“Just lay low. Be normal.”
Those were the last words Bon Bon had ever heard from her handler, before disappearing into her final role. It had been a difficult adjustment, at first. The ponies of Ponyville were just so much more open and innocent than the ones she had grown up with in Bronclyn or worked with at the Agency, and she had let her grumpy side out a bit too much at first. Especially that one time some filly tried to pull a fast one on her by sneaking some apples into her bag. But Ponyville wasn’t Bronclyn and the two drawling farmer ponies weren’t con artists trying to separate her from her hard-earned bit.
But she blended into the background, as was her mission, and became indistinguishable from anypony else in the town. Part of it was her genuine love of the nation of Equestria and the immortal Goddess who ruled it, particularly when it came to participating in the many holidays and celebrations decreed by Ponyville’s legitimate government. Part of it was acting, particularly when it came to following the latest trend or craze that would otherwise seem superficial or even foalish to her. Though once, she had not been acting, and to this day she still didn’t know what could possess her to want a raggedy, old doll so badly.
But one part of her life really was very normal, and not acting at all. A part that started when a certain mint-green unicorn mare, freshly arrived from Canterlot, showed up at her door to answer the rent ad she had placed for the spare bedroom in her apartment.
It was a very normal love story, identical to the countless ones exactly like it unfolding every moment across Equestria. There was no family conflict, no love triangle, no grand adventure. Just two ponies living ordinary lives close to one another, spending time with each other, getting to know each other, and liking what they found. A deep, uncomplicated friendship that would be the perfect base for a deep, uncomplicated love.
Except that it was complicated. At least, more so than it appeared on the surface. But she wouldn’t go so far as to say she was living a lie. She felt like she was Bon Bon now.
The only days she ever even thought of her old name were the days when she’d make sure to go to the post office early, to pick up the letters before they were delivered to the shared mailbox. Letters from her father, still living in her foalhood home in Bronclyn. She could not bear to ask him to stop using the name her mother had given her.
But she was Bon Bon to all her friends here. She was Bon Bon to Lyra. She was Bon Bon for the happiest years of her life so far. The years she spent standing next to that unicorn who smiled all too readily. That unicorn who was always ready with some ridiculous little notion to make Bon Bon laugh, or more often, groan, then laugh inside secretly. Whose happiness was infectious, to the point where when Bon Bon was jumping on top of rooftops along with half of Ponyville while Pinkie sang a song about smiles, the smile on her own face wasn’t in service of her dual mission of blending in and contributing to the positive atmosphere of Ponyville. It wasn’t acting. It was genuine. Because Lyra was there.
This was the story she told herself. But she knew that it was self-deception. She knew it because, despite all the signs being there that Lyra felt the same way about her, she still had not made her feelings known. As she insisted to Lyra, they were best friends. Best friends who were best, best friends. The bestest, best friends who ever best friended. Best, best, best, best friends. And nothing more.
As long as Lyra didn’t know her true past, she could not take it further. As long as the bugbear that was bound to her old name was still out there, she couldn’t tell Lyra.
Then the bugbear came to Ponyville.
Her heart broke when she saw the tears well in Lyra’s eyes. The hurt and the confusion and the betrayal. She reassured her with a hoof on the cheek. The lunches. The long talks. The benches they sat on together. It was all real. Because it was. She was so relieved when she saw Lyra’s face melt into a smile. That was all Bon Bon could have ever hoped for. They could come back from this. They could heal.
Later that night, after Cranky and Matilda’s reception and Pinkie’s afterparty, they entered their apartment through the door at the back of Bon Bon’s candy shop, still laughing and smiling. An end where, like on so many others she had shared with Lyra, she wished so desperately she could do just one thing. The thing her heart desired to do the most. Except that now, she could.
Barely through the doorway, she held Lyra’s cheek with her hoof, smiled, and kissed her.
Lyra kissed back, and all of the passion and desire the two mares had been compacting deep down within themselves for years now was unleashed. A whirlwind of manes, a kick to close the door behind them, not a beat skipped as Lyra’s back hit the floor, their lips locked all the while. Tears and moans and weeping and emotion and letting everything out all at once. Every eye contact that went on just a bit too long. Every hoof moved once one realized she was holding the other’s. Every “I love you” that almost escaped. Everything sublimated into this moment that seemed to stretch into forever. Everything.
But all things come to an end. Even the single happiest moment in the life of a secret-agent-turned-candymaker.
Face flushed, cheeks wet with tears, Bon Bon finally let go of Lyra’s mouth with her own and smiled down at her. Lyra’s face was also flushed and wet with tears. But it was different. Bon Bon’s smile turned into a frown as she realized this. Lyra was crying.
