Life Could Be A Dream

by TheAmazingMe

First published 18th of June, 2015

A tale from the perspective of Life Story; A writer, worrier, and woefully ill-prepared unicorn.

Life Story is a unicorn of many talents. Those talents, from his writing to his worrying, are put to the test as the young writer is often pushed out of his comfort zone. Misunderstandings! Mistakes! Magic! Join Life and a host of new and familiar characters as they learn about love, family, friendship, and more!

Although this follows the events of Isn't She Lovely?, you don't need to read that one first to get into this one. Wishing for a sequel? It's Life in the Fast Lane!

Cover image by Sinsays

Life In Canterlot

My desk-mate nudged me. I looked up into the calculating gaze of the most judgmental pegasi I'd known to this point of my life. My boss. He'd suddenly appeared in our bull-pen. Well, that or I was daydreaming again. Worse, he must have asked something, because he was looking around for somepony to answer. As I put all this together, I failed to avoid eye contact and accidentally attracted his attention.

"Perhaps you have an idea on how to feature the latest trend, Mr. Story?" Hard Deadline said, breaking through my morning daze.

Curiously, the world snapped back into focus. Clear as day, the lead editor of Celerity Magazine stared me down. Our trending fashion magazine was small, occupying a single two story building with our printing facility on the lower floor. Hard Deadline had taken the company from the brink of extinction to the biggest magazine in notoriously fickle Canterlot. Most magazines were based in Manehatten or Vanhoover. With how quickly trends changed in the royal city, it was hard to keep track in time for printing.

"The latest trend...um of course, Mr. Deadline." What did he want from me? I wondered. I'd already turned in an article for the next issue and it had been approved. I looked back down at my notepad in a vain attempt to search for clues. It was blank; the traitor. "I..." I froze.
Here I was, the least stylish writer at the fashion magazine. My reddish brown coat tended toward shaggy and unkempt. My black and white mane fared no better. The shock of white hair and my black glasses made me look much older than I was. My white button-up shirt sported more than its fair share of wrinkles. About my only good points were my hooves and horn, as I was meticulous in their care.

As usual, my mind easily jumped to the worst conclusions. I'm already a bad fit at this fashion magazine. Not to mention my daddy got me the job. How could I sit here with a blank notepad and expect to keep this job? Why hadn't I thought to keep up with Trenderhoof's latest article? Oh, Celestia! What if Mr. Deadline decides to fire me? In my mental panic, I failed to note the awkward silence building around me. Stylo coughed in an effort to get my attention. I barely registered the noise as I looked up in confusion. Deadline was staring at me, his expression half-impatience and half-worry. Or maybe it was pity.

"But of course, zeh Antique trend can 'ardly be called nouveau, non?" My deskmate interjected. The jet-black stallion in question was a Prench pegasus. I mouthed a silent 'thank you', which seemed to annoy him.

Deadline hadn't seen that, having turned his trademark glare onto my reluctant savior. "Puissant, when I want your commentary I'll grab a translator. Get back to the article you owe me on that new salon in the Prench Quarter."

"Oui, monsieur." Stylo said as he bent back over his writing pad.

"Story!" Deadline barked as he turned back to me.

"Yes, sir?" I replied. I willed my nervous forehooves to stop shaking. I placed both hooves down on my desk to steady them. If he was going to fire me, I didn't want to look like a total wimp.

"An interview." He said decisively.

His meaning eluded me. "Pardon?"

"No pardon for you; you're going straight to the execution." Had any other pony said it, then that might have been considered a joke. As it was, his choice of phrases kept my fear of job-termination alive. "You've been avoiding this type of article, I'm sure. I want an interview with an antique shop owner in Canterlot. And I'll need it by the end of the week. This month is our yearly oversize issue and the schedule for printing has us bleeding for time."

A chill went through me. I'd turned in a review and a few other small bits for the annual big issue. Not to mention. I didn't have any friends in the antique business. My parents would know, but it was bad enough that my father got me a job. I wanted to make my own way. "Sir, I've already written..."

Deadline cut me off. It was rare that he let anyone talk back to him. I really shouldn't have tried to argue. "I'm aware of your work. Think of this as a growing experience. Now get to it!" He commanded. Before I could so much as breathe, he turned and stalked off to go terrorize another pony.

Puissant looked back up at me. I don't know how long I sat there staring after the editor, but it was long enough for my deskmate to notice. "Vie?" He asked, trying to get my attention with the nickname he gave me. "Oh, c'est la Vie?" He called again.

I turned to him, my brain finally realizing that I still had surroundings. "Les carrotes sont cuites, as my maman would say. It will do you no good to sit and stew. Did you not realize? Ze 'new trend' article is a feature. Zis is your chance to shine. You have a feature on the big annual issue!" He'd obviously meant to encourage me, but the color drained out of my face.

He actually had to poke me with a hoof to bring me back to reality. "What do I do? I don't have connections with any antique dealers!" I said, a touch more desperate than I realized.

He shrugged. "Je ne sais pas! I don't know. I've been at zis place for much less time. Couldn't you simply go to a boutique and introduce yourself?"

"I guess I could..." The thought of putting myself out there like that. I was still painfully shy. This was the most I'd ever really said to Stylo and we'd shared a space for two months. "With this city's history, there are antique dealers all over. I haven't been in one since mom..." I cut myself off. I didn't want to talk about my mother.

Stylo seemed not to notice. He tossed a hoof in the air casually. "Take a friend. Un bon ami would be, 'ow you say, moral support."

"Would you...?" I began, but trailed off as he looked at me strangely.

"Non." Stylo replied simply. "I 'ave my own work to do, mon ami. You do 'ave friends outside of work, oui?"

A certain earth pony came to mind. "As a matter of fact, I do." I stood, using my magic to pack

***

I restrained myself to a trot as I screamed inwardly. There were so many ponies on the streets at this time of day. Usually, I avoided the rush and left the office late. Leaving to meet my best friend and talk him into antiquing seemed like less of a good idea. Ducking into an alcove, I caught my breath while pretending to look through my shoulder bag. I just had to keep it together.

Luckily, I made it to the Canterlot Courier Center (aka the Triple C) and reveled in the open space of the center's lobby. The receptionist was a kind pony I'd met a few times before, but I still had to muster up the courage to ask about my best friend, Sogni diVolare.

"Um. Excuse me, but is Sogni back from his runs yet?" I asked. The pegasus looked around her desk and shuffled some papers to find a schedule. "I think so. He should be in the break room. Go ahead on back, Life." She replied. I blushed, having forgotten her name.

"Thank you!" I said as I hurried off to avoid more conversation. If there was one thing I hate, it's forgetting names; it made things so much more awkward when someone remembered my name.

The third left took me to the break room. With how much Div worked, I'd been here often enough to remember that. For whatever reason, remembering places I'd been was easier than remembering other pony's names. I looked about, somepony had dimmed the lights to about half. Adjusting my glasses, I gave up and called out. "Div?"

"Ly, is that you?" A head rose from one of the large cushions on one side of the room. It made me jump a bit before realizing that the shadow I'd taken to be one large cushion was actually Div lying down. "Sorry, somepony must have seen me napping and dimmed the lights." Div got up, stretching nervously.

Realizing how sore Div must be after a long shift, I motioned for him to lie back down. "I can find the switch!" That had been louder than I'd intended.

Chuckling softly, Div sat on the cushion and waited. I fumbled around a bit at first, actually managing to turn the lights out completely before returning them to normal. When I looked back at my friend, Div was smiling kindly.

Sogni diVolare was a cobalt blue earth pony with white muzzle and hooves. While my own mane was a jumble of black with a white shock, Div's all white mane was combed back in fine order, even after running around town all day. His short white tail twitched, brushing against his poppy blossom and mercury symbol cutie mark.

Div patted the cushion next to his. No words needed, I took the invitation.

"What's up? You don't usually come this early." Div asked. "It must be crowded out there still."

"Traffic wasn't too bad." I lied.

Div gave me a skeptical look. I went on to deflect his questions. "I've got a feature to write for the big annual issue."

"I take it that's not as good as it sounds." Div went into his saddlebag next to him and pulled out a comb. I sighed, his attempts at taming my coat and mane were usually fruitless as far as improving my looks. It did help me calm down, so I nodded and let him try and sort out my hair. "So, why isn't that as good as it sounds?"

"Deadline wants me to get an interview with an antique shop owner." I explained. "I've never done an interview; I have no clue what to ask. Add in the fact that I don't know any antique ponies. And, lest I forget, it's a feature article in the biggest issue we publish all year!" I sighed and rested my head on my forehooves. "The pressure is just unreal."

"Well, we're pretty close to the shopping district. Do you want to try a few stores today?" Div asked as he moved from my mane to my back. After a few passes, he paused. "Are you supposed to be shedding, or is all your hair falling out due to stress?" I turned my head around to see the comb full of reddish-brown coat hair and blushed.

"Um, probably both." I levitated a nearby wastebasket and brought it over to us. Div shook out the comb and really went to work on ridding me of loose hairs. "I don't want to keep you on your hooves any longer than you need to."

"I don't mind." Div said, waving his free hoof.

Just like him to offer help so casually when it would cost him physically. "I mind! You start early and get home late enough as it is. What kind of friend would I be if I made you walk after you've been running around Canterlot?"

Div shrugged. "We don't get to spend as much time together, so I'll take what I can get!" Div said emphatically.

I sighed, feeling guilty for not making more time for my best friend. He was right; it had been at least two weeks since we'd gotten together for any real length of time. "When is your next day off?"

"Tomorrow, actually. I don't really have any plans, so we can start whenever you'd like." Div said happily. "Um, just do me a favor?"

I looked up at him. He was shaking out the comb into a wastebasket full of reddish-brown hair. "Brush your coat before we start." Sometimes even I'm amazed by how red my face can get.

***

"You're not leaving like that." Div stated as I opened the door. I glared at him through half-lidded eyes.

"Div, it's I-don't-even-know o'clock in the morning. The sun is barely out." I protested before yawning, When I opened my eyes again, they went wide in surprise. "What's with the small cart-load?"

Div pushed his way in hauling the three saddlebags he had tied on. "Well, you'll need what I have here and the time to look presentable."

"Thanks Div." I said sarcastically. "Your confidence in me is astonishing."

"No problem!" He replied, willfully ignoring my snark. "Now do I have to bathe you myself or will you get in the tub already?"

Conceding defeat, I went to start a bath. At the very least, I could snooze a bit in the tub. Or so I thought, until Div barged in as I sank into the water. He plopped two bottles on the counter and another three on the side of the tub. I tried to cover my underside to keep some dignity. Div rolled his eyes. "If you'll notice, neither of us are wearing clothes."

"I'm in the tub!" I hissed. "Can I get some privacy?"

Div waved a hoof dismissively and started pointing out bottles. "Make sure to use this one on your coat, that one for your mane and the last one for your tail."

"Anything else?" I snapped.

"Yeah, be out of the tub in fifteen minutes or you won't get any of the oats and fruit I brought over. And I'll finish whatever you haven't done in that time, so get cracking." He turned and trotted out the door, leaving it open. I used my magic to close it, only just barely remembering not to slam it. I had asked for his help, after all. I just hadn't expected...

Two hours later, that I'd be ready to tear my neatly coiffed mane out by the roots as yet another outfit combo was put together, only to be disqualified due to a stray thread. "Why can't I wear my usual?" I whined.

"I don't have all day to iron it out." Div said flatly.

"It's not that bad." I sulked.

"Hush, I have it!" Div pulled out a silvery white long sleeve button-up top and deep red close-knit sweater. The combination was simple and sporty; it also, although I wouldn't admit it, looked really nice on me.

"Now we can go." Div announced proudly.

***

I sighed as I looked hopelessly down the main road of Canterlot's shopping district. There were all sorts of antique dealers, from art to zebra carvings. No one wanted to talk about their pasts, how they were first inspired nor what life had taught them. How could ponies so focused on old valuable crap be so unwilling to share their own story? Then again, maybe my editor knew nopony would agree to an interview like this. I hung my head. That had to be it; I'd been set up for failure.

Div and I stopped by a streetside cart on the more affordable side of the district. Luckily, there was a bench in the shade nearby. I sat while Div ordered for us. It had gotten warmer than anticipated, although thanks to Div's scent-layering I was still fresh as a daisy.

"Hey, the street vendor says there's an antique store down the street. It's supposed to be the best antique book store in town." Div announced as he came back bearing vegetable kebabs. My ears flicked up. I loved antique books. I had to cast a deflective spell on my clothes before he handed my kebab over, but otherwise it was pretty good..

"Know anything about it?" I asked with renewed interest.

"No, my delivery route doesn't come through this way." He admitted. We sat in companionable silence, in spite of my gloomy mood. I really did feel better with him here. Without Div, I probably would have given up after the first rejection.

"Do me a favor, Div. Go see about hiring a cab. I don't think I'll be up to walking home at this point." I sighed, standing up.

"You going solo? Are you sure?"

I nodded. "I've streamlined my pitch. It won't be the end of the world if I don't get it today. I can always try again tomorrow." I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. Div gave me a look and then took me at my word.

As soon as he was out of sight, I crumpled. Well don't cry about it you stupid stallion! My inner voice piped up. You have one last lead. This is your last chance to keep your Celestia-forsaken job at that Celestia-forsaken magazine. You want to move back in with mommy? No? Then act like you have a pair and don't take no for an answer.

My horn flared, my magic rolled up the sleeves of my button-up and sweater.. With newfound determination, I held my head and tail high and trotted down to the antique shop I'd been told about.

"May I help you?" The mare behind the counter asked as if she very much doubted it.

"I need to speak with the owner, if you would be so kind." I responded crisply. Already, I could tell we weren't going to get along. What a snob!

"And whom may I say is calling?" Her attention was firmly on a catalogue on the glass case that she idly flipped through. She looked less than impressed. Pissed, I figured she would go in the back, take a smoke break and forget about me if I let her.

If I was to get anywhere, I clearly had to change tactics and used my best arrogant Canterlot high society attitude. I practically pranced over and knocked the catalogue across the case. "You will tell them that a very important pony is here. I was told that this shop had some of the best antique books in town and that interests me greatly. Unless they, by some miracle, don't want what I have to offer them, then I expect to see them soon. I won't wait around forever!"

"Y-yes sir, sorry sir. Right away sir!" Her attitude changed instantly and she disappeared quickly. My stomach turned flips at how poorly I'd treated her, but I maintained my air of coolness.

The showroom pony made good time up the elevator and spoke to Genuine's receptionist who came out to personally escort me to the mare in question.

We arrived at a very well-appointed office.

"Can't you see I'm busy?" The owner drawled idly as she took time to line up her pool shot. A stallion stood holding a cue. He wouldn't have been noticeable given his black coat, but he was covered in glitter. And nothing else.

"Excuse me Madam Artifact, but a gentlecolt is here asking about your books." The receptionist called softly.

"Not one of the regulars?" She asked. Her accent was slight. It was a bit like Stylo's accent, but less refined. She had more gravel in her voice too.

"No, madam. He's a blood bay unicorn with a white streak in his black mane. His cutie mark is a scroll with an ankh." She spoke as if I wasn't behind her and to the left. If this Mademoiselle Artifact just turned around, she could see me.

"Egyponian?" I'd actually gotten that a lot.

"Possibly, I hadn't thought to ask." Neither did she deign to ask me now. What was going on? Was this some kind of game to them?

"Age?" She asked, her game of pool apparently forgotten.

"Post-collegiate adult is my best guess, Genuine. Although he looks a bit younger; he appears very high-strung." Again, I wondered at the sheer rudeness. She could just as easily ask me, I thought.

"Enough. I suppose I should see the bastard myself. I have a feeling this will be entirely pointless." Said, handing her cue to the stallion.

Genuine turned around. One glance at me and I knew this would be awkward. Genuine Artifact, a rich chestnut earth pony, regarded me with one eye, the other covered by her long curly black mane. She was dressed a bit like a gypsy in vivid dark silks and two gold hoop earrings. Her dress was stylish and sleek, fitted to her body like a dancer's.

Genuine glared at the receptionist. The pony shrank and backed away. "I'll um, go get, ah..." She fled. Genuine looked after her as if she would deal with her later.

"Clearly there has been a mistake." Genuine declared before I could so much as raise a hoof.

How could she see through me so easily? I wondered. I decided to bluster through. "Excuse me, Ms. Genuine---" I began hautily, and was instantly interrupted.

"Gen-u-wine not Gen-u-in. You can't have any idea what you're doing here." Genuine drawled. "Security!"

"Now wait just a minute. I came here to offer you..."

Genuine snorted. "What in the name of the sun do you think you could ever offer me?"

"I'm from..."

"Frankly, you could be from Saddle Arabia and I would give as many rat's tails as I do now. Which is none, by the way." Genuine turned around to sit at her desk as two large stallions in black suits appeared at either side of me.

"No wait, please!" In desperation, I actually tethered himself magically to both of her rear legs.

She looked over her shoulder. "You have got to be abso-lutely kidding me! Get him off of me, you worthless goons!" The dumb muscle heads tried pulling me away, succeeding only in pulling Genuine along with them.

"Please! I'm from Celerity Magazine!" I cried before one of the hired goons deposited a hoof firmly in my belly.I maintained control of the tether spell. Barely.

"Celerity? Are you kidding me?" She asked, looking over her shoulder at me.

"If I'm lying, I'm dying." I said without thinking.

"You have no idea." Genuine deadpanned.

"I can guarantee a feature in our annual big issue. I'll just enough time for you to answer a few questions."

"Oh for Celestia's sake! Why in Tartarus didn't you say so?" I almost lost my concentration at the sudden change in her tone. Was she just leading me on? "Now if you would be so kind as to release my hindquarters, I'm sure my assistant can find us a proper time." She waved the guards away. They exited the office.

"You're...serious?"

"I take my schedule quite seriously. You've already taken much of my free time today." Her tone was light, but the words were condemning enough. I released the magical tether.

"Sorry about that..."

"Oh please! In this town, you practically have to grab a pony by the ear just to get your point across. It's no stretch that you would grab me by my rear." She said, fluttering her eyelashes.

I'm sure I blushed. "It was a reflex..."

"A stallion who goes for the rear as a reflex? We might just get along after all." Even with how dense I can be; I could tell she was flirting.

"Assistant!" The receptionist returned. She entered the room timidly.

"Y-yes, madam?"

"When is my next available dinner opening? I would like my usual table at Delmaneco's."

"You already have a reservation there tomorrow."

"I don't recall asking you to make that. Did I forget some business?"

The mare shook her head. "No madam. You usually get a craving for Delmaneco's around this time of year. I took the liberty of making a reservation as a surprise."

"So my favorite is in season again?" The mare nodded. "Good. Well, you can't go looking like that." She said, turning to me.

I blanched. Delmaneco's was the oldest restaurant in Canterlot. It had started out as a humble eatery but in recent years had rocketed in popularity. Genuine saw my face and smiled. "My treat. Just do me a favor and make sure you don't roll your sleeves."

There was no way Deadline would cover a meal at Delmaneco's. "It's customary for a journalist to..." She hushed me.

"I invited you. It would be an insult for you to deny me that hospitality." I wavered. The rules did make exceptions when it came to preventing insults.

"What time?" I asked.

***

As I stepped out, I saw Div wave at me from a cab parked in front of the store. I trotted over and climbed in.
He smiled at me. "So, how'd it go?"

Author's Notes:

Hope you enjoyed it! Feel free to let me know what you thought in the comments below.

Night Life

Author's Notes:

*chapter updated 12-25-17

"I've never been to Delmaneco's. What do I wear?" I asked Div as I stared at my closet. Luckily Div got off early to help me put together something suitable for a dinner at one of the most historic restaurants in Canterlot. My closet was bare; I had about five white button up shirts and a clip-on tie. The outfit from yesterday was at the dry cleaners.

"I don’t think you're going to find the answer in there." Div sighed.

"What about those outfits from yesterday?" I turned around as I asked.

Div shook his head. "I looked through them last night. Nothing good enough for an interview at a historic restaurant."

I shifted on my hooves nervously. "What am I going to do?"

Div rested a hoof on my shoulder and made eye contact. "Breathe. I told you I looked things over last night. Well, Momma Pro told me to bring you this. She's been working on it for you for a while, apparently."

I was shocked. Progetta di Volare was a master seamstress. She designed for some of the best aerialist ponies of the last twenty years. I knew she'd gotten into tailoring and design when she retired alongside her wife, Amore di Volare. But to think that Div's mother had spent time tailoring an outfit for me? Unbelievable.

Div reached into his saddlebag and produced a large, flat red box. I swallowed around the lump in my throat.

"How did she get my measurements?" I finally managed to say as I levitated the box over to my bedside.

"I've always kind of wondered. It's her own little trick. She can eyeball measurements. I've never seen her get it wrong." I thought for a bit. The last time I'd seen Mamma Pro had been only a few weeks ago. Had she been looking at me more often than usual?

"Open it! Open it! Mamma made me swear not to peek until you got it. I'm excited!" Div insisted. I smiled at his anticipation; I was excited too. I levitated the top off and neatly folded back the tissue covering the clothing inside.

Folded neatly inside lay what I could only call a treasure. On top, an exquisite white suit jacket with black accents and hoofkerchief. Underneath, a charcoal gray vest, a rich black dress shirt, and a necktie that matched my coat.

Div threw a foreleg around my shoulders, hugging me to his side. "What do you think?"

"I think I owe Mamma Pro a few dozen cannoli." I said, still awe-struck.

"Well, make sure to stretch out the deliveries or Ma Amore will kick your plot for fattening up her favorite filly." Div laughed. "Now let's see you put on these fancy new duds."

There was a knock on the door and Sogni answered. A delivery pony stood at the door with a small golden box. Div recognized the courier from the Triple C and spoke first.

"Oh, hey Chaser, what are you...oh duh." Div's eyes fell on the familiar brown uniform and the box in hoof. "Life, are you expecting something from Tiffineigh's?"

Tiffineigh's was the most expensive jeweler in Canterlot. They'd almost single-hoofedly popularized the diamond as a must-have classic. Or at least, that's what I learned from Stylo and Deadline.

"What? No, is there a return address?" I asked, stepping up to the door.

"Just the address of the store. If you don't mind, I need a signature. Fairly standard for a high value item," Chaser said.

Signing for it and thanking Chaser, we bid him goodbye and then went to my couch and coffee table to inspect the delivery. I opened the box, gasping at what I saw. In the box was a horn ring made of silver with a small square-cut emerald. I leaned back and held a hoof over my mouth.

"Where did this come from?" I asked.

Div shrugged. "I don't know, but it goes well with your eyes. You should wear it to Delmaneco's!"

With trepidation, I took the ring in my magic. "Wow."

***

"I feel a bit over-dressed." I admitted finally. Looking around at the other tables at Delmaneco's as we waited for our escort to Genuine's special table, I was the only one in a three-piece.

"Hush, you look far better than I expected," She admitted. Her eyes flicked up to my horn ring. "I did guess your size correctly, then."

I spluttered. "Y-you! This is from you?"

Genuine shrugged. "Consider it a gift in return for your consideration."

I reached up to take the ring off. "No, there is no way I can accept..."

She shook her head and held my hoof away from the ring. "Don't insult me in public. You need this interview, correct? Then keep my gift and make sure you write something nice. Unless you want to lose your job?"

