Party of Two
“Good morning, Misty!”
The swish of her bedroom curtain opening and the following blaze of light in her eyes would have been more than enough to wake her up on their own. Add Crystal Orchid’s unusually cheery call on top of it all, and the unicorn filly shot up straight in bed. “Huh, wha?” she mumbled, still bleary-eyed from so little sleep.
“I said, ‘Good morning, Misty,’” her mother repeated.
“O-oh, good morning, ma’am,” Misty Moonrise murmured, untangling herself from her sheets so that she could step down to the floor. Her pale grey coat was now mussed, as were her snow white mane and tail. Gazing downward, Misty fidgeted while her mother hummed a tune and used her magic to open the rest of the curtains in the room. More daylight streamed in, and the mountain town of Brumbyburg beyond was revealed through the glass.
Misty’s star charts were scattered about her floor, but instead of a scolding, Crystal Orchid merely gave them a cursory glance. “Misty, were you up late again last night?”
“No, I—” The lie caught on Misty’s tongue. Brumbies don’t lie, the little filly told herself, and they don’t make excuses either. She sighed. “Yes, ma’am, I was.”
“Oh, dear,” her mother said, shaking her head. “Well, I suppose it can’t be helped. But try not to do it again.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And do look into the eyes of the pony to whom you are speaking,” Crystal Orchid reminded her, gently tilting Misty’s chin upward. “You do not want to be rude, nor have others think you are ignoring them.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Misty repeated, although as soon as her mother’s hoof was gone, her gaze trailed back to the floor, staring at the ends of her mane.
She could hear her mother’s soft tsk at this. Misty peeked up for just a moment. She’d been expecting another admonishment, but her mother simply told her, “Well, come downstairs for breakfast. We have a big day ahead of us,” before leaving the room.
We do? Misty thought as she trotted out after her mother. “We do?” she then called aloud. It was only halfway down the hall that she realized she’d forgotten to brush her mane and tail. Again.
“Of course we do,” Crystal Orchid said. “After all, it is not every day that a filly turns another year older.”
Misty froze in place. Or she would have, had her father not appeared at that moment.
“Happy birthday,” said Black Knight, folding a wing about her in a tender hug. Misty involuntarily leaned into him. Her father gave a gentle ahem even as he smiled.
“Oh, um, thank you,” Misty responded a moment too late. Why could she never seem to get these social niceties right?
“I hope you’re hungry, because I’ve made my special birthday pancakes.” Black Knight released Misty from his embrace.
Misty followed her father to the dining room. Now her mother’s somewhat strange behavior made sense. As they came close to the kitchen, the smell of pancakes filled the air. When she entered the dining room, Misty could see three plates of pancakes topped with strawberries and whipped cream, covered in sprinkles and drizzled with syrup, floating in her mother’s rosy aura. As Misty and her father took their seats, a plate floated down in front of each of them. With a quiet, “Thank you,” Misty poked her fork into a strawberry and started to eat.
Truthfully, Misty did look forward to the breakfast her father made whenever they had a birthday in the family, though that was about the only part of the day which held any delight for her. It was not long before she heard her mother’s thrilled chatter.
“Once you finish, Misty, we’ll head to town to have your new dress fitted, and then we’ll stop by Lipizzan’s to have your mane taken care of.”
Misty shivered. “Do I have to?” Her voice sounded weak even to her own ears.
Her mother’s characteristic sternness returned. “Of course you do. We’ve been planning this for weeks now. Don’t you remember?”
Misty shrank in her seat. “Yes, ma’am, I do,” she mumbled.
“Speak up, Misty, and look me in the eyes.”
“Dear, that’s enough.” Her father spoke soothingly to her mother. He patted Crystal Orchid’s hoof with his own. “It’s her birthday.”
Crystal Orchid’s voice immediately gentled. “Yes, you’re right, you’re right.” She reached over and brushed Misty’s mane out of her eyes. “I’m sorry, Misty. But we’ve already sent out the invitations, hired a caterer, and made an appointment with the tailor. You don’t want it all to go to waste, do you?”
