – besides snooping on herds when they’re reading bedtime stories to their foals, or pretending to know how to read the discarded stories in the trash. But there’s one big difference between the two.” Your tail flicks, sending a few droplets of water at Lucky’s snout. She scrunches. “Here’s a hint: their Y-7 glands hide it.”

”Needlessly uncouth,” Lucky breathes, but hold on! You’re not done yet!

“Limey’s a warm-blooded filly, so you can guess how she really feels about him.” You mercilessly wriggle your eyebrows at Lucky.

”You are a dreadful storyteller,” she says. “Mayhaps some uppercaste education would do you good.”

“Never in a million years,” you say as you begin to circle atop the water. “Anyways, sooner or later Limey starts to have enough of being trapped in those clouds, surrounded by over-sympathetic herds and listening in on fairy tales. So one night, she asks Horizon if he wanted to become ‘sky wanderers.’ Pegasi unfeathered—”

”Unfettered.”

“Unfeathered is better. Pegasi unfeathered by the chains of civilization, who could roam the skies freely and either earn or take everything they had. Like the heroes in those fairy tales Limey and Horizon listened to, of dashing sky wanderers swooping down and saving the handsome damoiseaux from monsters and raiders.”

Lucky Favor blinks, either in interest or in confusion at how you were able to pronounce damoiseaux, let alone know what it means. What can you say? Your pegasus hearing really helped during those nights of peering into happy homes.

“Unfortunately, Horizon Swift didn’t feel the same,” you say. “He tells Limey that he’d rather stay because he wanted to learn how to read. And Limey’s no flaming misandrist, so she figures she can stay a while longer.” You fight for that sad smile on your face to be turned into a smug one. “A while longer turns to weeks, then months, then years. It’s crazy, what a lovestruck filly would do for a colt, huh?”

Lucky stays silent. Her ears are pointed forward, her eyes never leaving your own as she listens attentively.

“During this time, Limey does the single stupidest thing she’s ever done,” you chuckle. “You see, Limey thought that no other mare would want some mangy Guanlow colt. She thought Horizon Swift was all hers, so she waited.”

Your gait atop the water slows. Despite your best efforts, that smirk on your face becomes loose, your eyes lowering to the bubbling water below. “Horizon Swift never did learn how to read. He only got so far teaching himself until another mare swooped in and nabbed him.”

Lucky Favor tilts her head slowly, waiting for you to continue.

“Naturally, instead of saying… well, anything, really, Limey joins his herd as a betamare. In pegasus culture, betamares are seen less as lovers to the stallion, and more as supporters to the main couple. Limey thought there were worse fates, you know? She was still with the stallion she loved, and now she even had a roof over her head and other mares whom she could confide in.”

Distant, muted scenes begin to play around your mind, like the mist of the springs embracing your head. Horizon Swift hugging Limey home after her third failed attempt at honest fishing that week, telling her “Next time, surely.” Horizon Swift being occupied by the alpha, unable to comfort Limey when she had just been injured in a wild griffon attack. Limey pulling back Horizon Swift’s mane as he slept to discover those rough kiss marks on his fur.

“Limey became jealous,” you mutter. “Limey started to cause problems for the rest of the herd because she was still that immature filly at heart, who couldn’t talk things out and bottled everything up. Well, turns out Limey could only bottle everything up for so long. One night, when she thought they were finally alone, Limey lunged at Horizon Swift.”

You look away, guilt and shame clawing at your chest, drawing you deeper into the springs as if your bones were suddenly full of mud. “She thought she was entitled to his feelings. She kissed him when he didn’t want to be kissed. Told him she loved him even though he already had an alpha. Begged him to fly away with her and become sky wanderers, like they always planned to when they were little.”

Among all the scenes playing out in your head, one sticks out like a storm cloud on a clear Summer day.

“The thing is, they didn’t plan to be sky wanderers. Just Limey. And when the alpha walked in and saw what was happening, Limey got her wish. She was banished from the sky village and became a sole sky wanderer. She kept tabs on the sky village for a few days, willing up the determination to fly back up there and apologize, but soon the other pegasi saw her. One night, they pushed the village’s cloud foundation to somewhere far away while Limey slept, leaving her to wake up completely alone and lost. And even now, after all these years of fishing, stealing, and… cloudpushing, Limey never saw Horizon Swift again.”

You bite the inside of your lip to keep from letting out anything else. You know that if you do, Lucky Favor would know exactly—

Suddenly, something furry grabs your backside and pulls your haunches under. Lucky’s yelp is cut off just before her head is underwater. You give a squawk of your own as you flap your wings to stay afloat. Your barrel is dragged underneath by the time Lucky resurfaces, coughing profusely.

“What the buck?!” you shriek. Between you pushing her and Lucky kicking her hindlegs you’re both able to resettle the unicorn back onto the shallower end of the springs.

”I’m sorry!” she sputters between coughs. “I was trying to hug you and I forgot how deep it is!”

“Y--…” you start before doing a double take. “Why were you trying to hug me?”

”I thought we were bonding! You were opening up to me, weren’t you?”

It takes a moment for it to click, but when it does, you… don’t really know how to feel. On one hoof, Lucky Favor just pulled a Lucky Favor and you feel obliged to laugh in her face. Maybe that’d also help alleviate some of the unwanted tension you just vomited onto your nice evening.

But on the other hoof, underneath the fiery blush on her soaked features and haughty grumbling, in front of you is the first mare to genuinely want to comfort you since you can remember.

These two points battle with each other for an embarrassing amount of time before you decide it’s fruitless. You ultimately decide on heckling Lucky with an extra-grating snicker before paddling over to her. She turns her head away from you. You’d say she looks away from you, but it’s hard to tell just where she’s looking with that wet mane glued over her eyes.

You extend a wing to tap on the top of her head a few times, being careful to avoid her horn. Lucky wipes her mane from her eyes before turning to half-heartedly glare at you.

“You look like a cherry,” you can’t help but giggle. Lucky rolls her eyes, but otherwise doesn’t turn away. You let the last few snickers out of your system before you smile warmly, patting her head once again with your wing.

She might be a pretentious, clumsy uppercastemare who can be a real bitch when she’s stressed out, but you’re no epitome of valor either.

She’s alright.

"Alright, Lucky Favor,” you sneer, snapping yourself awake. “The smart, educated… eager to please uppercastemare you are, what did you learn from this little story?"

Lucky’s eyes widen, the snow white fur on her face staining a cherry red. “The story?” she whimpers. “Th-that was just a story?”

“You’re not seriously gonna make me come out and say it, right?” you moan. “Fine. Yeah, we were bonding, the story might’ve happened or might not have, now answer the question!”

”Oh!” Lucky says with a nervous tap of her front hooves. “Oh, I see… Well, um… I supposed I learned just what the word ‘sky wanderer’ entails. And, um…”

Lucky’s voice trails off, but she doesn’t retreat into herself again. She scrunches, lowering her front hooves back into the water, before her eyes soften. The scrunch disappears as her cyan orbs turn to your direction.

”I apologize, Max Gusto,” she nearly whispers. She clears her throat before continuing, but her voice never loses that shameful reticence. “I didn’t know what that word meant to you. It won’t happen again.”

Ah, there’s that apology.

You turn to hide those pesky tears as they threaten the corners of your eyes. “Th-that’s—” you stutter. Ancients-damnit, don’t let your voice break, Max Gusto. “…Hmph. I accept your apology, my young student. But that’s not all the story was for.”

Lucky is tilting her head at you when you turn back to her. “You see, little filly,” you sneer. “I have bamboozled you. There are two lessons to be learned from my little anecdote. And the second one is…?” You slowly paddle to Lucky and lower your face so you’re almost muzzle-to-muzzle.

Lucky Favor blinks. “…Pegasi have strange herding rituals?”

You shake your head, tsk tsk tsk’ing in disappointment. “Today, we learned that when it comes to stallions you fancy, you can’t afford to wait.”

Lucky Favor’s eyes widen, but just to drive the point home, you prod your hoof into her chest. She doesn’t bat it away.

“The Rejoicement is coming up in three days,” you say, making sure she’s picking up just what you’re putting down. “I expect results, fancy filly.”

”I—” Lucky Favor wavers, turning from a cherry to a tomato real quick. “I-I haven’t the faintest intimation of what you are rattling on about.”

You think you might be getting closer to finding out what makes Lucky talk like that.

“Lucky Favor,” you deadpan. “Even the illiterate cunts at the Red Garden would be able to read you like a book.”

Something in Lucky Favor’s eyes changes. Her blush dissipates almost too quickly as she turns away. “I’d rather not joke about the Red Garden,” she says shakily. You notice how her scrawny shoulders tick in one, uncontrolled spasm before they’re stock still.

Ancients-damnit, Max.

You lift a hoof to place on Lucky’s shoulder, but the unicorn speaks before you can make contact. “Besides,” she mumbles, making you freeze. “It’d be pointless. Anonymous and I will be splitting up once we reach Equestria. And… I don’t think me telling him how I feel would be good for him.”

You’ve stepped your hoof into someplace it doesn’t belong, Max. You have no idea what’s going on between these two, let alone what’s going on in either of their heads. You didn’t even know she was headed to Equestria of all places until just now. It could’ve been a slip of the tongue, and now she’s chastising herself for revealing that to somepony she just met.

But Ancients-damnit, you can’t stand the thought of Lucky Favor feeling that gut-wrenching, sleep-depriving pain of regret. “I’ll admit it,” you sigh, leaning one foreleg on the wall by Lucky’s side. “I don’t know a thing about you two. But if he’s your housecarla, and he’s willing to not only travel to the countryside, but across the ocean with you, that’s worth something, right?” You shrug. Saying it out loud like that, it does feel like something a certain sky wanderer would do if she had nopony else to turn to. “You might be the only pony he has. I’m sure you could convince him to stay if you try.”

Lucky’s ears flick upwards. Her posture regains tautness. You swear you can see the glint of a smile on the unicorn’s face in the water’s reflection, but it’s short-lived. Another thought enters her mind, and she’s back to being her mopey self.

”I can’t even afford to pay him anymore,” she sniffles. “We won’t even make it to the dockyard.”

You’re stumped. Stumped, but persistent.

So persistent, in fact, that the stray thought of joining Lucky and Anonymous on their travels takes root.

You don’t exactly have anywhere else to go now. And All-Mother knows that if you decide to stay with Apple Seed, you’ll probably fall in love and mess things up again. He’s back in his home village, and he’ll always remember you as a friend, which is the best possible outcome. So why don’t you join Lucky…?

You shake the thought from your mind. You just met her, Max. Don’t let your loneliness push you into a situation you haven’t thought through. "All I'm saying is you never know when somepony else might swoop in and nab him,” you clarify. “Might as well bite the bolt at the Rejoicement. Everypony’s in high spirits, there’ll be drinks and a beautiful view, Anonymous’ leg would be healed by then. Take a few shots of liquid courage beforehoof—” You extend a foreleg above your head and lean back in a dramatic flair. “--Bare your noble heart before the fair lord."

Lucky’s mood improves enough for her to turn and face you, but not enough to wipe that glare off her face. "I don't drink,” she affirms. “Nor will I start."

"Your loss, filly. They don’t write about earth pony ale in your uppercaste books.”

The secluded pegasi in the sky aren’t much more knowledgeable, yourself notwithstanding, but Lucky doesn’t need to know about that night you stole some ale from a traveling merchant.

Or how you spent the next few hours wondering where the buck the sky was.

For a while, the two of you sit in a pleasant silence. The sun has set now, leaving you and Lucky in one of many beacons of light in the mountainside. It’s the first time since you can remember where you’ve felt this… peaceful. You might be able to doze off if you let yourself.

But you don’t want to. You want to talk with Lucky Favor some more.

Heh, isn’t that weird?

"So,” you cut through the silence. The cadence in your voice makes you realize you’re grinning. You wipe it off your face before Lucky turns back to you. “Does this mean you've finally gotten your head out of your plot and you’re apologizing to the ponies who deserve it?"

Lucky smiles; the first smile you’ve seen on the mare in a long time. It’s tired, but genuine. "I suppose so,” she says.

"Smooth Roads would be next in line, since Apple Seed won't be available until the Rejoicement."

The smile disappears. She doesn’t glare at you, though. Her face doesn’t hold an ounce of anger it. She just looks sad and defeated. "I’d rather my wagon had been destroyed than be left in Sapphire Lily’s hooves,” she murmurs.

You’ll come back to Smooth Roads. For now, you just lay a hoof on her shoulder. "Yep,” you chuckle. “You're an artist, alright."

Lucky doesn’t respond verbally. She only gives a barely perceptible nod.

Your hoof still hasn’t left her shoulder. You’re halfway to convincing yourself to pull the unicorn into a hug when the thatch door to the spring bursts open.

One glance at the charcoal brown earth pony, and you’re expecting her to take two steps forward, see the spring’s occupants, and go right on back through that door like all the others. Instead of retreating, though, the earth pony’s apricot eyes pierce through the fog and latch onto your own.

The tall mare steps into the stone room and walks toward the springs. You sigh. You were hoping to spend some more quality time with Lucky, but you guess sitting in awkward silence with a stranger is better than nothing.

Instead of stepping into the spring, though, the mare takes a seat on the edge of the water. She makes no move to undo that white ponytail in her mane, only inspecting you and Lucky, until she opens her mouth. “Scholar Lucky Favor and Cloudpusher Max Gusto?” she asks neutrally.

You recognize that neutral, almost bored tone anywhere. You rub your eyes to make sure the mare in front of you isn’t Apple Seed.

“Mmmmmaybe,” you drawl. “What’s your name, tall, dark, and more tall?”