She had me in a corner, figuratively. I'd have to return this ring eventually. If Deadline found out, it would be a disaster.

Her eyes fell back down to my suit. "I suppose you have a tailor after all?" Snapping back to attention, I belatedly remembered how Canterlot ponies behaved in high society. Sweet words to mask the poisonous tones; each pony looking out only for their own advancement. It was a wonder Celestia put up with all of that, but seeing as I hadn't ever interacted with royalty, perhaps all the tales of Celestia's kindness and mercy were just tales after all.

I put on my best fake smile. "Who doesn't in this town? I'm sure that number you're wearing didn't come off of a rack?"

"Got that right." Her accent seemed to ebb and flow. How long had she been in Canterlot that her accent had gotten so diluted? Where did that accent come from? It wasn't exactly like Stylo's, but I couldn't help but feel it was related. Well, I had to start asking questions eventually. My tide of anxiety was brimming over as we made it to the table.

I ran a hoof over my napkin. "Where are you from originally? Forgive me, but your accent is new to me."

She smiled. "Canterlot is more of a melting pot now than at any other time. I'm born and raised here in the city." She seemed as if she was going to leave it at that, glancing away. Her eyes snapped back to me just as I was thinking that she didn't answer my question. She spoke again, a bit more stiffly. "Both parents came from the outskirts of Neigh Orleans, though. I didn't go to school; my parents had me working in their restaurant from when I could pull a broom. I'm not saying I was the happiest filly in Canterlot, but I was too busy to dwell on it." She took a drink from her glass and looked away again, seemingly embarrassed by her humble origins.

I decided not to follow that line of questioning. Relaxing a bit, I continued. "How did you earn your cutie mark?" I asked.

She blinked a few times and then smiled. "Let's order first, then I'll get into that story. I don't like talking about it much and there are things I'd rather the public not know."

I nodded. "That's fair enough. It's really more of a 'get to know you' type question. When ponies open up about themselves, one finds hidden treasures."

"Open up that menu, if you want treasure 'round here." She chided.

I looked down at the menu hesitantly. Flipping it open with one hoof, I was relieved to see the menu was in a language I could understand. I was worried it would be in Prench or Bitalian. The offerings were mostly simple, with a few standout signature dishes.

"Have you ever been here before?" Genuine inquired.

I glanced up from the menu for a moment. "I haven't."

"If you will allow me, I'll make sure we both walk away satisfied." Something in her voice made me close the menu and focus on her.

"Signora Article, lovely to see you again!" An orange Pegasus with red mane and tail greeted Genuine. Erede Delmaneco was the seventh generation owner of the family business. He and his father had done a lot to improve the class and timelessness of the Canterlot landmark.

"Delmaneco! The pleasure is mine, always." She exclaimed as she stood to hug the Bitalian proprietor. Following proper etiquette, I rose with her.

Delmaneco eyed me over her shoulder. When they separated, he smiled at me. "Your taste in stallions is improving! I know a fine Bitalian suit when I see one. Who is your tailor?"

"Mam-," I stammered, about to use the nickname she'd insisted everypony use. "I mean, Signora Progetta diVolare."

"Signora diVolare? The mare who used to design flight suits?" I nodded as Delmaneco's face brightened. "She is my favorite! I grew up watching Amore's flights. Her outfits were as spectacular as her flying! I was disappointed when Amore and Progetta retired. I heard they moved here, but have been so busy with the restaurant! And, to tell the truth, it would be a dream come true to meet either of the diVolare's, let alone both."

"Delmaneco, you are making me quite jealous. This is a side of you I've not seen before." Genuine chided.

"Well, luckily I know how to make it up to you. Your dessert will be on the house. And, since I know why you're here, I have taken the liberty of making sure you get the finest Pineapple Newberg you have ever tasted." With that, Delmaneco gave Genuine a kiss on both cheeks, removed the menus, and departed.

I gestured after him. "We didn't even order..."

Genuine laughed. "Didn't you hear? Delmaneco is taking care of it. Trust the pony, he knows what he's doing."

"Now, my cutie mark?" She reminded me. I grabbed my pad, quill and inkwell and readied myself.

***

"That...was amazing." I concluded. The empty plates stood as testament to how well-planned the dinner was. No leftovers, each dish perfectly portioned so that there was room for dessert. By the end of dessert, though, I felt like I'd been stuffed.

"The dinner or the conversation?" Genuine teased.

"Both." I confirmed heartily. "I'm not sure I can move just yet."

"It's traditional to talk over drinks after dinner." Genuine announced. Whether that was a Neigh Orleans tradition or a Delmaneco's tradition, she didn't specify. I wasn't one to question it, especially with how full of good food I was. She ordered a few drinks and they were delivered by the time I gathered my notes.

I referred to my pad. "We've gone over your early years and your marriage to Fine Article. How has business been in the last few years? Is it any different now that antiques are trending?"

"There are certainly more ponies who think they know what they are doing." She answered enigmatically. "Don't quote me on that, though." I scratched that note out.

Genuine sighed. "It is more proper to say that business has been steady; collectors are always looking to expand their libraries. The antique trend has brought in quite a few new customers. Whether they will last is anypony's guess."

She leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially. "To tell you the truth, I have hidden quite a few of my more exceptional books." Leaning back with a smile, she continued. "I want my books to go to a good home, not to just be some vain trophy displayed carelessly upon a mantelpiece. You can quote me on that line at least."

"I can understand that. So this is really a passion of yours?"

"Absolutely. My husband got me hooked. He was so enamoured with the written word; it was infectious!" Genuine smiled. I had the impression that this was the first time in our conversation where the smile was completely natural. "It was...difficult when he passed."

I looked down at my notes, uncomfortable at the sudden shift in mood.

Genuine waved it away and plastered a smile back onto her face. I was sure that I could tell the difference between her real smile and her fake smile, now that I'd seen it. "Is there anything else you'd like to ask?"

"How do you think this fad will impact your business? Especially if it passes." I asked.

Genuine stirred her drink idly. "I've lived in Canterlot my whole life. There are few timeless classics. Bitalian suits, Delmaneco's, and old literature are three classics I've found. This fad gives me a bit more of a cushion for when book collectors take time to restore and curate their libraries. You have to be smart or well-connected to run a business for long in this city. I'm both." The air of confidence around Genuine was almost palpable. I gained a lot of respect for her just from how she carried herself.

"Not to be reductive, but I'm sure ponies will love your story. Everypony loves a tale of overcoming hardships."

Genuine smiled playfully. For a moment I was surprised how many smiles one pony could have and how different they all were. "What's your story, Life?"

I wasn't sure where to begin. "It's not very interesting." I demurred.

She waved dismissively. "None of that humility. I've answered your questions. Fair is fair."

"To be fair, then, could you be more specific. I don't think you want my life from birth to breakfast." I quirked a brow.

This earned another laugh. "I don't think I've heard it put that way before! Fine. Where were you born?"

"Canterlot General Hospital." I answered simply.

She pressed. "Did you attend school?"

I knew this would sound more interesting than it was. "I graduated from the School for Gifted Unicorns."

"Really? So your magic is particularly strong?" Genuine asked.

I shrugged. "Only in a few areas. I'm told my concentration, levitation and tethering are all in the top 15% of unicorns. It's not that big of a deal." I looked away as I drank.

When I looked back, Genuine was staring at me intently. Did I have something on my face? "Are you staring at me?"

She nodded. "Come with me to my shop tonight. I'd like to show you a few volumes I procured recently." She stood.

I followed suit. "Don't we need the check?"

She shook her head, I noticed how her hair moved as she did. "Delmaneco knows where to send the bill." She left a pouch of bits on the table as a tip and shooed me towards the door.

***

"A first print Whitefoal edition of Prance and Prejudice? The Canterlot Archives doesn't even have this one in such good condition!" My eyes flicked to the next book under glass. "The Little Prance by Antoine de Saint-Equupony!" I resisted the urge to dance on my hind legs. Barely. "I never thought I'd see an original in my lifetime!"

“I’m glad you enjoy such a variety. What I wanted to show you is over here.” She called from the other side of the display room. This was a private room above the show room downstairs.

I looked at the cover of the book in question and my jaw nearly fell to the glass. “Sir Neighton's Philosophiae Naturalist Principia Mathemagica? I…I've only heard of rare book collections owning the early editions. To see a first print run of one of the most influential books of modern magical study…I can’t believe it.”

“I’ve made arrangements to have the book delivered to a very special collector. I owe him a favor, but I also know he’ll treat it with the utmost respect.” Genuine said, one hoof reverently placed on the glass above the once-in-a-lifetime book.

“This has been a truly amazing night. Thank you so very much, Madam Article.” I said fervently.

She shrugged. “I need to see things through other ponies eyes occasionally. This is fairly average for me.”

“I should have what I need to make my boss happy. If you have any questions, here’s my card.” I levitated one out of my pocket. She accepted it with her hoof and fanned herself with it. “I really should be going, but thank you again.”

She escorted me to the door. Her private coach was waiting for her and I helped her inside. We bid each other good night.

I took great pains to carefully put away the new suit and got my writing equipment together. Putting together the interview article turned out to be incredibly easy with how open Genuine had been. Maybe Deadline was right to push me out of my comfort zone. My work completed, I sighed. It was nearly time for Celestial to raise the sun. I left the article out to dry and went to bed.

It truly had been a very perfect night.

Life at Home

Talk about highs and lows, I woke up the next day to a letter from my parents. Mom insisted on having me over for dinner. She'd even managed to put pressure on my boss. Deadline even gave me time off after I turned in the article for editing. I’m not sure he was thrilled at me for not being there to finalize my big feature. Lovely Story, Canterlot’s resident mature author, could be very persuasive. That strength lay in opposition to father's strong suit; Second Story had a commanding presence. An architect and engineer, father designed some of Canterlot's hottest new shops, restaurants and galleries.

As I rode in the taxi out to the edge of the city, I steeled myself to deal with father. Second Story was a business pony first and father second. He’d worked very hard to provide for us and to his credit, I never went wanting for most things. Actually, there was only one thing I lacked; his acceptance. Father constantly corrected me. His time with me as a foal consisted of cutting me off, pointing out my stuttering, and trivializing my problems. I’d learned a long time ago not to expect compassion from him. If I told myself the truth, he was the reason I dreaded coming home. Compared to that, mom’s embarrassing writing habits were tame.

Their home looked as beautiful as when I left it. Between father’s pay and mom’s freakish book output, they were able to afford building their own home on the outskirts of Canterlot. Not easy, considering the city was built on the side of a mountain, but indicative of just how wealthy certain ponies could be. The home itself was built partially inside the mountain, but the interior rooms were lit by cutting edge electric lights. The front featured father’s masterful architectural prowess as well as mom’s love for stained glass. With the silver and white and colorful glass, it was easy to imagine this place as a treasure trove of wonder and whimsy.

No.

At least, not for me.

Walking up to the door tended to fill me with the sort of feelings from which I usually ran screaming. Unfortunately, like iron to a magnet, I was drawn back here often. My fondest hope was that my visit would be brief.

My father’s right hoof, Silver Platter, answered the door. “Master Life, a pleasure to see you. You know your mother insists that you should just walk in.” He said as he stepped aside.

I shrugged as I walked in. “You know my father prefers to know when someone has arrived. Figured I’d make it easy on you, Silv.”

“How very thoughtful of you, Master Life.” Silver responded politely. “Your mother is in the solarium. I shall inform your father of your arrival.”

“Of course.” I mumbled as Silver turned toward the master staircase.

Silver hesitated and turned halfway around to eye me. “Far be it from me to correct you, Master Life, but I would remind you of your father's opinion of mumbling.

I sighed. “Of course, thank you very much Mr. Platter.”

Silver rolled his eyes. He knew I only called him Mr. Platter when I was annoyed. Mercifully, he left without another word up the master staircase. Likely he was headed to father’s study.

Mother’s solarium was her special writing place. She insisted that the best stories were written by sun or candle. To that end, the solarium was the one room in the house that did not have electrical lights. Instead, large panes of glass allowed the most sunlight possible and candles were ensconced at various intervals around the room. Mom did a little gardening here to provide flowers for the house year round.

When I entered, she was neither writing nor gardening, but watching the sunset. The waning light threw pastel shades of red and gold over her golden coat and cherry-red mane. She sat like a goddess aflame, still and regal. The effect was stunning. I felt a nudge on my shoulder.

"This is how she looked when I first met her." Father said softly. It was so unlike my father, I did a double-take. He had eyes only for her at the moment so I was free to gape. His mane was almost fully white with a streak of black, an inversion of my mane. His black coat had become flecked with silver with age. The sunlight made mother look beautiful; father looked old and tired. I'd have thought it surreal, except I'd never dreamed my father could be anything but demanding and strong.

"Life!" Mother exclaimed. I turned in time to get caught in her embrace. A second later, she drew father into the hug, to our mutual discomfort. Oblivious, mother sighed. "My two favorite stallions." I looked at father, he simply rolled his eyes and shrugged, throwing a forehoof around mom's shoulders.

She drew back and gestured at father. "Your father has news!"

While mom looked excited, father looked mildly annoyed. "Dear, can't we do this at dinner?"

"You tell him now or I will!" She threatened lightly. This was a new development. Mom was always too busy with her books to be assertive with father.

Father sighed again. "I'm retiring."

My jaw dropped. Father's annoyed look deepened. "Son, you are a pony, not a fish." That was more like father. I closed my mouth with an audible clack. Mom bumped his shoulder, earning another sigh from father.

She turned back to me. "Isn't it exciting!"

"No." Father stated.

"Hush, you've been a sour sport about this since you decided to retire." Mom waved her hoof dismissively.

"Dinner." Father reminded her.

"Oh, fine. Lead the way."

I trailed behind them as they walked to the dining room, the lack of conversation left me free to speculate. Father never spoke about retiring. Ever. I assumed he would keep working until he passed away. Worst-case scenarios were flying through my head. Was father sick? Surely mom wouldn’t be so happy if father was unwell. Had he run out of clients? Maybe his designs had gone out of fashion? If nopony would hire him, would that make him retire? Did he have enough saved to retire? My father was no spring chicken, but he had a lot of life ahead of him, didn’t he?

I must have looked troubled as we sat at our usual places at the family table. Our dining room had two tables that would be joined together if we had company. The smaller family table allowed us to be closer. “Son, you can stop worrying. I may not be as excited as your mother, but this day has been planned for some time.”

It was unreal; Father never reassured me. “Why, sir?” There was a lifetime of questions in that one why.

"I want to relax, son.” He stated simply.

I hazarded a guess. “Is the business…”

He waved a hoof, cutting me off. “Business has been great. I’m more in demand now than ever. But I’m also older, son. Priorities change.”

Okay, next worse-case scenario. “Are you…”

“Son, I’m fine.” Father said with a touch of annoyance.

My ears pinned back. “Sorry, sir.”

Mom held a hoof up at father’s nose threateningly. He put his hooves up questioningly. She poked his nose meaningfully and he capitulated.

“Dad.” He corrected.

I nodded numbly, used to his correction tone. Then my eyes widened. “Dad?” This was boggling. Father had insisted I call him sir since I was a foal. Practically since I could speak.

“You're sure you're okay, sir?” I asked, half-jokingly.

He turned to mom, his patience worn out. “What did I tell you?”

Mom placated. “He’s just not used to you, dear. Think about how you’ve treated him his whole life.”

“I’m positive I wasn’t…” He began.

She placed a hoof on his shoulder. “Oh no? How about his graduation?”

I placed my head in my hooves. That night had been the worst. Father had allowed Div and only Div to celebrate my graduation from the School for Gifted Unicorns. The entire affair was a study in awkward conversation, made worse by father’s constant corrections. It ended when father was called away to recalculate a support beam for a nursery school. Mom actually apologized to Div and it took the two of them at least an hour to coax me back out of my room.

“It wasn’t that bad.” He said defensively. Mom glared at him. For once, he looked away first. “You’re right.”

“Life.” Today was a plethora of firsts for father. He never used my first name without also using my second and usually his tone was much more harsh. “I owe you an explanation.”

Mom held his hoof as he spoke. “Two weeks ago, I had a health scare. It turned out to be not as serious, but I had to stay at the hospital for a few days. I thought you knew and refused to visit me. I…”

He looked at mom, who nodded. “I said some rather harsh things about you. I’m sure you can imagine.” Sadly, I could. Father had been my harshest critic. With how much I resented him, I was surprised at how much I felt for him just now.

“At any rate, your mother took me to task for bad-mouthing my own son. She had decided not to tell you. I demanded to know why.” He looked away.

She finished for him. “I told him that if his son came to his bedside, it would be out of obligation. You can imagine his response.”

Father took over. “Your mother and I had a conversation. It was a long conversation, and it was long overdue.” He paused to take a deep breath. “I know I can’t make up for how I’ve treated you over the years. Perhaps I convinced myself I was doing what was right for you. I was wrong.”

Father looked me in my eyes. “I’m truly sorry, Life.”

My eyes clouded over in hot tears. They ran freely down my face. He couldn’t…he couldn’t just do that. I thought. He can’t make me feel for him after so many years of fearing him.

“Y-you…I…but you a-always.” I could feel my body shaking as I struggled for words. No! No stuttering! Father always hated stuttering. "S-sorry, sir. I-I mean…d-d-dad.”

Mother looked at him meaningfully and father looked as if he'd eaten something sour. Father stood up and walked to me. I scrambled to get to my feet, years of training screaming at me to stand with the host. Solemnly, father held up a forehoof. “You don’t have to believe me. All I can do is beg for another chance to be a better dad.”

Could I forgive him? Did he deserve another chance? Did I deserve a better father? Here I was, a grown stallion, so close to a sobbing mess that I was turning red just from the embarrassment of crying. I’d put up walls to keep my father from hurting me, but he’d flown right over them.

I tried wiping my tears away with a forelimb only for more to stream down. “Ly.” Mom’s voice was at my side, she must have gotten up at some point. “Breathe, Ly. It’s okay. I know it’s a lot to take in. I’ve been trying to work with both of you to get to this point since your graduation. I’m as much to blame. I should have made less excuses for your father.”

“M-mom?” Why was she apologizing? I never blamed her. I wondered what she saw in father, but I never held her love for him against her.

“I haven’t written a book since you graduated. I don’t know if either of you realized.” I looked at f- dad, who shook his head. “Your graduation and your father's behavior then made things clear. I put my career first, too. After I had you I was so over my head that we decided to hire somepony to help. It freed up my time, but that was time I should've spent with my family. Well, at least part of that time should've been saved for you. So I insisted your father should find you a job in your field and we’ve been in touch with Hardy.”

I looked at her in surprise. She bit her lip. “I'm sorry. If it helps, he thinks very highly of you and didn’t say much else about you.” I wasn’t sure how to take that.

“Ly, a family takes work. The kind of work your father and I have neglected. We’ll do what it takes to earn back your trust. Can you give us the time?”

I looked at my parents. They both waited patiently. Picking up my napkin, I wiped my eyes again. I reached out to fath- dad first. He came closer and I pulled him into a hug. He chuckled at the sudden contact. I beckoned mom in as well and she cried, smiling.

We spent dinner and the ensuing hours talking, joking and laughing. Dad had a wicked sense of humor. Mom kept staring at us contently. When the hour was late, I found it difficult to leave.

“This is your home too, you know.” She reminded me.

“It certainly feels like it.” I nodded. “But I have edits to go over…”

“Please stay. We can have breakfast together. I’ll make pancakes.” I stared at her. “Okay, Silver will make pancakes. You can take a cab straight home after. I’ve already made arrangements.”

“Well, as long as Silver’s making pancakes.” I said with a grin, and mom chased me through the house.

“You get back here young man! I’ll have you know I cooked for your father when we were first married.”

“No wonder he hired Silver!” I shot back over my shoulder.

***

I took the cab straight home in time to see a pony waiting at my door. It was a delivery pony with a large crate. I hurried over to unlock the door.

“I have a delivery for Life Story.” He said, tiredly.

“Sorry. Yes, that’s me. I didn’t order anything, though.” I replied.

“If I had a bit for every time I heard that I’d be living in a mansion.” He responded. “Just sign here.” I complied, curious about the contents of the crate.

“Where do you want it?” He asked as I beckoned him in.
I wanted to say I had no clue what ‘it' even was so how was I supposed to know? Instead I said “Anywhere's fine.”

He rolled it in about five feet and stopped in the middle of my rather spartan living room. “You want I should open it?” He asked, pulling a crowbar out of his tool belt.

“If you would, please.” I didn’t exactly have any other way of opening it. Well, aside from using magic.

The delivery pony fitted the bar and popped off the top of the crate. With that gone, the other sides fell to the ground with a clatter. I flinched backward at the movement and noise. Small, white shock absorbers flooded the floor, much to my dismay. In the pandemonium of packing peanuts, the delivery pony slipped away. Annoyed, I unleashed my magic to try and gather the packing material, only to realize I had nowhere to put it. My trash can was full already.

I settled on piling it next to the object it had kept safe, resolving to find a trash bag eventually. It looked a lot like a cabinet, although it was hard to see because of the tarp secured over it. Removing it with my magic, I let the tarp fall as I stared at the newest addition to my living room.

An antique copy of Sir Neighton’s Philosophiae Naturalist Principia Mathemagica sat in a glass and wooden display case.

“Oh no.” I whispered softly, instantly horrified.

“Um, Life? Your front door is wide open. Are you okay?” Div walked in, stepping daintily around the pile on the floor. “You bought a book?”

I shook my head.

“It’s a gift?” He asked, eyeing me while trying to put it together. I nodded. There was a pause as he made the connection.

“From Genuine Article?” Again, I nodded. I couldn’t stand on my rear Hooves anymore so I sat where I stood. My forehooves covered my eyes.

Div was at my side at an instant. “Life. Breathe. Concentrate on your breathing. Take a deep breath.” My face ran red with embarrassment, this was so humiliating. Why did Div have to be here? He shouldn’t have to deal with me when I’m like this. Why can’t I just be rational?

“Ly, talk to me. Don’t get stuck in your head.”

“You shouldn’t be here. “ I blurted, only to cover my mouth with my hooves in shock. My eyes opened wide. “I…I”

“Shh, I know you didn’t mean it that way. Don’t apologize, please.” He moved away and I had an irrational urge to pull him closer. “I’m just shutting the door, Ly. Focus on breathing, count them off.”

I struggled at first; I was that close to hyperventilating. Div returned and coached me through it, counting and breathing with me. He extended a hoof. I looked into his eyes and nodded. He pulled my head onto his shoulder, careful not to impale himself on my horn. I felt close to tears from just how good it felt to be close to him. As ashamed as I am to admit it, I did tear up when he started rubbing my back.

“Just take it easy, Ly. Do you want to talk about it yet?”

“Yeph.” I answered, my mouth muffled by his chest.

“Genuine gave you an incredibly generous gift. What’s wrong with it?”

“I’m writing an article on her shop. If she’s giving me gifts, then it compromises my integrity as a journalist. How are ponies going to react if they thought the featured article on the biggest issue of the year was a tit for tat favor?”

“But it’s not.” He said.

“But that’s what it looks like. You know how Canterlot is about appearances!”

“Okay. I’ll arrange to have this returned. You go to work and tell Deadline what’s going on in case he hears about it. Better he hear it from you.”

