A brief visit to an extra-dimensional bar helps Verity Fine Crime make an important decision.
A brief visit to an extra-dimensional bar helps Verity Fine Crime make an important decision.
A warm farewell to some beloved characters and an AU I am going to miss. And yes, I am considering this canon to the franchise. That said, I think (and hope) that newcomers will be able to grasp what's going on without having read everything that came before... although the effect might not be as strong without that context.
A collaboration with Wanderer D and crossover with his Sunset's Isekai anthology. My thanks to WD for letting me use the Isekai for this story.
This story is meant to be read together with the appropriate chapter of Sunset's Isekai. The second chapter links directly to it for ease of reading.
The Nocturnal Wing of Canterlot Castle had an invader. It was of the most unwelcome, unwholesome variety, the kind that threatened Verity Fine Crime’s peace and tranquility, that most wicked of villains. Pain shot through his eyes, in spite of them being closed, and he promptly turned in order to thwart the foulness that was Celestia’s loathsome sun.
“Ah, it’s going to be a good day!”
And Pinkie Pie. But she was an invader who, by some miracle only known in the mythical caverns and cubbies of her mind, had managed to snuggle her way into his heart and resist any attempts to vacate from his presence. Truly, she was a nefarious foe.
“Come on, sleepyhead. Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for some big get-together with the princess?” She poked him in the small of his back through the sheets, the contact making him flinch and hiss through his teeth. “Such a jumpy pony.” She poked him again, producing similar results. “Jumpy, jumpy, jumpy.” Poke, poke, poke.
“Pinkie!” Fine rolled off the bed, landing on all four hooves with a single loud clop. Ignoring the sting in his left shoulder, he allowed the shiver to run up and down his spine. “You know I don’t like it when you do that.”
“That’s what you get for not paying attention to me.” Pinkie giggled from across the bed, brushing her curls from her face.
Fine was going to argue her point, but became distracted by the light of the window playing off her features. The laugh lines on her cheeks, the streak of grey in her mane – above her left ear this time – and the lovely blue sparkling beneath those eyelids. Every day he was reminded of just how well she’d aged. She grinned, smile as sparkling as ever, before turning and marching for the vanity in the corner of his chambers. Already into her thirties, she hadn’t lost an ounce of energy, even with the way she favored that rear leg. His thoughts lingered on that limp for but a second, his lips threatening to fall into a frown, but he beat it back with happier realities.
He walked up behind her as she brushed her mane and gave her a quick nuzzle on the neck. “Ponies are supposed to sleep in on their birthdays.” He took a thick wire brush and began grooming her side.
She giggled, then let out a pleased hum at his ministrations. “It’s my birthday, I’ll spend it how I want. Although I do enjoy the pampering.”
“It’s only what you deserve, Sugarflanks.” It didn’t take him long to get her side looking pristine, so he moved to the other. He felt along her body with a hoof, noting the slight ridges and bumps that were by now so familiar despite being hidden beneath the fur. Another pang, but those were easier to ignore these days. He began brushing. “So what’s on the agenda for you today?”
“Rarity,” she replied pleasantly. She set her brush down and began her typical morning routine of alternating frowny faces and smiling faces. “Rarity, Rarity, and more Rarity. The two of us haven’t gotten to do much together since she opened that tenth boutique in Vanhoover, and she wanted to treat me today.”
“Ah, so that’s why you came all the way to Canterlot and snuck into my room in the middle of the night.”
“It’s one reason.” She cracked her neck in a couple quick motions as he finished grooming her other side, then turned to smile at him. Not one of her bright, toothy smiles, but the little, warm kind that he loved so much. “Plus, birthday snuggles with my favorite stud.”
He raised an eyebrow, lips parting in a smarmy grin. “So there are other studs? Do I need to gather all my power to hunt down some rivals?”
Pinkie eyed him up and down with faux-skepticism, the tiniest upturn of her lips giving it away. “Aren’t you, like, a hundred years old? Can you handle going after those young bucks?”
He huffed, turning his muzzle up and away. “Excuse you! I’m not even fifty yet, I can handle them. Just give me a pen, paper, and a bottle of potion!”