”A returned stallion’s blood sister, come to thank his rescuers,” she responds.

You blink.

Well, shit. Apple Seed did tell you to give this mare some room. But you’re both kind of cornered here, and Apricot doesn’t seem to be malicious. Well, as non-malicious as a barely emotive earth pony can be.

You share an uneasy look with Lucky Favor before chuckling. “Yeah,” you shrug. “Pretty good for a conehead and a sky rat, huh?”

”Why would you refer to yourself as such?” Apricot asks, tilting her head. “Do you insult yourselves often?”

This time, the look you share with Lucky Favor is less uneasy and more shit-eating. “Lucky Favor,” you announce. “You’ve just been topped for the Most Socially Clueless Pony I’ve Ever Met Award.”

Lucky Favor harumphs. Apricot Ammil exclaims, “If I am too direct, inform me and I will adjust my behavior.”

“I’m just messing with you,” you say.

”Very well. Thank you, sky rat Max Gusto and conehead Lucky Favor.”

You give a shrug that you hope conveys you’d rather not continue the conversation. You turn your head to peer into the darkness of Marestricht once again.

"I am unfamiliar with your customs,” Apricot says suddenly. “How are your pegasus and unicorn stallions treated?"

It’s Lucky that responds now, likely after gaining some confidence from your lack of concern. You hope you have a positive effect on her. "All lords are cared for and protected to the same degree as the highest of royalties,” she proclaims proudly.

You snicker. "You sound like such a virgin."

”There is nothing wrong with remaining pure!” Lucky snaps in an adorable whisper-shout.

"So,” Apricot gains your attention once again. “If I were to peruse unicorn stallions, I would be hard-pressed to find one who has been forced to turn to housecarlatel to survive?"

Lucky’s face transforms at those words. You feel like you’ve just lost every bit of progress you’ve made when she lowers her head, unwilling to make eye contact with anypony.

You place a wing on Lucky’s back and send Apricot a glare. You don’t know if this is some kind of cultural misunderstanding, but the sight of Lucky being put down like that riles you up something fierce. "What are you implying?" you ask, careful to not come off as vindictive, but direct enough to let Apricot know you didn’t appreciate her words one bit.

Apricot Ammil doesn’t get your tone, obviously, as she answers, "That it would be impossible to find an earth pony stallion have to stoop to similar depths, and that the two of you have failed as mares.”

Your glare hardens. So she is just being a bitch.

“Was I too direct?" Apricot asks with a twinkle in her eyes.

Don’t let her get to you, Max. You don’t know her. Apple Seed told you to give her some space. This is probably just her way of acting out.

"Tartarus of a way to thank your brother's rescuers,” you say, making sure to put extra emphasis on that last word. “If you’re done, you have a brother who probably needs comforting.”

Apricot isn’t reminded of just whom she’s talking to in the slightest. Apricot doesn’t glance away guiltily as you bring up Apple Seed. She just blinks before saying, "I am going to ask you a question, Scholar Lucky Favor and Cloudpusher Max Gusto, and I want you to answer with absolute honesty. What happened in the Red Garden?"

Lucky Favor’s voice is quiet as she whimpers, "Can we please not talk about this?"

"My concern for the well-being of my blood brother trumps your self-pity, Scholar Lucky Favor,” Apricot says. “Tell me what happened to Apple Seed in the Red Garden. He wouldn’t tell me.”

You really want this pony to take a tour of the highest sky village without cloudwalking magic. Still, you bite back your hostility and think of Apple Seed. "Look,” you try to deescalate. “We were taken by some bandits. They weren’t any of the scary, organized raiders from Equestria, just a couple of no-lives. They had us do some work. I pushed some clouds, Apple Seed pushed some earth—”

”Brother Apple Seed,” Apricot corrects. For the first time since you’ve met her, she shows emotion in the form of a twitch of her left eye.

“Yeah, sure,” you rescind. “Brother Apple Seed pushed some earth. Lucky Favor read them a bedtime story. We escaped before anything happened.”

Part of that is true. You did escape before anything happened to Anonymous.

You were too late for Apple Seed.

"How did they treat my blood brother?” Apricot Ammil asks, leaning forward. “Any worse than the crippled cat?"

Lucky Favor’s breathing begins to escalate. She’s turned away from you, her back rising and falling as she begins to shake.

"Okay, one: Anonymous isn't a cat,” you say. “Two: stop saying blood brother. It’s creepy. Three: no. Did you see any wounds on Apple Seed? Now back off. Seriously.”

"I saw how skinny he was,” Apricot says lowly. “I saw how haunted his eyes were. I saw how he no longer reacts when a mare touches him from behind. I saw the insignia behind his ear, burnt into his flesh.”

"Brother Apple Seed was valuable to them. Helped them with pushing the earth, made them a nice little home. They gave him a tattoo because it made them feel special. They couldn't hurt him or they would lose a valuable asset. I looked after him in there, so stop worrying. Now would you back off?”

You turn from the larger earth pony to the suffocating unicorn by your side. You reach a hoof forward and peel away the warm mist of the springs from around her muzzle. You reach out with your other to scoop in some fresh, cool air from outside and you bring it to her.

“Lucky?” you whisper. “Lucky, are you okay?”

Why’s this happening? Everything was normal just a few minutes ago. Tartarus, everything was better than normal. For the first time, you were finally able to not worry about how you’d get your next meal, or how hard the Red Garden would push you the next day, or if you’d be woken up in the middle of the night for some degenerate task.

You were just here, sitting in silence with the first mare you’d dare to call a friend in… forever.

"Are you hiding something, Cloudpusher Max Gusto?” Apricot interrupts. “Are you responsible for his desensitization? Do you think you're worthy of my brother's affection? A thieving pegasus?”

Oh, buck right off.

"You talk pretty high and mighty for somepony who let her brother get raped,” you snap.

The difference in the Apricot Ammil now and the Apricot Ammil ten seconds ago is almost palpable. She transforms into a completely different pony at what you said. Her eyes widen and her apricot irises shrink to thin slits. Her ears lay flat against her skull as her brown tail twitches against the stone floor.

”Cloudpusher Max Gusto,” she says, her voice trembling dangerously. “Did those ponies deflower my blood brother?”

You deny Apricot her answer. You only turn to Lucky and pull her face towards your own. Her eyes are glazed over as she relives events passed.

A flurry of hoofsteps on stone tells you that Apricot gallops out of the springs and disappears behind the thatch doorframe. You don’t pay attention to that, though.

“Lucky,” you whisper, pulling the white unicorn against your chest. You wrap your hooves around her and hold her close. Lucky tenses at the hug but doesn’t pull away.

Slowly, you feel two soaking arms wrap around your midsection as Lucky Favor hugs you back. You’re sure to bring more and more cool air to her face as you unfurl your wings to add to the squeeze. Eventually, Lucky’s panting subsides into calm breaths.

She lets out a faint, content hum of peace; that of a sky dogie who’s been wholeheartedly embraced for the first time.

When was the last time you’ve been hugged, Max?

Lucky Favor lets out a small chuckle. “I’m traveling across the globe,” she susurrates into your chest. “A handsome and capable housecarla at my side, embarking on an adventure I only thought possible through novels… and I can’t go a day without having a mental breakdown.”

She needs somepony who knows how to handle adventure. Both her and Anonymous.

You tuck that thought away for later considering.

“You wanna know how much of a wreck I was when I got banished?” you giggle.

Lucky chortles gleefully, splashing the water with her body’s convulsions and warming your fur with her hot breath. You also can’t help but laugh as you gently lean away from the hug. Lucky Favor, though, keeps her grip tight.

You don’t fight against it.

”I don’t like Anonymous being alone with somepony I don’t know,” Lucky Favor says, her voice unrecognizable from her previous laughter. “Tia doesn’t either. I almost had to cast a sleep spell on her before I could come up here.”

You run your hooves up and down her back. “Apple Seed told you Riverside wouldn’t overstep her boundaries, didn’t he?” you ask. Lucky’s horn slowly bobs up and down as she nods. “Lucky, there isn’t a pony on Equus more trustworthy than that stallion.”

Lucky doesn’t respond, only holding onto you tightly, her face just above the water level. You’re not sure what else to do, so you find yourself humming as the two of you stay like that. Your songs would sooner be confused with a rabid timberwolf in heat than actual chirping, but humming? Anypony can hum.

You’ve had a lot of practice, all those nights spent alone in the wilderness.

When Lucky’s grip begins to slacken, her face dangerously close to the water, you decide to part ways. You gently push away from the unicorn, jolting her awake. “Get some rest, Lucky Favor,” you say. “I’ll pay Anonymous a visit and tell you how he’s doing. And try not to have another breakdown on your way to the room.”

”What about Apricot Ammil?” she asks, either too tired or too exasperated to care about your playful jab.

“Don’t worry about her. Or Apple Seed, for that matter. As far as I’m concerned, you may as well not have even been here.”

”But if I hadn’t had that attack—"

“OH FOR ANCIENTS’ SAKE, LUCKY FAVOR, I’LL HANDLE IT. GO TO BED, FANCY FILLY.”

Lucky blinks owlishly before she simply nods. As she trudges back to the entrance of the springs, careful to stick to the edges so as not to be submerged again, the unicorn gives a yawn most unladylike, mm, quite quite. She pulls herself onto solid ground, and suddenly, you feel like the mineral springs are a lot lonelier than ten seconds ago.

“Hey, Lucky?” you ask without thinking. Lucky turns to you, blinking sluggishly. You bite the inside of your cheek in thought before you say, “You know I’d never hurt Tia, right?”

Lucky Favor’s tired smile tells you all you need to know before she turns around and starts walking away. Before long, her white coat disappears into the thick mist.

---

The sound of hoofsteps echoing in a dirt tunnel snaps you awake.

You try to move your body, but something heavy holds it down.

You don’t know where you are. You’re in a dirt burrow.

The Red Garden?

No, you’re well away from them now. Unless they caught up to you.

But that wouldn’t make sense, they’d have to get through Marestricht’s—

Oh. Right.

Your pounding heart begins to simmer to its normal levels. The only part of your body you can move is your head and neck. You use just those to inspect what’s keeping you in place.

In front of you is a mound of moist soil where your body should be. Your bleary mind almost entertains the thought of the earth ponies transforming you into a pile of dirt until you see the rhythmic rising and falling of your chest under the soil. A few green sprouting plants pierce through the dirt, perhaps side products from the soil and the still water in the shallow, barely arms-thickness moat around your body.

The hoofsteps are coming closer. You’re awake enough to know whoever is approaching will be your appointed mender, but even still you slowly raise your right arm through the dirt. You won’t be completely helpless, at the very least.

When your arm raises from the moist soil, though, you’re perplexed at its state. The soil slowly drips from the arm as if it had been entombed for centuries, and underneath is clear, peach skin. The gash on your shoulder has been replaced with white scar tissue. The cool air of the burrow prickling your arm makes you realize it’s much more sensitive than before.

”Mph!” a muffled voice yelps from the tunnel entrance. You turn to see an earth pony at the entrance of the burrow, a stone tray holding various seeds, roots, and the like in her mouth. Her sea blue eyes are wide with concern as she trots to your side. Her purple and white mane bounces in the bun on top of her head.

The mare kneels down to set her tray to the ground. Once that’s done, her eyes hastily inspect the space of broken soil your right arm used to be under. “My apologies, Brother Anonymous,” she says. “It seems the lutobice has been punctured. I shall repair it.”

Lutobice? Please just be a cultural way of saying ‘dirt.’

The mender skips to your right side with a grace you’d never expect from an earth pony. Your eyes never leave her as she does. The muscles in your shoulder twitches in preparation when she reaches her destination and sits onto her haunches. Instead of reaching forward, though, the mender looks to you and smiles warmly.

”May I reposition your arm, Brother Anonymous?” she asks.

A small part of you wants to feel insulted that she’d need to ask, but it’s immediately snuffed out. You know she’s your mender. You know you’re in a mending burrow underneath the highly defended, highly secluded mountainside village of Marestricht. Even still, you can’t promise you would’ve remained calm had she suddenly grabbed you.

You give a neutral nod. The mender doesn’t so much as grab your arm as she does guide it back into its original place. She gently pats the displaced soil back into place atop your arm.

“My right leg was the problem,” you say as the mare finishes her job. “Why’s… well, my whole body covered with dirt? Apple Seed didn’t need to do this.”

The mare’s gentle hooves freeze at the mention of Apple Seed. Something unrecognizable flashes across her eyes, but it’s only for a split second. As quick as it came, the pleasant smile once again returns to her features.

You curl your hands into fists. You’re not liking this more and more.

”I suppose that is true,” the mare says, inspecting her handiwork. “Your right leg was in the most dire need of attention. But after I examined your body, I wished to perform a full-body mend—”

“Define ‘examine.’”

The mare tilts her head at you. She’s about to answer, probably with the verbal equivalent of her tilted head, before she suddenly blinks in realization. “I laid you atop the lubotice and petrevoked the Ancient Lady of Life.”

“I understood about half of that.”

The mare gives a patient nod before reciting, “The lubotice is the platform you find yourself upon and within; the soil has been kept rich and its ethereal route with the Ancients intact. It is the perfect place for a mending. To petrevoke another is to use vibrations in the natural environment to communicate over long distances; however, in this case the word is used more symbolically. I have petrevoked the Ancient Lady of Life through this patch of soil’s route to the Ancients and she has informed me of your injuries.”

You understood about a quarter of that.

The mare’s pleasant expression disappears as she sees the look on your face. It’s replaced with a sympathetic frown. “I would never disrobe a stallion without the faculties to give his consent,” she says with a bow of her head. “Though… I am afraid it has come at the cost of your armor being ruined during the mending process. I apologize.”

