In a sunlit paradise, dreaming of a world that never can be.
"Them's the rules."
"Why?"
"Because them's the rules, boy, that's all there is to it."
Daliér rolled his eyes and dumped another load of cut grass from his barrow into the waiting compost heap. He tugged a fork from the side of the heap and set about carefully shifting the pile, bringing the latest addition into a neat curl across the top, then just as carefully spat the fork back into its customary place at the side of the compost bins.
"That doesn't answer the question dad," he said quietly as he turned to face his father, Slowpoke, who had run these gardens for longer than Daliér had lived. The old donkey shrugged and settled back on his bench another few inches.
"Ain't no other answer but that'un," Slowpoke said, and then pushed a fat old pipe into his mouth. Daliér took a long breath and let it out slowly through his nose. He turned to sit on the bench, facing the great south garden of Lachrimose House and the solid grey walls of the manor that watched over it. With the sun overhead, there was little shade to be found this far out in the gardens, aside from a little copse of acacia trees and the greenhouse veranda on which Daliér so dearly wished he could be sitting. At least he didn't have any more work to do today, unless the mistresses of the house decided otherwise.
His father puffed on his pipe and nodded slowly to himself at some idle thought, mumbling under his breath as he did. Sometimes Daliér could make out the odd word. Once even a whole sentence, something about an old lover, whoever that might have been. A name may have been mentioned, but the thought of Slowpoke doing anything like that was not something Daliér wanted to think about, and so he had quickly banished memory of it from his mind.
"Them's the rules," Slowpoke said finally. He tugged at his pipe and, finding it had gone out, carefully withdrew it from his mouth and set about refilling the bowl with another gobbet of that foul brown muck he claimed was tobacco.
They'd had the same conversation nearly every single day since Daliér had started working at Lachrimose. The same stupid conversation with the same stupid answer, but he couldn't stop himself asking the same question that always started it. The same question that had haunted him the moment he'd laid eyes on her.
"So—"
"Because them's the rules and that's all there is to it, Dal. Askin' again won't change the bloody things."
"Nopony has ever explained these rules to me, dad."
Slowpoke paused half way through tamping his pipe and sniffed. He put the pipe back in his mouth but made no move to light it. "Yer a mule, Dal."
"I think I'm aware of that, dad. And you're a donkey. And she's a pony and mum was a pony. What difference does it make?"
"All the difference. Them's the rules."
"You keep talking about these rules! Nopony has ever showed me these rules!"
"Aye. Because nopony ever wrote em down is why, 'cause they ain't laws. Laws is just words on paper, any fool can write words an' say it's laws. Rules is different." The pipe was pulled free as Slowpoke examined it again. "Laws is things that get us in trouble. Rules is things that keeps us out of trouble."
"That's just semantics, dad. Besides, there aren't any laws against it. If there were you wouldn't have... well, wouldn't have had me I suppose."
"Aye."
Daliér waited for more from the old donkey but Slowpoke just turned back to tamping his pipe and mumbling. His mouth had turned down just a fraction at the mention of Daliér's mother.
"I expect this is where you tell me I was a mistake. That's usually how these things go isn't it?"
"No lad. You was born out of love. I loved your mother an' she loved me or it wouldn't have happened." He sniffed and chewed on his pipe for a while then tugged a long match free of his jacket and held it up for careful examination. "Thing is, our love made you a mule."
"So? Lots of other places are stuffed to the rafters with mules and don't see any problem with it. Why's it so bad to be a mule?"
"Lots of other places ain't here lad."
"You're giving me a real complex, you know that?"
"Aye, that educatin' she 'sisted on 'as done you no favours either," Slowpoke grumbled. He struck the match and let it flare, its flames almost hidden in the bright sunlight, before stuffing the whole thing into the bowl of his pipe and taking a deep draw. The tobacco crackled and sputtered under his breath. Lungs like bellows somepony had said once. Apparently it was his lifetime of constant talking that did it.
"I still don't see why—"
"Because it keeps you safe you lump-headed idiot," Slowpoke growled. He puffed at his pipe a few more times, lips pursing and puckering as he tried to hide his frustration at his son. He had never had a particularly good poker face.
"Keeps me safe from what?"
Slowpoke pulled the pipe from his mouth again and stared into the bowl. After a moment's careful examination he sneered and tutted. It had gone out.