“Right. Thanks, Div!” I called as I headed to my room. Quickly, I changed clothes and rushed out the door.

A Troubled Life

Author's Notes:

*chapter updated 12/25/17

“Story. My office. Now.” Deadline barked at me as soon as I set hoof out of the elevator. I trotted to catch up to him and just barely made it inside behind him.

“What in tartarus are you doing at Delmaneco’s? Let alone skipping out on the bill? You’re just lucky Delmaneco didn’t press charges!”

“What? But Genuine said…” I started. He cut me off.

“Genuíne? As in Genuíne Article?” His tone was incredulous.

I nodded before I found my voice. “Yes.”

“Oh Celestia! That explains it. If I’d thought you’d ever end up in her shop…” He rubbed his temples with both hooves.

I had to ask. “What’s wrong with Genuíne Article?”

“Aside from the fact that her name is the biggest lie in Equestria? Well, we used to date, about a year after her husband passed. Now, she's using you to try and get to me. This is a game to her and she doesn't even care if it looks like she has to bribe her way into a good review in a popular magazine so long as it means one of my best writers is ruined.” It wasn't the best time to get a happy feeling about being called one of Deadline's best writers. I ended up feeling strange; I mean, he also mentioned my career being ruined.

Deadline sighed. “What about the two delivery's to your apartment? Are you really getting bought off to write an article?”

How had he already heard about that? I wondered. As if to answer my thoughts, Deadline spoke. “I heard about Delmaneco's from Erede's father. We're, well not exactly friends, but acquainted. He seemed it was strange that one of my writer's was shmoozing at his place. And he found it even stranger that your interviewee was paying the bill. He also mentioned overhearing something about a horn ring?" I slapped my face in instant regret. I'd forgotten about the damn ring. "Trouble is I'm not the first one he told. And I'm not the only publisher he knows. If we go forward with the article, your reputation is ruined. I went to your place this morning when I heard. You didn’t answer but as I turned to leave a pony came by with a large package from an antique book shop.”

Canterlot could be a very small world sometimes. “I spent last night at my parent’s house. I didn’t order it! It just showed up on my doorstep! As a matter of fact I have a friend working on returning it as we speak. And I'm returning the ring. I don't know how she got my address, but I'm not keeping her gifts."

Deadline scrutinized me from across his desk. I held firm; I was the wronged one here. My stomach roiled. I was certain I was shaking from nerves and anger. Yet, somehow, I returned his stare. Finally, he sighed and looked down. “I brought you in here ready to fire you, Story.”

That was it. The end of my journalistic career stared me right in the face. Everything I’d driven myself to accomplish all down the drain thanks to a dinner and a book. My rear legs gave out and a fuzzy noise buzzed in my ear. Next thing I know, I’m spluttering; Deadline must have thrown a cup of water in my face.

He turned back around after setting the cup back on his desk. “Sorry, you weren’t responding and you looked about ready to faint. Do me a favor and don’t die until I finish my thought. I was going to fire you, but there’s enough wiggle room here for your version to be true. I salvaged things with Delmaneco, told him you were pretty scatterbrained, and paid the bill plus some extra. Don’t worry, it’s coming out of your pay. Make sure your friend gets Genuíne herself to sign for the return. I want a copy of that receipt as well.”

“If Genuíne decides to go public with rumors about your ethics, it will be nearly impossible to salvage your reputation as a journalist. Needless to say, your interview with her is not going to publication, she would use that as proof she paid to get a good review. By not publishing it...well it's another headache for me but good for you. Until she decides to let rumors fly, I have a way to keep you employed but out of sight.”

I wasn't sure I liked the sound of that. “What do you mean ‘out of sight?’”

“There are a group of journalists doing a tour around Equestria for various magazines. It’s three months. You’ll use a fake name and a spell to alter your cutie mark.”

I waited as he paused. Belatedly, I realized he was done. “You’re serious? Won’t someone figure out that the writer from Celerity is the same disgraced sap just fired from Celerity?”

“Technically, you’ll be working for Gentlecolt’s Quarterly. I have a friend who owes me one.”

“Am I fired or not?” I asked, suddenly more brave than I had any right to be.

Deadline shrugged. “Officially, you’re on leave. Family business.”

At my stricken look, his expression softened. “Look, I know you have friends and family here. There’s no guarantee that any of this will save your career. It might be time to look into something else if you’d rather…”

I couldn't ask my parents or even Div for help again. It was time to pony up. “Promise me you won’t tell my parents anything about why I’m leaving.”

He nodded. “You have my word.”

I sat back, slumped. “What’s the new name?”

Deadline eyed me carefully. He threw a folder at me from his desk. “Blot Inkwell. How are you with illusion spells?”

“Not great.” I admitted.

“Didn’t you go to the School for Gifted Unicorns?” He asked.

I sighed. “I majored in levitation and writing spells.” I reminded him.

He grunted. “Oh, right. Well then here’s the address of a pony you’ll need to see before you go.”

***

I’d decided against telling anyone I was leaving face to face. Goodbyes were too stressful. Two letters, one to Div and the other to my parents, sat in my mailbox awaiting the mailpony’s arrival tomorrow. Of course, things don’t always go as planned.

"Life, what the hay is going on?" Div must've been angry. He never used his key to my place without permission. Not like I’d answered the door, but still.

"Good to see you too, Div, let yourself in. Make yourself at home.” I murmured as Div made his way through the mess of boxes, bags, and suitcases.

"You quit your job?" No mistaking, Div was livid. Normally, I would've shrank away, but I couldn't find the energy to care.

"Eeyup." I confirmed.

"What happened?" Div sat on the floor beside me.

I sighed. "Nothing. I finished the assignment and decided I was done working there. Got another offer."

"No notice? You just handed in your article and walked away?" Div asked disbelievingly.

"Eeyup." I placed the last wrapped figurine in the box and sealed it with tape.

“What happened to your cutie mark?” I felt a hoof on my flank. I turned my head to see Div staring intently at my rear. A slight shiver ran through me. Part of me wanted to buck him away. The other part…

“I’m going undercover. Thought the illusion would help.” Not exactly a lie. My ankh on a scroll had been replaced by a pot of ink and a rather unflattering splatter. I scooted away across the floor.

Seemingly unfazed, Div pressed on. "And what's with all the boxes?"

"I'm leaving Canterlot. There's a group of journalists traveling across Equestria for a few months."

Div shot up onto all fours. "What? You're just going to leave?"

"Eeyup." I replied flatly.

"Were you going to tell anyone?" Div asked, his volume rising.

I gestured at the mailbox. “In the mail.”

"Not in person? Not even to me?" My ears caught a change in Div's tone and I looked Div in the face for the first time since he came in. My friend looked more than angry; he looked hurt. "Were you even going to say goodbye to me, Ly?"

"Div...I...wait." A thought occurred to me. "Wait, how did you know about any of this?"

Div took a subconscious step back as I stood up. "Ly, don't change the..."

"No! I've answered a ton of questions already. Answer me. Who told you about me quitting?" I glared at him as he shrank away.

Sighing, Div looked down. "Your father."

Oh it was bad enough Div knew, but my parents? My tension shot up to the ceiling. "And how did my father know?"

Div gestured vaguely with one hoof. "Ly, you know Second Story and Hard Deadline..."

"Are friends? Yeah. That doesn't give Mr. Deadline the right to go tell my daddy on me.” Not to mention I had his word he wouldn’t…oh bother. I’d miscalculated; I’d sworn him to secret about why, but he was free to tell them just about anything else.

Div closed in to lay a hoof on my shoulder. "Life, they're just worried about you. I am too, this isn't like you."

"What the hell do you know about me?" I growled angrily. I hadn’t known ponies could growl.

Div's eyebrows shot up. "I know that's the first time I've ever heard you swear."

I looked down at the floor. My stomach fluttered. He really did know me too well. A large part of me wanted to fold and let him know the truth. What was going on? I thought. How could he have such an effect on me?

"Life, please, talk to me. This isn't the pony I know. You can tell me anything, I promise. But you're scaring me. Quitting your job, accepting an offer, and traipsing off to Celestia knows where with a bunch of strange ponies? Life Story just doesn’t do change that quickly.” My ears pivoted to focus on him. I was instantly offended. How could he think that of me?

"What?” I asked with deadly calm. Div put his hoof over his mouth, his eyes wide. My eyes narrowed. "Just what do you mean by that?"

Div tried placating me. “Sorry, Ly, that didn’t come out right. But you know what I mean. You stress over everything and now suddenly you can just uproot yourself and walk away?”

"You've no idea what...HELL I put myself through lately. If I stay I’ll only be an embarrassment to the people I love. This is my mistake; I’ll fix it my way.” I turned back to finish the last few box. It was getting harder and harder to argue with him. Everything in me seemed to want to reach out to him.

“How could I be embarrassed by you? What mistake? Why can’t I help you? Just talk to me!” In that moment, it was clear to me just why exactly I couldn’t face him. Why it would have hurt to say goodbye, why I needed to go before he probed any more, and why I needed to convince him I wasn’t worth it; I loved him.

I loved him more than just a friend. He was always there for me. His family accepted me better than my own had until recently.

Scarier still, I was pretty sure he felt the same way. Maybe he was just being a good friend, but then again he was always there. Brushing my mane, calming me down from an anxiety attack, and holding me till I felt better. If that didn’t show the depths of his feelings towards me, then I was a cockatrice. How had it taken me that long to realize it?

Now that I knew, how could I drive him away and keep him from digging deeper? I looked down and it was painfully clear. I found my energy and tore open the box of figurines I’d just packed. With my magic, I starting hurling them at my friend as I screamed angrily. "Get OUT, get the HELL out of here, Div. I'm leaving Canterlot and I don't care if I'm ever coming back!"

Div tried vainly to avoid the porcelain missiles. I really hoped these didn’t hurt too much. "Life, please stop!"

"Go to hell, Div! And tell that smart ass Deadline and my snooping old father to go with you!"

"Ly..." Div flinched as a figurine broke on contact with the wall next to his head. Tears streamed down from his face. "Ly, I can’t let you go, I..."

I couldn’t let him confess to me. Desperate, I actually rammed him, sending him through the door he hadn't bothered to close. Div landed sprawled out on the floor in the hallway. Before I could close the door, I saw the grief-stricken look on Div's face. With a will, I blocked out the look and slammed the door between us.

I turned around, but could only slide down the door into a sitting position. It was hard to breathe. My body shook as I couldn't believe I'd just pushed away the pony I loved. I guess there really is no point in staying in Canterlot, I thought.

Back inside the apartment, I packed one bag. For the last time, I looked around my cluttered apartment. All this stuff and yet the most important things are in this bag. The thought helped. I'd been worried about putting all this stuff in storage, but truthfully there wasn’t much. I’d made arrangements for the landlord to let the moving ponies take my things to storage, which I’d paid up for a year.

Without a backward glance I left my apartment, dropped the keys off in my landlord's drop box and headed for the train.

Life and Lies

Why hadn't I seen this coming? After all, Div got the tip-off about my leaving from them. But, especially after my fight with Div, I was least prepared to see my parents waiting for me outside the station. With a will, I rubbed the last few tears from my eyes and walked up to them.

Mom looked around. “Where’s Div?”

Oh I was so not ready to deal with this. How could I tell them about our fight? How would they take it if I told them about my feelings for him? I looked down shamefully. “He…I…said goodbye to him at the apartment.”

“Darn! He was supposed to talk you out of going.” Mom said angrily. I looked up at them. Mom's eyes showed signs of crying. Dad’s face was unreadable. I knew I would feel horrible saying goodbye to them. If only things had gone like I planned; I explain myself much better through a letter than I do face to face.

“Sorry, Mom, I’m still going.” I said, putting all my resolve behind that statement.

Mom's eyes welled up with tears. “But, why…?”

My dad interrupted. “Dear, you said if Div couldn’t convince him…”

Mom stomped her hoof foalishly. “Don’t you try holding my words against me, Second Story! This is my son we’re talking about.”

She turned on me. I could taste the maternal guilt trip headed my way. It was bitter. “You can’t just go! You’ve just started getting to know your father again. It took ages to get him to the point of retiring.”

“Not exactly selling my good points, dear.” I was starting to realize where my warped sense of humor came from.

She ignored his interruption and pressed on. “We finally have the time together as a family. You can move back in with us! We’ll weather whatever storm you’re facing together!”

Dad spoke up again. “This isn’t about us as a family, Lovely. He needs to take care of his career. You heard about how big this opportunity is from Hardy.”

“And where do you think he learned to put work ahead of his family?” My eyes widened. Mom rarely argued with anyone like this, let alone her husband. She'd always made allowances for him; I thought she barely even noticed when dad wasn't around.

For his part, dad looked remarkably unperturbed. He didn’t even flinch as she blew up in his face. Instead, he persisted in trying to stop mom’s guilt trip. “Your son is an adult, whether we want to recognize that or not.”

“He doesn’t have to go, though. He could…” Mom looked on the verge of more tears. I really didn’t want to see my mother cry. I was sure I’d lose my resolve.

Dad tried giving me a reassuring look. “We didn’t raise him to be the type of pony to live off of others, even us. If he doesn’t take this opportunity, who knows when the next will come up?”

It was an eerie feeling, to think my dad understood me better than mom in this situation. Although the guilt I had from making them believe this would advance my career was very high at this point.

Mom couldn’t speak, she shook with silent sobs as tears streamed down he cheek. I stepped up to hug her, but she didn’t see that and reached for dad. He embraced her tightly. I looked up into his face and was shocked beyond speech to see there were tears in his eyes too.

I worked my mouth to try and say anything but the words wouldn’t come. Dad reached over and closed my mouth. I looked at him and he smiled with tears in his eyes.

“There are some sacrifices one has to make in order to accomplish one’s goals. Do you have a goal in mind, Ly?” Dad asked.

A lump rose in my throat. It was hard to speak, but at last I managed. “Yes, sir.”

Dad beckoned me in with his free hoof. I shed a fear tears on his coat for the first time I can remember. He didn’t seem to mind the tears. I felt his forelimb around me and then another as mom hugged me as well.

I felt a leaden weight in the pit of my stomach. How could I do this to them? Couldn’t I trust them enough to live with them again? I found my resolve wavering. Luckily, Dad released me and he and mom stood side by side.

He looked at mom and I, both still in tears and he sighed. “Would you two lighten up? It’s six months, not six years! Your mother and I are in good health and, as long as you haven’t missed your train, we will all be back here again before we know it.” I nodded quietly. I looked at mom, she stepped forward to hug me again.

“I know it will be hard, but promise me you’ll write. A postcard, a sentence, whatever, as long as I hear from you.” Mom insisted. She released me to look me in the eye.

I nodded. “Yes, Mom. I promise.”

She bopped my nose. “Good colt. Now go and remember to have some fun, too.” I adjusted my saddlebags and headed inside the station.

Thankfully, the bags hadn’t shifted, so my altered cutie mark went unnoticed by my parents.

***

“Mr. Inkwell, with Vanhoover just a few moments away, there are things we need to go over.” Open Schedule, a light purple mare only just bigger than a filly, was trying in vain to get me to focus. Her accent reminded me strongly of Silver Platter. She’d introduced herself as my coordinator. Every writer on the trip had one, I was assured. Her job was supposedly to make my life easier on this trip. This had yet to pan out for me.

Quite frankly, the little mare was a nuisance. It was tough to go anywhere without catching a glimpse of her two tone pink mane. I’d already gotten an earful about eating by myself. Just yesterday, I heard a lecture about going off alone. All this while everyone was stuck on a train! I was beginning to feel like a colt on some long term field trip.

“Ms. Schedule, nothing would give me more pleasure.” I said drily, rolling my eyes for full effect.

She ignored my sarcasm and ploughed on. “Mr. Neighson was quite insistent that we test the limits of your abilities in the first few stops. I have an interview set up for you with a gallery owner in downtown Vanhoover. Since you’ve experience working with a monthly magazine, I trust you are familiar with the kinds of deadlines and editing cycles it takes. Given our rather tight itinerary we'll need this article completed by the time we hit the next city. The deadlines get a little more forgiving after this point. GCQ isn’t expecting much in the first few installments, but you’re going to be building up a feature article based on your travel experience over these next six months.”

It all sounded familiar. I was less than thrilled to have to do an interview article again. “Is that all?”

The small mare took a large breath and looked me in the eye. “A small word about attitude, Mr. Inkwell. I can appreciate a good joke every now and again but your behavior towards me has been less than professional and I will not stand for it. To be frank, you’re moody, sarcastic, and completely unsuited to write for fashion. This industry is neither kind nor forgiving. If you can’t put on a happy face and make nice with ponies, you’d be better off writing biographies on historically significant ponies.”

I winced at the thought of dusty libraries. “You may have a point…”

She cut me off with confidence. “I know I do. I’ve been in this business for quite a bit longer than you realize. Even the phony ponies do better than the tortured writers.”

Ouch, I thought. “Please, I’m sorry. I let personal issues get in my way and it was very unprofessional of me. If I might make one small request?”

She arched her eyebrows in surprise. “One does not usually make apologies and requests at the same time, but given that I expected you to blow me off I’m inclined to listen, Mr. Inkwell.”

“Please call me Li- Blot, Open.” I could have kicked myself at the near miss. “Mr. Inkwell is my father.” I watched her expression go from surprise, to insult at using her first name, to a hint of a smile, and then back to seriousness. It was quite a feat of facial gymnastics.

“That would be unprofessional, Blot.” The slip caused her to raise a hoof to her lips. “I-I meant…”

“We’ll have a lot of time together, Open, I would rather hear my name.” Even if it wasn’t really my name, I thought.

“Perhaps a little bit of unprofessionalism is warranted, given the circumstances. Fine, Blot, shall I give you the rundown on the first stop?”

Vanhoover was larger than anticipated, with all sorts of ponies and even non-ponies. I tried not to stare at the first minotaur I saw, luckily Open steered me away before I attracted its notice. Open led me through the city as though she'd walked its streets her whole life. Then again, with what little I knew of her, maybe she had.

I'd thought we were heading straight for the gallery, but our first stop was a bistro. "Um, Open?"

I could see her barely suppress the urge to correct me. Instead, she held the door open and gestured me inside. "You might enjoy the food from the dining car, Mr.- I mean Blot. However, I tend to enjoy fresher offerings. Try the fruit, you won't regret it." She said as she handed me a menu. We sat ourselves at a small booth and looked over the selection. There was a plethora of fruit-centric options, so Open's advice wasn't exactly helpful.

I looked up at her. "Half this menu is fruit."

She looked over her menu with just her eyes, but I could tell she was smiling. "Oh, is it? Then I guess I won't be wrong."

"Look at you. Telling jokes." I was mildly proud of her, on top of being annoyed.

The waiter came and took our order. I decided to go with grilled pineapple on a pile of hay fries. Open ordered a grilled fruit kebab with a sparkling grape cider. The silence between us turned awkward and we took turns looking at our hooves.

Finally, I ventured a question. "So, where are you from?"

"Liverpone, Great Bittain." That explained the accent.

"My father's...friend grew up in Great Bittain." I backed off calling Silver a butler. I'm sure plenty of ponies had butlers from Great Bittain in Canterlot, but I didn't need to give away any clues as to my identity. Well, that and I had never been comfortable with the idea of personal servants. Although dad and Silver were good friends. Call it a half-truth.

Silence had fallen between us again. "So, are you going to keep lying to me, or am I not supposed to call you on that?" I had to hand it to her, she didn't avoid confrontation.

"What are you..."

She cut me off. "Look, whatever reason you have for hiding who you really are is your own business, I guess. I just thought I should tell you that you are a horrible liar." It wasn’t my first time hearing that.

I sighed. "You're not going to rat me out?"

She spread her hooves. "Do I look like a rat to you?"

I bit off a retort about her size. "Fair enough. My reasons are my own. It's not that I don't trust you to keep a secret..."

"Liar." She pointed out.

"How do you know?" I asked sincerely.

"You never maintain eye contact. At first, I thought you were just shy. Not saying you're not shy, but there was another part to it. Anytime you're asked about your past, you avoid the question. You also play with your hooves when you lie."

"I do not." I said defensively, trying to keep my hooves still.

"I guess I could teach you how to lie better, since you insist on doing so." Open remarked idly. "You have a lot to learn, so we could start now, if you like?"

Looking around, I decided it couldn't hurt. "Okay. What's first?"

Author's Notes:

Another shortie. Playing the next few by ear...or eye. Anyways, thanks to all those who support this work. The upvotes and comments make it real easy to want to continue!

Sick and Tired Life

Given recent history, this interview could have been worse.

Painted Quill Gallery featured art by predominantly pegasus and griffon artists. Quill, the gallery owner/event organizer was great to talk to. Within moments we were conversing like old friends, in spite of everything I’d ever heard about griffons.

His featured artist, on the other hoof, was a total pain. I was guided to the most prominent piece in the gallery by the pegasus himself. Color Wheel was a white pegasus, although his wings and flanks had been dyed haphazardly, likely due to his method of painting. Color Wheel’s artwork was in style in the city, though it was beyond me. Perhaps there are things about art I’ll never understand but the random splatterings on the canvas looked more like a mess than a work of art.

“It looks…lovely.” I hazarded a compliment.

Apparently, that was wrong. “It’s not about what the painting looks like! It’s about how the piece was created.”

I resisted the urge to sigh. “Oh, my apologies. How was this piece created?”

“Of course you’d ask that question.” Color Wheel huffed and walked away haughtily. If I never met another prideful pegasus artist, it would be too soon.

Quill steered me away from the puffed up multi-colored artist. From Open’s expression of mirth, my irritation must have been plain to see.

“Have you ever had traditional Griffon cooking? I don’t exactly have the best of kitchens here, but I’m sure I could tickle your palate.” Not wanting to be rude, I accepted.

Quill proffered a platter of griffon scones. Biting into one proved to be challenging, but I surmised the toughness went unnoticed to a griffon’s beak. The taste wasn’t altogether horrible, but the tough texture made for an eating experience I was sure I’d try to experience as little as possible from now on. Open wisely turned down the offer.

“No thank you, Quill, I ate at a café downtown.” Why hadn't I thought of that?

Quill selected one for himself. “Too bad, I think this is my best batch yet! Wouldn’t you say so, Blot?”

I realized I hadn’t actually been able to swallow the first bite. My strategy was to chew it into submission, but I’d run out of saliva somewhere along the way. Hastily, I tried swallowing. Tears ran down my face as my throat was scoured by the rough scone. In spite of myself, I coughed into my hoof. I tried to speak and coughed again.

When I had control of myself, I answered. “A little dry, but rather enjoyable.”

“Well, let’s get you a glass of juice and another scone!” Quill announced heartily and slapped me on the back with one talon. I managed to suppress the fit of coughing this time until Quill disappeared back into the kitchen.

Open laughed openly. I scowled at her. “Well, your lying is getting better.” She teased.

"Thanks." I replied sarcastically.

***

“Inkwell! Wake up!” My body felt like I’d been tossed about; I was sore from top to tail. Shooting pains struck through my brain as I neared consciousness. These were followed by a echoing series of bone-deep aches. Perspiration soaked the bed beneath me like parched land. Everywhere I could possibly feel felt hotter than a summer rain.