Your armor would need a wash, but it wouldn’t be anywhere near destroyed because of some dirt… You’re almost tempted to voice your confusion, but you decide against it. She knows much more about this than you do. That, and she continues to speak, giving you no room to ask.

”I will ask our sculptors to outfit you with a new set,” the mare suggests as she makes her way back to her discarded tray. “Once again, I apologize. When you were brought to me, you were delirious, and… made it explicitly known that you did not like to be touched.”

You sigh. For some reason, guilt claws at your chest at the news of how a barely-conscious, in-pain you must have treated this mare.

…That might be a bad thing. You just met her, Anonymous. Don’t let your guard down so easily.

”I am Mender Bountiful Riverside,” the mare says with a filly-like politeness before she grabs the tray with her teeth. She’s silent as she walks back to your side and settles it back onto the ground. “Sachemare Sagebrush has assigned me to mend you, Brother Anonymous, and I intend to do so to the highest standards of Marestricht body mending. However, I believe it is worth saying that our time together would be better spent in quiet.”

You tilt your head. Riverside picks up a brown root from her tray with her mouth and leans over you to plant it in the dirt above your right leg. She uses a hoof to slowly drive it further into the soil. The moment you feel a soft pressure on your leg, Riverside eases off and returns to her tray.

”When the mending process starts, we will both be strung along in our connection with the Ancient Lady of Life,” Riverside says. “It will feel as if somepony else is in your mind. That is how most describe it. I’m afraid it can be rather unsettling for some.” Riverside speaks between her placement of each of the various roots, seeds, and leaves from the tray to the dirt mound. If you hadn’t seen what Apple Seed could do for your leg, you’d think you found yourself in a cult den. Unfortunately, you have one stony, earthpushing reason to not be suspicious. “You will start to feel exhausted once it begins, Brother Anonymous. You are more than welcome to slumber. Your unconsciousness will circumvent the awkward feeling and, in fact, will make the process much quicker. You will be able to attend the Rejoicement if you do so.”

As Riverside speaks, you hear another set of hooves coming down the dirt tunnel.

You’re not sure if you want this mare to “string you along with her connection to the Ancient Lady of Life” unsupervised. You’re willing to miss some party if it means not giving the chance--

“Blast!”

Riverside stomps a hoof, glaring down at her now empty tray. Her eyes scan around the room; where the tray had first been set down and the path she had used to get to you, but she doesn’t find what she’s looking for. “Apologies, Brother Anonymous,” she says. “I seem to have forgotten an ingredient. I will return post-haste.”

As the mauve mare turns to leave, though, another earth pony meets her at the tunnel entrance. She holds a necklace between her teeth, fashioned with blades of grass interwoven so tightly and expertly they appear as a solid green string. On the end of the necklace hangs what appears to be a glass bottle no bigger than your pinkie finger. A blue liquid from within illuminates the carrier’s chest as she approaches Riverside.

”Ah, I thank you, Mender Beniglade,” Riverside says pleasantly.

Instead of responding, Beniglade leans forward and offers the necklace to Riverside. Riverside hastily takes it in her own mouth.

”Do not forget it next time, Mender Riverside,” the earth pony grumbles before turning tail. As she leaves, she mumbles something that you can’t help but feel mildly terrified about. “Why Sachemare Sagebrush chose a novice, I’ll never understand…”

Bountiful Riverside’s ears lower at Beniglade’s jab, but that’s the only sign of her dejection. She turns around and makes her way back to you, a pleasant raise of her cheeks on her face.

“Can’t help but notice she called you a novice,” you grouse.

Riverside’s posture slumps ever so slightly, but it’s barely perceptible as she sits down to her haunches and places the necklace on the tray. “It is true this is my first full-body mend,” she says before gripping the bottle in her hooves. It almost looks like a seed between her large hooves. “However, I assure you that I am well capable. I have had much practice with smaller injuries; those which I have been relegated to by the other menders.”

You can’t help but notice how her voice teeters off to a breathy sigh at the end. Riverside doesn’t say another word as she bites off the cork of the bottle before hanging the glowing liquid over the water of the moat. She slowly pours the liquid in.

Slowly, the moat around you illuminates the dirt grotto in a fluctuating, blue glow.

”Do you plan on going to the Rejoicement, Brother Anonymous?” Riverside asks as she slowly lowers her front hooves into the glowing water to settle on the bottom of the moat.

Doesn’t she need quiet to focus, like Apple Seed did? She’s a novice as well, so you’d expect her to need absolute quiet. If you knew the first thing about any of this shit.

That’s the thought that relegates the back of your head back to the soil, and your cynical thoughts to the back of your mind. “Probably not,” you answer neutrally.

”That is a shame,” Riverside says, her voice showing no sign of preoccupation. “I always enjoy Rejoicements. Ponies all around Marestricht coming into one gathering. They are always in good spirits and do not brush me off when I try to converse.”

Don’t feel bad for her, Anonymous.

”It is also encouraging to see the new foals,” Riverside continues, before she pauses. You expect her to drift off to silence as she focuses on the mending. You can feel a prickling feeling in the back of your head now. “I have never seen somepony from your tribe before, Brother Anonymous. If it is not rude, what, exactly, are you? Nopony else in Marestricht seems to know definitively.”

The prickly feeling increases, but as it does, you start to feel a warm… glow from within your body. That’s the only way to describe it, a glow. It seems to seep in from the soil hugging your skin, permeating your body with an otherworldly hum of natural warmth. “Human,” you susurrate. Surely, now, she’d have to shut up and focus on her job?

…confusion.

You blink. You wouldn't call yourself confused, just mildly concerned. Where did that come from?

”Do humans not have many children?” Riverside asks in the same tone of voice as when you had just awoken.

Curiosity. Not seen many. Reason?

“Is this the part where it feels like somebody else is in my mind?” you can’t help but ask.

”Yes, it is,” Riverside confirms. “Do you like foals, Brother Anonymous?”

The question comes out of nowhere. You already have your knee-jerk answer pre-loaded and at the ready, but you don’t know if that will do any good now. Just how… connected are the two of you right now?

“Hey, don’t you have to keep quiet to focus?” you ask blearily. Oh. There’s the exhaustion. “When Apple Seed was… mending, he needed silence.”

Guilt. Shame. Apple Seed.

Riverside doesn’t let any of these emotions reflect in her voice. How is she comfortable sharing all of this with you? And what the Hell’s her deal with Apple Seed?

There’s nothing you can do about it now. Remember, Anonymous, Apple Seed entrusted this mare with you. But do you trust Apple Seed enough for that thought to comfort you?

”I apologize,” Riverside says quietly. “As stated before, I practice often and am well enough capable. It would not be bragging to say I can capably converse and mend simultaneously. I supposed that since you have not yet fallen asleep, you would be open to conversation. Though, I am not as accustomed to social interaction as I am to body mending. Am I making you uncomfortable, Brother Anonymous?”

Stallion uncomfortable. Did this yourself. Lonely.

“Look, it’s—” you start quickly before you stop yourself with a sigh. “It’s fine. Kids are--...”

Walking reminders of why you’re here?

“I’d rather not talk about it. It’s personal.”

”I see,” Riverside says, teetering off into silence.

Failure to socialize. Embarrassing yourself again.

You're surprised how less than a minute is all it takes for you to feel guilty about the lack of her voice. Instead of talking, you merely focus on the perambulating blue glow on the dirt ceiling.

But before you have too much trouble fighting off sleep, you hear a commotion from further within the tunnel.

"What the buck do you mean you'd have to 'peetree-vote' Apple Seed? I'm the one who carried him here!"

The high pitch of the voice, the subtle chirp at the end of her statement, and the fact that she forgot to mention how bumpy the ride was all confirm it. Max Gusto is further down the tunnel, currently speaking with an earth pony whose voice is too deep and calm to make out.

"Yeah, yeah, shove it or I'll steal your wheat during the Rejoicement. You know Sagebrush will let me."

The earth pony's complaints fall silent. Max Gusto, meanwhile, educates you on just how a squee can sound shit-eatingly smug before her hoofsteps continue down the tunnel. The earth pony murmurs something angrily, but makes no move to stop Max.

Helped Apple Seed. Helped Anonymous. Still annoying.

You think Bountiful Riverside might be in the runs for making the best first impression on you of any mare.

Just like Red Le--

Fuck off.

You glance to Riverside, but she gives no reaction to your mental flinch. Good, this connection might be one-way.

"Hey, buddy," Max announces, her voice echoing off the grotto walls.

Sure enough, the only pegasus you've had the dubious pleasure of meeting trots into the grotto. She giggles quietly at the dirt mound you're buried in, probably thinking how ridiculous you look, but otherwise stays silent as she waits for a reply.

"Max," you greet neutrally. "Where's Lucky?"

"Ohhhh, I get it," she sighs obnoxiously. “No time for the mule. Gotta worry about your lady first.”

You give Max a deadpan glare. She uses a hoof to pull back a strand of her white mane so you can see just how broken up she is. Really, she’s barely holding it together. Look at the way she sticks her lips out while pouting; it almost looks like a caricature. “Thanks for your help,” you suspire. You’ve barely met the mare and you can already tell what her response will be.

”Ancients above, he can say something nice,” Max says, her eyes wide with mock surprise. It only lasts a moment, though, before she sobers up. Well, as sober as Max Gusto can be. “Lucky’s been getting some much-needed rest. She and her… precious cargo.”

You deflate in relief and are almost dragged into unconsciousness. You have to physically fight your eyelids to stay open.

”So, uh…” Max says, kicking her hoof in the dirt awkwardly. “Anonymous?”

”Brother Anonymous,” Riverside corrects.

”Right. Brother Anonymous.” Max turns to Riverside as if noticing her for the first time. “Hey, how’s it going, by the way. Max Gusto, Roguishly Beautiful Savior of Humans, Partner in Crime with Apple Se-- Brother Apple Seed.”

Apple Seed’s friend. There for him. Not you. Shame.

Riverside returns her sea blue eyes to her work, bowing her head away from Max and you.

“So, Lucky wanted to hear how you were doing,” Max says. “And I kinda wanna know, too, for what it’s worth. ‘Cuz we’re buddies, right?”

Instead of answering right away, you turn to Riverside and ask, “How long will this take, did you say?”

”About four to five days,” Bountiful Riverside responds.

”WHAT?!” Max explodes. You jolt against the mound of soil before you remember what Riverside told you. Your mender sighs forlornly as a few pebbles and clots of dirt tumble into the moat below. “But you’ll miss the Rejoicement!”

”Five days is only an approximation,” Riverside says as she scoops out the pebbles from the water. You’re sure she sees the apologetic expression on your face before she gets back to mending. “Brother Anonymous feels more comfortable to stay awake, it seems. I do not fault him for his preference. I am a stranger, after all.”

Max stomps her hooves and flaps her wings. ”An~noooon!”

God damnit, Max, don’t--

”Don’t call him that.”

You have to do a double take to confirm that the ungodly growl you just heard came from Riverside.

The earth pony’s expression softens almost immediately. “Apologies,” she says, giving Max a bow. She turns to you, her eyes apologetic. “Your mind seemed to spasm in pain, Brother Anonymous. I assumed it was because of her disregard of honorifics.”

Max Gusto is silent as she tilts her head at Riverside’s words. It pervades the grotto in a silence long enough to give way to the sound of hushed earth pony voices at the entrance. The voices escalate in volume, but only enough for you to make out the question, “The mending process has already begun. Are you sure, Brother Apple Seed?”

Apple Seed gives an answer too quick and short-tempered to really be coming from him, but as the familiar sound of hoofsteps coming down that tunnel once again echo through the cavern, sure enough, it’s Apple Seed. As the earth pony enters the grotto, you notice that his coat has been cleaned to a dull shine, not a speck of dirt on his rustic orange fur. Although his bones are still visible from under his fur, he no longer drags his hooves or hangs his head as he moves. Apple Seed’s neck is adorned with a small necklace of the same fashion as the ones you saw on Sachemare Sagebrush.

The look on his face drips with barely-contained anger, something that deeply unsettles you, coming from Apple Seed.

Apple Seed. Angry. My fault.

”Max Gusto,” Apple Seed says in a voice so gravely it could rival Smooth Roads’. “We need to talk. Privately.”

Apple Seed. Unchanged. Same as before. Still angry.

Max gives you a look. “I was just checking up on Bro Anonymous,” she says quizzically. She turns back to Apple Seed with a hint of impatience. “What’s with the—oh… right.” Something clicks in her mind, and her eyes flop to her skull in shame.

”Oh, right, indeed,” Apple Seed grumbles. “Come, Max Gusto.”

Confusion. Apple Seed didn’t hit her. Like he did me.

”Brother Apple Seed?” Riverside asks meekly. Apple Seed’s entire body flinches at her voice. Max comes to the stallion’s side, but his silence stumps her, and she turns to the sudden standoff.

”I apologize, Mender Bountiful Riverside,” Apple Seed says, his head not leaving its aim at Max Gusto. His voice is much softer than before. Softer than you’ve ever heard him speak. “Max Gusto and I will be on our way now. But…” Apple Seed suddenly hardens himself before he can finish. He stands up a little straighter, even if he still does not meet Riverside’s eyes. “I understand it is not up to me, Mender Riverside, but I would rather you did not attend the Rejoicement.”

Confusion. Hit me. Defended self. Everything ruined. Why deny closure?

Apple Seed gestures to Max before leading the way out. The pegasus, without much other choice, gives you a quick, “Please make it to the Rejoicement!” look before scuttling off to follow Apple Seed.

Apple Seed hit. Angry. I defended self. Apple Seed ran. Captured. My fault. Everypony knows. Don’t deserve Rejoicement. Foolish to think otherwise.