“Hiding behind your shadow army. Of course.” She reached up to tap on his horn playfully. “Can’t even fight for your mare yourself.”
He grinned, catching her hoof in his and closing in. “Shall I drag you back into bed and show you how much ‘fight’ I have left?” He punctuated the threat with a peck on the tip of her muzzle, making her squeak and wriggle it. He put extra sauce on his next words, “Fleur can handle the meeting while I handle you.”
Pinkie put on her best damsel-in-distress pose, which by now was most certainly Rarity Approved. “Always so eager! But I don’t think Luna will appreciate being stood up just so you can have fun with your marefriend.” She closed the distance between them, chin resting on his withers.
Fine couldn’t argue the point, no matter how much he wanted to. Which was a lot. He couldn’t stop the frown. He really didn’t want to bother with this coming meeting. He could be out there, enjoying Pinkie’s birthday with her. That’s where he should be. Yet, as he considered that possibility, other things intruded. Plans in motion. Updates to the training regimen for new agents. Brainstorming how to get certain “items” out of public circulation. A rash of rumors from Grypha. Employee evaluations. The list kept growing.
So much to do. So many responsibilities. Ten years ago, he’d already be at it. He squeezed Pinkie a little closer, not wanting to let go.
“Fine?”
“Hmm?”
“We, um, need to talk about something later.”
Sniffing her mane and enjoying the blessed fragrance of strawberries, he asked, “About what?”
“W-well…” She pulled back, depriving him of her wonderful scent. Settling on her haunches, she tapped her hooves together with a sheepish expression. “I’m thirty-five now. There are… ‘things’ I want, and I’ve only got so much time to get them. So, um, I think we need to… discuss it.” Her eyes remained on the marble floor, uncertain and maybe even a little scared.
It didn’t take much for Fine to catch her meaning. The idea sent shivers up and down his body, but he didn’t know if they were of pleasure or terror. This wasn’t the first time the subject had come up. It was the first time she hinted at wanting to act. But there was so much to do. Criminals in need of apprehending, cartels to infiltrate, ponies to manage. He couldn’t leave her alone with such a responsibility, yet he also couldn’t just abandon his own. “I…”
“I know.” She set a hoof to his shoulder and smiled for him. It was a fragile thing. He hated it when she smiled like that. “We’ll talk about it later, okay? Just… think about it.” There was a brief pause, like she wanted to say more. He could practically see the words on her tongue. But then she turned away and started for the door.
Before she could get away, he called out, “Gustave’s. Eight o’clock?” At her curious glance, he smiled and added, “Got to treat the birthday girl.”
This time there was warmth in her smile. Not quite enough to fix the chill her body left behind, but it would do. “I won’t say ‘no’ to being wined and dined by a handsome rogue. Until then, Peepee.”
He offered a flamboyant bow. His knees strongly disapproved. “Have fun with Rarity, Sugarflanks.” He accepted her blown kiss with a grin.
It faded as soon as the door closed. With a sigh, he looked in the mirror. He looked so… old. The red in his mane was faded, no longer the bright torch it once was. He still possessed that lanky, muscular look, but it all seemed reduced somehow. “Not a young buck anymore,” he muttered to himself.
“Fine? You alive in there?”
He blinked away the little daydream of visiting with Pinkie and Rarity. The sight of Princess Luna staring at him from across her desk, open folders cluttering the limited space, made him horribly aware of what he’d been doing. He turned to look at Fleur de Lis beside him, attempting to not appear as embarrassed as he felt. Cool and commanding. Yes, that’s what he was. “I beg your pardon?”
One of Fleur’s ears lowered while the other remained perked, her manner unamused. “You were daydreaming.”
And caught red-hooved, at that. But, as he well knew, truth was for those who lacked imagination. “I was just… thinking about the plan to deal with Cartmane’s organization.”
A light cough brought his attention to Luna, who stared down at him with clear concern. “We moved past that topic of discussion twenty minutes ago.”
He shrugged. “It held my attention.”
“Riiight.” Fleur used her magic to neatly stack the folders, still appearing entirely unamused. “I know you were once the master of trickery, but you can’t lie to me. I’ve been tailing you for far too long, old fart.”