I was blinded momentarily when my compartment door opened. I flinched away, body screaming with the effort it took to move quickly away from the pain of the light. Open's voice crested over me with reckless disregard. "Blot! Get your plot in gear before I..." The cacophony cut itself short. I shivered in the silence, although I still felt too hot.

Oversensitive, I could practically feel each staccato beat of her hooves on my compartment's floor. She leaned over me, pulling my blanket down enough to survey my ailing form. Softly, she spoke. "You look like crap, Blot."

The storm in my head reached another crescendo, blasting apart the witty retort I'd been trying to form. My voice was unfamiliar to my own ears. "Feel...worse." I croaked.

She turned to the sideboard and quickly poured me a cup of water. I tried to take it from her with my magic, but my horn barely glowed. “I’ll help you, just try not to get it everywhere.” The water helped a little. I moaned softly when the cup was empty.

"Hang on, one of the other writers is a medical expert for Equestria Today's health section." She trotted away, forgetting to close the door to relieve my misery. I pulled my pillow over my head.

I must have drifted in and out of sleep, because it seemed like moments later the medical expert was at my side. She was a portly pony, gray mane neatly tucked into a bun. Her forest green coat glowed in the silver light of her magic as she worked a spell to check my condition. Years of doctor's visits conditioned me to sit still, but I couldn't bear the light of her magic in my eyes. With a firm but gentle touch, she held my head.

She touched her glowing horn to mine and relief poured in, quieting the storm of misery. To my great irritation, it didn't fully eliminate my symptoms. The weight on me was diminished, but still slowed me. The sensitivity to light receded, but the light from the open doorway was still too much. My head and full body ache had likewise been nearly eradicated, but only nearly. I tried to sit up but two hooves held me down. The medical writer and Open prevented me from rising.

My condition had done my mood no favors, but I realized the anger I felt was misplaced. I sighed and relaxed. "Thank you, doc."

"Call me Cross. And don’t thank me; I should knock you out, Mr. Inkwell. I still might, given your state."

"What's the situation, Cross?" Open asked.

"Seems to be a moderate flu. The headaches and light sensitivity also seems to suggest a sinus infection. My guess is you got lucky and have both."

"Guess?" Open asked.

"Lucky?" I asked at the same time.

"Pardon me, poor word choice. That's part of why I'm writing about medicine." She drew herself up and spoke professionally. "Without extensive and superfluous testing I am of the opinion that, unless this condition worsens or new symptoms arise, Mr. Inkwell is suffering from both the flu and a sinus infection."

"Will he be able to make the next few stops? He has three guest writer articles in local papers and a deadline from GCQ coming up fast. This is the busiest leg of the tour!"

Cross sighed and shrugged. "I'd advise against it."

"You can't cast something to cure him?" Open asked in irritation.

The doctor snorted. "No, I can't. A unicorn’s immune system is already boosted by their own magic, which is why Mr. Inkblot can’t even levitate things presently. At best, I can relieve the symptoms. That will reduce the severity and the length, but he'll still be miserable. Not to mention the flu is contagious. The best course of action is to let his body recover with only as much magic as necessary."

Open looked crushed. This had to happen at the worst time possible.

“Let’s get his bedsheets changed; they’re soaked through. He’ll develop bedsores otherwise.” She turned to address me. “This won’t likely be any fun for you, but you’ll need to get up. My levitation skills aren’t quite good enough to lift a full grown stallion.”

In the end, it took help from Open to get up and out of bed. My head spun dangerously, but Open pinned me between her and the wall to keep me upright. Cross quickly removed the sheets, cast a drying spell on the mattress and levitated a new set of linen.

I stepped towards the bed, but Cross held up a hoof to stop me. “You need to dry up a little yourself. Close your eyes and your mouth.” I did as she bid and felt her magic engulf me, cleaning off the sweat still clinging to my sides and forehead. Didn’t do much for my smell, but at least I could lie down without soaking things.

As I drifted off, I heard the two mares talking.

“Thanks Crimson Cross, I…I don’t know how I’d have managed without you.” Open sounded concerned.

Cross reassured her. “I know you’ll take good care of your writer, Open. Just make sure you take care of yourself along the way.”

***

Waking up wasn’t pleasant, but it was better than before. Looking around, I could tell it was early morning. I sat up in bed, wincing slightly at the stiffness and soreness that remained. Turning the bedside lamp on, I nearly jumped out of bed. Open was at my bedside, asleep; her upper half resting on the bed and her lower half seated on a cushion.

She must’ve been at my side all night, I thought. Idly, I ran a hoof over her mane.

Her eyes opened. For a moment, she smiled. A real, genuine smile. Then she bolted upright, then winced at the pain in her back. “Guess I slept a little longer than I expected. How are you feeling?”

I surveyed my body. “Not bad. Not good, but not bad. Seems I had an angel watching over me.”

Her face flushed red. “You owe me one.”

“I guess I do.” I said, grinning.

She sighed and offered me a glass of water. I tried levitating it, but Open pulled the cup away. "Honestly, you're as bad as a foal. Use your hooves."

I complied and drained the cup completely. "Thanks, Open."

She nodded, then looked hesitant. “Who’s Div?”

I was poleaxed. “Wh-wha-where did you hear that?”

She looked even more embarrassed. “You were talking in your sleep. Something about being sorry to someone named Div.”

I looked at my hooves. For once, they were still. I felt fairly confident that I could lie to her. Even if I wasn’t convincing, she probably wouldn’t call me on it if she saw I was uncomfortable. I looked back up at her.

Her face showed signs of crying. She really was worried about me. My hoof shook. I took a deep breath and sighed. I couldn’t lie to her; she’d been too good to me. “Div is…was my best friend in Canterlot. He was never anything but good to me and I pushed him away.”

“Who are you?” She asked. I looked down at my hooves again. “I suppose I shouldn’t ask. It’s not like I’ve been completely open to you.” She stood up stiffly and headed to the door.

“My name is Life Story.” I called as she reached for the door.

She stopped and turned around. “You don’t have to…”

“I don’t want to live a lie. It's just a cover I need in case things go south.” I said. She winced, although I’m sure it wasn’t physical pain this time.

Shrugging, she continued. “Why the fake name and cutie mark?”

Wait a minute. “I didn’t say anything about my cutie mark.”

She walked over and pulled the covers off. My ankh on a scroll was clearly visible on both flanks. “That charm must have been tied to your own magic. Your magic is currently tied up with boosting your immune system. I noticed when we got you up to dry you. It’s part of why I pinned you to the wall. Crimson Cross didn’t ever get a good look at it.”

I sighed in relief. “Thank you.”

She waved dismissively. “You can throw a cloak on until your magic is back.”

As she turned to leave, I decided to ask a question of my own. “Open, will you answer my question honestly.”

She stopped and looked at me sideways. “That depends on what it is.”

I held a hoof up. Then I thought better and lowered it. “Fair enough. Why help me?”

She tossed her head, a derisive smile on her lips. “I’m your coordinator. I’d look pretty bad if I didn’t get you back on your hooves.”

I locked eyes with her. “You know what I mean. You’re going to keep my secret just because I’m your writer? Is that the only reason?”

For once, she looked away. “What other reason would there be? ”

I definitely had her in a lie. “I’m not trying to flatter myself, but…”

“Then don’t.” She replied sternly as she turned to leave once more.

“Wait.” I called out as I stood on shaky legs. “I’m sorry, Open. I was just wondering…”

She spoke without turning around. “Don’t worry about me, Life. Your secret is safe with me.” She opened the door and closed it behind her without so much as a backward glance.

***

Being sick had to be one of the worst ways to visit Whinnyappolis. Not to mention the number of parties I’d been to in just one night. So it was just my luck that the one below me that night was the noisiest. It was my luck that I was the only one on the roof. And it was my luck that my magic hadn’t recovered enough to unlock the door that had somehow been locked behind me.

At least the cloak I had on kept me decently warm. I looked up at the stars. They were a little harder to see than they were in Canterlot. I was lost in thought as I heard the door open behind me.

When it finally hit me, I turned around. “Don’t let the door close!” I said, just in time for the door to close behind an ice blue Pegasus.

Startled, she backed up into the locked door and cried out. I got up to check on her and the door and noticed her wing was bandaged. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.” She said as she bit her lower lip. A lie. Judging by how quickly she answered, it was one she'd told often lately.

My only response was a knowing stare. I'd managed to pick that up from Open as well. Hers was better, of course. “Well, no, but I’ve been to a doctor about this already.” She explained, indicating her bandaged wing.

“I didn’t expect anypony to be up here.” She stated softly when I didn't speak.

“I just came out for some fresh air.” That was the most disconcerting lie of the bunch. Aside from the bandages, she wasn’t wearing anything. It was a very cold night to go out unclad. “And you?”

Time to play it cool. She wouldn't just burst out of her shell if I came barging into it. “Just getting some air myself. It’s cold out, why don’t you take my cloak?” I asked.

“Well, you’re a unicorn. Why don’t you just unlock the door?” She asked, evading my offer.

“I can’t. The lock is unfamiliar and my magic is at an all time low at the moment.” I explained. She shook a little. I took off my cloak and draped it over her back, taking care to lay it gently on her injured wing.

She couldn't keep eye contact. “You don’t have to…”

“You need it more than I do. Please.” She stopped arguing and walked over to where I’d been sitting. She looked out over the city.

Concerned about her new seat, I joined her. “Well, if we’re stuck, at least we’re together. What’s your name?”

She drew a breath and let it out slowly. “Velocity Windwing.”

That sounded familiar to me. “I know that name! You’re one of the premier junior flyers in Northern Equestria.”

She looked at me in surprise. “How do you know that? Hardly anypony pays attention to Northern flyers.”

“My best friend kept tabs on the up and coming flyers. His parents were involved in the world aerialist scene before they retired.” I said cheerfully. I realized how much I missed Div. As the silence grew I wondered if I could make it up to him.

“What’s your name?” Velocity asked.

I paused, belatedly realizing my cutie mark was in plain view. Might as well tell the truth. “Life Story.”

“The writer from Celerity?” She asked.

Now it was my turn to be surprised! “How did you know?”

“I used to watch fashion trends. Your articles stood out. It always seemed like you really got to know the story behind the scenes. You haven’t been writing lately.” She eyed me in silent expectation.

I acquiesced. “I’ve had some personal business to take care of.”

“I see. I guess I can understand that. I’ve been sidelined myself.” She sighed.

I looked at her wing. “Is it bad?”

“It’ll be fine.” She said, biting her lip again.

“I’m sorry.” I offered.

“It’s not like it’s your fault.” She said irritably. Her eyes misted up. “It’s my own dumb fault…” She looked down, covering her face with her good wing as she shook in barely audible sobs.

Unsure of what to do, I gently laid a hoof over her shoulders. “Is this alright?” I asked. She didn’t respond verbally, but she dropped her wing and put her face in my chest. Gently, I massaged the back of her neck and where her neck met her shoulders. The muscles in her shoulders were firm under my hooves. She must have been a very strong flyer, before her wing…

“Would it help to talk about it? How did you hurt your wing?” I asked.

“Not… hurt. Ruined.” She squeezed out around sobs.

Not knowing quite what else to say, I repeated. “I’m sorry.”

She shook her head in my chest. “Don’t apologize.”

“No, I’m sorry you’re going through this. Nopony deserves to be miserable.” I tried to reassure her.

“I do.” She said miserably. “I was such a heartless, selfish mare. I pushed myself relentlessly to be the best. Recklessly, even. I…crashed. My wing… They don’t think I’ll ever fly again.” Her admission out, she broke into deeper sobs and sank to a seated position. I sank with her, cradling her head against my chest.

When her sobs subsided, I ventured an observation. “No matter had bad you were, you didn’t deserve this.”

She pulled away to look me in the eye angrily. “How can you say that? You barely know me. My best friends said that it was my reward for hogging the spotlight.”

"I don't need to know you to know that those must have been some horrible friends. I would be devastated at the loss of my magic. I can't imagine losing the ability to fly." I held her gaze and she shook her head in wonder.

"How can you say something like that to some random pony?" She wondered aloud.

“Because I know a Pegasus who says they were a lot like you.” I stated calmly. “She took everything for granted, even her own flightsuit designer. She was sidelined with what should have been a career-ending injury and found out all the ponies she thought were her friends were just along for the ride while she was on top. All of her friends abandoned her, except one.”

“Who stayed with her?” Velocity asked, much like I had when I first heard the story.

“Progetta della Forma. Her designer. The very pony she had shown the least amount of kindness towards.” Mamma Pro loved that part. At this point of the story Ma Amore usually pointed out how many pins ‘accidentally’ were left in her flightsuits before the accident. Progetta was usually unsympathetic towards her lover, insisting each pin was well earned.

I’d neglected to notice Velocity’s shocked expression. She spoke in half sentences, barely believing what I said. “Wait. Are you talking about…? There’s no way you actually know…! But I don’t remember Her ever being injured.” From the reverence in her voice, I could tell how highly she regarded 'Her.' Ma Amore would love this.

I resisted the urge to laugh at the image of the old aerialist mare puffing up her chest and wings with pride. “It was pretty early in her career. But yes, I’m talking about my best friend’s mother; Amore diVolare. Although growing up, I called her Ma or Ma Amore.”

Suddenly, the mare was full of energy. She practically bounced to her hooves, good wing flapping excitedly. “I love her! She’s my favorite flyer of all time!”

The image in my head turned to Ma Amore doing victory laps. I smiled. “Well, if you’re ever in Canterlot, look up Mamma Pro’s House of Clothes. I’m sure she’d love to meet a fan. She’s convinced most of her fans are old stallions she broke up with in Bitaly.” I laughed.

Behind us, the door opened with a bang. “Life Story! What did I tell you about going off alone!” Open chastised from the doorway.

“Don’t let the door close!” I called out as I turned around.

“Who would be silly enough to let a roof door close behind them? Oh, yeah. The same dolt colt who decided to go stargazing when he should be inside schmoozing with the architect!” Open looked seriously annoyed.

“After you.” I gestured towards the door. Velocity walked ahead of me. She turned around once we were inside. Open threw me a dirty look over her shoulder.

“I promise I’ll be right down in a minute, Open.” I said. She huffed and walked downstairs.

“Your cloak.” Velocity reminded me as she held it out on one hoof.

“Promise me you won’t go out there again.” I said sternly.

Her eyes opened wide. I answered the unspoken question. "Yes, I can guess what would bring a mare with a career ending injury up to the top of one of the tallest buildings in the city. A building that's supposed to be closed down for the night."

Velocity looked down and then back up at me. “It was a moment of weakness.”

“I won’t lie to you and say it will be the last time. What will you do next time?” I pushed.

“I have family here. I’m long overdue for a visit. They might actually be happy to see me.” She offered the cloak again. I waited in silence. Finally, she looked me in the eye. "I promise I'll talk to somepony next time I feel like this. I swear."

I took the proffered cloak and rummaged through a pocket. I pulled out my pad and writing supplies. “This is my parent’s address in Canterlot. Write me there as often as you can. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll never forgive you.”

She smiled and took the slip of paper. “That’s a lot of pressure to put on a filly.”

I smiled, intent on being tough on her. “You’re not just any filly. Remember that.”

She turned to leave, but then glanced over her shoulder. “Believe me, I’ll never forget this, Life.”

Author's Notes:

I promise I'm not starting some sort of Life Story harem. :)
I'm excited to announce that Life Could Be A Dream is now on a schedule! Starting Monday the 20th of July, this story will update weekly until further notice!

For minor spelling/grammar errors please PM me.
For all other comments, constructive criticisms and fangasms, feel free to comment below!

Big City Life

Manehatten.

Even growing up in a bustling city like Canterlot could not compare to the sheer scope of Manehatten. The streets were different. Instead of cobblestone, there was cement and paved blacktop. Where Canterlot sprawled organically with buildings changing within the same block as trends waxed and waned, Manehatten was the picture of planning. Buildings rose to unbelievable heights. Even the tallest building in Whinnyappolis was only about average in the city that never sleeps.

Open Schedule, as usual, wasted no time in leading the way out of the station. It seemed no matter what city, she was always able to immediately blend in with the locals. No matter the distance, she always knew where she was going. It was amazing and intriguing. She was a hard pony to get to know.

With that in mind, I drew a breath and decided to try again as she hailed a cab. “Open, can I ask you something?”

In record time, Open stepped into a carriage and waved me in. “You just did. Jump in the cab. You remembered to grab your writing bag?” I held it up. “Good, we don’t need another Baltimare incident.”

“The article got turned in on time.” I said defensively as I stepped up into the cab.

Open rolled her eyes and gave the directions to the cabby. When she turned back, she continued our conversation. “I’d rather not have to use two high speed pegasus couriers again. The cost alone was a pain.”

“I promise this won't be like last time.” I sighed.

Silence fell between us. I took the opportunity to look around like a tourist. Everything was so close together. Ponies were everywhere in a chaotic jumble of Equestrian society. It was all a little too much. I'd heard of ponies going through immersion therapy, but this was less immersion and more drowning.

Open sighed. “I know we’re supposed to be professional, but it seems like our conversations are only ever about work.”

“What do you want to talk about?” I asked, eager to take my mind off of the current situation.

“I don’t know.” Open replied. That was helpful. I thought. I wasn’t exactly the type of pony to come up with a topic of conversation. Not to mention I knew next to nothing about Open.

For the second time, it got quiet. This time, it was awkward.

After wracking my brain I threw out the first thought that cropped up. “Um…what did you do before this trip?”

“Organize the schedule for this trip.” She answered plainly.

I laughed. “Okay, before that.”

“I had to talk multiple editors to get writers to take on this trip.” She had to be making this difficult on purpose, right?

I snorted rudely. “Why did you go through all that trouble?”

“You know what sets Trenderhoof apart from other fashion writers?” I shook my head. “He started out in travel. Even when he transitioned to fashion trends, he continues to travel. What’s more, he loves it.”

A spark caught in mg brain. “Do you know Trenderhoof?”

She opened her mouth to answer, but stopped herself. Her expression soured before she caught herself and switched back to her default aloofness. “I don’t know him all that well.”

I wasn’t sure what to make of that. “So, you’ve met him?”

She turned her head away. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Idly, I slipped in a last comment. “I take it he’s not as nice as he seems?”

She snapped back. “He's too nice. Now drop it.”

I shrugged my shoulders and raised both hooves. “You’re the one who brought him up!”

She sighed in exasperation. “Only to illustrate a point. The upside to Trenderhoof's wanderings is that he gets to see the full spectrum of experiences across Equestria. There tends to be a metaphorical bubble around Canterlot. I want to burst that bubble now and again to let a breath of fresh air in.”

As tempted as I was to ask what the downside to Trenderhoof’s travel pattern, I gave up and followed her to a new subject. “So you see Canterlot as stale?”

Open nodded. “At times, yes. Not to mention the near-toxic attitude of certain well-to-do ponies.”

“I'd noticed that.” I tried not to relive certain things over the last few weeks.

She took a deep breath and the exhaled. “Well, I’m trying to change that attitude. If not for this generation, then definitely the next. If I can gather the best stories and bring them back, maybe ponies will be more open-minded.”

“Look at you, a romantic at heart after all.” I smiled.

Open frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?”

I held my hooves up placatingly. “Sorry, bad joke. I just wouldn’t have pegged you as the type of pony to have a cause.”

She regarded me seriously. “One day you'll find that labels, types, and causes are nonsense. Your rational mind attempts to neatly order an irrational world and dumps ponies and their motivations into these neat little boxes. In reality, nopony is as they seem at first. Everypony has a history, even if their story isn't the one being told.”

The cab stopped and she looked expectantly at me. Shaking myself, I stepped out first and turned back to offer her a hoof. She handed me my bag instead; I’d left it on the seat.

She turned to give directions to the driver. It sounded like she was heading shopping. “Wait, you’re not coming with me?”

“You’re a big colt. I trust you can handle this assignment. The details are in this envelope.” She placed the envelope in my still upturned hoof. Stepping into the sidewalk, I watched as her cab joined and melded into the sea of other carriages.

I opened the envelope with my magic and pulled out the letter inside. Printed neatly on one side was two simple words. ‘Free Day.’ I facehoofed. She’d gotten me good! I’d totally forgotten that today was a rare day off.

Looking around, I realized she’d dropped me off in downtown Manehatten. Restaurants dotted the first floor retail space around me. There were more than a few clothing shops. The hustle on the street was only moderately less pushy than normal thanks to the surplus of other obvious tourists.

I felt a tug on my shoulder-bag and suddenly, the weight of it was gone! Looking around, I barely managed a glimpse of it. A two-tone earth pony carried it in their mouth as they galloped off nimbly. Giving chase, I focused on casting a holding spell at the first opportunity.

We galloped away from downtown and into an alley. Unfortunately for my bag-snatcher, it was a dead end. I closed in quietly and waited. The colt turned around and nearly ran into me. He cried out in surprise, dropping my bag. I winced as I heard glass break; that had to be an inkpot shattering.

I hurried to save the contents of the bag. The tan and dark brown colt made a dash for the open end of the alley. Before he made it five steps, I had him tied up and tethered. Luckily, the ink hadn't done more than stain the lining of the bag and drowned a few quills; my notepad came out clean. I felt a twinge of strain as the colt squirmed and rolled in my magical grip.

Finally, I regarded my would-be thief. "Well, looks like I have a shrimp."

"Yeah, and I'm the shark." A voice behind me called. I caught the look on the colt's face as he gazed over my shoulder. He'd merely been angry while bound by my magic, but with the stallion behind me, he looked truly afraid. "I'd say let him go, but if a tourist like you caught him, I don't know how much use he'll be to me."

"Vinny please!" The colt behind me pleaded. "I can get you the money, I..."

'Vinny' was a black pegasus stallion with one white sock and a face that practically defined the term bad attitude. "Shut it, shrimp. You couldn't get a clue if you had eight hooves and two heads. Useless trash."

"I'm not trash, you white-socked vermin!" The colt spat back. I’d caught a hint of it before, but now I was sure the colt had a southern accent.

"Can you believe the mouth on this kid? These paints have no respect for us regular ponies. Listen up kid, you're dead either way." He threatened.

"Excuse me, but I'm not going to stand here and listen to you threaten a child." I said with more confidence than I felt.

Vinny snorted. "Look here, tourist, you have no clue who you're dealing with. The name's Vindictive Bucker. I'm not the type of pony you want to make angry. Fork over the shrimp and your money and you can go back downtown with your life."

I charged my horn and stomped a forehoof in challenge.

Vinny laughed. "You gotta be joking me. Fine, your funeral."

He launched himself into the air and closed the distance between us. The maneuver was almost too fast to follow, but I'd been expecting it. I rolled to the side and lashed out at his wing with a rear hoof. Vinny cried out in pain as his wing crumpled. I'd have to thank Div for teaching me a few anti-pegasus fighting moves. We wheeled around to face off once again.

"Okay, Vinny. Why don't you leave now while you still have one good wing." I said.

"Don't get cocky, you tourist piece of crap. I'm gonna kill you nice and slow for touching my wing." With that, he charged at me.

I projected a shield that held long enough to give Vinny a nice concussion. As he stepped back, dazed, I turned both rear hooves on him and bucked him back into the alley wall. Vindictive was down for the count.

The colt regarded me with open awe as I walked over and released him. I'd expected him to make a run for it, but instead he shook himself and continued to stare.