Another sound fills the grotto, but it isn’t hoofsteps down the tunnel or the murmuring of earth ponies. Bountiful Riverside gives a quiet sniffle before clearing her throat. You turn to her to see that she’s turned her face away. Her muzzle is taut with tension, trying to hold back emotion. “I apologize,” Riverside whispers. “Brother Anonymous, I would… very much appreciate it if you did not ask me my connection with Brother Apple Seed. Please only believe that I wish to help you.”

Help. Only help. Do good for once.

If you weren’t on the verge of collapsing into unconsciousness, you would be able to appreciate the humor of it taking you to read a mare’s mind for you to finally let your guard down.

“I believe you, Riverside,” you murmur as your vision goes blurry from exhaustion. The prickling sensation in your mind turns to a warm glow, not so much different from the rest of your body. “But I’d like to get to know you better once I wake up.”

The last thing you see before you close your eyes is Riverside’s surprised expression.

---

As you and Apple Seed exit the mending burrows, you are once again bombarded with the sounds and sights of a midday Marestricht.

“Alright, what’s up?” you ask Apple Seed, trotting up to his side. He regards you with a scowl. “Seriously, what’s up?”

”I should be asking you ‘what is up,’” Apple Seed growls, but you’re on that before he can get another word in.

“Nope, me first.” You and Apple Seed begin your ascent up the stone stairs, leaving the orchards and mending burrows behind. “You’ve been acting like this ever since we got out of the Red Garden.”

”You first, Max Gusto?” Apple Seed’s voice is a far cry from his originally neutral tone. In fact, most of what you see beside you is that of an entirely different pony. The only remnant of your friend is his green eyes, still hesitant to meet your own or anypony else’s. They almost remind you of Anonymous’. “You told Apricot Ammil about what happened in that damned place.”

Of course he’d want to talk to you about this, but…

No. You can’t bring yourself to feel guilty, so you won’t even try.

With a flap of your wings, you’re in front of Apple Seed. He halts his ascension. You crouch to meet him head-on. “Yeah, I did,” you say firmly. “She was being a cunt. She was giving Lucky a bucking anxiety attack and didn’t even care. So yeah, it slipped out in the heat of the moment, so what? Just why does it matter so much?”

”You do not understand a thing, sky rat.”

The moment the words leave Apple Seed’s mouth, he seems to regret them. His eyes widen at what he had just said, his ears lowering guiltily. Still, he doesn’t give away too much, turning away from you and deepening his scowl.

“What the buck’s wrong with you, colt?” you ask, unable to keep the touch of hurt from your voice. “I stick with you in that Tartarus-hole, and you act like this because I told the truth to somepony who cares about you?”

Apple Seed’s posture slumps at your words, but he doesn’t respond. He merely puts one hoof in front of the other as he sidesteps you and continues up the stairs. You’re at his side, unrelenting.

“Seriously,” you ask softly. Apple Seed’s ears flick to your direction. “What’s wrong, Apple Seed?”

Apple Seed’s gait slows until he comes to a stop. Another earth pony descending the stairs prompts him to step off the side and settle his haunches onto the dirt hill. You hop off the stairs to follow him. That’s when his eyes – filled with that same shame that hasn’t left them since he first saw Marestricht yesterday – finally meet your own.

“I was right there with you,” you reassure, almost in a whisper. “They didn’t... do that shit to me, but they did plenty other shit. I didn’t exactly have pleasant dreams last night.” You chuckle, but Apple Seed doesn’t react. “I’m right here, Apple Seed. I’m all ears.”

Apple Seed’s eyes linger on your own for a long time until they drift back to the mending burrows. He sighs, “Now that Apricot Ammil knows what happened, Mender Bountiful Riverside might be in danger.”

Please tell me I didn’t buck up again.

You scoot closer to Apple Seed. A few of the agriculturalists below give the pair of ponies just sitting beside the stairs a sideways glance, but once they recognize the two of you, they hastily get back to work. “How?” you ask softly.

Apple Seed seems to have the answer on the tip of his tongue, until something else takes its place. “I never told you how the Red Garden captured me, did I?” he asks as he gets back up to his hooves. He hops back onto the stairs, waiting for you to join him.

You’re confused, but knowing Apple Seed, he’s probably building up to your answer. You float by his side, and the two of you begin to climb up the stairs once again to upper Marestricht. “I was always curious how they’d get a hold of an earth pony,” you admit. “But you never offered, so I never asked.”

”Even if you did, I do not think I would have told you. I was too immature then.” Apple Seed’s head lowers. “I could not even look Mender Bountiful Riverside in the eyes. I suppose I am still immature.”

“Apple Seed,” you say, making damn sure he sees the look on your face before you continue. “Do you know who you’re talking to?”

Apple Seed lips twitch upwards. He exhales in that way ponies do when they’re amused, but don’t want to laugh. “Before I was an earthpusher, I aspired to be a body mender.”

Apple Seed stops talking for a moment. You tilt your head. As if your reaction was the answer to a question, he exclaims, “Ah. I suppose it is worth mentioning the separate roles stallions and mares play in Marestricht for you to fully understand.”

”Brother Apple Seed,” an earth pony greets as she passes the two of you to the mending burrows.

Apple Seed gives a nod to the mare before he continues, “Mares are expected to hold the more demanding positions of Marestricht, such as maretinets, herdwatchers, and bodymenders. There are many more, but those are the ones you must be familiar with by now.”

Herdwatcher Wheat Graze and Thistlehoof, you can guess are some kind of guard. Body menders are self-explanatory, but you can’t say you know what a maretinet is. You remember that Apple Seed called his sister “Maretinet Apricot Ammil” to Sagebrush.

”Maretinet means fighter,” Apple Seed says at your expression. “They train herdwatchers, punish those who break Marestricht law, and fight off any wild griffons or sky thief raids.” You thank the Ancients above your encounter with Apricot last night didn’t become violent. Apple Seed clears his throat before getting back on topic. “A mare is trained as a, how do you say, Jill of all Trades while young. When mares achieve their cutie mark, that is what determines the role they will follow for the rest of their lives. Since it is their special talent, there have been very few instances in which a mare would disagree with what is assigned to her. A mare’s role is so engrained in their identity that their role’s honorific is to be spoken before their name when being addressed.” As if reading your mind, Apple Seed explains, “Unless if spoken by somepony close to them.”

“Doesn’t stop anypony from correcting me,” you grumble. “Every time I say your name there’s always some white knightess telling me, ‘Brother Apple Seed.’”

Apple Seed nods at your annoyance. “You must have noticed by now that the only honorific stallions go by is ‘Brother,’” he says. “Or ‘Herdson,’ in the Sachemare’s eyes. We are not designated the same roles as mares. Our jobs are to take responsibility for the herd’s foals, mind the fields, shape the earth around our home…”

Apple Seed trails off once again, taking a step away from another passing earth pony. The earth pony smiles and greets him, and is reciprocated with a demure nod, but it does nothing to improve Apple Seed’s sudden bout of depression. “Stay pure until we choose our foalbearer,” he mumbles ashamedly.

“What?” you can’t help but snap. Anger blossoms in your chest. “That can’t by why you’re acting like this. That’s bullshit! You didn’t choose—"

”Do not feel pity for me, Max Gusto,” Apple Seed interrupts. “How I was treated in the Red Garden is my punishment for being captured.”

Just what can you say to that?

“My blood mother was a body mender before she passed,” Apple Seed continues, signaling the end of his interest discussing the subject. “Fatally wounded during a sky thief raid.”

Your hooves land back on ground. Instead of the resounding clack of connecting with stone, though, it is only the muffled thumb of grass and dirt. You and Apple Seed have reached the top of the stairs.

No knowing what else to do, you simply rest a wing on Apple Seed’s withers. “I didn’t know,” you say.

”There is no need to share condolences,” he affirms, not shrugging off your wing, but giving you a look that sends the same message. You slowly retract your wing, but still steer closer to your friend’s side. “Summer Harvest lived a life helping others. She gave it by telling her mender to spend more resources on the stallion who was wounded beside her. My blood mother no doubt resides in the highest plains of the Eternal Graze. No need to grieve…”

Despite his words, Apple Seed’s gaze hardens. “That is what I told myself after she passed,” he mutters. “I became obsessed with becoming the body mender who took her place. I thought it would be the best way to honor her. The way I threw myself into my studies was that of a mad pony. Apricot Ammil supported me zealously. I will not say she exacerbated the problem because of any kind of malintent, but…” A raise of his cheeks and a sardonic curve of his eyebrows. Apple Seed’s muted version of a dark chuckle. “Well, your run-in with her might have informed you of how passionate she can be.”

Apple Seed’s chuckle fades to silence. “Neither of us properly mourned,” he says. “I recognize that now. We still have not.”

For some reason, the thought of leaving Marestricht to join Anonymous and Lucky Favor once again enters your mind.

You would certainly be doing Apple Seed a favor, leaving him time to mourn with his family and people. And maybe you’d be helping Apricot Ammil as well. Ancients know you can barely stand the sight of another sky thief. You can only imagine how much she’s holding herself back from attacking you.

Apple Seed inhales before letting out a long, forlorn sigh. He averts your gaze, but not quick enough that you don’t catch how… shameful he looks. “When the open position was instead taken by Mender Bountiful Riverside, something inside me snapped. I did not care that she was more qualified than I, nor that she offered to take me under her hoof as her student. I hit her.” Apple Seed stops walking. He turns back to the mending burrows below. You’ve never seen this look on his face before. “She defended herself. Earth stallions are much stronger than earth mares, despite our smaller size. Maybe that’s why she had panicked so much and fought back so hard. Afterwards, I had so little presence of mind in that moment that I ran from Marestricht.”

Apple Seed trails off as he examines the many burrows layering the lower mountainside. You finish his story for him. “And the Red Garden caught you.”

”Mender Bountiful Riverside was blamed,” Apple Seed murmurs. You can see how his muzzle becomes tight with emotion. The white of his eyes gain a shade of red as tears threaten their corners. “Nopony here has said it, but I can see it in the way they treat her. I do not know how Apricot Ammil was able to restrain herself from ending Mender Riverside’s life, but I do know that now, she feels as she has more than enough reason to.”

He takes a moment to wipe away at his eyes before he turns to you. “Now she knows that her older brother is no longer pure. And in Apricot’s eyes, that is Mender Riverside’s fault.”

Your throat goes dry. You have no words. Just the same, suffocating feeling as when you saw Lucky Favor’s reaction to you saying those five words: “Her name was Red Letter.”

These ponies would be better off with you dead, Max Gusto.

…

You’re beginning to think that Apple Seed might very well be able to read minds.

The moment he sees the look on your face, he takes a step forward and wraps his front hooves around you. He pulls you into a hug, but you can’t find it in yourself to return it. Why’s he hugging you? The mangy sky rat who ruins everything? You should be comforting him.

”Max Gusto,” Apple Seed whispers. His voice is laced with a tenderness that stabs at your heart. “Before Apricot Ammil accosted you and Lucky Favor, she was begging me to tell her what had happened. She was sobbing, and I know she believed she had failed her only family. Despite what you may think of her, Apricot Ammil is not a bad pony. She will not break Marestricht law and hurt somepony she was sworn to protect. She places her responsibilities as a maretinet above her vengeful feelings.”

Max Gusto.

If you stay with Apple Seed, you will fall for him.

You know this now.

”Despite this,” Apple Seed continues through your pounding heartbeat and burning face. “I am afraid that if Apricot sees Riverside at the Rejoicement, she may not be able to contain herself.”

Apple Seed pulls away from the hug. You turn so he doesn’t see the fiery blush on your cheeks, using a hoof to wipe and prod at your face in a way you hope he mistakes for pegasus grooming. You know that your lime coat and white mane contrast brilliantly with the red on your cheeks, so he might’ve already gotten a good look at it.

Just worry about un-bucking your buck-up.

“W-what can I do to help?” you ask. “Anything, Apple Seed, and I’ll do it.”

”Brother Apple Seed.”

Oh, Ancients-damnit.

You give a glare at the passing earth pony. Once she sees the look on your face, she gives a brief nod before scurrying off.

…Or she probably saw the blush on your face and turned away to keep from giggling.

”Nothing,” Apple Seed answers, his voice deathly serious. “We can only try and convince Mender Riverside to not attend the Rejoicement… as cruel as it is.”

It is cruel, and the look on Apple Seed’s voice reflects just how much he knows it.

“Okay, well, what if she does show up?” you ask. “What can we do?”

Apple Seed takes his sweet time responding. He turns back to the mending burrows. A soft smile creases his features, making him look much wiser than the young stallion had any right to look. “Mender Riverside not attending the Rejoicement is the safest option. But if what I sensed from Anonymous’ heartbeat before we left is any indication…”

Apple Seed turns to you. Instead of the oppressive shame, blurring his eyes like dark storm clouds, for the first time since you’ve met him you see a glimmer of hope.

“We may not have to do anything at all, Max.”

---

”Shkalor Wucky Favor!”

You yip from the young earth pony snapping you out of your stupor, which causes precisely three problems. One, you’ve just embarrassed yourself in front of the earth pony mare standing ahead, who gives you a tilt of her head. Thankfully, the evening’s energy is alight with joy, and she only smiles in mild amusement and looks away. Two, Max Gusto giggles unabashedly at your side, and even Tia snuffs out a snicker from atop your withers. You’ve been trying to revamp your uppercaste dignity over the past few days in Marestricht, and it seems like Max just got another humiliating memory to hang over your head.

Three, it makes you feel utterly defeated. Despite the night terrors, you felt like you were really making progress. This just put a dent in your streak of staying calm.