“I’m only eight years older than you, you know.”
“Exactly. An old fart.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “I’m reminding you of this in eight years.”
Fleur did a remarkable job ignoring the threat, her attention going to Luna once more. “I think we have everything we need, Princess. Well, I do. I’ll catch Fine up on what he missed afterwards.” Fine let out a snort, wondering if he shouldn’t remind her of who the boss was in their organization.
Said boss turned her blue head to Fine once more. “Very well, but I’d like a moment to speak with Fine alone, if you please.” There was no aggression or danger in her words, but Fine still felt his ears fold back at the potential implications.
Recognizing the dismissal, Fleur stood with the folders levitating in her magical aura. “Alright. I’ll be in my office.” She gave Fine a pointed look, one that spoke of both sympathy and annoyance in equal measure. Not that he blamed her; he had just blanked out on perhaps a quarter of their weekly meeting with the only pony who he could effectively call his boss.
“Tea?” Luna asked as the door closed.
“No, thank you, Princess.”
She nodded, her horn shining brightly. “Indigo, I’d like some chamomile, please. Thank you.” The aura faded, and she refocused her attention on Fine. “This isn’t the first time you’ve had trouble focusing on the job. Is everything alright?”
He opened his mouth to respond, only to realize that he didn’t know the answer. For only an instant, he recalled the smell and taste of strawberries. Then he recalled the list of the dead from the massacre at the factory in lower Hoofington. The two elements warred for his attention, and Luna was still awaiting an answer. Swallowing to clear his throat, he replied, “I may be a little distracted.” He winced; that didn’t even sound like a good response in his head.
Luna gave a slow nod, her eyes not leaving his. “I gathered. May I inquire as to what is bothering you?”
“It’s…” Could he tell her? If there was anypony he could trust, surely it would be the princess. And yet, when he considered what the topic meant for him, the consequences of such thoughts… “It’s private.”
“Ah.” Another nod, this one with the appearance of sagely awareness. “Related to Miss Pie, then.”
Fine went stiff, alarm bells ringing in his head. She knew? How? Why? He’d not given anything away. He hadn’t said anything. Fleur didn’t know. Had she gone into his dreams? No, that didn’t make sense, he hadn’t any dreams that could be directly correlated to this. Or maybe he did. They said ponies didn’t remember every dream. But if Luna could see into—
“Pinkie Pie is the only family you have.” Luna’s words shocked him out of his momentary panic. She took a sip of her tea. She had her tea. Had her assistant already come and gone? When?
Willing his voice steady, he replied, “We’re not… technically family.”
Princess Luna’s sour expression made clear what she thought of that response. “Technicalities are evil things. Would that I could be rid of them. Do not play word games with me, Mane Archon.”
Flinching at her tone, he heaved a heavy sigh and focused on studying the saucer upon which her teacup now sat. “My apologies, Luna.”
Things were quiet for a little while, save for the ticking clock on the wall and his steady breathing. He could feel her eyes boring into his skull. This was an unfamiliar feeling. For decades, he’d been able to look either of the princesses in the eye without flinching, for he was the Mane Archon. He had more important things to worry about than one pony’s anger, even if she was at the top of the metaphorical food chain. But today, for reasons he barely understood, he felt small and, perhaps, a little guilty.
At last, Luna broke the lull with patient, comforting words. “I do not seek your apologies, dear friend. I am only concerned. You once possessed a drive for your job that could only be rivaled by Twilight Sparkle’s obsession with learning. That devotion appears to be fading in the past few months, like morning mist fades into the afternoon.”
He smiled lightly at her word choice, casting a glance at her. “Stop plagiarizing my work.”
“I’m a princess,” she replied with a similar smile. “Try and stop me.”
They shared a light chuckle, the tension in the air loosened some. Fine allowed himself to relax a bit, though he still had trouble meeting the princess’s gaze. Luna went on, “It is alright if you do not wish to share the matter with me. I trust you to make the right decisions, as my sister and I have for more than a decade. But please, recall your responsibilities. You are the Mane Archon, and until such time as you retire there is nopony else who can do the things you do. Though the citizens may not know it, all of Equestria relies upon you.”