I coughed politely. "Don't you have somewhere to be, kid?"

The colt shook his head. "I'm not from around here. My home's in Appleloosa.”

"Appleloosa?” It made sense, given the kid’s accent. “What are you doing in Manehatten?" I asked.

"Ran away." He mumbled, shame-faced. "Then Vinny found me. He helped me out, but then said I owed him. He made me steal things to pay him back. That's why I took your bag, mister. I'm...sorry." He looked like he'd tasted something unpleasant.

I opened my mouth to ask more questions, but Vinny moaned. Looking over at the miserable stallion, I made a decision. "Let's talk about this somewhere less dangerous."

I'd decided on one of the less crowded restaurants on the downtown strip. It was still busy, but not so overwhelmingly loud that I couldn't converse with my young thief.

"My name's Bruiser.” The colt admitted finally. It was a lie from what I could tell, but I was content to have something to call him.

“I'm Blot.” I lied back at him. “Nice to meet you. Now, what can I do to get you back home?”

He looked up at me hopefully for a second before catching himself and frowning. “Why would you help me? I stole from you.”

I waved dismissively. “Considering all I really lost was a pot of ink, I’m not that worried. What I am worried about is that Vinnie finding you again. I don’t think it would go well for you.”

Bruiser put his hooves over his eyes. “I ran away because my parents wouldn’t let me be friends with a normal pony.”

“Normal pony?” I asked, reminded of Vinny’s comment earlier.

“Look at me, Mr. Blot. I’m a paint pony.” He said proudly, puffing up his fluffy chest. In fact, the fur on this colt ran longer on his cheeks, chest, and fetlocks than on a normal pony. The dark brown spots on his coat were cute, especially the one over his eye. “I come from a long line of paint earth ponies.”

“And that makes you different?” I ventured.

“Yes.” He replied, although he didn’t look happy at all about it.

“Where would you go?”

“I don’t know, mister. I know I can’t go back to Appleloosa. My family…isn’t my family anymore. Th-they said th-th-they’d disown m-me if I-I ever left!” The colt could no longer fight it. He broke down into heart-wrenching sobs.

I slid out of my side of the booth and over to his. “May I?” I asked as I held my forelimbs out invitingly. Bruiser buried his face in my chest, his tears soaking through my coat in seconds. I wrapped my forelimbs around him and held him as he cried himself out.

*

As I walked up to Open at the train station, I steeled myself. She was just setting down her last few bags. Her shopping looked like she’d bought half of Manehatten.

“Li-Blot!” She exclaimed excitedly. “You'll never guess what I found in the city!”

I resisted the urge to laugh. “Actually, I can guarantee I found something bigger.”

She snorted. “Puh-lease. What could you have picked up in Manehatten? A new story? Some quills?”

“Bruiser.” I called behind me. The colt had been lagging behind, but I’d threatened to tether him to myself if he didn’t come along on his own. The young paint pony trotted up into view, my bag slung over his shoulder. Well, my old, ink-stained bag. I’d gotten a new one, along with the brown cowcolt hat that Bruiser now wore.

He trotted right up to Open and took his hat in his hoof respectfully. “You must be Ms. Schedule. Mr. Blot said some mighty kind things of you, but they don’t stack up to the pleasure of meeting you.” To complete the southern charm, he took her hoof in his and kissed it.

Her hoof still in his, he turned his green eyes up on her to maximum cuteness. “I promise on my pride as a paint to be the most well-behaved pony on our way.”

Open stared at Bruiser, dumbstruck. She looked at me and shook her head. “Okay, fine, your surprise was bigger.”

Author's Notes:

Bruiser is a character I adopted from Balddumborat over on Deviantart. The paint pony concept presented here is meant to follow the guidelines of the BDR paint pony lore. While he does not claim 'paint' as own creation, the paints he makes have their own traits and rules. People can make paints based on this headcanon, but please give him credit.

Family Life

“Are you okay?” I asked Bruiser as we set our bags down in my compartment. I’d caught him scratching himself with a rear hoof throughout the day. I was starting to suspect something.

“Yeah, why?” This particular bout of scratching became more vigorous. He inadvertently kicked his hat off. Apparently, his itch was severe, he left the hat on the floor in favor of more scratching. The colt looked like a dog scratching his ear.

“Bruiser, hold still.” I charged my horn. This got Bruiser's attention; I rarely used magic around him. He squeaked in surprise when the spell's light washed over him.

Within a second, my fears were confirmed. “Did you know you have lice?”

Bruiser’s eyes went wide. Next thing I knew, the colt made a run for the door. I fired up my horn, but knew I wouldn't have time to get a good shot. Before he could make a clean break, Open blocked the doorway.

“Oh, no you don’t. I heard Blot. We should’ve thought to check you over before letting you onto the train. Thank Celestia you haven’t gotten to sit or lay down. Now, do we have to tie you up or are you going to be a good colt?” He scowled at her for a moment, but she turned her own glare on him.

Finally, he looked away. “I’ll be good.”

“Stay with Blot.” She ordered. “Blot, I’ll get Cross. Hopefully she has something for this.”

Thankfully, Crimson Cross had stocked up on a variety of medicines on her trip into the city including a de-lousing rinse. Open and I thanked the medical writer, while Bruiser scowled and tried not to scratch himself.

Crimson tapped the colt's nose to get his attention. “Now my little pony, if you’ll accompany me to the tub then we can start ridding you of your little traveling buddies. And I’ll need the hat.”

Bruiser sat on his hind legs and wrapped his forehooves over his hat. “No.”

The adults sighed. Open spoke first. “Listen here, young colt. There are three unicorns here who could force you into the tub without raising a hoof.”

While certainly true for me, what Bruiser didn’t know was that it was unlikely either of the other two could lift a struggling colt magically. Maybe if we united our magic…

“Can I do it myself?” He asked petulantly.

Open sighed in exasperation. “I thought we had a promise on your honor as a paint pony.”

He changed tactics. “I want Mr. Blot to do it. He’s a stallion like me. Mares only wash babies.” That was an interesting viewpoint, I thought. I’d have to remember to ask where he picked up that idea.

Cross turned to Open and me. “We could force him. Ultimately it would be easier and less messy if he is willing to allow Mr. Inkwell the honors. I trust you can follow written directions?”

“You want me to wash him?” I asked, bewildered by the turn of events.

Open nudged me. Her expression practically sang ‘you got yourself into this!’ “Think of it as a little bonding moment.”

I sighed. “Fine.” I turned back to Bruiser, who dropped his rear leg suspiciously as our attention returned to him. “Cross will still need your hat. Your itchy little friends have started up homes on it, I’m sure.”

“You promise I’ll get it back?” I really didn’t see why it would be so special to him. It hadn’t even been that much. Frankly, I’d been surprised to see it in Manehatten.

“Cross my heart and wiggle my nose, I say it’s a promise and what I say goes!” I said, invoking Div's childhood promise chant. It earned me two interested looks from the other adults and a thoughtful look from Bruiser.

Finally, Bruiser gave Cross the hat with a serious look on his young face. “Please take care of it.”

Cross accepted it with a nod. “I will. I'd never forgive myself or anyone else if a foal was hurt.”

Bruiser led the way to the bathroom. He started the tub as I read the instructions. He wetted his coat, mane and tail as I finished the preparations on the bottle. As he sat in the tub, he finally broke his silence.

“This is embarrassing. What’s going to happen to my hat?” Bruiser said, covering his underside with both forehooves as he sat in the tub.

“Didn’t I promise you? Cross is treating it herself. It’ll be good as new in no time.” I reassured him.

“Why can’t I just use this stuff myself?” Bruiser asked plaintively. I wasn’t about to tell him, but he looked very cute with his deep blush and trademark scowl.

“We have to be thorough. I won’t lay a hoof on you, I’ll just use my magic until all the little critters are gone. Okay?” I popped the top of the de-lousing rinse.

“Make it quick.” He pouted.

I was rather inclined to oblige him. “Close your eyes and your mouth. I’m sure this won’t taste very good, so do yourself a favor and keep your mouth closed.” Even with his eyes closed, Bruiser scowled at me.

Wasting no more time, I drew the rinsing cream out and started to spread it out evenly on Bruiser’s coat, mane, and tail. My magic began working the rinse into a lather. It took a bit more concentration than normal, but then again I was normally doing this to myself in the bath.

Bruiser started squirming, his cheeks puffed out. His breathing got erratic and for a moment I worried I was hurting the poor colt. Just as I started easing off, he broke into peals of laughter.

“P-p-please, Mr. Blot. It-it tickles too much!” Bruiser begged between ill-contained bouts of mirth. I dropped the telekinesis for a bit to let him catch his breath.

“Can we continue?” I asked, mindful of the time-limit necessary for full effectiveness.

Bruiser tried cracking open an eye, but suds started moving down his forehead and he snapped it shut. “Don’t do it so lightly! It tickles worse when you’re gentle.”

“Be rougher. Got it.” I resumed the scrubbing spell. I made sure to pay special attention to a few trouble areas. His chest, fetlocks and cheeks had longer hair than a normal short-coated pony. Bruiser’s mane had grown lanky, although it looked very cute on him. I debated suggesting a trim and decided it could wait until he was in a better mood.

Some light teasing was in order. “So, you’re ticklish? Good to know.”

Bruiser shook slightly, his tail twitching in irritation as his scowl deepened. “There is no fool so great as a knowing fool.”

I paused, placing the quote after some thought. “Did you just quote Charles Stallion? I don’t think many colts even know who he is, let alone quote him.”

His expression softened. “My dam used to read him extensively. He was a prominent paint earth pony.” It took me a second to realize he spoke about his mother. I hadn’t heard anyone use dam or sire outside of a period novel.

“And a great speaker. His sermons drew thousands.” I replied.

“How do you know about him?” Bruiser asked, managing to open an eye to look at me.

“I took a course on Equestrian Religion. It seemed interesting. Not very many ponies these days are religious. I know I’m not.”

“The only religion my parents seem to recognize is our family tree.” Bruiser muttered.

I pulled back my magic, giving the colt a merciless tickling as I moved to turn the water on.

“Hey!” Bruiser shouted just before the spray of the shower drenched his coat. He jumped and would have moved out of the water had I not taken hold of him firmly in my magical grip. “Cold!”

“It’ll warm up in a second.” I promised.

A rinse and a drying spell later, I checked for signs of life in Bruiser’s fur. He shivered slightly as the spell’s light scanned over him. “Don’t tell me you’re still cold.” I muttered.

Bruiser was indignant. “You weren’t the pony who had to freeze his plot off waiting for it to get warm.”

“Watch your mouth, kiddo.” The spell finished, I sat contented. “Well, you’ll have to remember to thank Crimson, you’re bug free.”

“I will thank her.” He answered dutifully. “Thank you too, Mr. Blot.”

I smiled. “I feel like I can trust you to keep a secret. When we’re alone, please call me Life.”

Bruiser snorted rudely. “What kind of name is Life?”

I resisted the urge to ask him the same question about his name. “It's my real name. I’m Life Story.”

“Who’s Blot Inkwell?” I wondered idly if he thought I'd stolen somepony's identity. I hoped I hadn't.

“A pen-name I picked up for this trip. Writers use pen-name often, for various reasons.”

He nodded in understanding. “Thank you for trusting me, Mr. Life. I…I wish I felt like I earned it.”

“So, Bruiser…” I let question hang between us.

I ducked his head. “I guess you can guess that’s not my real name.”

I nodded. “Open taught me a lot about reading body language. I’ve gotten pretty good at telling when somepony lies to me.”

He lowered his eyes and shook. This time, I don’t think it was due to the cold. “I…I trust you, but…”
“Bruiser is fine for now. We’ll need to know your real name soon enough to help find your family.”
Bruiser nodded numbly.

“Now, it’s time for bed. I’ll make do with the floor so you can…” Bruiser looked up at me I horror. “What?”

“I-I never…well I mean I haven’t…it's just.” He shifted his weight nervously.
I recognized those signs. What did Div tell me when I was panicking? “Bruiser, it’s okay. Just take a deep breath and tell me what’s wrong.”

He gulped in air. The poor colt looked miserable. “I don’t want you to go to any more trouble for me. I already can’t repay you for everything so far. I can’t take your bed too. It just wouldn’t be right! I want to sleep on the floor.”

I spoke reflexively. “Absolutely not! You’ve been through enough.”

“I won’t sleep on the bed!” He said stubbornly.

“I’m not going to let you sleep on the floor!” I stated firmly.

We stared at each other for a long time. After a minute of silence, I could tell this wasn’t going anywhere. “How are we going to do this? Do I have to get Open?”

He shook his head. “It's simple. If you won’t sleep on the bed or let me sleep on the floor, then we’ll either share the bed or we’ll share the floor.”

“The bed is more comfortable.” I offered, hoping to lure him in to taking the bed himself. “It's not very big, are you sure you want somepony that close to you. You don’t even know me.”

“I know your real name.” He countered. “Besides, if you do anything bad to me, Doc Cross will skin you alive.”

I didn’t doubt the medical pony's proficiency with knives. “If you’re comfortable with it, then fine.”

“You get in first.” He ordered. I snorted, but I obliged him. I scooted over on the bunk until I hit the wall. I slept on my side, facing out towards Bruiser. Even so, there wasn’t a lot of room left.

When I settled, he slid in beside me. He slept on his stomach, it seemed. The colt took up less room than I’d feared. We fit together on the bed just right.

“Mr. Life?” The lilt in his voice turned my name into a question.

“Yes?” I answered.

“You’re sure I’ll get my hat back?” He asked timidly.

I used my hood to brush his mane back so I could look into his eyes. “You don’t trust ponies very easily. I understand, you must have dealt with a lot of ponies like Vinny.”

He nodded, eyes turned away from me for a moment.

“May I ask why that hat is so important?”

His eyes reconnected with mine in surprise. “It's a gift from you.”

“I don’t understand.” I sighed.

“It’s the first time somepony has ever gotten me anything.”

“You mean besides your family?” I asked.

He shook his head. “My family never got me anything.”

I wasn't sure I believed it. “You mean anything you wanted?”

“No, sir. I mean anything just for me. I have a large family, my parents have ten living kids. I’m the youngest.” He stated, emotionless. I tried very hard not to think of why he had to include the qualifier ‘living' in his count of siblings.

I let the silence fall between us. Bruiser buried his head in the pillow. His small shoulders shook. “Bru, are you okay, buddy?”

“I’m sorry.” He said, his voice tight and muffled.

“Don’t apologize, I know families can be rough.” His sobs grew more intense.

“Why are you so nice to me?” Bruiser asked. “I’m horrible. I’m moody. I have an attitude and I’m stubborn. Worst of all, I’m a crybaby.”

Hesitantly, I rested a foreleg over his shoulders. His shaking slowed and he looked at me with one eye. “You are a good colt, Bruiser. You have your rough spots, but inside you there’s something very special.”

“What do you mean?” He asked seriously.

“You have a good heart. You care about other ponies. You’re independent; you don’t want to owe anypony anything. Whatever you do, you give it your all, whether that’s stealing or helping out. There’s a lot to admire about you, even if you don’t think so.” I hugged him tightly to my chest. He nuzzled my neck.

“Good night, Bru.”

“Good night. Mr. Life.”

*

I awoke to the crash of plates and silverware. Bruiser's eyes got wide as I looked from the mess on the floor up to him. Tears formed in the corners as he threw himself down to pick things up.

“I’msosorryI'llpickeverythingupandgetyousomethingfreshIpromisepleasedon'tbemadatmeI…” His words blended into a garbled mess. Not that being only half awake helped. Even in my haze, I could practically feel what Bruiser was going through.

“Bruiser, stop please.” I ordered tiredly. The colt slowly rose; the poor guy couldn’t even make eye contact.

“Mr. Life, I’m sorry.” He started. I waved a hoof to silence him.

“Come here, Bruiser.” I said as I yawned. Only when it took him a few moments did I realize he had his eyes screwed tight and his chin tucked in. As he entered hoof-reach, he flinched away. None of this boded well.

Without a second thought, I pulled him into a hug. “Calm down, buddy. I’m not mad. I’m not going to yell at you. Celestia knows I would never hurt you. So take a deep breath, Bruiser.” The colt started bawling and threw his forehooves around my neck. I pulled him up into my lap, his rear legs draped off to on side. Within seconds he grabbed my hoof and clutched it in his. I contented myself with running my free hoof through his mane as he cried into my foreleg.

When he’d cried himself quiet, I tugged gently my foreleg away, but he covered his face with his hooves. I knocked on them. “Anypony in there?” I asked lamely.

“You promise you’re not mad?” I’m glad he had his face covered; I’m sure I must have looked irritated. It hurt me to think that somepony must have hurt Bruiser a lot for him to react like this.

“Cross my heart and wiggle my nose, I say it’s a promise and what I say goes!” I answered emphatically.

He snorted into his hooves. Slowly, he lowered his hooves, using the gesture to wipe at his eyes. He looked back up at me sheepishly.

“I'm sorry.” He said for the millionth time. I rolled my eyes.

“I trust you didn’t do it on purpose. And really, there’s not too much of a mess.” I surveyed the damage. Really only the silverware and some food had made it onto the floor. No big deal for a unicorn.

“I promise I’ll clean it up.” He moved to jump out of my lap, but I held him tight.

“Just this once, let me take care of it. Do you know what the benefit to being a unicorn is?” He shook his head. I fired up my magic and levitated the remnants of my breakfast. The parts on the floor made their way to the trash. I organized the rest on the platter and placed it on the bedside tray table.

“I’ve never seen anypony levitate so much at once.” Bruiser said, awestruck.

I smiled. “This really isn’t all that much.” I demurred. Taking a look at the breakfast, I was immediately struck by how much food was on the platter, even accounting for what fell to the floor. “Bru, is this all for me?”

Bruiser nodded emphatically. “Ms. Open said you should have a big breakfast. I…I just made it a little too big to carry.”

“No kidding.” He blushed. “Have you eaten yet?”

“No sir.” He answered dutifully. I winced at the honorific, but it was beyond my capabilities to argue with a colt about social graces. Well, beyond my capabilities this early in the morning.

“Well, then you and I can split this between us.” I offered.

“Um, the silverware?” He reminded me.

“You can go get another set, or do what I do.” I said, picking up a pancake magically.

“I can’t levitate my food, sir.” He said drily.

“No, not that!” I took the pancake and placed the hash browns on top. I poured a bit of syrup and butter on top and rolled it up. “Breakfast wrap.” I announced as I presented the fruit of my labors to him.

“That’s weird.” He commented as he took the wrap from me. The colt waited as I rolled up another one for me. I actually had to take a bite before he would eat. His manners were good, given the situation.

As we ate, Cross knocked on the door. I invited her in, and she proudly displayed Bruiser’s hat. The colt practically vibrated in excitement, but looked torn between his food and his hat.

Setting down his wrap. He faced me. “May I leave the table, sir?” I nodded, my mouth full. He dashed off to the washroom to clean his forehooves.

Cross looked at me with interest. I swallowed quickly and explained. “I didn’t do this, he came like that.”

She laughed. “I haven’t seen a colt ask permission to leave the table since I was a filly. I’m more concerned that you’ll corrupt his manners.”

As my mouth was once again occupied I gave her a grin and rolled my eyes.

Bruiser practically pranced back over to Cross, his tail held high. “Thank you kindly, ma’am. This means a lot to me.”

“You’re quite welcome, and might I say I much prefer this colt to the argumentative one yesterday?” She said, teasingly.

He ducked his head. “I'm very sorry about that, ma’am. My mood impaired my manners.”

She looked uncomfortable, not expecting an apology like this. “My, I'm teasing. Please, you were rational, at least. A good many of my grown patients couldn’t even say as much.”
She offered him the hat. He accepted it gratefully and flipped it onto his head. When he raised his head again, he smiled broadly.

I only wish I hadn’t noticed how fake his smile looked.

Author's Notes:

Yay! Finished this much sooner than expected so TADA! Early update.

I'm sure you won't mind.

Please send corrections by PM.
Comments, critiques and fangasms are welcome below.
If you enjoyed it, consider sharing the story! Thank you and much luv! <3

Country Life

We said our goodbyes to Cross and the rest of the writer’s train ponies at the Ponyville Station. I hadn’t gotten to know many of them in spite of Open Schedule's best efforts, but I would miss Cross. They continued on back to Canterlot. Appleloosa hadn’t been part of our tour, but life has a way of complicating things. Or I have a way of complicating things.

Bruiser turned to us, his few belongings ready at hoof. Aside from his now trademark brown cowcolt hat, the young tan and chocolate paint pony owned his own care and grooming kit. Open had insisted on a scarf for him, as well as a set of rain-boots we picked up in Fillydelphia. The suitcase itself had been a present from Open in Baltimare. Aside from the hat, Open had insisted on buying everything else. I had to smile at how she fussed over him, even if he didn’t take it well half of the time.

“I’m sorry it’s taking us this long to get to Appleloosa.” Open said.

“I’m not.” I said honestly.

“I wish we didn’t have to do it at all.” Bruiser said glumly. He turned to sit on the bench at the train station.

“I know what you said about your parents, but they deserve to know where you’ve been.” Open declared. I sighed. I wasn’t looking forward to meeting Bruiser's family either.

“They won’t care. I ran away to live with filth, pardon the phrase.” He nodded to us.

“We can search Appleloosa for your family. I imagine it won’t take too long to find a pure paint couple. Or you could save us that trouble and tell us your real name.” Open said. She’d been prying for the last week. Thus far, no results.

Bruiser mumbled something under his breath. His eyes seemed to catch on an object in the train station window.

“Are you going to tell us your real name?” Open insisted.

Bruiser sighed. “Look for yourselves.” He said, pointing a hoof at the window.

A missing foal poster, taped to the window, stared back at us. The foal's name, under a by-now-familiar face, was printed in bold. Scraper Tannin.

“Who names their kid scraper?” Open asked indelicately. I could have asked the same for parents who named their foals Open or Life, but Scraper wasn’t exactly common either.

Bruiser looked hurt. “My family names their foals for the qualities they most want the foal to have. When I was born, the doc told my parents I wouldn’t make it. So she named me Scraper, so I would scrape by. The family joke is that I’m not strong enough to scrape anything, I can only bruise. So they called me Bruiser.”

I gave Open a significant glare. The last week and a half our conversations had largely consisted of arguments about my worries over Bruiser’s family. She shrugged and pouted. “At least we have a name.”

A train whistle cut my reply off.

*

“Excuse me, sir.” Open called out to a passing gentlecolt. His cowcolt hat was a few shades lighter than Bruiser’s and he had a vest to match it.

“Name’s Braeburn. Brae to my friends.” He said warmly, extending a hoof. Open looped her hoof around his and they shook hooves. Open seemed a little too entranced with the gentlecolt.

“Charmed. I’m Open Schedule.” She batted her eyes at the big stallion. I coughed indelicately. “Oh and this is my business associate Blot Inkwell. We are looking for the Tannin family residence.”

“I thought I recognized a paint pony when I saw one. Your mother was in town every day for a week after you disappeared.” Brae said casually.

“She was?” Bruiser asked in open awe. “My dam hasn’t left the homestead as long as I can remember.”

Open nudged me. “See?”

My feeling of unease hadn’t disappeared.

“I take it you want somepony to take you there directly?” Brae offered.