"Politics," he said quietly as he tamped at the tobacco again.
"Politics be damned, dad. I love her."
"Oh no you don't, Dal." The pipe clunked as Slowpoke set it down. It was a rare event for Daliér to see the pipe go down like that. It usually meant bad things. "You don't love her at all, you love a fantasy you've made up about her. She'd never even talk to the likes of you an' you know it. Some fancy unicorn bint who hangs around with princesses and runs off saving the world talkin' to a donkey or his thick-headed mule son for anythin' other than to order em around? You are havin' a laugh, son. An' anyway, even if she did turn her eye to you an' fell croup over crest it'd not make a blind bit of difference."
"But—"
"But me no buts, Dal. She couldn't touch you even if she wanted. Them's the rules." He picked up the pipe and started to work on it again. "Just leads to heartache and politics. Your mother, Celestia bless her soul, she'd lived politics her whole life an' she figured she could ride it out, but she couldn't. Chins did wag and scandals did brew an all we were doin' was rollin' around in the greenhouses now and then. When you came along, well, that changed everythin'. It were either end it or see her whole life blown apart."
"But if she loved you—"
"She 'ad a daughter too, y'know. Three of 'em in fact, by her last boy, Celestia rest his poor soul."
The pipe rested in Slowpoke's mouth but his work on it had been abandoned again as he stared at the walls of Lachrimose House. He tapped his forehooves on the bench, grumbling under his breath again until he spoke up.
"She told me once that she'd done some nasty, horrible things in her life. Politics it all was. When she were younger she'd had pony's lives torn apart because they got in her way or just because she could. She'd even married one of her daughters off just to get a bigger title for her descendents but it never worked out that way, 'an I reckon that might be when she realised it were all a waste of her time. Anyway that's about when she met me. She was lookin' for somethin' to idle away the time I s'pose, an' I was just a pluggin' duncan with all that time on his hooves and an easy smile. T'weren't nothin' but relaxation at first for her, aye, but I loved her all the same, and in the end she loved me too."
A blackbird settled in the branches of a nearby tree and began singing. The tune was familiar, Daliér thought, like something she might sing. He hummed along with it for a few bars and wondered if she was singing as well somewhere. "I'm not sure what this has to do with it all, dad. You make it sound like she was pretty heartless."
"Aye. She could be at times, but not this time." The pipe wobbled. A match flared as Slowpoke sought to light it again. "A mule in a family like hers means things. She would have been okay by herself, she were old enough to stop carin, by then, otherwise she wouldn't have done all that to me in the greenhouses."
The old donkey paused a moment, a lopsided smile on his face as his mind retreated into memory whilst Daliér tried not to think about some of the more unusual stains on the greenhouse tables. Slowpoke shook his head a short second later.
"Aye, well, point is it weren't her. It were them daughters. Havin' a donkey as a lover weren't a thing even then, but if she foaled a mule, well, that meant ponies'd start wonderin' how much it had gone on in the past. These thoroughbreds is all about their bloodlines, see. If they had donkey in em," and here he paused to chuckle as he took the pipe from his mouth, "they 'ad to say so. As long as they did say so it were all fine, but if they was even suspected of lyin' about it... well it don't bear thinkin' about how political it'd get."
Slowpoke's pipe was forgotten now, abandoned on the bench on its side. A little of the tobacco had leaked out and smoldered gently on the bare wooden seat. Slowpoke himself had turned his face to the ground, forelegs hanging limp at his sides.
"You know what ostracised means, Dal?"
"Yes. It's from the ancient Nephaeleoni word ostrakizein, related to—"
"Figured you might know all that rubbish." Slowpoke sucked at his teeth and grumbled something likely obscene. "That's what they'd do, she said. Ostracise her fillies. Turn em out of their homes, take everythin' they had, turn em into the poorest of the poor. Toss em to the donkeys she said they'd do, and then pardoned my pardon for hearin, it so."
"That's awful!"
"Aye. An' I couldn't let em do that. It'd break her heart it would. So... when you were born, I told her pretty certain to pretend we'd never been together an then I took you off and raised you alone. To her very dying day she did it too."
"I didn't know."
"Course you didn't Dal, you bloody great nit, seein' as I never told you."