What if it didn’t anymore? The question was on the tip of his tongue, but he caught himself just in time. Instead he asked an entirely different, if related, query: “Has a Mane Archon ever done that?”
“Retired?” Luna frowned in thought, her gaze going distant. “I would imagine so. The Archons have been around for eight hundred years, surely some of their leaders retired. But you are the only one I’ve known, and there are no records kept on the fate of Mane Archons.”
“For privacy purposes, right.” He resisted the urge to rub his forehooves together in imitation of Pinkie Pie that morning. “I thought that there might have been an exception for princesses.”
“There is not, or if there is then Celestia has not thought to share it with me. Perhaps you could ask her.” Once more, the concern spread across Luna’s features. “Why the interest?”
He knew what she was really asking, but he didn’t dare give the idea credit by voicing it aloud. “No reason. Well, I should probably go see Fleur. She’ll want to chew my head off, I’m sure. Sometimes it’s like she’s forgotten who was apprenticed to whom.” He stood, somehow managing to look Luna in the eye. He hoped he appeared nonchalant. “By your leave, Princess?” He waited for her nod before turning to leave the office.
One weight off his back, only to be replaced by another. His statement about Fleur being upset with him was only half in jest. He’d been slacking, and she was invariably the one who ended up doing what was supposed to be beyond her purview. He walked the pale hallways with their resplendent décor, heading towards the hidden places. There were parts of the castle even the staff weren’t aware of. Rooms like the offices of the Archons. He slipped into the unknown halls easy enough, trusting in the illusions and subtle manipulation enchantments to keep most regular ponies from seeing him “disappear” out of thin air. Those who did see it would forget within a minute or two, like the event never happened.
The Archon offices were centrally located in the castle, in a place with many twists and turns so that even smarter ponies with good spacial awareness wouldn’t recognize the volume they took up. There weren’t many rooms, enough for him, a few lieutenants, and maybe a half-dozen agents that might be temporarily back in Canterlot on business. They didn’t need a lot of space as the vast majority of agents were out in the wider world doing their jobs. Most Archons were hooves-on types with no need for the traditional office.
This, of course, meant there was nopony to greet Fine as he stepped into the austere, unadorned hall. Neither he nor his predecessor had seen any need for a secretary, though there was a desk set up for such a pony. The place was quiet. Once that would have comforted him. Today it felt disturbing, perhaps even morbid. Where was the noise, the laughter, the cheerful banter? He proceeded past the reception room and down the hall to the left, watching his shadows shift beneath the dim magilights. Fleur didn’t like those. She preferred something brighter. But she wasn’t the Mane Archon, and for Fine the darkness was soothing, so…
He saw her office door, closed tight. No doubt hard at work, as usual. She was doing less modeling and more Archon work, to the point that she’d even converted one of the offices into a bedroom in case of late nights. Fine half-expected her to come out and harass him over his lack of attention at the meeting, but no appearances were made as he moved on to his own office.
The room was small and dark. He didn’t need anything big, and the shadows suited him. Yet, as he stood in the door, he wondered about it. A lone desk to the left, facing the door, covered in sorted piles of letters. Even as he watched, two more popped into existence in a flash of light and smoke, landing neatly atop their individual piles. There weren’t too many. He could finish them in three or four hours, even with the steady influx.
Fine made no move to start. His head turned, allowing him to take in the rest of the office. It was mostly bare. Not because he didn’t have any belongings, no. He’d merely moved everything to his manor near Ponyville a few years ago. That was where he lived and worked now, save brief visits to Canterlot like this one. The Mane Archon, not even doing his job in the headquarters. All that was left was a large cabinet in the corner that had come with the room and the door to a small, private bathroom behind his desk.
He should be working. Or seeing Fleur. The rational, responsible side of him repeated it over and over again. There were orders to distribute, quality control to maintain, reports to review. He looked to the letters again, stared long and hard. No matter how much he willed himself to do the task, he couldn’t conjure any enthusiasm.
Sighing, he turned to the cabinets. Opening the top door, he was disappointed to find it bare. Even knowing it was pointless, he tried another. And another. All eight doors were opened, and while there was some food and condiments and the like, the one thing he most desired wasn’t there. All the good stuff was back at home. Home… where he should be.