…No, you were making progress, Lucky Favor. Somepony just caught you when you were in a bit of a daze is all.

You turn to find an earth pony filly standing below you, a hoofmade necklace being held between her teeth. You use the term ‘below’ lightly in this case; the filly’s withers reach the bottom of your barrel easily, and she doesn’t even have to crane her neck to meet your eyes. These earth ponies sure are tall. “Hello, little filly,” you greet pleasantly.

“Little,” Max snickers from behind a hoof. “Mm-hmm.”

The earth pony filly approaches you and stands on the tips of her hooves, letting out an adorable strain as she tries to reach the necklace atop your head. You give a warm smile before bowing, letting the filly drape one end of the jewelry above your horn, to rest on the back of your neck. Tia babbles quietly, poking the necklace with a hoof.

The filly clops back down to the ground, beaming at you with a grin so wide the corners almost touch her ears. The torchlights illuminating the Marestricht night reflect off her red eyes brilliantly.

“This is beautiful,” you assure, giving the filly an elegant bow. “It is much appreciated… big filly.”

”For you, Scholar Lucky Favor!” she laughs. The filly bounds away to meet with the mare who had to be her mother, her hooves clacking on the stone stairs like skipping rocks. The mother gives you a kind smile before she leads her daughter upwards, aimed squarely at the building at the top of the stairs. The stone-and-clay, somewhat short, open-walled building which had been responsible for your sudden daze.

Orange torches shine brilliantly from within, no different from the many other structures littering the expanse of Marestricht. The main difference between this particular structure and the many others below is that this one resides at the top of the mountainside, overlooking the rest of the earth pony village. Apple Seed himself will be here, surrounded by the ponies closest to him.

The thing is, just a few seconds ago, you saw the tall form of Anonymous briefly peering over the railing before disappearing within. He came to the Rejoicement.

”Oooooh,” Max coos from your side as she hops up another stair, giving the filly on your withers a knowing smile. “Stopping mid-stride when a certain colt is in view? Squeaking like a schoolfilly when somepony snaps her out of it? What could this possibly mean, Tia?”

Tia doesn’t respond verbally, but you’re too humiliated to turn to see how she reacted. You continue your hike up the stairs with a pout on your face. “Purge the thought,” you say definitively. “I am merely appreciating earth pony architecture.”

Max only chuckles. The clamor from within the structure is becoming louder with each step you ascend, pulling you closer to the pleasant evening you know you needed after these last… well, this last month, to be honest.

The mere thought of stroking Max’s ego puts a scowl on your face. Despite this, you can’t say you’re not a tiny bit hopeful that you’d be able to talk with Anonymous honestly tonight. Max told you he’s complied well with his body mender and is now in perfect condition. Would he be in a good mood? What does Anonymous in a good mood look like? Would tonight finally be the night you see him smile genuinely? You can only imagine how handsome he’d look with a gentlecoltly smile on his features.

No, don’t lose focus, Lucky Favor. You will discuss the money situation with Anonymous. You’ve been reciting this in front of a mirror for three days straight. If anything… flirtatious happens, it will be a natural side effect of the flow of the conversation. You will not make a fool of yourself.

…Though, it wouldn’t be too much of a disaster to make a bit of innocent flirting your second priority, would it?

As you finally ascend the last step, the structure’s interior lays splayed before you. It reminds you of an uppercaste castle’s ballroom, but made of earthly materials and without walls. There is a ceiling above, held up by stone pillars around the edges of the structure and fashioned from an amalgamation of dried mud and soil. Besides that, though, there isn’t much else to the structure. What makes it feel so homey must be the occupants.

The gathering is unlike the balls you’ve been to in the uppercastes. Whereas in those, in-grouping being commonplace, the earth ponies here are spread across the stone floor. The only group that’s formed are a few ponies lingering around what looks like a stone tub, scooping the contents from within into gray chalices. It looks like Apple Seed hasn’t arrived yet.

…But it looks like a certain somepony else did, in fact, arrive.

And how splendid his arrival is.

You can feel your heart quicken as you spot Anonymous standing in the corner of the room, leaning against the low railing and holding something small in his hand. His unoccupied arm is at his side, and his gaze is steady as he looks down to something on his left. He isn’t acting defensively at all.

He’s putting his weight on both legs equally. You have to bite the inside of your mouth to keep from grinning like a buffoon.

Equally enthralling as his way of standing, though, is his attire. Anonymous no longer wears his armor. His shirt is the same style as the earth ponies’ casual wear; short sleeves, a soft peachy color, with brown, decorated cuffs and collar. A few necklaces also hang from the tall hyoo-men’s neck. Did he really trust somepony enough to kneel down for them to put those on him?

His previous attire was complimentary to his figure. The clothes underneath hugged his muscles and the leather and stone covered just enough of his figure to leave a modest amount to the imagination. His clothes now, though, hang loose around his body in tasteful modesty. It still doesn’t do much to hide his broad shoulders and the round muscles of his traps and chest. And the way his nearly hairless, muscular arms are just bare for everypony to see—

”You’re drooling.”

You snap your muzzle shut and bring a hoof to inspect it, but it comes up dry. You glare at Max before turning to Tia. “Tia, dear, see this?” you say. “I am most certainly not drooling. A lady never drools. Even if their oafish friend may say otherwise.”

”Whatever you say, tomato face,” Max shrugs, making you realize just how hot your face feels at the moment. You huff and let the cool mountain air chill you down. Max cranes her neck to get a better look at Anonymous, but like you, she can’t see over the heads of the earth ponies. “Hey, why’s he looking off to his left like that?”

Without waiting for permission, Max unfurls her wings and flaps her head above the crowd of earth ponies. A few of them skitter away from her ascension, others just sending passing glares. One or two, you swear, lower their bodies into a battle stance before realizing who it is and relaxing.

Max raises a foreleg above her eyes in an obnoxiously overdone caricature of a pirate. Whatever she sees, though, wipes the smirk off her face. She clops back to the ground and mutters, “Well, shit…”

You frown. “Such foul language in front of the foal,” you affirm. Max doesn’t react to it, though. Her eyes are wide, and her wings twitch with nervousness. “Max Gusto, dear? What’s wrong?”

”Eh?” Max blinks at your words before her eyes trail away from you. “Oh, uh, nothing. In fact, why don’t you go on and talk to Anonymous? I gotta find Apple Seed. Goodluckanddon’tembarrassyourself--” Max’s speech is slurred as she gallops past you and back into Marestricht. Before you can call out to her, she’s in the air and gliding away.

You’re worried about your friend, but you know you can’t hope to catch up to her now. You’ll just have to ask her about it when she comes back. She’s been obsessed with getting ready for the Rejoicement all day. There’s no way she’d leave so soon. Still, you can’t help but feel nervous without Max supporting you from the sidelines.

Your mind spins as you turn back to the gathering. You begin your trek into the sea of taller, stronger ponies, aimed squarely at Anonymous at the far corner. The earth ponies around you immediately take notice of your arrival, taking care not to bump into you or, Ancients forbid, step on you. Most give you passing smiles of gratitude. You also get a few “Greetings, Scholar Lucky Favor!”s and even a “Your foal is quite adorable, Scholar Lucky Favor!”, but you otherwise remain unmolested.

As you pass the stone tub, you’re surprised to see that the liquid within is not a dark purple. You had expected it to be wine of some kind. Fermented grapes, or the like. But instead of the recognizable scent of alcoholic beverages, the sweet aroma of a mixture of fruits comes from the auburn liquid, most particularly apples. None of the earth ponies are acting drunk either, but that might be because of the evening’s youth.

You hope the drink isn’t alcoholic. You’re rather thirsty, and Ancients know how sick you are of boiled water.

As you move past the last furry barriers between yourself and Anonymous, your thirst isn’t helped in the slightest. Your throat goes dry as you see the beautiful mare at his side. You aren’t the jealous type; at least, you don’t think you are -- you’re new to this romance stuff. But there’s something about how Anonymous is talking to her so… carefree that riles you up. You recognize the object in his hand to be a stone cup, thoroughly dwarfed in his monstrous paw.

No, Lucky Favor. Be happy for him. He’s in a good mood and talking to somepony. That’s progress, right?

…You can’t remember the last time he was in a good mood when he talked to you.

”Naw-nee!” Tia squeals, hopping off your withers.

“Tia, dear!” you call out, but she’s a quick little filly and is already halfway to the hyoo-men.

Both Anonymous and the mare stop their conversation and turn to the white furball. Your breath hitches as the mare beside Anonymous coos and kneels to greet her, a warm smile on her face. Tia skids to a halt in front of the two. She looks between the mare at your stallion’s side—no, you did not just think that—the mare at Anonymous’ side and Anonymous himself.

Anonymous’ gaze shifts from Tia to you, and now that you’re close to him you notice something different about… everything, being completely honest. But more specifically his mane and beard. Each are much shorter than the last time you’ve seen him, and are much less scraggly. There’s still a certain wildness to his stubble, some of his whiskers sticking out this way and that, but it’s far more contained than before, like that of an adventurer with a gentlecolt’s heart. Anonymous’ mane has also been cut. It no longer sticks out in all directions or gets in his face. It does a splendid job framing his masculine features, and you’re not sure why, but his emerald eyes also seem to sparkle a little more in the orange light.

”Hey, Tia,” Anonymous says with a warmth in his voice you’ve never heard before. His towering height smoothly descends as he leans on his right knee to greet Tia.

His right knee!

The sight of Anonymous putting his weight on his leg almost brings you to tears. There’s something different about seeing your housecarla healthy up close. When he looks up to you from scritching Tia’s ear and your eyes meet, you feel as if all the tension of the last few days fall from your body.

He’s here. He’s okay. He’s in the best mood you’ve ever seen him in.

”It’s not that bad, is it?” Anonymous asks. He runs the fingers of his free hand through the dark stubble on his face. You realize you may very well have just shed a tear or three.

“No!” you affirm, quickly raising a foreleg to wipe away at your cheeks. You chuckle nervously. “No, my lord, I was merely shocked! I did not know you, um…”

And then, you say something your younger self swore she’d never, ever say after the fifth romance novel in a row had the exact same quote in it.

“You changed your hair!”

Darnit, Lucky!

”Yep, unfortunately,” Anonymous sighs. He stands back up to his full height, to the disappointment of a much-disgruntled Tia. He gestures to his vacant side. “Apple Seed isn’t here yet, so we’re just waiting. Come here and be antisocial with us.”

We’re just waiting.

Not I’m.

You hum to drown the “hmph!” that threatens your mouth. You make your way to Anonymous’ side, leaving Tia to follow you. You turn and sit on your haunches, facing the Rejoicement.

You feel so safe at his side. Despite the context, you can’t fight your lips as they slowly curl into a content smile. Anonymous is right here, at your side. Tia is right there, playing with the laces on Anonymous’ footwear, nopony giving her a second glance. The pleasant sound of jovial ponies, clopping on stone, and the sloshing of the liquid in the tub fill your ears. The cool mountain breeze curls around your coat and mane. There isn’t a thing about this scene you would change.

…Well, there is one thing. One particular mauve mare, standing on the other side of Anonymous, and oh dear Ancients above SHE’S TRYING TO START HER CONVERSATION WITH HIM UP AGAIN! SHE DIDN’T EVEN INTRODUCE HERSELF!

You crane your head to get a good look at Anonymous face, unsure of precisely what to say, until you see a thin line of peach skin in his stubble.

“Anonymous, dear!” you gasp. “Did you cut yourself while shaving?”

Anonymous gives a long, drawn-out sigh, scratching the thin scar. How much did it hurt when it happened, you wonder? Though, Anonymous’ pain tolerance is a thing to behold by now…

”I offered to help Brother Anonymous with his preparations for the Rejoicement,” the mare says as she leans from behind Anonymous’ leg to meet your eyes. “But he declined.”

“Even after he cut himself?” you ask suspiciously.

”Especially after Brother Anonymous cut himself.”

Well, at least she isn’t immune to Anonymous’ stubbornness.

”Took me months to grow that beard,” Anonymous mumbles under his breath. “Good thing pony razors are built for furry faces. I got to keep the stubble. A pain to use, though.”

Anonymous’ face turns to the mare by his side, who meets his gaze. You’re about to say something before she does – “I never knew you preferred facial hair to being clean shaven, Anonymous, please tell me more!” – but whatever look the two of them share seems to spur her to action.

”Oh!” she exclaims. “I apologize. I am not experienced with social interaction. Greetings, Scholar Lucky Favor!”

She trots from Anonymous’ side to meet you head-on. Tia tilts her head as her eyes dart from the mare to Anonymous, bemused.

”I am Mender Bountiful Riverside,” Riverside says as she extends a hoof. “I am the body mender who was assigned to Brother Anonymous by Sachemare Sagebrush’s order. The Ancient Lady of Comradery smiles upon our meeting.”

You meet her hoof with your own, barely eking out a cheerful smile. She’s the one who helped Anonymous. You can at least try to be civil.

Ancients above, why is this even difficult for you? She’s done nothing wrong! Get a grip, Lucky Favor.

“Ah,” you say as you shake hooves. “Yes. Pleasure to meet you as well. And thank you for helping my housecarla.”

Your hoof’s momentum suddenly comes to a dead stop. Riverside blinks slowly. “Brother Anonymous is your housecarla?” she asks, her voice low.

What?

Without knowing what to say, you look to Anonymous with a pleading scrunch.

”I didn’t know how much you were comfortable with out in the open,” he shrugs. He grabs Riverside’s attention with a tap of his foot on her side and says, “But yeah, I’m her housecarla.”