“I-I’m so sorry, Bon Bon,” Lyra choked out between sobs. “I… I have a secret… Something I needed to tell you before I… Before we…”
It never occurred to Bon Bon that it takes two mares in love to not do anything about it for years.
Smiling softly, she gently caressed Lyra’s cheek, an echo of what she had done at the ceremony hall earlier in the day. “Lyra. Whatever it is, you can tell me. Nothing could change the way I see you. The way I’ve always seen you.”
Bon Bon could tell from Lyra’s face that she wished she could believe her, but that she could not. She just kept stroking Lyra’s face gently. She would be patient. She wanted to give Lyra all the time she needed.
But Lyra laid there for a long time in silence, looking desperately into Bon Bon’s eyes. As if she might never see them again after what she said next. To Bon Bon, every second of that silence was agony, until finally, Lyra spoke.
“It’s all in my room.”
Bon Bon stepped aside so Lyra could get up, and lead her up the stairs. They were the same stairs Bon Bon went up and down multiple times each day, which made Bon Bon even more disoriented when she turned left instead of right towards the master suite that was her room. Bon Bon realized she had never so much as stepped on that side of the second floor, much less looked into Lyra’s room, during the past five years.
Lyra paused at her door, then gave Bon Bon a deeply apologetic look before opening it. Bon Bon braced herself for what she would find as she stepped inside.
It looked like… a bedroom? A bed, a dresser, a mirror, a bookshelf, a desk with a typewriter on it, a closet. The only real difference between Lyra’s and hers was that Bon Bon had deliberately chosen her furniture to be aesthetically concordant with the color scheme of her coat and mane, while Lyra’s furniture just seemed to be random pieces she picked up during her life without any deliberate coördination. That, and the general messiness of Lyra’s room, with the bed unmade, books strewn on the floor, and enough plates and glasses to fill a sink stacked haphazardly on the desk and dresser.
Oh, and her choice of decoration was certainly different. Shelves lining each wall. Each filled with figurines and dolls and sculptures, clearly not of ponies. But what were they?
Bon Bon had a closer look, and realized that they were all of the same creature, in various poses and designs. Their coat colors ranged from pinkish tones to tan to ocher to dark brown. The overall palette just seemed dull without any reds or blues or yellows or greens.
They were bipedal, which reminded her of dragons or griffons before anything else, but on a closer look she could see the differences. They didn’t have coats or scales or feathers, but instead just skin, which actually made her a little queasy to consider. You didn’t really see a pony’s bare skin like that outside of a medical context, and so those were the associations that came to mind. But maybe that explained the narrow palette. The range was actually pretty similar to that of what pony skin looked like under those colorful coats.
That wasn’t the only difference that struck her. Their hands and feet (though few weren’t wearing coverings of some sort on their feet) weren’t like dragon or griffon hands at all. They weren’t curved and didn’t end in claws like they should have. Instead, they were just sort of long and grubbly, like tiny little worms, ending with bizarre-looking flat nails (though there were a couple of exceptions). It was kind of gross. Bon Bon frowned.
“T-they’re called humans.” Bon Bon turned away from her inspection to face Lyra. The name didn’t sound familiar. “Y-you’ve probably never heard of them. They only really show up in a few obscure mid-Celestian folk tales. Creatures that live in the woods, said to come from another world entirely. Occasionally somepony writes a book or play featuring them, but not very often.”
Lyra sighed. “The stories are all the same. A naïve young pony, or a group of naïve young ponies find one in the woods. They get enticed by the human’s words and lies, and invite the human into their home. But that’s what the human wants, because humans can’t enter homes without being invited. Then the human’s ideas corrupt them. Corrupt the entire village, even. The stories always end the same way. Somepony discovers what’s going on and fights back. Either destroys the human or banishes them back to where they came. Sometimes the hero is the naïve young pony that was taken in. Sometimes it’s a mysterious wanderer. Sometimes it’s Princess Celestia.“
Bon Bon frowned. “Why would you have so many figurines of such a weird, obscure creature? They sound like nuisances at best, evil at worst.”
Lyra smiled sheepishly. “That’s not what their fans see them as.”
“Fans?”
“Yeah. There are a lot of others like me.” Her gaze wandered. “We’re all over Equestria, and meet up sometimes in big cities like Manehattan or Vanhoover. But mostly we send letters to each other. Contribute to newsletters. Write stories.”
Lyra glanced at the typewriter on her desk, and Bon Bon remembered all the times she had gotten up to stretch her legs in the living room in the middle of the night only to hear the muted clacking of keys from the other side of the apartment.
“I’ve been into them for a…” Lyra frowned. “A long time now. I still can’t really explain why they appeal to me so much. I think it’s because of how different their world is from the stuffy Canterlot I grew up in. Sure, the canon humans might be a bit two-dimensional at times, since the stories are all pretty straightforward morality tales for foals. But the humans in the fan interpretations…” Lyra looked wistful. “They’re just so dynamic, you know? So bold and brash. They have to be, to survive. Their society gets by without magic.”