Groaning, Fine rubbed his face with both hooves. “Just one cup to get my spirits up,” he muttered. Maybe he could go out and grab a servant to deliver him some—
Halfway turned around, Fine froze. There, right next to the exit from his office, was a door. A new one he’d never seen before, tall and made from strong-looking oak with a vaguely familiar yellow and red sun symbol. It was lined by a stone arch that was certainly not the same marble as the palace walls. And… was that a bistro chalkboard? He peered at it, casting a quick cantrip to let him read the words in the darkness. His eyes widened when he saw a list of no less than five variants of his favorite drink in the world.
Was this a… coffee shop?
In his office?
His first instinct was to cast a detection spell. Nope, not an illusion. Fleur wasn’t getting back at him with some elaborate prank, unless she’d really upped her game. He glanced all around the office, peering over his shoulders and into the shadows, but no matter how hard he tried he could find no grinning draconequii. Just a door. To a coffee shop. In his office.
For a long time, he contemplated this. His gaze regularly shifted between the new door and the one leading to the rest of the castle. He knew what he should do.
“Buck it.” It was either this, feel guilty talking to Fleur, or pretend to be interested in his job. The door was the least disturbing thing he could be dealing with right now.
Fine stepped out of the door, his tongue running along his teeth to catch the last of that delightful hot chocolate. Upon hearing the door close, he turned around to find it gone entirely. This didn’t surprise him in the least. With a snort of satisfaction, he marched into the hallway and knocked on Fleur’s door.
“It’s open.”
He opened the door, but didn’t step inside. “Fleur. I need you for a meeting with Luna immediately.”
The mare glanced up from the letter she was writing, her face set in a scowl and her horn glowing dimly. “You sure it can’t wait? I’ve got another hour of stuff to do and an airship to catch for Draigon.”
Fine shook his head, making sure to keep his manner as businesslike as possible. “This overrules everything.” Then, as an afterthought, “You’ll probably still want to go to Draigon. Stopping Haywire’s research is a priority. But this may alter how you want to approach the task.” He made a sharp gesture with his head, prompting her to follow him. “My apologies, Fleur, but you’ll want to be there for this.”
Sighing, the mare abandoned her work and followed him into the hall. “I still owe you an ear-full.”
They trotted side-by-side, their hoofsteps loud in the deathly quiet hallway. “I know you do, Little Miss. Actually, this relates to that.” He caught her skeptical glance out the corner of his eye, but didn’t lose his firm expression. No matter how much he wanted to smile.
It took mere minutes to reach Luna’s office again. Fine was pleased to note that he hadn’t been led astray: he’d exited that door at roughly the same time he’d entered it, as promised. It was perfect timing, as Luna would be going to get some sleep in another thirty minutes and was likely finishing up the last of her morning duties.
“Enter,” came the response to his knock, and he wasted no time. To his mild surprise, not only was Luna still behind her desk, but Celestia was standing next to the window.
The elder princesses greeted Fine, her expression grim. “Good morning, Fine. I was just about to ask for you.”
Luna had a curious expression. “Did we miss something in the meeting?”
Fine waited until Fleur was in the room before turning to Celestia. “Let me guess: weird magical anomaly? Centered in the palace? May have something to do with warping time and space?”
Celestia’s eyebrows shot up as she shared a look with her sister. “Do you know something, Mane Archon?”
Ignoring Fleur’s dumbfounded stare, he nodded and grinned. “I just got a very personal visit from someone who is, most decidedly, ‘out of town’. What she can do is far beyond my abilities to handle. That said, I can report with absolute confidence that she is not a threat to us, so you can both relax.”
“You don’t understand what you encountered,” Luna said, incredulous, “but you expect us to merely drop it?”
He shrugged. “Unless you have a means of crossing dimensions and the flow of time in an instant to catch up to an interdimensional bar with a mind of its own, then yes.” He tapped his chin as though considering what he’d just said, though only for effect. “Come to think of it, I did learn a couple of things.”
Another uncertain look shared between the princesses. It was Fleur who asked, warily, “And what is that?”