Misty would have liked nothing more. Or rather, she did not want it all to go to waste, but she would have preferred not to be the pony attending the day’s events. Instead of saying this aloud, Misty met her mother’s eyes for just a second and, in a resigned tone, said, “No, ma’am.”
Crystal Orchid nodded and said, “Finish your breakfast, then.”
It was easier said than done. What had been a sweet delight for Misty moments ago now felt and tasted like sand. She ate as slowly as she could.
* * *
Their day went just as Crystal Orchid had said it would. The dress that Misty had picked out at Friesian’s Fashions was waiting for them at the Trotting Tailor. The owner, a unicorn named Topline, attended to Misty himself, pinning the powder-blue dress that Misty had reluctantly picked out the week before into place. Misty fought against shying away any time Topline came close with a needle in hoof, as she could easily imagine being pricked with one. But Topline was a professional, and the dress was ready not long after.
“I’ll have it delivered to your home before the festivities,” he told Crystal Orchid as she placed her bits on the counter.
With thanks, Crystal Orchid then whisked Misty off to the mane-dresser’s. After some fussing and brushing, and much squirming in her seat, Misty’s mane was put into an updo. “Oh, it’s so sophisticated!” her mother exclaimed. “And it’ll keep your mane out of your eyes. Now, stop that,” she said when she saw Misty trying to shake it out.
“But it feels weird,” Misty mumbled. “And it looks weird, too.”
“It looks lovely,” Crystal Orchid assured her, “and it makes you look like a young lady.”
Misty said nothing.
At last, they were free to return home. Instead of relief, however, a new form of torture awaited. Misty shrank when she saw tray after tray of food being carried into the house by a veritable army of ponies. All this for me, she thought to herself, and I don’t even want it! Before she could dash off and find a place to hide, the dress arrived and Crystal Orchid took Misty to her room.
In a flash, she was in the dress again. Misty fidgeted all the while, glancing at the clock, watching as the time ticked away. The guests would be arriving at any moment. Misty closed her eyes and steadied her hooves, ears pricking as the doorbell chimed. She could hear chatter from the front hall, hear her father call out, “Misty!” Her heart raced, and she considered diving under her bed and not coming out for the rest of the night. But it was proper decorum for a host to greet her guests, and, eventually, decorum won out. Misty trudged down the stairs to greet these new arrivals.
Their home was soon filled with guests from all over Brumbyburg. Some Misty knew by name or by sight, but the majority of them were fully grown mares and stallions. They hardly seemed fitting guests for a filly’s birthday party; this knowledge did little to ease the trembling in Misty’s hooves. Of course, some of the guests were her age, classmates of hers who had been brought thanks to their parents. Yet beyond a smile, a greeting, and a hastily said, “Thank you for coming,” the foals did not mingle with Misty much, instead running off to form their own play group amongst the grownups.
Misty didn’t mind. She barely knew them anyway. And the less she had to interact with anypony, the better. She could instead spend the time focusing on not passing out from sheer fright at the sight of so many ponies or not working herself into a full-blown panic.
Between greetings, Misty closed her eyes and breathed deeply. One… two… three… four… She exhaled. One… two… thr—
“Hey, Misty!” A colt’s voice broke through her concentration
She opened her eyes a crack to find a young pegasus standing before her. His coat was mahogany, and his mane and tail were like aged ivory. His flank sported a very familiar shield cutie mark. Misty beamed as she beheld her friend standing in front of her. “Steel!” She felt like she could breathe again. “Oh, uh, thank you for coming,” she said at her mother’s sidelong glance. But for once that night, she meant it.
“You didn’t think I was gonna abandon you, did you?” Steel Shield playfully elbowed Misty as he spoke and as Misty’s parents greeted his.
Fortunately, it seemed as if they were the last guests to arrive. After one last quick, “Thank you,” to his parents, Misty silently begged, Please, please, please… Once they had walked away—Steel waited not too far from Misty—Black Knight knelt to face his daughter.