Bon Bon smiled. “Lyra, is this the big secret? I mean…” She had another look around the room. “I certainly don’t get it, but I like how you get obsessed with things I don’t understand sometimes!“ She stepped close to Lyra and put a hoof to her cheek reassuringly. “I want to understand why it appeals to you this much, but even if I end up not understanding, that’s okay. I want to support you in the things you care about, because I care about you. What you care about doesn’t matter at all.”
Lyra did not look reassured at all. She was frowning deeply. “Bonnie…” Lyra sighed. “I really, really wish that was it.”
Bon Bon could see Lyra pick up something with her aura and hold it close to her face on the other side of Bon Bon’s hoof, and look at it. Bon Bon looked at it, too, and could see that it was one of those weird sculptures that she could not place earlier. But she could recognize it now. It was the shape of a human hand, except the material was difficult to place. It certainly didn’t look ceramic or wooden or metallic. It looked rubbery…
“I’m not just obsessed with humans, and collect figures of them, and write about them. I… I…” Lyra looked into Bon Bon’s hesitant eyes, her own filled with fear.
“I want to have sex with them.”
Princess Cadance tried to read her coffee mug, then smacked herself in the face with her clipboard, both held in her aura. She blinked. She then floated her coffee mug to her mouth to take a sip, then tried to read the file on her clipboard.
She hoped that both Matilda and Princess Celestia truly appreciated what it took for her to be present at that wedding. Sure, she’d only been in Ponyville for a couple of hours, just enough time to be present for the ceremony and to give respect to the newlywed couple at the reception. But even the express train between the Crystal Empire and Ponyville took half a day, which meant that she lost a full day of work. A bit more, actually, factoring in how late the train back home arrived, cutting into her sleep. Then there was the extra work she had to do to make up for the lost day, which cut into her sleep the next night, which cut into the next…
And here she was, a quarter-awake, having to re-read the file on her clipboard for the third time in order to actually parse the words. Her brain registered the personal seal of Princess Celestia, indicating that this personal audience was arranged outside of the proper channels as a favor to the Sovereign. Of course. A love consultation. She groaned.
It would be one thing if it had gone through the proper channels. The bureaucracy would have sorted, sifted, filtered, and refined the issue until it produced a well-tagged memo outlining the exact decision point and all relevant background information before it ever reached the level of a personal audience with the Princess, if it ever did. Thus, the love consultations she had with the denizens of the Crystal Empire were interesting, dealing with issues that might actually take some thought to resolve, because they couldn’t be solved just by reading through a pamphlet or attending a sensitivity course taught by an underemployed recent graduate.
But ponies outside of the Crystal Empire just had so many misconceptions about not only love, but also what Cadance’s role actually was. They only knew two things: Cadance’s title and the fact that the Crystal Empire was powered by love magic, channeled through the artifact of the Crystal Heart. Thus, they imagined her to be some sort of couples counselor or sex therapist extraordinaire, there to listen patiently to their little problems and dispense sage advice. Sure, she was certainly capable of those things, but that did not mean that she liked doing it, or that it was her actual job.
The Crystal Empire is powered by love magic. Without love magic, the powerful climate spells that keep the cold of this latitude at bay would fail, and this splash of green in a desert of barren snow would die forever. This means that in the Crystal Empire, love is far too important to be left a private, illegible thing; the precious stuff of sonnets and dreams and metaphor.
In the Crystal Empire, love is taxed and regulated by a bureaucratic state.
And every bureaucratic state needs a leader. Somepony to make policy decisions, enforce ethical guidelines, and set organizational goals. Somepony with a title to match the importance of her position.
The Princess of Love’s brain finally started registering the words in the file. The petitioner was from Ponyville, which made sense. Celestia’s little pet project. And she could be glad that at least the ponies there, being so close to Canterlot, didn’t take the royal protocols so seriously. The name, Bon Bon, didn’t really ring any bells, but Cadance was relieved that it wasn’t Rarity again.
Cadance read further, then realized to her annoyance that this was the cream-colored earth pony who had been sitting in the front row at the wedding ceremony. Couldn’t she have just told her the problem then? Of course, if she had, Cadance would have just politely smiled and asked her to submit a petition through the proper channels, then hoped that the bureaucracy would do its job and divert it off.
But then she remembered something else about that pony. She was the one who had attempted to greet her with the full royal protocol at the reception until Celestia instructed her to not treat the royals differently from anypony else, as they were not there to draw attention away from Matilda on her special day. She skimmed further into her background to confirm. Ex-Agency. Bronclyn. That was a certain type. Oh no.