“First.” He pointed to Celestia. “I'm told you may have a journal going to one Miss Shimmer. Write in it, she probably misses you.” Ignoring the way the alicorn’s wings went as limp as her jaw, he turned his hoof on Luna. Her eyes went cross as she followed its motion towards herself. “Second: I would like to retire.”
For a brief second, all was quiet. Luna, clearly the least impacted by his declarations, was first to recover. Confusion and patience met halfway on her features as she asked, “Immediately?”
“Oh, no.” He shook his head, kindly removing his hoof from her immediate vision. “Two weeks. Should be enough time to get everything transitioned to the new Mane Archon.”
Understanding and acceptance gradually took over Luna’s features, shifting her to a warm smile. “And that would be…?”
“Fleur, of course.” He looked to his apprentice, who by now was sitting on her haunches and appearing as dumbstruck as Celestia. “Assuming she wants the job.” As if he didn’t know already.
Sure enough, the mare was back on her hooves in an instant, nodding frantically as if scared the offer would pass her by if she didn’t react fast enough. “Yes. Yes, absolutely, immediately, soon as we can, I thought you’d never ask!” The elite agent and fashion model renowned for her seductive, ever-calm, and at times even austere manner began bouncing on her forehooves while her hind hooves started a silly dance. “Oh, Goddess, I’ve been wanting this for so long!”
Grinning, Fine opened his arms wide, and Fleur wasted no time embracing him, her hold nearly taking his breath away. “I can think of nopony who deserves it more. This has been coming for a long while, Little Miss.”
Fleur stepped back. Fine was mildly surprised to see tears on her cheeks. She rubbed them away, giggling as she did. “I bet ‘Little Miss’ is the entire reason for this sudden decision. Thank you, Fine.”
Fine’s grin only broadened. “You got that right. And you’re welcome.” He turned to look at Luna, who hadn’t lost any of her warmth. “Any objections, Princess?”
Luna shook her head. “None, whatsoever. To be honest, I was wondering how much longer you’d wait. You’ve devoted most of your life to the Archons. It would be cruel of me to force you to sacrifice anymore of it.” Leaning forward over her desk, she asked, “Do you intend to retire from your advising position in the Order as well?”
Ah, he hadn’t thought of that. He allowed himself a moment to consider as Fleur struggled and failed to clean her face of tears. “As long as it’s just an advisory role – no more death-defying adventures? – then I’m alright with keeping that one. For now.”
“Then I accept your resignation. Thank you, Verity Fine, for all the hard work you put into the role in the last thirty years. You’ve truly been an excellent Mane Archon.” Her smile turned sheepish as she added, “I do hope you won’t mind the occasional visit to escape any of Tia’s more boring social events.”
Fine couldn’t resist a laugh at that suggestion. “You’re welcome anytime!”
“Wonderful.” An expression of mock seriousness came over her, her tone becoming clipped and commanding. “Then I expect your office cleared out in exactly two weeks’ time. Anything left behind I may feel obligated to confiscate. I can’t guarantee you’ll get any of it back.”
“You can have all of it.” He turned to the white, winged elephant in the room. Celestia, who had spent all this time stuck in what might have been a memory lane coma, was staring at nothing, her wings still limp and a distinct look of loss in her gaze. “You alright, Princess?”
Celestia’s eyes went to him, but her stare only passed through him at first. Gradually, as if coming out of a trance, her body lost its stiffness and her wings folded back at her sides. Yet there was an almost desperate plea in her expression. “You… Did you…? Is she…?”
“She wasn’t yours,” he replied. “I’m certain of that. But the one I did meet… She left me with the impression that the both of you would like some closure. I’m only passing the message along.”
The princess, normally so hard to read, shifted anxiously on her hooves and avoided his eyes. “And the one you did meet. Is she happy?”
To that Fine could only smile warmly. “She seemed like it to me.”
A gentlecolt never makes a mare wait for a date, which was why Fine arrived at Gustave’s a full twenty minutes in advance. He was in his best black vest, the one with the red accents. He’d worn something similar off and on for formal events ever since he became an Archon, and Rarity had been more than happy to update the style to something that didn’t look like he’d just come out of a teenager’s angsty self-insert. Getting it to go well with his mane’s natural red rather than the black he’d used to dye it was a nice bonus. He rather liked it, even if he didn’t wear it so often. But more importantly…
“Oooh, somepony’s dressed to impress.”