“Yes please, if you could.” Open replied. Given Bruiser’s attitude about returning, we’d thought it best to seek a neutral party to guide us instead of relying on the colt in question.

“Then follow me.” Brae instructed.

*

“That’s my sire, Bitter.” Bruiser said as a painted stallion stalked towards us.

“I thought you said that names ran with qualities they want foals to possess? Who names a foal Bitter?” I was beginning to wonder at Open's insistence on questioning names.

“That tradition is on my dam’s side. Her name is Sweetheart.” The saccharine name nearly made me gag.

Bitter’s voice was raspy and rough, but his tone belied an unexpected intelligence. “To what do I owe the displeasure of your company? This is my land, I’ll not see you set one more hoof forward.”

I stepped forward. Bitter’s eyes narrowed as I belatedly realized I’d just done what he told me not to do. “We are returning your son.”

“If it’s the runt I’m thinking of, you’d be better off taking him down to the sheriff’s. I’ve disowned a disobedient whelp recently.” His casual tone shocked me. It was as if he'd just talked about taking out the trash. I heard Bruiser whimper behind me.

“Disowned?” Bruiser choked out.

“Ah, have enough courage to speak around your betters, colt? Yes, Scraper, you are disowned for leaving our home without permission. To continue to allow you to live amongst the Tannin family would be the greatest folly. You are as unwelcome and strange as the filth you've chosen to wallow in. I’d been worried about disobedience among my children. Thank the maker it was only my last that turned out to be a disappointment.”

Bruiser stepped forward shakily. “But my dam looked for me. Why…?”

“She ain’t your dam anymore! My poor wife dealt with such heartache at this one running off! When it was clear you would not return I disowned you so as not to be responsible for the trouble you might cause.”

“Sire, I…” He was cut off by a slap across his face. Open and Brae cried out in shock. I neighed in anger. Belatedly, I pushed Bruiser behind me.

“Lay another hoof on the colt and I’ll see you sailing from this end of your land to the other.” I charged my horn, the glow of my magic darkened with anger.

The earth paint stepped back, eyes wide and locked on my horn. “Then you are responsible for his disposition. Scraper is not to use my family name anymore, nor is he to refer to me as sire or my wife as dam.”

“I wouldn’t have him associate himself with such filth.” I spat back in his face.

“You will leave my property or…” I’m sure my eyes glowed as rage overtook me.

“Do not think to threaten me, splotch-hide!” I thundered, my magic spilling from my eyes in anger as my horn burned on my head. Open was at my side in an instant.

“Life, we have to go now.” Open said calmly, tugging on one forehoof. I looked at her, my rage not yet subsided. She glanced at Bruiser, I followed her gaze to look at him. He was hiding his face in Braeburn's vest.

“Fine.” I said as I extinguished the glow in my horn. I brought up the rear as we headed down the few feet to the gate.

“Bruiser, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have put you through that. I didn’t think he’d go so far as to hit you, either. Brae, isn’t there anything we can do?”

Brae shrugged. “We might could charge him for the assault on the colt, but it’ll be our word against his. Not to mention that would keep you in Appleloosa for as long as a trial takes. I’ll take the young'un down to the Sheriff’s for you. He’ll be placed with an orphanage by nightfall.”

Bruiser broke away from Braeburn. “Th-thank you for trying. I’ll be alright.”

“What if I adopted him?” I asked Brae.

Brae shook his head. “I’d have to talk it over with the sheriff and there’ll be paperwork. He’d still have to come to the Sheriff’s for temporary placement while y’all get squared away.”

He looked at Bruiser seriously. “At his age, he’d likely not ever find a family. Your chances are pretty good, even as a single pony. Do you think you can support raising a colt?”

I nodded and turned to Bruiser. “Would you like to live in Canterlot with me? My parents are amazing. Dad just retired and mom writes books. They live in a big house on the side of the mountain.”

“Do you really think of paints as splotch-hides?” Open had to stuff both forehooves over her mouth to contain her laughter.

I blushed a bit at the recent memory. “Only one. The splotch-hide that hit you.”

“Do…” Bruiser blushed hotly. “Do you even like me?”

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re a good colt who happened to be born in the wrong family.” I answered, eyes locked onto his.

“Do…” I hadn’t thought it possible, but he blushed even brighter. Tears ran down his fluffy cheeks. “do you love me?”

I held his head up with one hoof and looked him in the eye. “I wasn’t sure I’d ever know what it’s like to be a father. There were times I was sure I’d never be a good one. I know now. I love you, Bru. I love you like the father you should have had.” I held out my forehooves and he buried his head in my neck. He wrapped himself around my torso a little too tightly, but I weathered it in good humor.

“Well, I’m sold.” Braeburn announced. “Let’s get over to the sheriff’s and get things started.”

Brae's prediction about temporary housing proved true. Much to the protest of both myself and Open, the sheriff insisted on sending Bruiser to the local foal protective services home. Before we could protest further, Brae revealed that he knew the FPS case worker in town. We could visit with Bru during the day.

Bruiser tugged at my foreleg as the sheriff got ready to escort him to the “What’s up?”

“Here.” He said, holding out his hat.

Was this Bruiser’s way of rejecting me? “What? Why are you…?”

Bruiser cut me off. “If you take my hat, you have to give it back. I want you to give it back when you’re my…” I watched him struggle for the word.

“Dad. I’m too much of a city pony to be called anypony’s sire.” I smiled as I took the hat reverently. He turned tail and followed the sheriff.

I wiped a hoof at my eyes and turned to my companion. “Open, you don’t have to…”

“The hay I don’t! You think I came with you all this way because I felt like a trip to the country?” She asked snarkily.

I actually hadn’t thought about it. A thought occurred and I nearly kicked myself for being so oblivious. “Open, I think you’re a wonderful pony and all, but…”

“Oh. Ew, no!” She answered emphatically. “You’re like the annoying little brother I never had. No, I’m here to make sure that if Bruiser’s family was as bad as you feared, you’d do the right thing and adopt him. I know a few FPS ponies, so I’ll be sending letters out first class tomorrow. I suggest you do the same and get your parents down here in case they deny you for whatever reason. Worst case scenario, you get a little brother.”

“You’re amazing, Open. I’m glad I know you.”

She laughed. “You don’t know a thing about me, Life. By the way, you'll need to do something about your cutie mark before we speak to the FPS pony. ”

I dispelled the cutie mark illusion permanently. “So, are you going to tell me anything about you?”

Open nodded. “The time is right. Ask me anything. You should know by now whether I’m lying or not.”

She led the way to the local inn.

“Fine. How is it that no matter what city we’re in, you know exactly where you’re going?” I began.

She looked at me oddly. I guess she expected a different first question. “I started out as a travel writer.”

I nodded. “Did you ever work with Trenderhoof?”

She tilted her head to one side and shook it. “We dated, briefly. He’s even more flighty than I am and neither of us wanted a long distance relationship.”

Guess it was time to get to the real questions. “Why did you handle my schedule personally?”

“My father asked me to. At first, I questioned his judgment. After I got to know you, it became a pleasure.”

I stopped. “Who is your father?”

Sensing my sudden halt, Open turned around to face me. “Hard Deadline.”

My brain froze. “What? But...your accent?"

She smiled, and spoke with a distinctly non-Liverponian, albeit upper-class, Canterlot accent. "Fake. I lived there for a year so I picked up on the accent. Yeah. He still owes me one. Just because you’re a great writer, doesn’t mean it wasn’t a pain in the rear organizing around a last minute addition.” She gestured for me to follow her and we continued toward the inn.

After that whole speech about how I’d single-hoofedly killed my career, Deadline pulls a stunt like this. I shook my head in wonder. “Wasn’t this supposed to be a punishment?”

“Yes and no. Dad wanted you on this trip next year. The time-table got pushed up rather suddenly. Originally, you were supposed to be more established by the time you set hoof on my train. He knew sending you out of town would be like punishing you, especially given the situation.”

“So, you know about Genuíne Article?”

“I know she used to date my father. And I know she tried to set you up. Which reminds me, your friend Div took on Genuíne Article. I know he’s okay, but beyond that… ”

I rounded in front of her to stop her. “Div did what?”

She balked for a second in surprise before relaxing with a smile. “Oh yeah, he’s been a busy colt. You’ll have to talk to him. If you can get a minute between your schedule and his when you get back.”

She stepped around me and I walked beside her. “I don’t think he’ll make time for me.”

She looked at me in irritation. “Weren’t you listening? He went up against Genuine Article for you. If he doesn’t propose to you when you set hoof in Canterlot, then my father will lose a few bits.”

I slowed down. “You have a wager on when Div…”

“Dad has a horrible sense of humor. It’s just friendly, I assure you.”

My mind blanked; my hooves came to a stop.

“Hey, Life!” She called from the doorway to the inn. “In reality, this trip has done wonders for your career. You’ve written for most of the major publications in Equestria by now and a handful of prominent local ones.”

I looked up, tears glistening in the corners of my eyes. “How can I ever…?”

“You can’t.” She said cheekily. “You earned it all, Life. You followed my advice, you pushed through sickness, and you did everything we set in front of you. I hope you realize that. “

I stepped up to the doorway. “I could kiss you.”

Open placed a hoof on my forehead to prevent me from moving closer. “I said I could, not that I would!”

Author's Notes:

Yeah, the first canon character I ever use and it's Braeburn (#1 horse husbando).

PM me for corrections.

Feel free to send me your comments, complaints, questions, and squeals of joy below!

Life, Once Divided

“Life," A familiar voice behind me said softly. I turned around on my barstool at the Salt Lick, adoption papers momentarily forgotten.

I saw the last pony in Equestria I ever expected to see. “Div?”

“So apparently, after touring all over Equestria you decided to make a special trip here? Of all the places you’ve been?” Div asked, wiping sweat from his brow with one hoof as he sat down next to me. “It’s night and it’s hot. Not to mention the dust.” I couldn’t help but notice the purple-hued armor he wore. That was Princess Luna's mark on the breastplate, wasn’t it?

I set my questions aside to tease him, falling into our old rapport with surprising ease. “Appleloosa is a burgeoning community. The relationship this town has fostered recently with the bison is nothing short of historic. The life that has been lived here…well, it’s been a rush.”

Div looked at me sidelong. “Your parents are on their way. They told me about your letter. Lovely had some business with her publisher that she couldn’t get away from, so I took an emergency leave. My c/o is disappointed, but there are things more important than advancing in the Guard.”

“I bet.” The bartender took Div’s order and disappeared again. “How are my folks?”

“Worried about you, of course.” Div looked down at the pile of paperwork. “What's that?”

"Just some business I'm taking care of while I'm here." I answered, unsure of where to start when it came to explaining Bruiser.

"Why are you here?"

“Why would you care? I pushed you away.” I said, crossly. He was being much too nice to me considering how I’d treated him last time.

"Do you really want to talk about that?" He asked, regarding me seriously.

"Are you going to arrest me if I don't?" I asked, feeling distinctly foalish.

Div turned his head away, his shoulders shaking. Had I gone too far? Was he crying? "Div, I..." I reached out and he turned around with a grin, one hoof failing to cover his mouth. The jerk was laughing. "I don't see what's so funny."

"Only you would be worried that I became a royal guard and took time off just to arrest you!" He laughed. In spite of myself, I smiled.

He gazed into my eyes and spoke. “You know I actually waited at the station when the tour came back? No, of course you don’t."

I winced. I hadn't counted on Div being there when I got home. Perhaps that was a part of why I'd decided to help Bruiser; to avoid everything. Had I just meant to delay the inevitable?

"I had to ask the ponies getting off. Curiously, no pony knew your name." Hardly surprising, I thought. The only two ponies who knew my real name had come along with me. "I tried describing you and finally, this grumpy old doctor said you were headed to Appleloosa. I was about to book a train to get you when your mother showed up at the station.”

“What did she say?” I asked.

“Not much, like I mentioned. Basically, she told me you'd gone to Appleloosa and she said something about a foal. And she…well she reminded me of something I had to do before I could go haring off after you.” He said nervously, adjusting his breastplate.

“I take it had something to do with this?” I said, gesturing at the armor.

He nodded. “I enlisted about two weeks after you left. I was pretty upset.” Div stated. I nodded numbly, unable to look at him as he spoke. “Finally Mamma Pro cornered me. She told me to pull myself together and move on. I quit the delivery company and enlisted in the royal guard. My scores were good enough to earn me a commission in Princess Luna’s House Guard.”

“Bet all the other messengers at CCC are glad a certain earth pony isn’t around to make them look bad. So, you ran around Canterlot in full armor?” I smiled.

Div smiled back and nodded. “I really shouldn’t be in uniform, but I ran straight to my C.O.'s office, filled out forms while waiting in a remarkably long line, and ran to the station as soon as my leave was approved.”

"You could leave Canterlot just like that?"

He shrugged. "My conversation with the lieutenant took the longest. Lieutenant Knight was...less than pleased. To be fair, he had just gotten command of the palace practically dumped on him. He's a good stallion, though."

“I missed you.” Div said as we sat in silence.

I looked down at my drink. “I’m sorry.”

After a pause, he asked, “Why?”

I pretended to misunderstand. “Why am I sorry? I made everyone worry.”

“You know what I meant.” Div huffed. “Why’d did you leave?”

I was confused. “What do you mean, why? Didn’t you…” I bit off the end of that sentence. I wasn’t sure how much I wanted to know about Div's faceoff with Genuíne Article. “Div, I don’t know what you did, but…”

“You don’t need to know.” He said, cutting me off.

My stomach curdled at the tone. “Div, she’s a dangerous pony.”

“You don’t have to tell me that.” Div replied.

I had to leave. Div was getting tangled in things better left undisturbed. “Well, it was nice catching up with you. If you see my parents…” I picked up the papers and turned to exit, but Div barred my way.

The stallion held his temper, barely. “Life Story, I didn’t come here for your parents. I came here for you.”

I moved to sidestep him, but was blocked. “Well, you’re just going to have to leave without me.”

“I’m not leaving.” Sogni was resolute.

“Welcome to Appleloosa.” Life said drily. “How long are you staying? I’m sure Lieutenant Knight would love this!”

“I’m not leaving without you.” Div

“What do you mean, you’re not leaving without me?” I asked, irritated.

He sighed in frustration. “How dense are you?”

I stomped a hoof. “Get to the point, Div.”

“I ran around Canterlot, took time off from work as a palace guard, and the first thing we do is fight. Only you could be this infuriating! Why do you think I did all that?” He asked, throwing a hoof up.

“Who asked you to? I’m fine! I’m an adult and I have business here. What do you want from me?” My voice rose. The barkeep appeared again, summoned by the noise of an argument.

Div had enough. “I came to tell you I love you! Everything I've done is because I love you, you stupid stallion!” He shouted.

The bar fell silent. I stood in shock at his deafening proclamation.

"If you two gentlecolts would like a room..." The barkeep began, but I rushed around Div and out the door.

"Life, please wait." Div said as he jogged in his armor.

I should know better by now than to think I could outrun him, but I kept up the attempt. "Div, I can't handle this right now."

"I've wanted to tell you for so long, please talk to me!" He pleaded.

I stopped. He overshot me and turned around. "Div, I'm sorry."

"No, Ly, I should..." He began; I cut him off.

"Let me say it, though." He sighed, but relented as we faced one another. "I shouldn't have thrown things at you, I shouldn't have shoved you out the door. I regretted it immediately. I still regret it. You deserved better."

"Hard to argue with you." He said with a smile.

"Thanks for making me feel better." I said cynically, narrowing my eyes.

He grinned back, the picture of playfulness. "Anytime." I folded my ears down and started walking again, a bit slower. Div stayed by my side.

I scrambled my brain for any argument against us becoming closer. "Div, you could have anypony..."

He shook his head defiantly. "I don't want anypony. I want you."

"I'm not...I can't...It's just..." I struggled for words. How could I convince him to go away?

He practically pranced. "You're not getting rid of me so easily again. I don't care how many things you throw at me. I. Love. You." He punctuated each of the last three words with a playful stomp.

I turned to him. "I don't deserve..."

He placed a hoof over my mouth. "Life Story, you need to stop bad-mouthing my best friend. The pony I love is a kind, considerate, trustworthy pony who deserves all the best things in the world. I can't give him all those things, but I can promise to try to make every one of his days better."

Tears rolled down from my eyes. "I'm not that pony. I'm selfish, irrational, and prideful. I hurt the ponies closest to me without thinking about it and what makes it worse is how much they do for me, even after I've broken their hearts or lost their trust."

Div moved suddenly and without warning his lips were on mine. His forehoof on my neck kept me from scrambling backwards in shock. The contact wasn't like in my mother's books; there weren't fireworks. Instead, I felt warmth all over, radiating from where our lips touched outward. It was like diving into a warm bubbly pool. When he pulled back, the heat ebbed, although my face felt hot.

"I said, don't bad-mouth my best friend. You might have done things you're not proud of, but who hasn't? Why should you punish yourself? Why do you have to face it alone? I want to be there with you, just like I've been before. I've seen you panic, I've seen you at your worst and still I can't imagine life without...well, you, Life."

I buried my face in his neck. My tears fell on his armored shoulder. "Will you be my special somepony, Life Story?"

I cried. I'm sure it attracted attention but I didn't care. Even after everything I'd done, even after fighting and the months of separation, he still wanted me. I couldn't help but to trust in my best friend, and, although I still felt selfish, I managed to get out a half-muffled, "Yes."

A third pony bumped into us. I cried out in surprise, but Div caught me before I could lose my balance. The offending party scrambled to pick up the bags he'd been carrying. His coat was entirely and unpleasantly familiar.

"Mr. Tannin?" The pony in question's head shot up. It definitely was Bruiser's former 'sire.' The paint pony took one look at me in Div's embrace and his expression soured.

"Just when I thought trash like you couldn't be more disgusting..."

"Hey!" Div barked, stepping in front of me.

Bitter sneered. "So they let sickos into Nightmare Moon's guard, eh?"

"What in Tartarus did you just say to me?" Div thundered.

Whether Bitter was oblivious or suicidal, he pressed on. "It makes a certain amount of sense. Only a sick pervert would fit in with nightmares. I warned my children about weird, unnatural ponies like you. Most of them were smart enough to listen." Bitter tilted his head up haughtily and smirked as he passed by. Div likely would've made the exchange physical, had I not held him magically.

Only when Bitter disappeared did I release Div. His body shook in anger. "Who was that?" His tone was calm, but his face and stance were anything but.

I sighed and headed toward the FPS office. "He's part of why I'm here. There's somepony I want you to meet."

Author's Notes:

Boy, this chapter went through a lot of revision for how short it is. A necessary evil, I'm afraid. Div is back! Although, his reappearance raises just a few questions that we'll be building up to later.

As usual, please PM corrections. Comments, queries, critiques, quandaries and so on and so forth in the box below.

Life, Joined Together

"Mr. Story. I'm actually pretty glad you're here. We're going to have to increase the frequency of your visits. Bru has been...distant. It's nothing we didn't expect, but I'm sure it'll help to have you around more." If was worried about the acceptance I'd get in a small town, that greeting set all my fears aside. Okay, most of my fears aside.

"I have no problem with that." I answered with a smile. I'd promised to visit Bruiser as often as possible. While it hurt that Bru was in enough pain to ask me to come around more often, it helped to know I could do something about it.

"Whindy Roads, this is Sogni DiVolare. Div, this is Bruiser's caseworker Whindy Roads." I said, introducing Div to the gray coated Pegasus mare.

Whindy shook Div's outstretched hoof lightly. I decided to get as much info as possible. "Whindy, how exactly has Bru been handling things?"

The pegasus sighed. "It's only been a few days since his family rejected him. He doesn't miss his father, from what I can tell. His relationship with his siblings wasn't good either. At best, the only positive was his mother. I think he misses her the most."

"We bumped into his father in town." Div offered with a tinge of the anger he still felt towards Bitter.

Whindy sized him up. "I take it you weren't exactly charmed by Mr. Tannin? Not surprised. They own a store around here. He's had more than his fair share of disagreements if you ask me."

She led us into the kitchen, overlooking the backyard. "Not to put too fine a point on it, but I'm keen on getting Bru out of Appleloosa. Normally we try to keep adoptions in the same city, but he'd be too likely to run into his father around town. Besides, our foster families are pretty full and our adopting applicants are looking for younger ponies."

Bruiser sat out on a swing, staring into the skyline.

"There are a few more hurdles. I'm fast-tracking your application but these things take time. We'll have him fostered to your parents at least by the end of the week if all else fails. We shouldn't have to; I do have some pull. Some ponies owe me a few favors."

"Whindy, I'm glad to have you on our side." I said, half-jokingly.

She smiled, but shook her head. "I'm on Bruiser's side. This is about what he needs. With everything he's told me about your trip to return him home, and with corroboration from Ms. Schedule, Braeburn, and the train company I made my decision. In short, I did my homework on you and Bruiser could be a lot worse off."

"Sounds like a ringing endorsement." Div said with a smirk.

"Sounds like I need to do my homework on another pony. Who are you, Sogni DiVolare?" Her pronunciation was perfect.

He raised his head, albeit with a smile. "I'm Life's friend since childhood. I'm a Royal Guard, serving in Princess Luna's House Guard."

"Life's friend? Is that all?" She asked me.

"We...haven't defined things recently, but he's more than just a friend." I answered.

Her skeptical look flicked between us. "You're going to need to define this. Define it quickly, because that colt out there won't likely understand 'more than just a friend.'" She left us to go talk to Bruiser.

"What am I to you?" Div asked.

I didn't face him right away. "We love each other. That means we're coltfriends at least, right?" I looked at him at the end of the sentence.

"I-uh. At least." Div answered, uncomfortable.

"What am I to you?" I asked, suddenly very interested in his odd reaction.

"Ly, I..." We were interrupted by a two tone brown streak. Bruiser barrelled into me with enough force to knock me off my rear legs and onto my rear. I would have bowled over had it not been for Div bracing me.

"Sorry, Mr. Story. I just got a little excited." Bruiser said as he looked up.

I hugged him close. "No worries, my little pony. I'm excited to see you too."

Bru squirmed, I let him go and stood up. His eyes were locked on Div. Bruiser pointed a hoof. "Who are you?"

Div grinned wickedly and straightened up. "Princess Luna's House Guard Private Sogni DiVolare reporting sah." He saluted.

Confused, Bru turned to me. "Who is this?"

I nudged Div with my shoulder and rolled my eyes. "This goof is Div. He's..." I looked up at Whindy, who raised her eyebrows questioningly. "He's my coltfriend."

Bru tilted his head. "Coltfriend? Like your best friend?"

I cleared my throat nervously. "That too, but we really care for each other."

Bru shook his head. "I don't get it." He looked at Whindy.

Div spoke up. "Some stallions like mares. They date and get married, right?" Bru nodded, turning to regard the blue earth pony. "Well, sometimes a stallion likes another stallion or a mare likes another mare. They date and can even get married too."

Bruiser's eyes widened. He turned to look at me. "You-you're a uh..." He blushed furiously. "Homo? But you're...nice. I thought homos were sick and weird."

Suddenly, Bitter's words came back to haunt me. 'Only a sick pervert would fit in with nightmares. I warned my children about weird, unnatural ponies like you. Most of them were smart enough to listen.' "Bruiser. I know Bitter taught you some things about ponies like Div..." Div snorted, so I added "...and me. But I want you to think for yourself."