"I still don't see what this has to do with her."
"Everythin', Dal. Everythin' on account of her ladyship up in the house was Ceru's youngest. That filly you've been lustin' after? She's practic'ly your cousin."
"What? Dad, why—are you kidding me? I'm..." Daliér held up his hooves and stared at them. He was, what, some sort of noble bastard now? "All these years I had a sister?"
"Well, aye," Slowpoke replied, the two short syllables dripping with his reluctance.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Slowpoke seemed to shrink away then, becoming every inch the old donkey Daliér had never quite wanted to admit he was. Worn out. Old. "I didn't want you to know, Dal. It never does to know, not with a thing like this."
"But why? Dad, this changes, well, everything! I'm a—"
"Mule, Dal." Slowpoke's hooves thudded against the dirt as he slid from the bench. "Yer a mule. Neither one thing nor t'other an' that counts for a lot round these parts. Mules ain't a pony an' they ain't a donkey. For a pony like her ladyship to admit you was her brother'd bring nothin' but shame and penury. And that filly of yours, why she'd be brought so low even Celestia herself could do nothing to raise her up again."
"You're saying I could never be with her."
"Aye, because of what it'd do to her and her family as much as anythin'. A donkey'd be bad enough, though leastways they can tolerate one like they did with me. A mule?" Slowpoke shook his head. "You're a handsome lad, Dal, but to that lot you'll never be nothin' but ugly and shameful. It ain't your fault an' it ain't theirs either, they just don't know any better."
"But she seemed so kind."
"Aye lad, she is kind, an' I bet livin' out in the sticks so long will 'ave give her a better view of it, but it don't change none even if she were a saint. Round these parts ponies ain't for mules to love. Them's the rules. A pony don't break the rules an' neither does a mule."
Abruptly he turned away to potter off down the garden, leaving Daliér alone on the bench. For a while he just sat there, staring at nothing in particular until his eyes came to rest on the great windows of the house. On a particular window where he knew she would be watching the garden sooner or later. She always did when she came to visit, always the same intensely curious set to her eyes as if she were trying to dissect and understand everything in front of her. Always the same smile when she saw him looking at her.
Perhaps he'd fooled himself into thinking that smile was meant for him alone. Maybe it was just kindness and not interest as he'd secretly hoped.
He sighed. "I'm an idiot."
"No lad," Slowpoke responded as he trotted back up the path, though trot wasn't really the best way to describe the loping amble his father employed to get around these days. He was smiling just a little, a sad sort of smile that he normally reserved for those times when he had to prune back a particularly rambunctious vine. His hoof reached out to grab the pipe from the bench beside Daliér, and then abruptly diverted to pat the young mule's shoulder. "You're a lot of things but you ain't stupid. Just hopeful."
"If what you said was true—"
"Dal, I'm just an old donkey set in his ways." Slowpoke tapped his pipe out against the bench and tucked it away in his jacket. He patted Daliér's shoulder again. "Don't take it to heart. Besides, plenty more mares around and abouts."
"But they aren't her."
"Aye. They'll be their own selves," Slowpoke replied. "An' they won't be some snooty unicorn neither. Now come on, her ladyship says we 'ave to go an' see to the mess young Guiding has made of the primroses again. Heavens and Celestia save us from young and curious fillies."
He smiled and then looked up at the sky.
"Life goes on, Dal. Best you can do is go on with it."
Slowpoke turned and began the long trek toward the flower beds on the far side of the garden. Daliér looked toward the house as he followed his father, his eyes again coming to rest on the window. She was there, smiling as always, her brightly striped mane still in that cute cut she always wore and her lavender coat shining in the sun. A blue pegasus and another pale green unicorn stood with her. They weren't looking at the garden this time but at one another, lost in some deep discussion about whatever. Lost in each other's eyes it almost seemed, unless it was just his imagination.
But then, hadn't it all been his imagination?
Just before he looked away again she turned. For a moment their eyes met; she smiled at him again and he raised a hoof in greeting. The unicorn he had thought his heart's desire mirrored the gesture and nodded, but already her attention had returned to the mares at her side.
With the sun blazing on his back, Daliér turned away from the dream that could never be and sloped toward the mundane reality of his life.
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Woaaah, mind blown. Yeah, definitely need more fics exploring this! Wow.