Pinkie liked it. He grinned as he turned to face her approach from across the street. He wasn’t the least bit surprised to find her nice and dolled up in a lovely blue dress with tiny peridots adding an eye-catching sparkle. She even wore earrings with the little gems and some dress shoes. Her mane was at that pleasant half-curl that she very rarely wore in public, with that grey lock curling near her right eye. It was, as she liked to call it, his mane, because he had been the first to coax it out of her.
“I’d say you look lovely,” he replied happily as she reached him, “but I’d be stating the obvious. How was your day with Rarity?”
She gave him a light peck on the lips. “Charmer. It was nice. Got a full makeover out of it, but we all saw that one coming. She told me to tell you…” Rearing her head back slightly, she set a hoof to her chest and tried out Rarity’s most posh tone. “Treat her like a lady, darling.”
He chuckled, offering his arm. As they walked together for the restaurant, he replied, “Only a lady? Her standards are going down. For your birthday you deserve nothing less than ‘princess’.”
They chatted idly while waiting for their table, which didn’t take long as the reservation had been made a week in advance. As they walked and talked, Fine paid close attention to his mare’s manner. Despite being well into her middling years, Pinkie still had all the energy necessary to literally bounce off walls. Yet she was not boisterous or trying to talk to everypony in the immediate vicinity. Tonight she was calm, calm like very few knew she could be. This was his favorite Pinkie Pie, the one that appeared only for those she trusted most, and he relished every second that he got to witness it.
Still chatty, though.
“—which was when Rarity got into an argument with the manedresser over why I’m perfectly capable of handling my own mane and it was rather sweet of her to come to my defense but then the hairdresser saw me switch from curly to flat and I think I broke her she kept muttering something about earth pony magic which is just silly but it’s not like this is anything new she should have known that a two hour job wouldn’t last with me and even Rarity’s used to it by now anyway I felt bad after she did all that hard work on my mane so I put the hair back how she had it and that only made her start crying so Rarity—”
He wouldn’t have it any other way.
Pinkie’s tale of adventures in makeovers came to a close by the time they were seated and had their menus. Fine ordered for them both an extravagant wine, waving off Pinkie’s protests. As a self-made mare with her own baking and party business, Pinkie had learned the value of counting bits. She tended to get anxious when he spent extravagantly on her, even if he could easily afford it.
Still, once the wine had been poured, Pinkie hadn’t lost any of her anxiety. “You’re planning on breaking the bank on me tonight?” She almost twiddled her hooves with her delicate-looking shoes, but stopped herself at the last second. No doubt she’d realized what Rarity would think.
With his magic, he raised his glass to her. “It’s your night, birthday filly. Ah—” He wagged his hoof before she could get anything out of her open mouth. “Tonight is a very special night for a lot of reasons, not just your birthday. I’m going all out.” Giddiness bubbled under the surface, making him giggle. Oh, but it was a good feeling! He’d intended to wait until after they’d ate, but just the thought of what was coming spurred him into action. After taking a sip, he turned to the kitchens where a server in a white tux watched the floor.
Tapping the side of the glass with a fork was enough to catch the mare’s eye. She approached at a quick but easy trot. “May I help you, sir?”
Ignoring Pinkie’s curious look, he answered, “Indeed you may. Please bring out the lady’s petit gâteau.”
The mare’s brow furrowed as she took in his words, but then awareness flashed across her features. Her “Of course, sir.” was accompanied by a wry, knowing smile.
Pinkie cocked her head. “You got me a cupcake? No offense, Fine, but you know I’m the best at cupcakes, right?”
Not the least surprised she understood his Fancy, Fine chuckled and said, “Trust me, Little Miss. You’ve never had a cupcake quite like this one.”
“Uh-huh. Well, if you’re trying to underwhelm me…” She struck a haughty, faux-posh pose.
“I wouldn’t dare,” he countered with equal pomp and aplomb. “It may not meet your standards in terms of flavor, oh Princess of Pastries, but you wouldn’t deny that taste is only one part of the gift. There’s also the garnish.”