She frowned, realizing that it would not do to be sipping her coffee while doing this. She floated the mug and clipboard behind her throne, then tried to sit up a little straighter, making sure her crown was on level.
The door to the throne room opened, then closed, sealing the soundproofing magic that was necessary to guard the privacy of a personal audience. One earth pony entered with her saddlebag, the candy-colored curls of her mane bouncing as she stepped. At certain step intervals, she would take a bow, each number symbolically representing something or other in the protocol. Princess Cadance was just glad her look of boredom could also pass for detached serenity.
Finally, Bon Bon reached the supplicating distance, then bowed deeply, according respect to the position of the alicorn in front of and above her.
“You may rise.” Cadance intoned, feeling a bit silly in her temporary role. Bon Bon looked up at her as Cadance continued, trying to imitate the quality, if not the vocabulary, of the traditional Royal Canterlot Voice that had died out as a living dialect centuries ago.
“I am granting you this audience as a personal favor to Princess Celestia. She has told me of your service to the Agency, and how you are to be considered the equal of the more acclaimed ponies who have saved Equestria publicly with their flashy heroics.“
The recognition seemingly threw the earth pony off a bit, likely because she must have been used to being in the background. Said earth pony simply bowed deeply again.
“I am but a humble servant of the Goddess.”
That threw Cadance off a bit. She really was one of those ponies. She tried to not show her trepidation on her face.
“Speak, Bon Bon.”
To Cadance’s annoyance, Bon Bon did not say anything the first time she opened her mouth. Then, the earth pony actually spoke.
“It’s my m— my marefriend, Lyra. She told me something about herself that I am having trouble coming to terms with.”
“Yes, what is it?” prompted Cadance, wishing inside that the pleasantries of conversation could be done away with in these things. It was so much less efficient than a memo.
Bon Bon hemmed a bit before answering. “She’s really obsessed with these… imaginary creatures from old folk tales. They’re called humans.”
Princess Cadance smiled. “Ah, yes. I know of humans, and their pony fans. We have a small community of them up here.”
What she did not say was how the Ministry of Love kept a very close eye on them for her. She certainly did not say how frustrated she was that they still had not found out just how details of the world beyond the mirror she kept in a secure storeroom of her castle got leaked out and distorted into a fandom.
She smiled because, at the very least, that twist might make this likely otherwise-routine love consultation interesting.
Bon Bon continued. “But that’s not all, Princess. She…” The earth pony hesitated, as if the words were bitter in her mouth. “She wants to have sex with them.”
Of course. Bronclyn. Princess Cadance suppressed another groan as she paused, thinking of how to word this right. “Bon Bon. Please, do not take this as an insult on your background, but I know the area you come from tends to be quite conservative, so maybe…” Cadance winced, not having quite hit her mark. “What I mean to say is that imagining the ponies and creatures you are attracted to as other creatures, even imaginary ones, is perfectly normal and healthy! In fact—“
“Oh, of course, Princess!” Bon Bon agreed hastily, her eyes wide. “Princess, I know the—” Bon Bon interrupted herself to glance backward at the door to the throne room. Cadance understood what she meant.
“The soundproofing magic available to us is even stronger than the best in civilian use.” Cadance assured. “No eavesdropper will be able to hear us.”
Despite the reassurance, Bon Bon’s voice was hesitant and whispery. “I know the Goddess’s plan, Princess! The entire Agency does! At least, the idea of it, if not the specifics.” She sighed, and cast her eyes downward. “I’ve done the work. I’ve interrogated my worldview for speciesist bias, including my preferences. We all have. The change that the Goddess wants to see in Equestria has to start with us, in our hearts.”
Princess Cadance’s eyes widened at that. She would have to ask Celestia later if She was cribbing lines from the very same workshops She had once derided as “a bit much”.
Bon Bon looked up at Cadance. “I truly believe that if I met a griffon or dragon who had the same heart that Lyra does, that I would be attracted to them, too. Or any species, even a silly imaginary one like humans.“
Princess Cadance gave in to her weakness, and let herself smirk smugly. “Really? Any? Even a pariah species?”
Bon Bon visibly balked at that, frowning. “I— I—” she stammered. “N-none of us know the full list, but all of us are pretty sure the Goddess isn’t planning to integrate any of the pariah species!”
Princess Cadance chuckled, and was preparing to give the little speech she always gave on the subject of “pariah species” when Bon Bon interrupted her.
“Because of what the pariah species are! That’s the problem!” Bon Bon despaired. “She’s not imagining me or some crush or Princess Celestia as a human! She wants to have sex with humans she’s never met! She…” Bon Bon gulped. “She shared with me one of her fantasies. That a human just shows up one day, and they— and they— and they just start having sex with barely even having a conversation first! She’s a— She’s a—“ Bon Bon’s breath hitched. “She’s a—”
“She’s a deviant.” Cadance supplied. Bon Bon hung her head in shame. Cadance did, too, inside. She hated using that word.