...And Twilight's family tree expands a little further (more like a spoon in this case than a fork, so to speak). Interesting story because of the racism aspect, and the actual affair. I'd think a donkey/pony affair would be terribly looked down on regardless of whether it results in offspring because of the mere possibility of offspring, but of course having the actual proof would no doubt be worse.
Just want to be clear: You are referring to Star in this aren't you, or is the mother another (passed away) relation to Twilight? The mechanics of foal descendency seemed pretty complicated before this...
EDIT: Also, mules with donkey as father are pretty much sterile, aren't they? Why would this cast doubt on the bloodline in that case? Or is it simple politically-driven racism?
2426620 It's a different pone. The relationships are complex and honestly not worth dwelling on for this beyond "they might be related somehow".
2426622 Ah, thank you.
Suspending disbelief here for a moment, it's impossible to have more than one generation of donkey in the bloodline. Mules are sterile.
2426799 A wizard did it.
With a donkey.
2426815
Then it's okay!
It'd be nice to see a longer-form story taking on the subtle-yet-heavily-implied racism in Equestria. When your two resident gods happen to be a certain race, it's probably hard not to feel superior to everyone else.
2426825 I've seen some stories deal with it in the past but usually in terms of the three pony species. I've always thought donkeys got a pretty rough deal in Equestria.
Also I could have mentioned Hinnys. They're sometimes fertile. Dunno what sort of offspring they'd have though...
Very nice, I always have liked stories like these, with the whole unobtainable love interest and what have you. Also a very good use of donkey and mule breeds as well. I'd planned on using them in one of my stories at some point, and this gives me something to consider should I ever get around to writing it.
Grumpy old fart, eh? Yeah, he certainly was grumpy enough. Nice story-telling, all in all. Well done.
2426799
Statistically, you can say "most mules are sterile", not "mules are sterile".
Besides, this is a magical world: for all we know, ponies, zebras, burros and gryphons can all interbreed with no biological problem.
This does raise an interesting thought Ive been batting about for the past couple years.
If the three pony tribes can merrily interbreed with the results being one or the other or even what an ancestor contributed to the dice roll, certainly a mule having pony genes might actually be fertile given a chance. I suspect "Da Roolz" are in place because it can happen due to the looser, magical genetics of Ponykind, unlike a mere crossing of Donkey and Horse
Brilliant story, very sad.
BTW, he is going to be PISSED when he finds out she's with someone not even in the same genus.
real world problems aside, is there any chance of seeing a small continuation of this?
2426854
What's a hinny?
2706563 The offspring of a female donkey and a male horse, as opposed to a mule which is the offspring of a female horse and a male donkey.
2706567
I always heard that the mother would die in that case because the baby would be too big.
Of course since ponies and donkies are the same size in Equestria that wouldn't be a problem but I didn't know it would work in real life.
Ow, the irony, it burns us.
Interesting one-shot, I'm always up for a little world-building (even if it does deal with the nastier parts of society), and it was interesting to see a unique interpretation of what Donkeys and Mules deal with living in Equestria (I can't imagine it's much better for cows, being treated almost akin to farm animals). In my opinion people tend to ignore races like Donkeys, Mules, Buffalo, and Bovines, in favor of more "cool" races like Gryphons, Changelings, Dragons, and Minotaurs; but I think they have just as much to say as the other more "interesting" races, the truth is most often in the details after all.
I've seen your avatar many times and never even knew you wrote. This is wonderful. You've got "publish story on EqD" on your bucket list. Send this one in.
How'd you do Slowpoke's dialect? Have you lived in the country? Ireland?
3294171 I was born and raised in the most rural bits of rural Derbyshire, but around there all the countryfolk talk like gentlemen and squires, and these days my accent has migrated out to somewhere in Lancashire anyway. I just went for a bit of a generic West Country sound instead. Seems to have worked.
Well, it's kinda horrible when you put it like that. I suppose that's just landed aristocracy and inheritance laws though. It was hard enough with just one species to keep a track of.
Brilliantly written, and very sad indeed. I loved this a lot; it brings up some interesting ideas and handles them superbly.
Aw man, This fic is something special.