"You should think about the pony who told you all that bad stuff about gays. Were they the kind of pony you could listen to or trust?" Div looked like he was about to say more, but I cut him off with a bump. Bruiser didn't need a big reminder about what kind of pony his father had been.

Bruiser's eyes filled with tears and he shook slightly. He looked down and shook his head.

I bit my lower lip and looked at Div. He bumped my neck with his nose comfortingly. I turned back to Bruiser.

Whindy sat at Bruiser's side. "Bruiser. Has Life ever made you do something you're not comfortable with? Do I need to tell them to leave?"

Div tensed, I could feel the anger at her words. "Div, it's okay." I whispered.

His whispers came through gritted teeth. "How could she even ask that? As if you would ever..."

Bruiser looked at Whindy in outrage. "N-no! He lo-loves me! He took care of me, he doesn't care if I'm a crybaby or if I'm having a bad day. Nopony was ever so nice to me, not even my-my-my..." Bruiser broke down, unable to even begin to say his mother's name. Whindy held her hooves up, but Bruiser barrelled into me again, albeit softer this time.

"Bruiser, it's okay. If I make you feel uncomfortable, I can give you your space, buddy."

"No!" His shout was somewhat muffled into my fur. He pushed back enough to look me in the eyes. "My...dam. She never loved me like you do. She-she let...Him disown me. She only stopped my brothers when they made me bleed. She never stopped...Him when He punished me."

My heart nearly broke watching the colt struggle to even acknowledge his former family. The damage that these thoughtless ponies had inflicted on a sweet young soul was difficult to wrap my head around. My parents had been distant and controlling, but they'd never hurt me. It was going to be a hard road to trot when it comes to maintaining his trust.

His shaking grew stronger and I was starting to get concerned about him. "Bruiser, breathe, bud. It's okay..."

"It's not okay! I won't let anypony say anything bad about you." He turned around to face Whindy. "Life is the best pony in Equestria, even if he's a h-...I mean...even if he loves...another stallion." He squirmed out of my hooves and faced Div.

"Do you love him?" He asked forcefully.

Div raised an eyebrow, but answered seriously. "With my whole heart."

"Would you ever hurt him, or make him cry?" Bruiser took a step towards Div. Honestly, it was really something else having the colt stand up for me.

"Never on purpose. If I made him sad or hurt him, it would be like hurting myself."

"He's adopting me. What are you going to do about it?" I had to stuff a hoof in my mouth at the colt's direct approach. Bru stepped up to Div almost challengingly. Div looked down at the paint colt. The picture etched itself in my brain. A big Royal Guard, one of Luna's finest, getting stared down by an earth pony colt.

Div fought a smile of his own. "I trust Life's judgment. If he says he wants to adopt you, you must be a good colt. Besides, I'm adopted too."

Bruiser turned around, head tilted upward haughtily. He walked back to me and leaned against me until I put a foreleg around him. "He can stay." He said, looking up at me.

"I'm glad you approve." I said with a smile.

Div approached us and took out a small box. "I guess now's as good a time as any."

My eyes locked on the box. It couldn't be... But, how did Div have the time to get something like that on the way here. Unless...had he planned ahead?

"Life Story. We've known each other since we were foals but it was only when you weren't around that I fully realized how much you mean to me. I had to spend over six months away from you. I don't even want to imagine what spending the rest of my life without you would be like. The honor would be mine forever if you would give me your hoof, and your heart, in marriage." He opened the box, revealing a stunning hoof ring. The center was his cutie mark and mine in sapphire and ruby inlays, surrounded by a halo of diamonds all in a burnished, molten-looking gold.

"I told you not to make him cry!" Bruiser said as he once again extricated himself from my grasp.

"I don't think those are sad tears. I might have stunned him, though." Div said thoughtfully.

Bru stood on his hind legs and grasped my ear with his teeth. I was jerked back to reality, quite literally.

"Life, he's waiting." Bruiser said, impatiently. "You're supposed to say something."

I looped one hoof around Div and the other around Bru and pulled them both in tightly. "I will! Div, I love you so much!"

"Bruiser, you're sure you want to be part of our family?" Div asked jokingly as we separated.

"Keep him happy." Bru answered seriously.

"I intend to." Div answered, as he fitted the ring around my hoof.

As Div stood back up, I couldn't resist. I kissed him deeply and passionately. My ear flicked as Bruiser made a gagging noise. As I leaned back, I gazed over at Whindy patting Bru on the back.

"Get used to it, kid. This is what loving parents look like." Whindy said.

*

It ripped my heart in two to have to leave Bru, even if Whindy was an amazing pony. The colt started to warm up to Div by the time we had to go, but was still fairly distant. I resolved to use my too-seldom-exercised patience.

On our way back to town, Div stopped by the post to send a magical message to our parents. The cost made me balk, but he laid out the bits without flinching.

"Your father insisted on knowing as soon as possible." Div explained.

"Div, you don't think this is sudden? We only just allowed ourselves to say we love each other."

"You mean you only just allowed me to say I love you?"

"Semantics."

"Life is in the details."

"I'm right here in front of you, not lost in some details."

"Then don't worry about us rushing it. We've known each other since foalhood. I think that's long enough to get an idea of who I'm marrying."

Open looked a touch frazzled as we neared the inn. When she spotted us, she made a beeline straight towards me. "Life, we need to talk."

Author's Notes:

So, I'm updating a bit early because I'm considering a schedule change from Mondays to either Fridays or Saturdays. If things go my way, I may update twice next week but that depends on a few variables.

I know, ending the chapter on a 'We need to talk' cliffhanger. Maybe I'm not the nicest author, but if I didn't leave you wanting more, I wouldn't have y'all in the first place! Cruel to be kind, I guess.

Fight of my Life

Open led the way into the Salt Lick watering hole. Sitting at a table in the empty saloon was a paint pony. The mare shared Bruiser’s lighter shade of brown coat but added only slightly darker patches on top. Her chest, cheeks and fetlocks were all fairly long haired, albeit well-kept. The mare’s ears were different; tufts of fur grew from them.

“Life Story, this is Sweetheart Tannin.” Open said by way of introduction. I stiffly shook her hoof as I tried to school my features into calm detachment.

Bruiser’s birth mother regarded us all with interest.

Finally, Div broke the silence. “What can we do for you, ma'am?”

“I have a few concerns about my son.” Her voice was soft, but resolute.

I snorted rudely. “You terminated your parental rights. Currently, he doesn’t have a family. Actually, he doesn’t even have a last name now.”

“My husband’s decision to sever connections with our youngest was made out of concern for his actions.” She said stiffly. I eyed her carefully. Her posture indicated that continued hostility would be met coldly.

I sighed mentally. “Your concern is appreciated.” I said evenly, slipping into my lying mask. “Bruiser was definitely impacted by your husband’s decision. However, by the very nature of punishment you and your husband undertook, Bruiser is no longer your concern.” This earned me a curious look from Div and a supportive smirk from Open.

She winced. “I was led to believe he’d be adopted by my extended family. My husband agreed to let him be adopted by one of my siblings.”

“Unless those words were in a conditional surrender agreement, you will find it hard to enforce that.” Open chimed in. Sweetheart pursed her lips.

“If you have a copy of that agreement, I'd like to see it. We haven’t heard anything about it and FPS seems not to know either.” I stated.

Sweetheart shifted uncomfortably. “The family court should have a copy. Bitter didn’t…I mean, I don’t have that copy with me. I’m warning you, I’ll make sure my wishes are respected.” The threat sounded hollow. It didn't help that she was so unsure of herself. Or maybe she wasn't sure about her husband.

Div spoke up. “This is ridiculous. What do you want, ma'am? You gave up your youngest, which is probably the nicest thing you could have done for him. Now you want to put him in the same kind of environment he ran away from?”

Sweetheart regarded him coldly. “Scraper was out of control. Always talking back to us, insisting on ignoring our rules and running away from home! I was at my wit’s end trying to find him. Do you really think I would give up on him so easily?”

“But you did give him up.” I interjected.

“Only so he would get more attention from one of my siblings! Their families are not as large as ours. They are perfectly able to take care of Scraper’s needs. Besides, they’re paints like he is.” She said defiantly.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Div asked, throwing a hoof in the air.

She held her chin up as she spoke. “Paints have a proud heritage. Scraper is part of a grand lineage and not just anypony can pass that tradition onward.”

“Seems to me that Bruiser doesn’t care as much as you do for these ‘traditions.’” Div scoffed.

Sweetheart stood. She wasn't exactly intimidating, but I had to admire how delusional a pony could get. “He is a child. There’s no way he understands what he’s giving up!”

Div continued his verbal assault. “He's old enough to make his own choices. He’s old enough to reject placement with ponies he’s uncomfortable around. Besides, what kid would want to live with a bunch of bigoted bullies.”

Open, Sweetheart, and I gasped. Sweetheart went a step further and slapped Div across the face. Hard. The sound rang through the empty bar.

“Proving my point.” Div said in the silence. Sweetheart’s face contorted in anger. She looked as if she’d slap him again.

“Mrs. Tannin, I think it’s time you went home.” Sheriff Silverstar said as he walked in.

Glancing around, Sweetheart took a good look at the expressions on everypony's face. Four ponies looked at her with what ranged from anger to pity to disgust. She gathered her things and trotted out the door.

The sheriff spoke first. “I heard a lot more of that than y’all probably realize, but I’ll make it brief. I saw the surrender agreement. Sweetheart might have been told it was conditional, but it’s not. There aren’t any clauses stating preferential adoption.”

Open sighed. “She might still sue, if Bitter tricked her into giving up her rights without conditions.”

I shook my head. “There’s no way she’d do that. She made it pretty clear that she’d put her husband ahead of her youngest. I think she regrets it, but she’ll never say a word against Bitter.”

Sheriff Silverstar spoke to Div. “Technically, she assaulted a Royal Guard. I know I sent her home but if you want to press charges I wouldn’t hold it against you.”

Div shook his head. “It just goes to prove what we've come to know about this family. How old are her other children?”

“The second youngest just became an adult not too long ago, I believe. Kind of hard to tell for sure with how much they keep to themselves.” The sheriff replied.

“Then there’s no point. We’ll save who we can.” Div turned to me.

“Div, I’m sorry…” I started, moving in to make sure he hadn’t been hurt too badly.

“It’s not your fault, Ly.” He assured me, planting a kiss on my cheek. I blushed, everypony was sure to have seen that. He grinned wickedly. “Y’know, you could kiss it all better.”

“You’re a nightmare.” I said my red face burning brightly.

“Nope. I’m your best dream come true.” He teased.

“It's a wonder those lips don’t stick together with all those honeyed words dripping from your mouth.” I countered. Div snorted and moved closer. My stomach tingled.

Open coughed pointedly. “This can wait until later.” She glanced at the sheriff, who looked decidedly uncomfortable.

“We’ll need to talk to Whindy about this. If she doesn’t worry about it, we won’t.” I hinted.

“I’ll go give her a visit.” The sheriff said, excusing himself quickly and exiting the saloon.

*

“Life, I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am.” My stomach twisted at her words. Whindy tried everything she could, but now I stood in the kitchen watching Sweetheart and Bruiser sitting on the swing set. A family court monitor looked on from a few feet away from them.

“How is this good for him?” I asked, my tone edging on anger.

“It’s a setback but it’s temporary. She missed the deadline to recover her rights normally. She still has yet to testify against her husband. Not to mention the abuse that Bruiser has alluded to. Visitation is the most she could hope for.” Whindy's tone lacked sufficient comfort to ease my worries.

Visions of her manipulating Bruiser came to my mind. Would Bruiser want to go home if his mother said so? “What’s she been saying?”

Whindy shook her head. “Surprisingly, she really hasn’t tried saying much. When she first arrived, she’d tried exchanging pleasantries. Bruiser has put up a wall; he hasn’t said a word to her.”

“Has she laid a hoof on him?” Div asked.

“She tried a hug, but he sidestepped her. The monitor has been pretty good about reminding her to be respectful of his personal space.” She sighed and looked at me tiredly. “It’s been awkward.”

“Tell me about it.” Div sighed heavily. They shared a sympathetic glance.

I huffed, barely registering their exchange. “I have half a mind to…”

Suddenly, Bruiser sprang to his hooves and rounded on Sweetheart. The swings weren’t far, but they were outside so what Bruiser said to his mother was between them and the monitor. The colt looked angry, but also seemed on the edge of tears. His lanky body shook slightly from the tension running through him. I held my breath, if Div hadn’t had a hold of me, I would've been out the door in a flash.

After what felt like ages but couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, Sweetheart stood. Remembering how his father had slapped him and how his mother had slapped Div, I broke free of Div’s hold and ran for the door. Whindy grabbed my tail with her teeth.

“What are you…?” I asked, resisting my natural urge to kick myself free.

“Look!” She said around a mouthful of my tail. I turned to see Sweetheart trotting to the door. Whindy spat my tail out just in time for Sweetheart to walk in.

Bruiser’s former dam took one look at us and scowled in disgust. “I don’t know what you’ve done, but that is no son of mine. You’ll never have to worry about me again.” With that, she turned and left.

The court monitor and Bruiser walked up to the house. When they got inside, Bruiser broke down into silent tears in my forehooves. I hugged him tight, but looked at the monitor questioningly. The yellow unicorn shrugged.

“You’ll need to talk with him about what he told her exactly. It will be better for him. Suffice it to say that he called her on nearly everything she’s ever done. It was pretty intense.” The monitor admitted.

“What did she say to him?” Div asked, a hoof on Div’s back.

The monitor shrugged again. “That’s just it. She didn’t say anything. She just left.”

*

It had been a week. And, even after the hectic itinerary I’d been subjected to on the train ride across Equestria, this was the craziest week of my life. I was actually really glad Open Schedule had stayed with me. Her organizing skills were definitely put to the test. Wedding appointments (this would be a short engagement), a family court appearance, and meeting with our parents made the week fly by.

“Mr. Story, thank you for agreeing to meet with me. I must say, though, I didn't expect this many ponies." I looked around the small office with a sheepish grin. Mom, dad, Div, Bruiser, Open, Ma Amore, Mamma Pro, and Whindy Roads were all crammed into the small space. Div, Bru and I sat in front of the desk with Open standing by my side. Our parents stood behind us. On the other side, Whindy Roads regarded us all with amusement.

"I'm sorry..." I began.

"Well, if anything, it shows the effectiveness of the Story/diVolare support group." Open Schedule cut me off. Ms. Roads chuckled into a hoof.

"I suppose that's right. Well, I have news.” She announced as she shuffled through papers. It was telling that she didn’t qualify it as good or bad. Hopefully it was more of one than the other.

Whindy looked around at the tense expressions on everypony’s faces. “Oh! It’s all good! Sweetheart withdrew her case. She’s severed all ties again. Your adoption was approved, and you’re free to take Bruiser home to Canterlot.”

A collected sigh of relief rose from everypony. Mom and dad smiled at the diVolare’s. Between us, Bruiser leaned his head on my shoulder. Div patted his back.

Walking out of Whindy's office, Bruiser weaved in and out of our group, talking to everypony very excitedly. Everyone seemed at ease; Bruiser was a natural charmer. My mother insisted on baking with him once we were back in Canterlot. He seemed as excited as she, to the point I couldn’t bring myself to warn him about mom’s dubious cooking skills.

We walked to the Salt Lick, for lack of a better place. Everything had been set up in advance, so that when we walked in Bruiser saw the banner with his name on it. He’d decided on sticking with just one name. Bruiser Story just didn’t flow right, and Bruiser diVolare wasn’t much better. But he had legally changed it from Scraper to Bruiser.

Under the banner was a pile of presents. Bruiser’s face was priceless.

“A-are those…for me?” His eyes were huge.

Ma Amore threw a hoof over his shoulder. “Si, il mio cavallino. Your grandparents, Sogni, and Open all wanted to make sure you had what you needed. And maybe a bit more.”

Mamma Pro sidled up to his other side. “By ‘a bit more' she means about half of this is to spoil you rotten.” She said, indicating the pile.

He broke loose and turned around to face all of us. “I-I don’t know what to say.”

Dad, as in my dad, actually smiled. “Wait till you open the gifts before you worry about thanking us. We’re family; we want to see you happy.”

“That's right!” Mom chirped, leaning on her husband cheerily. “Start with mine. I’m dying to see your reaction!”

“How about we have a seat first?” I suggested.

In the end, Bruiser made out like a bandit. Mom gave him a set of writing quills and inks. From dad, an interlocking block building set. Mamma Pro had at least three different outfits, all tailored for Bru like he’d been born with them. Ma Amore had somehow made a quilt.

I was beginning to suspect the diVolare’s never slept.

Div's gift was a strategy game. The game board was new, but the game was one we played as foals. Bru seemed very interested, at least.

As a matter of fact, Bruiser looked a little overwhelmed. With a pang, I remembered what he said when I asked why his hat was important. For a foal who never had things of his own, even the utilitarian gifts must seem like heaven. Time for my gift for Bruiser.

“Bru.” I called, getting the colt’s attention. Div handed me a hat box, which I in turn presented to Bruiser. “I believe this belongs to you.”

With enough solemnity that one would think the box contained a holy magical Artifact, Bruiser lifted the top and folded back the tissue. Gently, he lifted out his hat from Manehattan. With a smile, he flipped it onto his head, eyes gleaming as he turned his head up to look at me.

“Thanks, dad.” Bruiser said.

Author's Notes:

Meh, I was gonna wait until Friday, but here ya go!

As always, please PM corrections. Comments, queries, critiques, quandaries and so on and so forth in the box below.

Life, Uncertain

I hadn’t expected to be nervous the day before the wedding. Open had everything worked out, even when a few places chose not to serve us. The rehearsal had gone well. It wasn’t an elaborate or frilly ceremony. Even the reception looked to be in order. So why was I so nervous?

“Bru, for the last time you can wear the hat.” Div reassured him. “I don’t care if it clashes with your suit. I don’t care if I fall in a bucket of pink paint before the ceremony! Everything will be fine.”

“But Granny Story said…” Bru argued.

“Don’t let Lovely hear you call her ‘granny.’” Div reminded him.

Bruiser growled in frustration. “It’s too hard keeping all these names straight. Nonna Pro, Gran Amore, Nana Lovely, Pappa Story. I’m this close to just calling all of them by first name.”

“Like you do with me?” Div asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Unless you’d rather be called Mamma Sogni.” Bruiser shot back.

“How about Papa Div?” Div suggested.

“How about Mother diVolare?” Bru said stubbornly.

Div sighed. “Whatever, just don’t call me late for dinner.”

I groaned from my place on the couch. Thankfully, I had a book to cover my outburst of frustration at how these two were getting along. Unfortunately, it was one of mom's books. Mom had insisted on giving me a copy of her newest Barleyquin Romance novel. It was more readable than others she’d forced into my hooves. Well, either that or my tolerance had grown since my teen years. Even then, I still skipped the…more direct pages. I didn't need pointers from mom about sex.

“Your mom write another sappy scene?” Div asked.

“Can I read Gran Gran Story’s book next?” Bruiser asked.

Div snorted. “You're too young. Also, say ‘Gran Gran’ around Lovely and you’ll be young for the rest of your life.” Bruiser looked confused for a moment, until Div mimed a hoof across his throat.

“I’m trying to unwind over here. But SOMEponies would rather argue like foals.” I called from behind my book.

“Sorry, Ly.”

“Sorry, dad.”

“Would it be so hard to call us both that?” Div asked plainly.

Bruiser snorted and pointed at me. “He earned it.”

I snapped the book shut and glared at both of them. Bruiser wouldn’t make eye contact and Div looked about ready to make any excuse to get away. “I love you both. It’s very important to me that you guys bond. Got that?”

“Yes, Life.” Div answered quietly.

“Yes sir.” Bruiser said. I put a hoof to my temple. Some habits were hard to break, but I’d tried to get Bru to call me anything but ‘sir.’ Not only had that phrase been one I hated as a foal, but I knew Bru hated it too.

“Get out, both of you.” I said finally.

“What did I do?” Div whined.

“Where am I supposed to go by myself?” Bruiser asked incredulously.

I stood and pointed a hoof at Div. “You need to form a positive relationship with our son.” I turned to Bru and pointed. “And you need to cool it with names before you hurt somepony’s feelings.”

Regarding them together, I wrapped them both in a hug. “Go out and find something both of you will enjoy. I love you.”

“I love you too, Ly.” Div said, patting my back with a hoof.

“I love you too, dad.” Bruiser whispered, patting my side.

With that source of irritation gone, the room was suddenly too quiet. I sighed, setting aside mom's book for a moment to take stock of what we had to eat. Leaving for food seemed unappealing, so I hoped we had some of the samples from the catering company or even the bakery.

Levitating the pile to sort through it, two plain black suit boxes caught my eye. Gently, I began to lower the pile while bringing the boxes to me. Before it settled back onto the table, I managed to snag a plate of muffins. With my haul firmly in my magical grasp, I trotted back to the couch.

Lifting the lid on the first box, I found a royal guard dress uniform. I quickly replaced the lid, intent on not getting crumbs on my fiancé’s uniform. It hadn’t occurred to me that Div wouldn’t wear a suit. I’d practically forgotten Div was a royal guard, as Div had mostly left the armor in our room. It was going to be odd, sharing my spouse with Princess Luna. I set the box aside, steeling myself against the uncertain future.

The second box held what I’d been expecting, albeit of a quality higher than I’d imagined.

A knock on my door later, and the pony responsible for my current state of shock stood before me.

“Ah, Div finally remembered to show you the tuxedo I made.” Progetta called as she walked in. Unlike her wife Progetta managed to speak without the Bitalian accent, though it came up if she was emotional.

“Actually, I found it while looking for something to eat.” Mamma Pro rolled her eyes. “Mamma, I have to say, between the three outfits for Bruiser and the suit you gave me for the interview all those months ago, I owe you quite a bit. This? This is too much!” I said, indicating the white tuxedo. “How did you ever have time to do all of this?”

She rolled her eyes and waved a hoof. “Don’t wound my pride, Life! It’s my honor to make sure my family looks their best.” Progetta covered her mouth with a hoof. “Although, I actually had your suits made a while ago. I’ve just been holding onto them.”

I had to shake my head. “Was I the only one who didn’t know how much he loved me?”

She smiled broadly. “It took him a while to see it too. Even with Amore's very unsubtle hints.” I laughed at the thought of Ma Amore trying to clue in Div.

Progetta scooted the tux box at me. “Better make sure that fits before tomorrow. I can fix it if it doesn’t. Besides, I want to see how it looks on you.”

I hurried off into the bedroom part of the suite and closed the door on Mamma Pro's sigh. It might seem silly, but changing clothes in front of somepony made me feel awkward.

I walked back out, tugging things into place. The tie tying spell I learned ages ago wasn’t working, but otherwise I looked good. Mamma Pro picked up on the tie immediately.

“I thought Unicorns had a spell for that.” She teased, pointing at the tie slung over my shoulder.

“We do. I’ve forgotten it.” I answered plainly.

“You might want to look it up before tomorrow.” She chided as she unfurled her wings. With amazing dexterity, she flipped the tie around and knotted it perfectly.