She sighed, and put a hoof to her forehead, knowing that this issue really would have been solved by giving Bon Bon a pamphlet.
Bon Bon continued blubbering. ”B-But I didn’t know what to say to all that. It was all so shocking to me, that I— That I— That I—”
“You asked her if she would like to be ‘fixed’.”
Bon Bon nodded, frowning.
“She did not agree, or she did not agree enthusiastically. Or else you would have started the conversation by asking if ‘deviance’ could be ‘fixed’. You would have even brought her here, so that I could zap her with my horn on the spot.”
Bon Bon nodded again.
Cadance sighed again, and let a bit of her annoyance slip through. “I hope you will not be completely predictable and then ask me if it would be morally permissible to ‘fix’ her non-consensually…”
Bon Bon frowned guiltily. Her response was almost a whisper.
“Once she’s normal, it’s not like she’ll miss being deviant. She doesn’t even have to give up her humans, or her human stories.” Her voice picked up a bit. “Or even her human sex stories! She’d just have to limit herself to the human versions of the attractions she will have. The… normal ones.“
“No.” Princess Cadance was firm. “That kind of thinking is not acceptable.”
Bon Bon’s voice was filled with shame. “I apologize, Princess. It was beyond wrong of me to suggest a violation of consent.” She fell to the ground and wailed, burying her face in the carpet. “I never should have come here, Princess! To taint your royal ears with the baseness of my sin! I truly am the most wretched of creatures!”
Princess Cadance was annoyed to find that she could not agree with her that she should not have come, in light of her reasons why.
“Bon Bon. Look up.”
Bon Bon followed the Princess’s order, who smiled at her wearily.
“Bon Bon. In my youth, my ethical framework was still not fully-formed and more… crudely consequentialist. I, too, had similar thoughts. I used my magic to create love based on my own personal judgments on the amount of utility generated by such an action, without establishing consent from both parties first. I did not appreciate the value of epistemic humility then. I do now.”
Cadance sighed, realizing that Bon Bon was looking up but was avoiding looking into her eyes.
“Bon Bon, I am trying to tell you that I myself not only thought of the equivalent of what you suggested for Lyra, but that I had done it in my youth. You have the right to look me in the eyes. You are my moral equal.“
“No, I am not, Princess,” Bon Bon insisted, still not meeting her gaze. “I know that Princesses are fallible. I acknowledge that you have committed sins. But that was under the tutelage of the Goddess, so that you may learn the lessons of ethics and power more deeply and thoroughly than us mortals could ever comprehend. Every misstep you had made was merely another hoof of progress in the crafting of a superior moral being who deserves to rule over us.”
Cadance tried very, very hard not to groan at that, but she at the very least let herself roll her eyes as long as Bon Bon was not looking in her direction. Just where on Celestia’s green Equestria did Celestia find these ponies?
“Let us make a hoof of progress,” Cadance announced. Bon Bon finally looked at her. “You are troubled by what Lyra has told you, but you now know I will not change it. It is not merely the issue of consent. I will explain.”
Cadance entered lecture mode, wishing she could be sipping the coffee that would so perfectly accompany the mood otherwise.
“First, I will have to ask you to stop using the term ‘deviants’. It is stigmatizing, and imprecise. I only resort to it in order to make myself understood, and never use it otherwise.“
“Oh, I’m sorry, Princess!” Bon Bon panicked. “Please forgive me, I did not know that would displease you! I—”
“Do not apologize.” Cadance cut her off icily. “You did not know. Now you do. That is what matters.” She took a breath, going back into lecture mode.
“The umbrella term is ‘unaligned sexuality’, but even having an umbrella term is uncomfortable, for it groups three very different broad categories. Type I are the ones which are potentially dangerous to other ponies and creatures. To the point that it would be morally justifiable to remove them non-consensually, though the ponies who suffer from them are usually very distressed that they do, and want them gone.“
Thank Celestia they are so rare as to be unheard of here, she thought but did not say.
“Type II are the ones which are potentially dangerous to the sufferer only. They are to be removed if the sufferer wishes, but as a last resort, as they can often be managed with cognitive behavioral therapy.“
Like we do with those ponies who send those types of letters to Tirek, she thought but did not say.
“Type III are the ones that are not to be removed, even with consent, unless they are comorbid with Type I or II. Ponies experience them rather than suffer them, because there is nothing inherently wrong with them. From what you have told me so far, what Lyra experiences is in this group.”
“Oh.” Bon Bon blinked. “The humans thing?”