You’re sure news spread quickly around Marestricht that Anonymous is your housecarla, so why is she acting surprised? Wouldn’t somepony have told her already, like a friend or co-worker?

Riverside pouts, retracting her hoof from your own. Her voice is eerily low as she says, “The Ancient Lady of Chivalry frowns upon your decision to put him in danger, Scholar Lucky Favor.”

”She gets enough of that from herself,” Anonymous says with a slightly harder nudge to Riverside’s side. She winces, backing off from you. You give Anonymous a grateful smile, only to find that he’s still looking at Riverside. “Hey, why don’t you go do that thing we talked about?”

The fire in Riverside’s eyes quell. Her ears fall flat to her skull as she looks off into the crowd. And then, she says, “I feel safer with you, Brother Anonymous.”

EXCUSE YOU?!

Tia’s jaw drops.

Oblivious to the two white ponies’ shock, Anonymous’ face turns into a contemplative frown. “Riverside…” he says in a warning tone. Or was it comforting? It’s so hard to tell with him. Or maybe it isn’t.

It’s kind of hard to think of anything else besides what the royal buck is happening between these two.

”Aren’t you Apple Seed’s friend?” Riverside whispers dejectedly.

”I owe him a lot, true,” Anonymous says, for some reason giving you a glance. “But you weren’t in the wrong, Riverside. And he’s back now, so it’s fine. Now go on.”

Riverside seems to take solace in Anonymous’ words. She gives a determined nod before taking one step toward the crowd and away from you and Anonymous… before promptly freezing.

Come on!

Anonymous once again meets your eyes. He gives a sigh, as if you would understand the first thing he was alluding to. Then, he sets his stone cup on the railing behind him, takes a step toward Riverside, and reaches down to pat her on the head.

WHAT?!

Riverside’s ears twitch at his touch. Besides that, the expression on her face is a mystery as she’s turned away from you. By the All-Father’s grave, she better not be blushing.

Without turning to confirm your suspicions or saying another word, Riverside trots forward and is engulfed by the crowd of ponies. Anonymous makes his way back to your side, careful to step over a nearly comatose Tia, before he settles back into his spot. He grabs his cup from the railing and takes a sip.

”Riverside’s more autistic than me, if you can believe it,” Anonymous says with a shrug. “Had to give her a kick in the butt.”

Oh no, mister. You’re not just… doing that and not explaining some things! How familiar is he with this Bountiful Riverside? Have the two of them met before?

No, he wouldn’t have been able to meet with an earth pony alone. Still, just why… Why is he closer to her than he is you?

That thought stabs through your heart like a rusted sword.

No, he’s not closer to her! There has to be a reason!

“Anonymous, dear,” you ask hesitantly. “Did you… know Riverside before?”

Anonymous tilts his head. “What do you mean?” he asks.

“Before you met me, I mean,” you elaborate. “I, um… suppose we don’t actually know each other very well. We haven’t had much time to talk about much else besides… well.” Anonymous’ eyes are unreadable as he looks away. Hastily, you finish, “Oh, I’m just curious if you’ve met Riverside before we arrived in Marestricht a few days ago! It’s just that the two of you seem rather… tactile for acquaintances. Even more unusual for you to be tactile with anypony.”

That doesn’t get a good reaction from Anonymous. You’re helpless to stop him as he retracts just a little bit more into himself. “No,” he answers neutrally. “I just met her a few days ago.”

No, don’t lose your progress, Lucky! Ease off!

Swallowing your curiosity, you decide against bringing Riverside up again. Even if you know the two of them won’t stop nagging at the back of your mind for the rest of the night, you don’t want Anonymous to feel uncomfortable. Not tonight.

Tonight is the Rejoicement. Anonymous is healed. Tia is here. For the first time in a long while, you have a chance to let your guard down. Don’t ruin this, Lucky Favor.

“It is odd, seeing you out of your usual armor,” you decide on saying. You steal a glance at the horseshoe-shaped muscle on the back of his arm as he leans on the railing.

”They’re working on a new set,” Anonymous sighs. “The old armor was destroyed during the weird, earth-voodoo bullshit that fixed my leg. Needed some new gear, anyways.”

“No, no. I didn’t mean it as your concerned employer, I am merely saying that it is nice, seeing you wear casual clothes.”

The fact that Anonymous looks genuinely surprised at your compliment makes you want to lurch forward and give him a hug, but you refrain. “Y-you too,” he murmurs before taking sip of his drink which finishes it off.

You can’t help but puff your tuft out in pride. Sure, the casual earth pony garments weren’t uppercaste by any means, but you’d be lying if you said the light colors didn’t accentuate your eyes and mane. They also contrast nicely with the supplies bag hanging off your hip. Why, you’d be forgiven for mistaking yourself for an experienced adventurer!

If only you could’ve convinced Max to put on something for the night as well, instead of dawdling about in the nude.

When Anonymous returns the stone cup to his side, you take a sniff of it. Just like last time, you can only smell the aroma of a sweet fruit orchard, with an emphasis on apples. “Is this alcoholic, Anonymous?” you ask.

”Couldn’t tell you,” Anonymous shrugs. “Pony alcohol doesn’t really affect me. It tastes good, though.”

You hold back a titter. You didn’t take Anonymous to be the proud type, denying his colty alcohol tolerance to your face. The drinks probably aren’t alcoholic, if he can drink them with a straight face.

…This is nice.

A new group of ponies enters the Rejoicement. Among them is Sachemare Sagebrush herself. As if her eyes are gravitated to your and Anonymous’ location, she spots you and gives a smile and a nod. You return the gesture before Sagebrush’s gaze land on Tia.

Tia’s wings flutter at the Sachemare’s attention. Sagebrush lowers herself to the ground, her eyes never leaving the filly, before she reaches out with a hoof in a booping motion. Tia squeaks out, “No boop!” as she flaps her wings. Sagebrush giggles before entering the sea of ponies, out of sight.

You’re surprised to see Apple Seed finally entering the structure, Max Gusto by his side as she says something into his ear. Apricot Ammil is also by him, but you’re not going to let that mare ruin your night. You can easily avoid her. You’re fine just where you are.

Anonymous is being himself with you. You’re okay not admitting your budding feelings for him tonight. You just want to hear him talk. Not mumble, or shout, or scream… just talk.

Yeah, this is nice.

…

Your budding feelings for him? So you admit it, Lucky Favor?

Oh, fine.

Yes, you might have a teensy crush on Anonymous. But what do you have to be ashamed about? It’s completely natural for a warm-blooded mare to have not-so-platonic feelings about the handsome male who’s been by her side for the last few days.

Last few days…

Your blood runs cold as you’re reminded of your lack of doits. You need to tell him, Lucky Favor. You’re only making it more painful, procrastinating like this.

You suck in a large serving of oxygen before you close your eyes and announce, “Anonymous, there is an urgent matter I need to discuss with you.”

”Stay here.”

“Your payment—huh?” You stop talking once Anonymous’ words register. You open your eyes to see Anonymous’ stone cup clatter to the ground. He’s walking forwards, careful to not step on Tia.

Somepony is shouting from within the crowd.

“Anonymous—?” you start, but he interrupts you.

”I mean it.” There’s that coldness that made his voice unrecognizable after Tia first called him Dadda. You freeze where you are, only watching as he pushes mares to the side on his approach to the small gathering of ponies that has formed in the middle of the floor.

Apple Seed is between Riverside and Apricot Ammil. The charcoal mare is staring daggers at the body mender, pushing against her older brother’s strength futilely.

”For what Ancients-forsaken reason is she here?” Apricot growls venomously, her voice silencing the rest of the guests in an instant. The other earth ponies stay well away from the trio, as if it was a magical bomb prepped to explode.

Riverside cowers from Apricot, even if Apple Seed is whispering something harshly to his sister.

Anonymous is almost there.

”I apologize, Maretinet Apricot Ammil,” Riverside almost whispers. “I did not wish to intrude. I only—"

”YOU ARE INTRUDING, MENDER RIVERSIDE!” Apricot explodes. Her voice could cut through solid steel. “Attending the Rejoicement was already selfish of you. But thinking you are allowed on the same floor as Apple Seed?”

You see Sachemare Sagebrush push to the front of the onlookers. When she sees what’s happening, though, she makes no move to interfere. She only watches discernibly.

”Apricot Ammil!” Apple Seed exclaims—if you could even use the word ‘exclaim’ after what Apricot just did. “Control yourself. Every Marestrichtian is allowed to attend the Rejoicement.”

”No, Maretinet Apricot Ammil is correct,” Riverside whimpers. She bows her head before starting for the exit. “I should not be here. I will be going-- eep!”

Riverside’s path is interrupted by Anonymous’ leg. He stands tall between Riverside and the open air of Marestricht, like a protective guardian. Without saying a word, he gives her a small nod before adding another body between Apricot and Riverside. He crosses his arms, his forearm muscles bulging and striating against his chest, and scowls at the dark mare.

”All I'm saying is you never know when somepony else might swoop in and nab him.”

Apricot returns Anonymous’ scowl. “Your size does not intimidate me, Brother Anonymous,” she says. “Do not get in my way.”

“Stay, Tia,” you whisper. Tia only gives a shaky nod. You begin to slowly make your way to Anonymous. Magical energy begins to be redirected to your horn.

”You would hurt a stallion, Apricot Ammil?” Apple Seed asks.

Apricot doesn’t relent in the least, though. She snaps to her brother, “Why not?! Mender Riverside has no quarrel with it!”

Your hooves come to a halt. Of course Riverside would be at fault here. Ancients above, you just…

…What? Hate her? For being a friend to Anonymous? Because Apricot Ammil of all ponies insulted her?

”Maretinet Apricot Ammil is right,” Riverside says again, so quietly you can barely hear her. “I would like to leave, please. I do not deserve to socialize. Please let me leave, Brother Anonymous. This was not a good plan…”

You scowl at yourself. She’s not a bad pony. You’re just being jealous and looking for every opportunity to blame her. You take your next step aimed at Anonymous’ side.

”Nope,” Anonymous says simply, taking another step between Riverside and the exit. When she tries to dodge him, he once again reaches down and places a hand on her mane. Riverside’s ear twitches at his touch, and she stops moving.

Anonymous somehow finds your eyes through the crowd. He very slowly raises one authoritative finger. The look on his face says it all. “I said stay.”

Your throat feels like sandpaper. It hurts to gulp nervously at his glare. Still, you comply, slowing your hoofsteps to a stop. The magic building in your horn relents to nothing.

”Apricot Ammil, Mender Riverside defended herself,” Apple Seed pleads. “I was young and stupid and attacked her, and she defended herself. I ran. It is my fault the Red Garden captured me.” He turns fully towards his sister. Even if she’s younger than him, her marely size ensures that the two are still about the same height. Apple Seed uses a hoof to redirect her face from Riverside to his own. “I am back now, blood sister. It is over.”

”It is not over until she pays,” Apricot snarls. Her glare snaps back to Riverside. “Until all of Marestricht knows just what she is responsible for. Until everypony knows it’s her fault you—"

”If you finish that sentence, Apricot Ammil, you will never see me again.”

Apricot’s muzzle snaps shut. It takes a moment for what Apple Seed just said to fully register. She seems to be playing it over and over again in her mind as she slowly turns to her older brother. There’s a deep, indescribable panic in her eyes.

”I will leave Marestricht when the others do tomorrow,” Apple Seed continues. “When Scholar Lucky Favor and her group departs from Marestricht, I will go with them, and you will never see me again. Unless you purge what you are thinking of saying to Tartarus right now.”

Despite the hurricane of emotions that play out on Apricot’s frozen face, you can’t help but focus on Anonymous’ hand as he idly begins to stroke Riverside’s mane, careful not to disturb the white and purple bun atop her head.

Max Gusto takes a step forward at Apple Seed’s news, a look of… terror on her face?

Apricot finally gets a hold of herself. She scowls deeply, beginning to turn her glare back to Riverside until she stops midway. She merely bows her head, glaring at nothing in particular. “If I had known what was happening in that place,” Apricot whispers hoarsely. “I would not have let Sachemare Sagebrush stop me. I would not have rested until I found the Red Garden by myself and slaughtered every piece of unicorn filth who had hurt you. I would have made sure Mender Bountiful Riverside was punished tenfold.” Her apricot eyes are tinged red with tears, but she uses every ounce of willpower to not let any fall. Apricot Ammil looks up to her brother with a pleading glare. “Why do you deny yourself justice, blood brother? You will never be whole because of this mare.”

Apple Seed doesn’t retract from Apricot’s glare. He rests his forelegs on her shoulders. “I am whole, blood sister,” he says simply.

Apricot shakes with barely held-down emotion. Still, she doesn’t say a word as Apple Seed pulls her into a tender embrace, resting his chin on the top of her brown mane.

”Mender Bountiful Riverside,” Apple Seed says. Riverside freezes at his voice. “I do not blame you. Neither should anypony else here.”

Riverside doesn’t react.

Slowly, the atmosphere lightens. Apple Seed begins to pull away from Apricot Ammil, but the mare suddenly reaches forward and pulls him back into a tighter hug, burying her face in his chest. Sachemare Sagebrush remains stoic as she looks on, even as the rest of the onlookers begin to resume their festivities. Some come to join the embrace; you recognize Herdwatchers Wheat Graze and Thistlehoof among the ones who hug Apple Seed.

Riverside says something to Anonymous too quiet to make out over all the newfound noise. Anonymous nods at her request and relinquishes his hand from her mane. Sachemare Sagebrush approaches Riverside before she can leave, though, and says in that commanding voice of hers, “If you still wish to leave, I will escort you home, Mender Bountiful Riverside.”

Riverside squeaks at Sagebrush’s proximity. She stutters, “S-Sachemare Sagebrush, I would never want to impose—!”