I took a look into the vanity mirror. “Mamma, I might need to steal you everyday if you can make me look this good.”

She came up behind me and to the side, so I could see her through the mirror. “I’ll be trying to get that hideous royal guard dress uniform to look nice. I’m in a losing battle, I think.” She laughed.

“What was it like to see him go off and become a royal guard?” I asked, trying to play it cool.

Progetta looked away. Her green mane covered the eye closest to me. “Please do not take this the wrong way.”

I turned around to look at her. “I'm sorry, if it’s personal…”

“It's not that, mio cavallino. It’s just…it was better to see him go become a guard than to have him looking lost.” She answered unhappily.

I looked down. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…” Progetta began.

I cut her off. “No, you’re right. I shoved him away to save my own pride. It was shameful and it hurt him more than I could have imagined.”

“Ly, I…” She looked down, then back at me. “He threw himself into becoming a guard because he thought he had no future in delivery. He didn’t think he’d be worthy to have you.”

“What do you mean? I shoved him away, I was going off and leaving him. I didn’t even let him tell me he loved me. There’s no way he became a guard for me!” I didn’t know why I was arguing with her, but I couldn’t stop myself.

She brushed her mane out of her eye and looked at me with both eyes. Her gaze transfixed me, as if she could see inside me and weigh the contents of my mind. She took a long blink and the moment passed.

“I hope you aren’t marrying him because of how much you blame yourself for hurting him.”

My stomach wrenched. That wasn’t it. Well, not entirely. But, if it was even a little true, would it matter?

“Life, you need to forgive yourself. I know Div forgave you as soon as he told me he still wanted you in his future. He doesn’t hold your bad moments against you. That’s not who he is.” She smoothed a hoof down my tie.

“But, I…”

“No, Life. You can’t hold him and your guilt at the same time. Put the guilt down and move forward. Understand?” She pushed her hoof into my shoulder gently.

I looked up, smiling but with tears in my eyes. “Mamma, thank you.” I said, my heart full.

She embraced me. As we separated, she held me at a foreleg's length. “Div is a good pony. He’s also intelligent. Never for a second doubt how highly he thinks of you. You’re of great value to him and to our family.”

My tears ran freely; my throat suddenly too tight for speech. I settled for nodding. She handed me a sample napkin from the linen company in town. I brushed my eyes clear.

“Now, where is my little dreamer?” She asked, using an old nickname for Div.

I sighed. “He took Bruiser someplace. They were getting at each other again, so I sent them out to bond.”

“They don’t get along?” She asked, surprised.

“Bruiser’s a tough one. His old family made it hard for him to open his heart. He really is a good colt, otherwise. I…I don’t understand it.” I confessed.

Progetta’s mouth became a thin line as she thought. She turned to the table and pulled out a chair. I followed suit. “Life, raising an older adopted child is difficult. With a foal like Bruiser, the challenges will seem insurmountable.”

“I knew that when I agreed to it. It’s just…” I hesitated. Mamma Pro caught my gaze.

“Life Story, you are about to become my son in law. You can tell me anything and I will keep your confidence.” After a thought she added. “Even if it’s about my Sogni.”

I shook my head. “It’s not like that. It’s…Well Bruiser acts up around Div a lot more than either of us expected. I don’t know if it’s because Div is a royal guard. Maybe Bruiser has a problem with authority? He doesn’t seem to have a problem when I tell him to do something.” I threw my hooves up.

“Both of you will need to give him some time. Let him come to you. I’m sure…” Whatever she was going to say was cut off by a familiar voice crying out.

Progetta ran to the window. I started towards her when she turned around. “It's Bruiser. Outside. Now.”

Seconds later, I was on the street. Mamma Pro had a lead on me; she’d flown out the window. I headed after her. I caught sight of Bru and Div a second later, with a larger paint pony standing opposite Div. I couldn’t make out his words, but I could hear his angry tone. It was Bitter Tannin once again!

I redoubled my gallop, running flat out. I was surprised how far Bru's voice carried. In spite of my efforts, I was still too far away when Bitter threw a hoof at Div's face. The blow didn’t land. In a blur, Bitter was on the ground, forelimb twisted behind his back and Div's rear hoof planted firmly in the back of Bitter's neck.

As I neared the scene, Sheriff Silverstar and his deputies arrived. One deputy held a hoof up to keep Progetta and I back. The other moved Bru away from Div and towards us.

Sheriff Silverstar spoke calmly. “Guardspony DiVolare, I saw the whole thing. As sheriff, I’d like to thank you for using only necessary force. Now, please stand down.”

Div muttered something I couldn’t hear. Bruiser tucked himself into Mamma Pro’s side, she covered him with a wing.

The sheriff reacted with a frown. “And, as sheriff, I’d like to remind you that I outrank you, Royal Guard or not. Your sergeant is my equal, but would still defer to me in local matters. Now, please stand down. I’m on your side.”

With only a moment's hesitation more, Div released Bitter. Sheriff Silverstar hurried to Bitter’s side. “Bitter, didn’t I tell you and your’n to stay outta town for a few days? These folk've been kind enough to not press charges twice now.”

Bitter spat out dust in response. The sheriff shook his head. “Mr. Tannin, you are under arrest for attempted assault on a member of the Royal Guard.”

Div went to Mamma Pro’s side and ducked his head to look at Bru. “You okay, Bru?”

Bruiser jumped out from Pro's wing and wrapped his forelimbs around Div's neck. Div reacted with surprise, but hesitantly patted Bruiser on the back.

Mamma Pro looked back at me with a smile. She continued her sentence from earlier. “I’m sure things will work themselves out in the end.”

Author's Notes:

Woo, just managed to get this where I wanted it.

As ever, please PM corrections. Comments, queries, critiques, quandaries and so on and so forth in the box below.

Life's Dreams Come True

I was just heading back from the bathroom at the Salt Lick when a full squad of Royal Guards showed up, in full PLHG armor.

“S-Sergeant Stone? What are you doing here?” Div looked close to panic, at least as far as I could see.

Mountain Stone, every bit as large as his name implied, stepped forward and slapped a large hoof on Div's back. “You didn’t think we’d let you get married without a proper Arch of Spears? Aside from a few two week courses, we’re all twiddling our hooves until the trip to Haven. So this’ll be great! Where’s your soon-to-be-happy little bride?”

I smirked at the happy little bride bit. Div looked ill at ease. “But I didn’t tell anyone…”

Mountain smiled. “I thought that was funny. Supply got a requisition for Spears and a few guards for a wedding. Since it was for a Royal Guard, we got the notification from them. When I saw who it was for, I decided we should deliver them personally.”

Open came up to Div’s side. I walked up next to Open. “I put in the requisition when we asked for a military chaplain. I didn’t think it would bring an entire squad down on us.” She said, smiling at Sgt. Stone.

“Open, all I wanted was the chaplain.” Military chaplains officiated for free, although it was customary to donate as generously as possible. From his tensions, I wondered why he hadn’t told them.

“Oh, come on, diVolare! You can’t be that mad to see us.” A grey-blue pony broke ranks to throw a forelimb around Div’s shoulders. Div seemed less than thrilled.

Shrugging off his comrade, Div looked around Mountain Stone, a difficult task at that, and took in how many more ponies there were. “Sir, is the whole squad here?”

“Yup.” Mountain answered simply.

“But the Arch of Spears only needs six ponies. How could I possibly pick…?” Div began. He seemed to be trying to get out of this.

Mountain turned around to face the guards and Div simultaneously. “Don’t worry, we figured it out on the way over. It’ll be myself and Harvest Moon, then Golden Touch and Cloud Lance, and finally Mixer and Battle Ready.” As he spoke, the ponies in question stepped forward, saluting with big grins. Except for Cloud Lance, who turned out to be the pony at Div’s side. All told, our arch consisted of two earth ponies, two pegasus, and two unicorns.

“You’re sure you don’t mind being left out; Gear Grinder, Astral Bolt?” Div asked the remaining ponies.

“It's your day, kid.” Gear Grinder said simply.

“Yeah, it’s more fun watching than holding a spear anyway.” Astral added, with a smirk.

“I’m sure we can find a place for you two.” Open said with a smile. Div turned a baleful glance her way.

Mountain looked at Open. “So, is this the mare? Are you going to introduce us properly, guardspony?”

I snorted. This was too good. Div was at a momentary loss for words, so I decided to help. “Div, honey,” I said, crossing in front of Open to stand at Div’s side. “You really do need to introduce me to your fellow guardsponies. We are getting married tomorrow, after all.”

My words hung in silence as the entire squad of Royal Guards looked at Div. I almost felt sorry as he wavered. Then, he took a deep breath shakily. “Um. S-sir Mountain Stone, sir, may I introduce my fiancé?” Div lifted a hoof towards me.

The other guards reacted at this. Some looked interested. Others surprised. Still others smiled. Mountain Stone looked briefly uncomfortable. “Oh, um, sorry. I meant no offence, diVolare. I didn’t know you…well. I didn’t…um.” He coughed politely and regained his composure. “Well, congratulations to you and your…spouse-to-be!”

“I’m Life Story.” I said, extending a hoof. Sgt. Stone shook it without hesitation, his smile marred only by surprise, rather than disgust. What was Div worried about? “We should get you all a round, on us!” The rest of the Squad cheered heartily.

As we celebrated, the two Bravo Squad unicorns pulled me aside. Their names eluded me. As if in answer, the male spoke. “I’m Mixer, this is Battle Ready.”

“Oh, thanks.” I said.

Battle Ready's golden eyes locked onto mine and held my attention. “Hey, so I know Div wasn’t expecting us and the Arch and all, so we wanted to make sure you were okay with one of the traditions.”

“Oh?” I asked, eloquently.

“Yeah.” Mixer chimed in. “At the end, it’s tradition to give a swat to the rear of the bri—civilian at the end of the arch. It’s silly, but it’s supposed to welcome you into the Royal Guard family.”

“Sounds fun. Don’t tell Div, but I’m fine with it.” I answered with a grin.

“Don’t tell Div?” Battle Ready asked.

“It’ll be more fun that way.” I explained.

They looked at each other and grinned. Mixer looked back at me. “This is gonna be good.”

*

Alone in our room, I spoke calmly. “Sogni.”

He hung his head contritely. “I know. I should have told them about…myself a long time ago. I just wasn’t—“

I hushed him. “No, I don’t care about that. What were you supposed to say? I love a stallion, but he’s out of town and when he comes back I’m proposing?”

He looked up hopefully.

“Tell me why you didn’t want them here.” I ordered.

He looked away, his face clouded. When he looked back, it was as if he looked out from a mask. “I thought they might object because we’re gay.”

I sat on the bed. Confrontation wasn’t my strong suit, but Div wasn’t getting away with that the day before our wedding. “I could split hairs here, but I’m going to have to call your bluff first. Tell me the truth, Div.”

He ran a hoof through his mane in irritation as he turned half away. “What do you want me to say?”

“Tell me what’s wrong. I can’t read your mind.” I crossed my forelimbs over my churning stomach.

“Look, I just wanted it to be about us. Not about me as a guard. Especially since…” He choked off his ending.

The room was deathly quiet. Even knowing it wouldn’t make either of us happy, I prodded. “Since what?”

“Forget it. There are parts about each other that we’ll never understand.” He sat where he stood.

I barely managed to get a handle on my anger; I was close to cussing him out. “I definitely don’t understand you now.”

“You really want to know?” He turned back on me, his face no longer masked, but covered in anger. “My whole life, I’ve been surrounded by these arrogant jerks. I had to deal with them at school, when I worked in the CCC, and now at work in the Royal Guard! I just wanted our wedding as free of these other ponies as possible.”

He turned away again, tears streaming down his face as he contorted in misery. I stood up from the bed, it dawning on me now. It was part of what made us friends in the first place. And he taught me how to defend myself against the pegasus bullies when we were foals. “Y-you still have a problem with pegasi?”

He exploded again. “Why wouldn’t I have a problem with them? Who bullied us the most in school? Pegasi. Who lazed around while I worked my plot off to earn a spot as a courier? Pegasi!”

I blinked a few times. “But, you were raised by…”

He cut me off and started pacing. “…One of the greatest aerialists and her designer. Ponies so drenched in the world of flight that they fought together to stay in it. And then they had me.”

I looked at him, alarmed. I’d never realized how intensely he felt. He'd never seemed more than vaguely annoyed by them. “Div, they love…”

He cut me off again, still pacing. “When I was young they carried me when we took trips to cloud cities like Cloudsdale and Cavallenice. When I got older, we couldn’t go anymore.”

The thought was out of my mouth before I could stop it. “It sounds more like you wish you were a pegasus.” I covered my mouth with my hooves.

Div looked angrier than I’d ever seen him. He stopped in his tracks, wheeled around and squared off towards me. “You…!” His eyes clouded over. He looked down again, the wind knocked once more from his sails. “You're right.”

Somehow, I didn’t feel any better. “Div, I—“

He cut me off. “I was a mistake, Life. My parents just stumbled onto me and took me in without thinking. The best thing that happened to them was when I was old enough to stay home alone.”

“Sogni DiVolare!” Amore’s voice rang out from behind him. Neither of us heard the door open. I wondered how long she’d been there.

Div wheeled around in horror. Catching Ma Amore’s stern look, he looked down at the floor, ashamed.

“You think…” She stepped into the room, looking ready to knock Div's head into the floor. “You think we ever regretted adopting you?” He couldn’t look at her and he seemed too emotional to answer.

She lifted his head up and looked deep into his eyes. “We love you, mio cavallino. We wouldn’t trade you for all of the cloud cities in all of the world. I’m sorry you ever felt like we would.” She hugged him around the neck. “Tu sei un dono del cielo. You are a gift from the heavens, Sogni. Sei l'stallone dei miei sogni. You are the stallion of my dreams.”

“It's not that, ma. I just...I wished I could have joined you in those trips when I was older. I'm sorry, ma.” He said as he pulled back.

She brushed through his mane with one hoof. “Your heart is weighed down by this hatred for those of my kind who were horrible to you. You must let that hatred go. Especially if you are to give your heart to another.” She looked at me.

“Now stand up straight and answer me.” He complied, naturally setting into perfect guard posture. “Do you want the Arch of Spears or no?”

“I think it would be good.” Div turned to me. “You don’t mind that my whole squad is here?”

I shrugged. “Open already planned on including them. Really, it’s only two ponies extra. Are you going to be okay with four more pegasi?”

He looked at Amore, who lifted a brow. “I have to try. If I want to be somepony worthy of you, I need to work on my issues.”

I stood up and embraced him. “Me too, love. Let’s do it together?”

Amore snorted. Div and I broke the hug to give her a look. She waved a hoof as she exited. “I will leave you both to do it, then!”

I facehoofed. “Ma! Not like that!”

"Huh. Our mothers are both gutter-brained." Div remarked.

*

My parents, Bruiser, and I made it to the chapel several hours early. Gear Grinder and Astral Bolt ended up as ushers. They’d actually brought ceremonial armor so they looked impressive, if a little intimidating. Both ponies stood outside the double doors leading into the chapel in their dark purple armor bearing the mark of the Lunar Princess.

“Div’s here.” Gear Grinder informed me as we approached the small chapel.

“Is he inside the chapel or in his waiting room?” Mom asked.

“Hang on, I’ll check.” Astral said, poking her head in to talk to one of the ponies inside. Everypony seemed intent to keep tradition by keeping Div and I separate. It was hell for my nerves, I had to keep reminding myself to breathe.

“Are you nervous, Dad?” Bruiser asked, no doubt noticing my increasingly strained posture. I looked at him, his suit hanging in a bag perched precariously on his back. I sighed and fixed the bag before it fell off.

Inhaling, I cleared my head. Letting the breath out, I answered. “Big day. It’s very important to me that things go well.”

“Everything will be fine.” Dad reassured me. He’d been volunteered as a pack-horse. Mother loaded him up with my suit, my ring for Div, several tissue boxes, mom’s dress, and a few more odds and ends. Mom checked him over at least three times before we left.

Astral Bolt turned back around. “Div just finished rehearsing his walk again and is back in his waiting area. All clear, citizen!” Astral reported, grabbing a door handle. With a look at Gear, the two opened the double doors in unison.

The chapel had been done up in deep purple and white, with silver crescent and golden quill highlights. Except for Open, the chaplain and the Royal Guards, we had the place to ourselves. Open walked briskly down the aisle to greet us.

“Perfectly on time. Excellent. Div just finished up his run-through and everything looks great.” Open looked calm and collected. I wished I could feel half as composed as she looked.

“I'll say!” I agreed. “You’ve outdone yourself, Open. I owe you—“

Open cut me off with a kind laugh. “Oh, Ly, let’s not get into how much you owe me. This is your day.”

I pulled her into a hug. “Remind me why I’m not marrying you?”

She laughed and pulled away. “For starters, I’d never settle for such a simple wedding?”

“This is simple?” I asked incredulously, indicating our rather well-decorated surroundings. The question earned me knowing glances from my mom, dad, and Open.

Dad patted my shoulder. “C’mon son. Just be thankful you’re not marrying a mare.” He grinned at mom’s scowl. I actually laughed, in spite of my nerves.

*

“Okay. Now that you’re ready, let’s go over it one last time.” Open directed. “The Royal Guards are in place, Div made his entrance, and the musician does the flourish…”

I stepped forward with the wrong forehoof, noticed halfway through, tried to correct myself, tripped on my own hoof, and hit the ground with a grunt.

Mom facehoofed. Dad shook his head and spoke. “He really does take after you, Lovely.”

Mom looked at him crossly. “Second, are you going to make jokes all day?”

He snorted. “Guess I shouldn’t show you my reception toast speech.”

“I saw your notes! If you think you’re going to get away with making that awful golfing joke, I’ll shove your own hooves down your throat!”

I groaned on the ground, hoping to garner a modicum of attention. Alas, no. “There’s no room down my throat! You’ve been jumping down it all day!” Dad replied.

Open came to my rescue. “Mr. and Mrs. Story, back to starting positions. Life, up and at ‘em, stud.” She lent me a hoof and I got up gracelessly and dejected.

Noticing the change in atmosphere, Open barked. “Happy smiling faces everypony! Life, lead with your right, double-step if you screw it up again. Lovely, this isn’t one of your romance novels, loosen up a bit and have fun. Second, take this a bit more seriously, with any luck this’ll be the only time your child will get married. Am I being clear?”

My parents looked properly chastened. They replied together. “Yes, ma'am.”

Open looked at me. I shook my head and smiled. “Yes, Open.”

*

The real deal. Walking down the aisle. So many ponies actually showed up in this rustic locale. Braeburn and the sheriff. Hard Deadline and Stylo Puissant from work. Crimson Cross from the writing group. Quill, the griffon gallery owner from Vanhoover. And, smiling brightly with what looked to be two healthy wings, Velocity Windwing from Whinnyappolis.

I glance up at the altar and there he is. I love him so much in this moment I want to run to him. The rest of the room seems to melt away and it’s just him. It’s just me getting closer to him. Just his face, so happy he’s actually got tears in his eyes and I blink and realize my tears are flowing down my face. As I stand next to him, we both turn to grab tissues for each other. We turn around and reach out, and then we laugh. There’s other ponies laughing, I’m dimly aware, but I keep my eyes on him.

“Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here today before this wonderful assemblage of ponies to celebrate the love of two ponies. Usually, when a family starts with a foal before a marriage the groom stands before me under penalty of death. This is a first for me; I have a groom standing before me under penalty of Life.” The chaplain paused for the polite laughter. Div glanced at me and grinned.

“Life Story and Sogni DiVolare, love is an amazing force of nature. It would take a fool not to see that force in both your eyes. You grew up from foalhood together as friends. That relationship hasn’t been taken away. As you stand before me today, you both will agree to add onto that friendship a new layer. Both of you will fortify this addition with the oath of matrimony. This oath, if honored and cherished, will last your whole lives and, I’d like to believe, beyond this mortal existence.

“At this time, we will hear from the grooms, first Life Story and then Guardspony diVolare.”

I cleared my throat. I’d insisted on going first; I knew that Sogni’s vows would likely get me crying beyond the ability to talk. “Sogni, my oldest friend, my protector, my love and my heart. I didn’t know when we were young just how much you would mean to me, but now I wouldn’t trade you for all of Equestria. You have seen me at my best and at my worst. When I felt unlovable, you proved me wrong. When I felt too scared to move forward, you quieted my racing mind. When I felt worthless, you held me up like the world’s greatest treasure. I may never be able to repay you, but I am honored to have the rest of my life trying. I love you…with all of my heart, body and mind.”

“Now, Guardspony diVolare.”

“I, uh, didn’t prepare anything here.” I leaned my head against his chest, face burning as those in attendance smothered giggles. “I did that on purpose, Life. I sound horrible scripted and finding the right words to encapsulate the depth of my love for you would take a lifetime. And I’m going to start now.

“Life, my best friend, my confidant, my love and my heart. If somepony said a year ago that I’d be standing here on the threshold of the rest of our lives together, I’d have told them to kiss a cockatrice. You've given me so much and you’re too noble to claim the responsibility; but you have claimed my heart. When I knew I loved you, but didn’t know how to tell you, I felt like a Pony dying of thirst with a river nearby. When I felt useless, you came to me with your problems and I forgot my own. When I felt like my hooves would fall off, seeing you gave me strength. You are the greatest treasure I will ever obtain. You are my sweetest dream come to life. I love you, beyond doubt and without regret.”

“Would the ring-bearers step forward?” The chaplain said.

Bruiser stepped up to my side. Sgt. Stone stood at Div’s side. We took our rings for each other from our respective bearers.

“Guardspony diVolare. Do you promise to honor this stallion, to guard his heart carefully, to hold him above all others, and to keep him in your heart from this time forward?”

His eyes never left mine. “I do.” He slipped the ring over my hoof to join the engagement band and locked them together.

“Life Story. Do you promise to honor this stallion, to guard his heart carefully, to hold him above all others, and to keep him in your heart from this time forward?”

“I do.” I slid the wedding band over his hoof with my own hooves. Frankly, I didn’t trust my magical ability at the moment and as things were my hooves were shaky.

“Then, by the power vested in me by the Kingdom of Equestria, I pronounce you husbands. You may—“ I couldn’t wait any longer. I pulled him in and kissed him passionately, before the chaplain could finish.

“—yeah, that.” The chaplain said with a laugh. I’m sure the others were laughing too, but I didn’t care. All that mattered were his lips on mine.

The Arch of Spears formed with military precision on the steps outside the chapel door. Sgt. Stone called out the orders with a voice as proportionately loud as he was large.

We kissed again and passed under the Arch of Spears with solemnity. Behind us, the bearers lowered their spears until the butts were just above the ground. As we exited, Battle Ready followed tradition and gave me a swat. “Welcome to the Royal Guard.” Div looked shocked. His expression was a hilarious mixture of embarrassment and nervousness.

I laughed and pulled him in for another kiss as our wedding carriage drew close. As we parted, I smiled. “Got you good.”

“You’re a horrible pony and I love you.” He said, shaking his head.

Author's Notes:

Special thanks to Anzel for Mountain Stone, Mixer for Mixer, Dorei for Battle Ready, **Beert for Cloud Lance, Pastcat for Golden Touch, Cyrix-FiM for Astral Bolt, and Listener for Gear Grinder.

The sequel is underway! Click Me for Life on the Line!