“What? No!” Cadance put a hoof to her forehead. “I mean, liking imaginary species is aligned, but the line between aligned-but-weird and unaligned Type III is blurry and political and the reason why a lot of us want Type III broken away from the other two or not even considered ‘unaligned’ at all and…” Cadance sighed. “Never mind. What is important is that there is nothing wrong with Lyra or anypony in the Type III group. What they suffer from is the stigma.“
“Stigma?” Bon Bon asked.
“Yes. Being called ‘deviant’, for one.” Bon Bon frowned at that, to Cadance’s satisfaction. “Of course, to the ponies who use that term, ‘deviant’ is synonymous with what Lyra experiences, when it is just the most common unaligned sexuality, with an average incidence rate of 1.3% in pony adults.”
“Is there a word for that that’s not…” Bon Bon frowned again. “Stigmatious?” she invented.
“None in common enough use that you wouldn’t have to explain yourself every time you use it.” Cadance frowned. “The academic term is ‘secondary sexual attraction’, which is sexual attraction based purely on physical or superficial characteristics, with no requirement for an emotional or mental connection.”
She could not help but smirk at the next line, as it appeared both in this speech and the one she normally gave to more business-oriented audiences. “Of course, romantic attraction can start based on superficial traits. Our main cultural export, C-pop colt bands, would not be a viable product were that not true.”
The business-oriented audiences normally laughed on that line, but Bon Bon did not. She continued anyway. “But most ponies only experience primary sexual attraction, which requires an existing relationship and an emotional bond.”
She raised a wingtip in front of her. “And, of course, I do not wish to erase the existence of ponies who do not experience romantic attraction, or primary sexual attraction, or either. They, too, exist and are valid.”
She could see that she had gotten off track here. This was supposed to be about Bon Bon and Lyra, not a soapbox for her own views on sexuality.
“But yes. There are stigmas that extend beyond the word ‘deviant’ as well. Things you may have heard growing up. Things you may have thought, or are thinking now.”
From Bon Bon’s look of shame, Cadance could see she was right.
“There is a misconception that somepony who experiences secondary sexual attraction does not experience primary sexual attraction as fully. That their love is less meaningful or deep. Have you thought this?”
Bon Bon nodded slowly.
“Rest assured that this is not so. If you need proof, we have done extensive research on this subject. Galvanic response tests, brain imaging. There really is no difference.“
“That’s okay, Princess. I don’t need them. To be honest, I don’t even need your word.” Bon Bon stared off into the distance with a haunted look, more talking to herself than to Cadance. “I… I feel so disgusted with myself that I ever even doubted. I know she loves me. I’ve seen it in her eyes. But it’s not just that. It’s her actions, too. Little things.“
Her eyes filled with tears.
“She’s really messy. I knew that even before I ever saw her room. I’ve seen how she keeps the bathroom on her side of the apartment. I’ve watched how she does her half of the chores. She does them, but it’s clear that she hates it.”
She held back a sob.
“But every year. Every year on the day my mom died, I wake up to see the living room and kitchen perfectly clean. All the deep cleaning, too, which she hates even more than regular cleaning. And on that day she always sleeps in, even later than she normally does. She’s never said a word to me about it.“
A sob escaped, turning into a squeak that leaked into the rest of her words. “We’ve been loving each other for years. We never held hooves or kissed or even cuddled, but we did everything else. We were everything else.”
Cadance got off her throne to stand next to the earth pony, covering her with a wing as she began sobbing into her side. The Princess tried to suppress the reflexive firing of her mirror neurons that tried to turn her sympathy into empathy. To value this pony’s love more than the default level of caring she gave to all of the equally valuable romantic relationships in Equestria just because said pony was in front of her would be a shortcoming. That the only reason this pony was in front of her was due to her proximity and connection to power would in addition make such an over-valuing morally suspect. Though having gained that proximity through meritocratic service to the state at least made it more egalitarian than having gained it through, say, a personal friendship with the Sovereign’s faithful student.
But the story did make it tempting.
“There, there,” Cadance comforted her, rubbing her side with a wingtip. “I don’t need to be the Princess of Love to know how strong your love is.”
Cadance thought but did not say: From a quick horn-reading, roughly 90K amors, probably down to 75Kish after taking the cross-tribe deduction, but still clearly placing them in the top marginal tax bracket of 27%. Top 1 percentile pre-deduction, at least. Enough to still be in the top bracket even if they were cross-species. Impressive.
“Now, tell me everything else. All of your doubts and fears about being with Lyra, no matter how small or how guilty you may feel about them. I care more about your honesty than not being offended.”
Bon Bon had finally calmed down enough to speak, though she did not make any motion to leave the Princess’s side.