”Nonsense, Mender Bountiful Riverside. I will escort you home, and we will talk. At length.”

Anonymous steps aside as the two mares leave. As the hyoo-men passes the dissipating crowd of hugging ponies on his way back to you, he scratches his beard, turning head his away from the sight, as if that’d make him any less noticeable.

”Thank you, Brother Anonymous!” Apple Seed calls out. Anonymous frowns at the recognition, holding up his hands passively.

”I literally just stood around,” he says, but Apple Seed isn’t done embarrassing him yet.

”I knew you had a good heart!”

”Holy Hell, at least ask my ass to dinner before you start kissing it.”

You chortle as you return to your spot by the corner, Tia still waiting for you. She seems to have gotten herself a drink from the juice tub over there.

Wait.

Anonymous just told a joke?

The thought plasters your face with a stupid grin, and you put an extra pip to your step as you approach Tia.

Tia doesn’t share you enthusiasm, though. “Momma?!” she asks urgently. Before you can chide her, she points a hoof in Anonymous’ direction. “Momma, Dadda?!”

You frown. You’re happy Anonymous isn’t here yet to see the scarlet on your cheeks. “No, Tia,” you say. “Where did you even get that idea in the first place?”

Tia doesn’t pout, which is what you were expecting. Instead, a mischievous smirk you’d expect on the face of a certain green pegasus lands on her muzzle. “Momma coward,” she says with a twinkle in her eyes.

She raises the cup to her lips, but you’re quicker. In a swift movement, you take the stone cup from her and put it to your own lips. You drink it all in one gulp. When you’re done, the pout on Tia’s face makes the burning in your throat all the more worth it.

…Huh. That’s weird. You’ve never had apple juice that burnt before.

”Jesus Christ, that was awkward,” Anonymous voice reverberates deep through your loins. You squeak, turning to find that the hyoo-men has arrived at your side.

You’re not sure what to say, truth be told. With him so close to you right now, all you can think about is how tall he is… How tall he was when he was protecting Riverside.

He should’ve been protecting you…

“You look much more imposing with both legs working,” you say, shaking the jealous thoughts from your mind.

Anonymous snorts. “Feel much more imposing as well. Though it’s a little harder with these giant-ass earth ponies.” He tilts his head, sticking a hand out over your horn. You don’t shy away from his touch, even if you know all it’d take for him to put you in a whole lot of pain is to suddenly smack down. “Or are the earth ponies just regularly sized, and it’s the unicorns who are short?”

You huff, stomping a hoof onto the hard stone. Tia giggles, but you won’t satisfy her with a glare. “Earth ponies make up a third of the pony population,” you inform. “And pegasi and unicorns are roughly the same height. Earth ponies are the odd ones out. And I am adequately sized, thank you very much—Oh. Were you teasing me just then, dear?”

”I’m gonna do you a favor and not answer that.”

Anonymous sure is a lot more… sassy when he’s being himself. Not in the normal, stallion whimsy you’ve heard so much about. But more like a lowercastemare, giving as good as she can take.

Without a comeback ready, you simply turn back to the Rejoicement. The crowd around Apple Seed has dispersed enough to let the stallion and his sister intermingle with the rest of the guests. The room almost seems to sway gently as the Rejoicement resumes in full swing. Max Gusto’s stupid, smug face is giving you the stupidest, smuggest smirk from across the room as she wriggles her eyebrows at you.

FINE!

“Anonymous, dear?” you ask, gaining the hyoo-men’s attention. “…I, um, am familiar with the most unfortunate reality that you and I are rather unacquainted. And… it is with an uneasy reluctance that I admit our time together has not been particularly pleasant. Not that the unfortunate events passed are of any fault of your own! Needless to say, besides that time you…”

Burnt my drawing.

The prickles of anger in your chest almost frighten you with their severity. Is it getting hotter in here? “N-nevermind. At any rate, the relevant essence of my verbal meandering is that notwithstanding our miniscule and admittedly unpleasant time together, I…”

You clear your throat. Ancients above, your head is fuzzy right now.

“Let me start over,” you recede. “Anonymous, dear… my lord… I understand this may be a rather unusual request, but…” You take a deep breath, clenching your eyes shut. The world stops spinning enough for you to finally say, “Would you like to dance? I know this isn’t that kind of party, but it reminds me of the uppercastes, and I’d ever so enjoy it! As a celebration of… well, not being dead.”

Instead of answering, Anonymous snorts sardonically. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, my lady.”

He thinks you’re bashing his jobs as a housecarla?! That not being dead is cause for celebration?!

“No, I didn’t mean it like that!” you shout, and Ancients above, it hurts to shout. You won’t be doing that again. “You’ve been doing your job splendidly, keeping me from being dead.”

”Lucky, I’m teasing you,” Anonymous says with a tantalizing upward twitch of his lips. He turns back to the Rejoicement, letting out a drawn out sigh before he responds sheepishly, “I, uh, can’t really dance.”

“What?!” you squeak. “Don’t be ridiculous! You must know how to dance! You are… good with your body!”

”That’s what she said.”

The nerve on this colt!

You stomp your hoof in your second display of uppercaste ladyhood of the night. “You know what I mean! You are skilled with your appendages! You’re a martial artist! You have a good mind-body connection! You must also be good at dancing! How different can the two be?”

”Trust me, Lucky, they’re different.”

You harumph, turning away. Fine, if the colt wants to be difficult. It was a stupid idea anyways. The two of you would probably look ridiculous, dancing at a party without music. You’d look like a pair of two drunk idiots, waltzing like—

All-Mother’s ethereal ponut, that drink was alcoholic, wasn’t it?

Your blood runs cold at the realization.

Not so much at the fact that you had just drunk alcohol. Not so much at the fact that Tia almost drank it, or even the fact that Anonymous has the alcohol tolerance of an ox.

It’s because you’ve just realized you got drunk after just one cup.

The sound of necklaces jingling together and clothes rustling catches your ears. You turn back to Anonymous to see him awkwardly bouncing on his feet, giving you a deadpan expression that does not at all fit with his actions. “What are you doing?” you ask.

”I’m dancing,” he responds seriously. “Told you I can’t do it.”

“This is dancing?”

”To my people, this the Bounce of the Wallflower.”

You laugh.

You laugh the hardest you’ve ever laughed since you can remember. Your unladylike guffaws fill the floor, and you’re pretty sure ponies are staring at you right about now – you know for a fact Max is staring at you – but you don’t care. You double over, leaning against Anonymous’ leg for support. He doesn’t pull away.

His leg, which was so damaged days ago, holds you firm.

Your laughter teeters out to a few errant giggles before you smile contently. “Anonymous?” you ask. “You usually don’t like being touched.”

Anonymous’ leg stops bouncing.

“Why did you touch Riverside so much?” you ask. “Petting her mane like that…”

You want to be pet like that.

Anonymous is silent for a moment before he responds, “Touching and being grabbed are two different things.”

“Like dancing and fighting?” You’re proud of yourself for making the connection. You’re a smart little pony.

”Mm-hmm,” Anonymous agrees quietly.

“Hey, Anonymous?” you titter. “It’s becoming quite difficult to stand. Can you pick me up to keep me steady?”

It isn’t that hard to stand just yet, but you can never be too careful… Oh, who are you kidding, you want to be picked up again. Like that time in Plumsteed. That was nice. Well, before everything went to Tartarus. Hey, why hasn’t Anonymous responded yet?

Just as you’re about to get after the hyoo-men, you feel two warm appendages grip you from your sides. Tia’s eyes light up as you’re picked up in Anonymous’ arms. Once he settles you against his chest, you tower over all the earth ponies of the floor. Max Gusto’s jaw drops from the other side of the room. You’re too busy reveling in Anonymous’ warmth to stick your tongue out at her, but you definitely would have.

Is it just you, or is Anonymous’ chest shaking somewhat…?

Ah, it’s probably just you.

“The room’s spinning, dear,” you say. The room isn’t actually spinning, but it could start spinning any second now! “Can you hold me closer?”

”Faust,” Anonymous whispers. There’s an edge to his voice that gives you pause, but that’s when a stray thought comes into your mind.

A plan of action.

The ends justify the means, Lucky Favor!

“Oh, don’t be a prude,” you say as you tap your hoof on his chest. “I feel like I might fall at any second.”

Anonymous shifts the back of your head to the crux of his arm as he uses that hand to bat away your hoof. “Faust, stop,” he says sternly. “I’m not that stupid.”

No! Don’t let this moment slip!

It’s perfect!

Riverside might have a head start on you now, but this’ll show her!

“Now how about you kiss me?” you blurt out before you can stop it.

Anonymous’ eyes cringe and glare, as if looking at something revolting. The room actually does spin as he sets you back down onto the ground, not bothering to flip you back to your hooves. Before he turns and starts walking through the crowd toward the exit, you see how his lips and cheeks twitch without direction.

“Anonymous?” you ask as you scramble to your hooves. “Anon!”

”Dadda?” Tia calls out.

Quick as a whip, Anonymous turns and points a hooked finger at the filly. “I swear to fucking Christ,” Anonymous snarls, but he suddenly stops.

Anonymous’ dagger-like glare dulls when he realizes it’s Tia he’s talking to. He’s frozen as the alicorn filly slowly reacts to what he had just said. Her wings slump to her side and she turns away. She can’t even say a simple “Sorry” without convulsing with the first sob of many.

Anonymous opens his mouth to say something. Nothing comes, and it slowly closes without making a noise. His eyes scream at him to say something to Tia. You hope for nothing more than for him to approach Tia and give her the warmest hug of her life. He might’ve done it, too, if his gaze didn’t suddenly latch onto you.

He gives you the same look he gave Red Letter.

Without another word, he suddenly turns and pushes through the earth ponies to the exit.

Ancients-damnit, Lucky, get him!

You struggle to crawl your way over to Tia. Once you do get to her, you wrap her into your hooves and search the room for Max. She’s the only one here you can trust to watch over Tia. By the Ancients, Anonymous is almost at the exit! You’ll lose him!

”Lucky!” an urgent voice says from behind. You yip and twirl around to come face-to-face with just the pegasus you’ve been looking for, but the look on her face is anything but the cocky smirk of your friend. “I saw the whole thing,” Max says, holding her hooves out. “I’ll watch over Tia. Don’t let him get away.”

You can barely stop the emotion from showing in your voice as you blurt out, “Thank you! Thank you so much!” You hastily hoof over your precious cargo. “And don’t let her drink the juice!”

Tia doesn’t fight it as Max holds her to her chest. She only sniffles, mumbling two recognizable words to herself.

“You’re not a bad mare, Tia,” you assure before turning tail and bolting.

It’s becoming harder to keep your balance, but it helps to keep your eyes glued to the exit of the structure. You bump into a few earth ponies on the way, but they either barely notice or ask you if you need assistance. You give both types the same amount of aloofness.

After what feels like the most nauseating walk of your life, you’re in the cool Marestricht air, at the top of the stairs. Below you is Anonymous, easily twenty paces ahead of you and not showing any signs of slowing.

“Anonymous!” you shout. He visibly flinches from your voice. When he turns to see you hastily making your way down to him, he grimaces before resuming his descent. “You better not leave me here, Mister!”

”Fuck off!” is the response you get.

You huff. Your hoof slips on a step and you almost tumble, but you’re able to stop yourself. “Anonymous, it really is getting harder to stand!”

Anonymous curses, but your words have a slowing effect on him. His green eyes glare at you through the darkness as he crosses his arms.

“Why is it—” you begin before stopping yet another nasty fall before it ruins your night further. “—Why is it that every time I think you and I are finally bonding, it ends up like this?!”

Anonymous doesn’t respond. He only turns away from you, leaning over the railing overlooking the whole of Marestricht.

As you clop down the last few steps to be at Anonymous’ side, your filter has completely disappeared. “No, really!” you hound relentlessly. Anonymous doesn’t react, only bowing his head over the railing. “I have spent so much energy trying to befriend you! I got you out of Plumsteed! I have been nothing but kind to you! I’m paying you a small fortune, and what do you do in return?! You burn my drawing! You don’t sleep in the bed I spend an hour making with bucking LEAVES! Do you know how hard leaves are to magically infuse?! They’re so—” Not knowing exactly the gesture you’re supposed to be making, you just throw your hooves in the air and shake them violently. “BRITTLE! And you act so distant! You act more distant to me than you do with that Bountiful Riverside! And how long have you known her?!” You’re panting by now, but you’re not hyperventilating. “And you know what, Anonymous? I can handle all of your nasty bitterness! I know you don’t trust me, or any mare, and I know I may very well never overcome that! But what I cannot handle is how you—” You rear up on your hindlegs and give Anonymous’ side a jab with each syllable: “are! Treating! TIA!" With a blunder of disorganized clops, you're back on all fours. "That filly adores you, and you're treating her like some... conniving little thing! You and I both know she doesn't fully know what the word 'dad' means!"

Anonymous doesn’t respond to your hoof digging into his side. His posture is slumped over the railing, his head bowed and his hands clasped together so tightly they’re devoid of his peach color. Did he not hear you? Are you seriously going to have to repeat that all again?! Ancients-damnit, why did you hire such a… COLT to be your housecarla?! And how are you developing feelings for this brute?!

”She was my friend before she did it,” Anonymous murmurs shakily.

What is he even talking about?! You’re on the verge of exploding at the hyoo-men once more, but it’s then that he iterates, “Red Letter.”

Your breathing slows. Anonymous still hasn’t looked at you, but he isn’t completely turned away from you. You can still see how the Marestricht lights reflect off his pained eyes like a broken mirror. His body rocks back and forth like a slow, dead seesaw.