“You did a great job, Misty. Your mother and I are really proud of you.” He then stood and said, “Now you can go play, but don’t go too far.”
His voice was almost drowned by all of the party guests’ as Misty and Steel beat a swift retreat. Misty ran straight through the kitchen, past the serving ponies—almost bowling into one, but managing to dodge at the last second—and into the backyard.
“Whoa, Misty, wait up!” Steel called as he flew after her. When she finally stopped, he landed expertly behind her. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t like it in there,” Misty told him. “It’s hot and crowded and there are too many ponies I don’t know.”
“Thought so,” Steel said. He sat on the ground. “So are we gonna stay out here?” He grinned. “It’s not like anyone’ll miss us.”
“Not yet,” Misty replied. She sat, too, her back to Steel. “Not until it’s time to eat the cake and open presents.”
“Yeah, cake!” Steel cried, a hoof pumping the air. But when Misty turned away, he sobered. “What’s wrong?” he asked, scooting closer to her.
“Why do we keep having these parties?” Misty asked. She was gazing up at the moon.
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“These parties. They don’t make any sense.” When Steel said nothing, Misty clarified, “They’re supposed to be for my birthday, but I don’t want them. I don’t like them, Steel, but we have them anyway. It’s almost like… like they’re not even for me, not really.” Some part of her felt as if this were wrong, that she was speaking out of turn and she should take the words back even though she knew it was too late. But another, much stronger part of her told her something else—that she was right.
“No way, they gotta be for you,” Steel said. “It’s what everyone does for their birthday.”
“But I don’t want them.”
Misty turned to face Steel in time to see him shrug. “I dunno,” he told her. “I guess it’s just what everypony around here does. I mean, every time something happens, there’s a party. Maybe it’s a Brumby thing.”
“But why? There are other ways to celebrate.” She stared ahead as she whispered into the night, “I don’t get it.” The wind carried her voice away.
Steel shrugged again. “I guess that’s just what Brumbies do.”
Misty turned away, her ears falling. They stayed like that for a while. Then she heard Steel shuffle through the grass and his soft, “I’ll be right back.”
And then it was just her and the night sky. Now that she was alone, she realized just how cold it was, and she shivered in the chill. Laughing voices drifted to her from the house, and she could make out the warm glow of lights on the lawn. Suddenly, her vision was obscured by some kind of blur in front of her face. She yelped a bit and fell back to find Steel hovering above her, holding a present.
Steel landed beside her and helped her up. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you.” He put the present in her hooves. “You looked like you needed cheering up.”
Misty gazed at what Steel had given her. It was square and almost flat, wrapped in dark blue wrapping paper and topped with a silver bow. When she shook it, it made no sound.
“Go on, open it!” Steel urged her, almost jumping with anticipation.
Slowly, methodically, Misty tore open the paper. She saw the back of a canvas. Turning it over, she gasped. In the dim light, she could just make out a painting of a constellation. And not just any constellation, but of Pegasus.
“So? What do you think?” Steel asked. “Do you like it? I know it’s your favorite, and since your birthday was coming up, I, uh, tried to make it for you…”
Misty put the painting down and hugged her friend close. Steel returned the warm embrace. Before they had a chance to part, they heard Black Knight’s call of, “Misty! Where are you? It’s time for cake!”
The two pulled away. Misty lifted the painting with her magic and walked back toward the door. Steel reached it at the same time, but he held it open with a playful bow. Giggling some, she curtseyed in return, but before she went inside, she paused and turned to the colt. “Hey, Steel?”
“Yeah?” he said.
“I’m really glad you’re here.”
Steel smiled. “Yeah, me, too.” He put a wing around her. “Happy birthday, Misty.”
“Thank you,” she replied. “For everything.” Facing the doorway once more, Misty could hear the chatter of expectant ponies and see the gathering waiting for her return. They’d start singing as she entered, and it would be much too loud. But it didn’t matter. Steel was with her. He was her friend and guardian, and she’d always have him by her side.
Seeing his encouraging nod, Misty took a deep breath and stepped inside.
THE END