“It’s the human thing again, Princess. She writes stories. She…” Bon Bon gulped. “In her headcanon, humans are all like her… A made-up pariah species! She has a whole society planned out for them. She thought through all of the things that would work differently. She showed me just a bit, but I saw just how much paper she had in her folders and it’s just so… just so much!”
“It makes sense that she would depict her imaginary species in this way. She is trying to feel less alone, by imagining a world where she is…” Cadance searched for a better word, but was too tired to find it. “Normal.”
“But that’s why I feel guilty about feeling weird about this!” Bon Bon cried. “I should want her to feel normal, to be happy she has an outlet like this. But I’m afraid.” She looked up at Princess Cadance from under her wing. “Does that mean she wants Equestria to be like that? Like a pariah species society?”
Cadance smiled sagely down at her, without having to act it much. “Bon Bon. There is a difference between what we want in our fantasies and what we would really want to happen in reality. I doubt Lyra would actually want to live in the fantasy world she creates full-time! Just as I’m sure you have your own fantasies that you would not actually want to happen.”
Bon Bon blinked. “Oh. I’ve never tried doing that, comparing them to my own fantasies. You’re right!” She smiled. “I mean, I don’t think I’d actually want Princess Celestia to take me as a concubine! That would require changing a lot about how the government of Equestria works.”
Cadance tried not to wince at that. For some reason she felt especially weird when ponies confessed their fantasies about Auntie Tia to her. She found it much more off-putting than when they confessed their fantasies about her, somehow.
But something Bon Bon had said earlier bothered her, and would not let her go.
“Bon Bon. When you said Lyra created a made up pariah species society…. Could you tell me exactly what you mean?”
Bon Bon’s smile turned into a frown. “Princess… I do not wish to assail your ears with the lurid details…”
Cadance reassured her. “I will not be offended or think less of Lyra. Please. I just want you to be honest.”
Bon Bon sighed. “It’s just… weird. Her humans are obsessed with sex. They put it in their movies, their books, their advertisements, in ways that even their children could see! Some humans even get famous just because so many humans want to have sex with them without ever having met them. Some send complete strangers pictures of their— pictures of their genitals! Without asking! It’s a society completely without Celestia’s Law!”
Celestia’s Law. Everypony knew it. Most thought it strange that there was even a term for an idea so basic and natural.
That sex is a beautiful thing to be done, explored, and enjoyed by two or more consenting adults. That the act should neither be done nor discussed in a way that risks exposure to non-consenting spectators or, Celestia forbid, foals. Thus, in the privacy of an (ideally soundproofed) closed room, or at an isolated outdoor location.
That anything outside of these parameters is forbidden.
Cadance frowned. “Bon Bon. Are you completely sure there was nothing more… shocking than that?”
“More shocking?” Bon Bon was confused. “When I meant when I said her humans send complete strangers pictures of their genitals, I meant that they send their pictures without consent, and with nothing that could even be interpreted as consent! Isn’t that bad enough? A violation of consent? I…” Bon Bon’s lips were trembling. “I actually asked her about it and she said that was just a consequence of her worldbuilding and not a part she actually liked. If she hadn’t said that…“ Bon Bon frowned. “I really hope what you said earlier about her not actually wanting those things to happen is true.”
Cadance caressed her with a wing, looking off into empty space for a bit.
“I am relieved, Bon Bon. The actual pariah species societies are far worse.”
“R-Really?” Bon Bon asked, skeptical.
“Yes. In them, Type I unaligned sexualities, the ones that warrant nonconsensual removal, are much more common than one-in-a-million, and the acts we fear they may give rise to regularly occur.” Cadance sighed. “Mind you, even in those societies, they usually occur away from the light. Even they know it’s wrong. But they do not fight it. Or at least, not enough of them do.“
“I-” Bon Bon stopped, hesitant. “I still don’t know any examples of what a ‘Type I’ even is…”
“I have no intention of telling you.” Bon Bon seemed, if anything, relieved at Cadance’s response. “Just know that it is bad. When I first learned of it, I begged Celestia to crash the sun into the capital of Dimondia. But She had a cooler head than I.” Cadance made sure to look away so that Bon Bon could not see her face. “She refused me. But She allowed me a concession.”
She allowed herself to smile at her favorite memory from that time, harvesting the utilons from its recollection. The priest praying to his false canine idol for salvation, her own horn glowing hot with magical energy, about to dispense the justice of a deity that actually existed…
“But Celestia’s argument was this. Just because it is biologically possible for a pariah species to commit such acts, that does not mean it is inevitable. Though they often end up constructing societies that turn a blind eye to such abhorrent deeds, it is always possible for them to build a better one. One day, even the pariah species will all be saved. She really does believe that.“
Bon Bon now believed it, too. Cadance reconsidered that perhaps there was an advantage to ponies having blind faith. It made it a lot easier for her to guide the conversation.