”You’re right that we don’t know much about each other,” Anonymous says in a low whisper. “You don’t know how I got here.”

With a grunt and a hop, your forelegs are also draped across the railing just beside Anonymous’ arms. “That can change right here, Anonymous,” you push. “Nopony is stopping you from talking to me.”

Anonymous’ eyes drift downward before he shakes his head slowly. “If I told you, it’d be when you’re sober. All you need to know is that it was so bad Red Letter took me off the streets.”

Anonymous’ face flexes and twitches as if he were in pain. His voice is eerily soft, not at all reflecting the anger you see in his emerald orbs. “Red Letter acted like my friend before she did it, Lucky Favor. It almost happened again, at the Red Garden. And you just asked me to kiss you while drunk.”

For a brief moment, the spinning of the world stops entirely. The buzzing in your head and the sway in your posture no longer cloud your senses. It’s just you and the unbearable feeling of guilt deep in your stomach.

You were right about alcohol turning mares into brutes. You’ll never touch it again. But you know you can’t fully blame your actions on what you drank. Bountiful Riverside was the catalyst, and the alcohol just sped things up, but you can’t deny what you did.

“I’m not Red Letter,” is all you can say. Your voice is barely above a whisper.

”Sometimes it feels like everyone’s Red Letter,” Anonymous breathes, stabbing your heart. His voice breaks with emotion as he talks. He reacts to it instantly, giving an aberrant sniff before wiping his nose with a flick of his hand. “That came out wrong. Forget I said that.”

Anonymous pushes off the railing and once again turns away from you. A harrowing, nearly paralyzing thought spreads through your mind and infects every follicle on your body. You don’t even know if it’s true, but it’s enough to spur you into action.

If you let Anonymous leave now, he may never let anypony get this close again.

“Anonymous, stop!” you plead. Anonymous doesn’t bat away your hoof when you reach for him.

”Look, we can just pretend that never happened,” Anonymous insists. You can hear a faint glimmer of panic in his voice as he tries to pull away. You’re not doing much better.

“Please, just for a few minutes!” you cry out. “L-let me draw you!”

You have no idea if you can draw in this state. It was a slip of the tongue more than anything. But your notebook is at your hip, so you have no reason to back out now. Your horn glows, enveloping your bag in a cyan light. Yes, this is quite the magnificent backdrop. The moonlight and the torches reflect off Anonymous’ muscular figure perfectly, and his casual wear adds a rustic, yet dignified flare to earth pony culture. You can use this to finish that night scene whose subject you hadn’t yet decided on! Now, if only the world can stop spinning for two seconds.

”Faust, you can barely stand,” Anonymous says sternly. “Please just let me—”

“No!” you yell out, grabbing at your notebook in the air. “No, please just cross your arms, there! It can be just like after we left Plumsteed! We can talk while I draw!”

”I just want to be alone.”

“Please don’t leave me! I know I can’t pay you anymore! I know every time we interact it ends up like this, but I can’t--!”

You pause.

Can’t what? Can’t survive without him? Can’t bear losing him? Can’t help but feel safer in his arms than anywhere else on Equus?

No, none of these are right. You can’t think anymore.

And then, in one moment, your entire psychology shifts as you realize what you just let slip.

Anonymous remains silent. Your eyes stay glued to the notebook’s cover. You slowly levitate the book close to your forehead to hide your face from the hyoo-men.

You hold back tears as you blearily sit on your haunches. You didn’t tell Anonymous cordially. You didn’t attempt to strike a new deal with Anonymous. You just… let the subject of the doit shortage slip out in a drunken rambling.

He has no reason to trust you anymore. No reason to stay. You’re just another needy mare who can’t keep a level head and only needed one measly drink to come onto him and prove his paranoia right.

Don’t cry, Lucky Favor.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

All-Mother above, please give you strength to not cry. Please at least be dignified as Anonymous leaves you.

You scowl stubbornly. Your horn glows and your bag is opened, and you deposit your notebook back into the intraflated space, but nothing works. Despite all your efforts and distractions, tears fall.

Are you just cursed, Lucky Favor? Is this the Ancients’ way of punishing you for some horrible misdeed you must’ve done but can’t remember? Can you not even have one pleasant night?

Anonymous’ legs move closer to you. You can’t look up to meet his eyes. You only glower, turning your head away from him. Once he’s by your side, you hear him grunt as he sits beside you. You begin to mumble something uncouth or self-pitying, you’re not sure, before you stop.

You feel something warm settle on top of your head.

Your heart skips a beat. You turn back to the hyoo-men to see that his right arm is extended, laying a hand on your mane. Anonymous still doesn’t look at you. His eyes are creased and narrowed as he glares at the ground, but the way his hand begins to draw slow, gentle circles in your mane contrast with his aloof demeanor.

You’re not sure how much time passes, just the two of you sitting there under the night sky. It becomes harder and harder to fight the smile before it engulfs your features. Anonymous works his fingers into your mane, switching between massaging your fur, scratching your scalp, and even giving your ear scritches.

”Ten doits a day,” Anonymous says, piercing through the comfortable silence.

You sniffle, wiping at your face before you turn to the hyoo-men. “Pardon?” you ask.

”I already knew about the doits,” he murmurs. “…and I don’t care. That’ll be enough for us to reach Equestria, right? I’ll be your housecarla for ten doits a day.”

“Y—” you start, unsure if you want to embrace the hyoo-men or smack him into whatever country he came from before he met Red Letter. “A-absolutely not! That is unacceptable! It’s…” You grapple with an invisible opponent with your hooves. “Well, it’s less than what you’re worth! FAR less! What will I do with all the leftovers?!”

”New armor. Supplies. Excess amounts of money isn’t usually something people complain about.”

“Well, it’s something I complain about!” You stomp your hoof, giving Anonymous your most serious glare. He, in turn, gives you one that cements his decision without so much as a word. The two of you stay like that for a second, until it becomes apparent who holds the more convincing gaze. “Well, then, fine! I’ll use one 600 doit bag for supplies and armor! But the other one will be spent on something for you!”

”Alright, then. Buy something nice for Tia.”

You blink out of your aghast arguing. Anonymous’ posture slumps, and his eyes narrow, but not in a suspicious way. It’s in a shameful, pleading manner that tugs at your heart. “Lucky,” he says. “Just consider it my way of apologizing for all the nasty shit I did to you and Tia. Please just accept it.”

Anonymous looks away. He opens his mouth to say something, but decides against whatever he had ready. He shakes his head, letting out a sardonic chuckle as he cups his forehead with his left hand. Anonymous draws his knees close to his chest to rest his elbow on them. “Faust,” he whispers, his voice almost breaking from barely-repressed emotion. “I can be… just a fucking bastard. I know that. And I’m going to try harder, but…”

You can feel Anonymous’ hand shaking against your mane. He recedes it from your head to wrap around his own.

And then, reflecting off the pale blue moonlight, you see a tear fall from Anonymous’ face. “It’s hard, Faust,” he whispers, as if this was his first breath from a life of suffocation. “It’s really hard.”

This, not too unlike your yipping caused by a certain earth pony filly just an hour beforehoof, causes precisely three realizations.

One, that there might be a chance that Anonymous feels just as safe with you as you do him. So much so that you feel guilty for not throwing your forelegs around him and embracing him right this very moment, despite his inevitable protests.

Two, that there’s no way in Tartarus you can in good conscience part ways with Anonymous after you reach Equestria. You will definitely be talking to him about this in hopes of striking up a new deal, and you will be doing it sober.

And three, it makes you feel utterly defeated. You can’t help but love Anonymous.

You don’t fight the warm smile that pervades your features as you and the hyoo-men sit like that. You don’t care about the heat which engulfs your face and your chest as you look at your housecarla. He sniffles, wiping away at his face before looking away stubbornly.

What words did you use to describe Anonymous in the past? A relatable, naïve Adonis? A stalwart, handsome protector? Just pretentious, shy ramblings of a filly with a crush. There’s only one word you need to describe him.

Anonymous.

The hyoo-men stallion you love, and the hyoo-men stallion you’re going to help.

You’re sure Max will find out soon, being Max Gusto. But you can’t really bring yourself to care. She can tease and prod all she wants. You’ll be handling your own feelings at your own pace.

As your mind settles into the realization, prodding and testing it like a new mattress, Anonymous speaks.

"I don't think--" he starts, before his voice wavers the slightest bit and he clamps shut. Though, instead of remaining silent, Anonymous lets out an errant sniff as he scratches at his nose, his hands lowering onto his knees. He angles his face slightly away from you, hiding his eyes. "I don't think Tia's being a..." Anonymous waves his fingers in a faux-fancy way, and you can't help but suppress a giggle. "'Conniving little thing.' I know she doesn't fully get what the word 'dadda' means. It just..."

Anonymous fades into another silence, but for whatever reason, you don't find it to be avoidant, or frustrating. You wonder if you should scoot closer to him, but the hyoo-men quickly straightens up and continues, "It just... reminds me of something else. Before Red Letter." Anonymous draws in a long inhale before deflating in the exhale, and if you squint your eyes, you might be able to gleam some form of comfort in his relaxed posture. "Another shitshow by another woman who I thought was a friend."

The warm feeling in your chest subsides into cool sympathy. You don't ask yourself for permission before you draw yourself closer to your housecarla, and your left side brushes up against his side. His warmth doesn't pull away.

“You don’t have to answer this if you’re even the slightest bit uncomfortable, Anonymous,” you say softly. The hyoo-men is calm enough now to turn back to you, his beautiful green eyes shimmering in the cool blues and blacks of the night. You slowly reach a hoof forward and lay it on his shoulder. He doesn’t pull away. “What happened before you met Red Letter? Why did she take you off the streets?”

Something unreadable flashes across Anonymous’ eyes. He’s briefly taken far from you, to places and times long passed, before returning. When he comes back, there’s no suspicion in his eyes, no signs he’d push you away again.

Just a concealed sadness, and a slight hint of playfulness.

The sadness, you swear on your place in the Eternal Graze you will help him overcome.

The playfulness…?

”That’s for when you’re sober,” Anonymous says, reaching forward and flicking you on the snout.

You scrunch, sniffling away at the uncomfortable and most ungentlecoltlike breach of your snootle.

”If you can handle not touching a drink for one night,” Anonymous smirks as he stands to his full height. “You gotta work on your alcohol dependency, little miss.”

“Why, I—” you start, but the sight of Anonymous’ attractive smirk gives you enough pause to realize your faulty. He’s just teasing you again. You titter, struggling up to all fours. “You’re one to talk. For all I know, you might be a high-functioning drunk. How could you even drink that without collapsing?!”

”Human superpowers,” Anonymous says as he reaches down to keep you steady.

So that’s how it’s pronounced!

Anonymous leads you back up to the Rejoicement before he leaves for the Aldenn. You spend a little while longer at the celebration, mostly to intentionally leave an overly curious Max Gusto in the dark, but also to retrieve Tia. The filly is in much better condition than how you left her, but you know a good night’s rest will do wonders for her. That, and a gift from a certain human.

That night, you sleep better than you have in a long, long time.

Comments

[Oops door]

10929032
Cat to. Medium dog size I think

[Danger Noodle]

snootle

[Spooples]

10938125
10929032
I was thinking that the top of the average unicorns or pegasi's head would come up to your oblique area and earth ponies would be a bit taller, coming up to your chest. Between 3 and 4 in this diagram: external-preview.redd.it/Xqbr5XDv_f6M9p_ATZpnlFXX4Pib_KPOxUnosVrcrE0.png?auto=webp&s=a755be0555605b039b4d5a106c7e1cfa2042cbc9

[Oops door]

10938268
I was thinking the princesses will be closer to number three average ponies be closer to number four and everyone else would be in between four and 5 and 5 being for like a little filly’s The reason for my choices was because of how tall the Celestia is compared to average ponies and Luna she’s nowhere near that bulky she’s much thinner.

[DoctorWhoooves]

Don't boop the Snootle. Also lot of important stuff packed into this chapter.

[kitsune5000]

Another great chapter.

[Amilition]

Anon really be like:
i.ibb.co/rFcbDQD/Dya-Hfg-GX4-AA8-Prt.jpg
To Tia

[Molaaagbal]

That's so far one of the best and the most captivating fic i've ever read.
Great job Buddy

[The Diplomat]

God, this chapter is balm for the soul.

[Crazy_Balloons]

Ok, just the first chapter and then sleep aaaaaand it’s 3am. Seriously, had me hooked from the get go. Can’t wait to see where it goes from here.

[Purpleanon]

I think the next chapter is close to done if I remember he made a post about it on the other website

[Spooples]

10969365
I was thinking of doing that in the style of posting chapters in parts (chapter 5 [part 1], chapter 5 [part 2], etc.), but I ultimately decided on posting them as is because of fimfic's bookmark feature, which I personally use frequently. I don't mean to make chapters as long as they are, they just kinda go on until I'm satisfied
And sorry for the low frequency, specifically the delay for the next chapter. If you look at the post dates of the earlier chapters, I think I balanced length with frequency quite well. Now I don't have as much time to write as before

[ObsPerson]

10938285
I think that Celestia is 2.
Sachemare Sagebrush between 2 and 3.
Luna and Cadance 3.
Twilight (Alicorn) between 3 and 4.
Twilight (Unicorn) and normal ponies 4.
Fillies between 4 and 5 (same height to Anon's thighs).

[ObsPerson]

10969617
I don't mind the low frequency of the updates. It's just that in my experience, bookmarks in Fimfiction tend to be wonky. It's easier to stop when you finish reading a chapter rather than abruptly stopping in the middle of one.

[Moon Lite]

"So that’s how it’s pronounced!"
And then back to hyoo.