Thirty-Minute Pony Stories

by Silvernis

415: Special Delivery

415: SPECIAL DELIVERY

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Inkwell knew Canterlot Castle like the back of her hoof. Ponies often marveled at her knowledge of the castle’s endless corridors, halls, offices, and cobwebbed old passageways, but she never understood why. After all, one could hardly expect to serve as Princess Celestia’s personal assistant without knowing the most efficient routes through the castle by heart. It simply would not do to delay the delivery of a royal missive by, say, carrying it down the north-northwest stairwell instead of the north-northwest-north stairwell. (North-northwest-north was fully eleven steps shorter, which translated into a savings of at least fourteen seconds.)

Yes, Inkwell knew Canterlot Castle inside and out, which was why she was very much surprised to be bowled over by a pegasus while crossing the terrace connecting the central tower with the south-southwest tower. On clear days, the terrace made an exceptionally convenient shortcut that trimmed entire minutes off the transit from one tower to the other. It was, however, most definitely not a delivery terrace. Inkwell knew for a fact that the delivery terraces were on the other side of the castle. Whoever this pegasus was, he had no business being up here.

“Oops, my bad!” called a voice that sounded more cheerful than contrite. Groaning, Inkwell picked herself up, floated her glasses back onto her nose, straightened her cravat, and turned around to—

Those eyes. Inkwell vaguely registered a pale grey mare and a floppy yellow mane, but those eyes! They were warm and golden and wobbly, and when the mare scrunched up her face with effort, they stood still and gazed right back at Inkwell. She felt something in her chest go all warm and wobbly, too, and suddenly her mouth was twitching into a nervous smile.

The pegasus smiled back. “Hi!” she said.

“H-hello,” Inkwell managed to say. “C-can I help you with anything?”

“Nope,” said the pegasus. “Just making a delivery.” She waggled a hoof at a rather battered-looking crate that Inkwell hadn’t noticed.

Inkwell trotted over and peered at the crate. She instantly recognized the emblem stenciled on the side. “The Princess’s tea!” she squeaked. Oh, stars above, this wasn’t good. What if the shipment was damaged? The crate looked as if it had taken a tumble or five. And why was it up here? Why had this silly, pretty pegasus with the silly, pretty eyes brought it up here—

Inkwell could feel her face getting red.

“Tea!” agreed the pegasus. Her smile turned sheepish, and she rubbed a hoof through her mane. “I kinda got mixed up. I think I was supposed to deliver it somewhere else. Sorry.”

“Oh,” said Inkwell. “That’s . . . that’s all right. It—well, it doesn’t look like it’s too badly banged up. Could you, um, help me bring it downstairs?” Ohhh, why was her heart pounding so?

The pegasus beamed and nodded, and Inkwell couldn’t help smiling back.

“Excellent,” said Inkwell. She watched the pegasus take hold of the crate and hop into the air with slow beats of her soft-looking grey wings.

“Ready!” said the pegasus.

“Excellent,” said Inkwell again. “This way, please.” She started for the doors to the south-southwest tower, chewing her lip. Her mind whirled in a way that was entirely unfamiliar, a little frightening, and undeniably exciting. Should she? Could she? No, she couldn’t. She simply couldn’t. No. It was too bold, too fast. Why, she’d only just met her, if being crashed into counted as—

Yes.

Her heart threatening to burst clear out of her chest, Inkwell half-turned to the pegasus following her. “It must be hot flying around in the sun with a big box like that,” she said, carefully casual. “If you want to stop by the kitchens after we drop off Her Highness’s tea, I’ll get you some water.”

The pegasus scrunched up her face again and looked at Inkwell with golden eyes that were beautiful and definitely not silly. Then she smiled and nodded. “Thanks,” she said. “That would be great.”

Inkwell didn’t bounce giddily—it simply would not do for the Princess’s personal assistant to bounce like a silly schoolfilly—but she did smile back and trot onwards with a curious new spring in her step.

Author's Note:

Crackshipping, go! This was terribly rushed, but I still had fun with it. Inkwell is cute.

This is also my fiftieth TMP short. Hooray for nice round numbers, I guess?

Comments

[Arteries]

Two cute ponies that are cuter together. Why not? A little love at first sight never hurt nobody, unless you're a Shakespeare character.

And grats on the number~. Hope to see you around for another fifty, and then some!

[Silvernis]

2904258
Thanks. I intend to be here for a while yet, although now that I've written an even fifty of these little things, I'd like to focus more on my in-the-works long fics.

Also, I now have the strangest urge to write a fic called Marebeth...

[Arteries]

Good to hear! And whatever you end up doing, I'm sure it'll be spiffy.

Oh Marebeth, you goof, why'd you have to go and kill Duncanter to become King(Queen?) of Trotland. You and your crazywife.

And, Special Delviery.

[Pen Brush]

2968391
sure

[Silvernis]

2968518
Righto. I'll pull everything together and send you a link/password later today when I get back to my normal hard drive.