“That actually does make me feel better, Princess. Somehow knowing that Lyra’s writing has nothing to do with how pariah species are actually like does make it seem more like a harmless fantasy than anything, even the weird parts. I can’t imagine her humans ever being that terrible.” Bon Bon frowned. “Though I wish I had never learned that there were things in reality bad enough for you to want to crash the sun into them.“
“Oh no, there’s a reason you hadn’t!” Cadance blurted, realizing her mistake. She thought quick. “Um, trust Celestia!”
Bon Bon smiled, all worry gone. “You are right, Princess. I am sure the Goddess has a plan.”
Cadance was not. But she was relieved that she was able to reassure Bon Bon, if a bit disturbed at how easy it was to do it. The innocence of these ponies and their happy lives had to be protected. That was the burden that a Princess had to bear.
“Now.” Cadance stepped away a bit, so she could look at Bon Bon. “How do you feel about Lyra?”
“After all this…” Bon Bon trailed off. “I feel awful about how I reacted to her. That I contributed to the burden of her stigma.”
Cadance repeated her words from earlier, but warmly this time. “You did not know. Now you do. That is what matters.”
Bon Bon smiled, reassured. Cadance continued.
“You are sure that there is nothing else about her secondary sexual attraction that is bothering you?”
Bon Bon nodded. ”I’m sure now. It’s just another unique thing about her. And one of the things I love about her is how different she is. How she’s not normal.“ She gazed off a bit, smiling. “All I want to do is love her. All of her. And to make sure that she knows that every second of every day.”
“Good!” Cadance was satisfied at a job well done. She was preparing to start closing things out when Bon Bon continued.
“But there’s one more thing, actually. I…“ Bon Bon became sheepish again. “It’s the human thing again. There’s something I know she’d like, that I want to do to make her happy. But I’m just not into it.”
“Bon Bon,” Cadance reassured. “You have a right to not be comfortable with doing certain acts. Lyra certainly wouldn’t want you to do anything you didn’t feel good doing, and I am sure she will be very happy with you even if you don’t do everything she’s into together!”
“Oh, I know that, Princess! I’m not uncomfortable with it. I’m just not into it.” She looked Cadance in the eye. “But I want to be into it. So could you… y’know? With your horn? I consent fully.”
Cadance frowned.
“In this case, it is not an issue of consent, but of ability. It is far easier to take a desire out than to put it in, especially one so unique as Lyra’s. Maybe if I set aside all of my royal duties, I could figure it out in a year or two. But feasibly, no.”
It was actually more like a day or two, but Cadance did not want to make it sound like it was feasible.
“Oh.” Bon Bon frowned, disappointed. “But I want to do it for her…”
“Bon Bon!” Cadance almost laughed at the simplicity of the issue. “You don’t have to be into doing something to do it happily and consensually!”
Bon Bon frowned. “I know. I could pretend I’m into it. I’m really good at pretending. But I’ve done it for so long, and I don’t want to do it for one more second. Not with Lyra. Not in anything. Not ever again.”
“Bon Bon,” Cadance started, relieved she could end this with an easy lob. “Can you imagine Lyra’s face if you did do this with her?”
“Yes.” Bon Bon lit up. “Oh, she’d be so excited.”
Cadance smiled. “You seem excited as well. You just gave me the biggest smile I’ve seen today.” Cadance did not mention just how early in the day it was for her.
“Yes, but I’d be excited because of how happy she’ll be, and not because of the weird thing I’ll be doing.”
“Bon Bon.” Cadance said sagely. “That you’re more excited about your partner being excited than the act itself isn’t a lie or pretending. And you can and should be honest with that fact. Your sexualities do not have to overlap one hundred percent. Just enough for communication and love to make up the difference.”
“Oh.” Bon Bon smiled. “I never thought about it that way before.”
Cadance absolutely loved it when the trite platitude worked. It made her job so much easier.
“It really is weird, though.” Bon Bon giggled. “Wanna see?”
“In the interest of advancing the frontiers of my knowledge, why not?” Cadance was genuinely curious.
Bon Bon took out an object from her saddlebag. It was a silicone sculpture which Cadance recognized as that of a human hand, except that the wrist was wider than it should have been. Bon Bon stuck her hoof inside it, and showed it to Cadance, who studied it oddly.
“Weird, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Cadance agreed. She had an idea. It risked giving in to the favoritism she dreaded, but she wanted to give a little more back to the pony that had at least made her morning more interesting than she thought it would be. She looked at Bon Bon. “Are you taking the train back to Ponyville tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Take tomorrow’s instead. I will cover the change fee from petty cash. I want to send you off with a gift, but my crafters will need some time to make it.”