One way or the other, Dal has an ugly truth to contend with. Either he faces the fact that he's not good enough for the mare he may only think he's in love with, or he will taint her status among the elite. If ponies don't even accept interbreeding between their fellow equines, that doesn't say much for a reptile's chances with a pony who specifically aspires to be part of high society.
Ahh, sad, but nice. I liked it.
But yeah, if she was related to him, even distantly... let's try not to produce any two-headed equines here, a'ight?
Some minor corrections:
> "That doesn't answer the question dad,"
Should have a comma before "dad".
> When she were younger she'd had pony's lives torn apart
Plural - "ponies' lives"
> then pardoned my pardon for hearin it so.
hearin' - needs to end on an apostrophe where you cut it off.
I believe this story deserves one of these.
24.media.tumblr.com/a257ad5165644b1f79354634dfdee284/tumblr_mqo61uYbwk1rj6vd5o1_400.png
I wonder how the ponies of the Xenophilia Equestria would react to the offspring of ponies with zebras?
Question: What is Dal's mother name. I not use I undersand how SlowPoke is say it.
I'm found asking myself questions about who "her Ladyship" is. Implications seem to be it's Twilight Sparkle, but others indicate it isn't. it is a cosine, or daughter, a descendant from several generations in the future, an ancestor, her aunt?
3294171 well, he achieved it!
2622589 Uh... Who is, again?
5183876 Where did you get the icon for your avatar?
5198347 I took a picture of a threstral (likely from Harry potter), and added my trademark curly neon green and blue hair, favorite hat, and French horn cutie mark :)
5198342
The mule. He supposedly can't be with her because he's a mule. Yet she's with a human.
Where did you get the story image?
5198987 I drew it.
This was beautiful
No! Don't give up!! You've got more spirit than that!
I wrote a critique/review of this story; it can be found over here.
I'd been looking for a story about species prejudice in Equestria, and when I saw this on the RCL it seemed perfect. I enjoyed it a good deal, too, especially the fact that it isn't just a case of "oh, everything would be so much better without this prejudice". It's a bit talky, but I'm happy with talky stories (I love Yes, Minister, the talkiest hit sitcom ever!) and I liked the conversations betweem Dilly and his father. Slowpoke's voice grated a little, but overall, great. Have a fave.
9388442
ohshit
Yeah, i don't really like the fact of "ponies master race" thing. it just..not Equestria at all...hell even later on in later seasons it proven wrong.
Well, I liked this one to be sure, but I did have some thoughts.
So reading this, I have to say... I mean, I get it, but this really doesn't seem to be something Celestia would allow. Oh sure, there'd be tongue wagging and guff, but I'd imagine she'd deal with the matter as well as can be expected with an alicorn in the room. Namely with all the subtlety of a sledge hammer.
......
"You're highness, I simply must protest!"
Sighing, Celestia slowly pulled her pince-nez glasses from her muzzle (which she didn't even need but took thrill in indulging in given the prevalence of regard her Guard had for the Hot Librarian thing) and regarded the mare.
"And as stated previously, your protest, along with the nigh endless stream of dullards before you, has been noted. But by the powers bestowed upon us by the Principles of Go Fuck Yourself, I have bestowed upon good Dalier both title of Baron and land. I would have settled for some patch of swamp just to get the noble niceties settled, but no. You all had to have your tails in a twist, so mines and the rights there in and a dozen hectares it is."
Sputtering indignantly, the mares face turned beet red as she turned her ire to the dark coated alicorn sitting at a desk next to the Solar Diarchs. Shrugging, Luna merely continued her work.
"We tried to go Constitutional Diarchy and wanted our role to largely ceremonial, but no. You speciesist putzes couldn't see your coveted prize be diminished could you and don't have either the power nor fortitude to remove us. As such, Celestia is well within her rights too..."
Stamping her hoof, the noble screeched "YOU WILL NOT SULLY EQUESTRIA BY BEQUEEFING LAND TO SOME CUD CHEWING MULE."
For a moment, there was silence, even the guards stunned by the declaration and gaul before them. Slowly rising, Celestia drew a pair of opera glasses from her drawer, and walking to the noble, raised them to her eyes and scrutinized the mare closely. Nodding resolutely, and drawing back, Celestia flared her wings in mock shock.
"Sister mine... I believe I've spotted a cunt!"
Brandishing her glasses with a flourish, she said pleasantly "Good day madam."