Pinkie eyed him, clearly making sure he knew she wasn’t convinced. “True, but I wouldn’t put the garnish over the flavor. There’s a proper balance.”
He put his hooves together as if to make a promise, still smirking. “This one’s a really good garnish.”
She pointed at him. “It had better be, buster. Oooh!” Her eyes widened as they fell on her menu. “They have Rockstead Ravioli, with optional rocks? If Gustave weren’t in the kitchen I’d kiss his beak. I didn’t know anyone outside Rockstead knew how to serve proper granite.”
To that, Fine could only shudder. “I think I’ll have one of the white wine pastas, thanks.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing.”
“Ignorance is bliss.”
Pinkie stuck her tongue out at him. He returned the favor. The two were reduced to giggling fits, not caring remotely about the curious or disdainful looks they were getting from the other clientele. Even as he tried to get over his laughter, Fine couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that he could have a giggling fit. There was once a time when he was so harsh and dour. But Pinkie…
As she scanned the menu with newfound curiosity, he let his eyes roam her face. Her soft, ever-smiling features. Her reality-defying mane that tonight seemed more alluring than her usual mess of curls or the occasional silky straightness, that lone grey lock running down her neck on the left. Her blue eyes that sparkled for everypony, but held a different glint when sent his way. Pinkie was so… unique. Unique enough that she could love someone who once hurt her so deeply, both physically and emotionally. More than once, at that.
Pinkie Pie was unique. His eyes drifted to her dress, but his attention wasn’t on the blue fabric or the peridots sparkling in the dim lighting. No, his thoughts were on the flesh below. He knew, from over a decade of close examinations, that there was little smoothness under the lovely pink fur. Pinkie’s skin was a mess of scar tissue. His scars, as she’d once told him. He had hated himself for those. Sometimes, on his bad days, he still did.
Pinkie Pie was unique. She didn’t hate him for giving her such scars. Only a creature as lovely in heart as she could look upon such tortures as a gift, a mark of her devotion and love. She told him, over and over again, that they were worth it. For the laughs they shared. For the pain they’d endured. For the trust they had. For the nights they kept one another awake.
Pinkie Pie was unique. Her eyes met his from across the table, and she smiled. It was a slightly lopsided thing, one corner turned higher than the other, eyelids lowered, one eyebrow raised. But it was the extra dimple that did it. It always appeared on her cheek when she got that peculiar expression, the one that said she was reading his thoughts and liked them. “And what is that look for, mister?”
As much as he wanted to answer, it would have to wait.
“Are you ready to order, Madame and Sir?”
They were, indeed. While they were doing so, Fine noticed the serving mare from near the kitchen, carrying a covered silver plate and looking as though she’d just won the lottery. Grinning, he shared a nod with her before refocusing on their waiter. Once the meals were ordered – Pinkie did indeed order the granite-based raviolis – the serving mare outright pranced to the table. “For the Lady,” she declared, depositing the silver plate before a curious Pinkie Pie. The lid was lifted, revealing a dark brown cupcake with frostings of mixed browns and pinks.
Pinkie eyed the confection critically. “What flavor is it?” She didn’t notice how the server, though now keeping a safe distance back by the kitchen, was watching the scene with a look of giddy excitement. Fine did, and he also noticed the aging face of the proprietor himself, Gustave le Grand, watching through the kitchen window and making no attempt to hide his eagerness.
“I recommend you try it for yourself. But—” his warning tone brought her lovely eyes to him, “–definitely eat this one slowly.”
She hummed at him, then reached down to pick up the cupcake. Her eyes widened. “Is it supposed to be hard?” Fine’s only response was a Cheshire grin. Cautiously, Pinkie licked at the frosting on top. “Hmm… Strawberry, some chocolate, and… Do I detect hazelnut?” Another lick. “Yep, definitely hazelnut. Oooh, this is an interesting combo! But then…” She smirked at him. “Garnish. The real test!” Her mouth opened wide to take a bite, her teeth crunching into a corner.
Up went the eyebrows yet again. A small chunk of cupcake disappeared between her lips as more curious, fascinated humming purred out of her chest. “Oh, wow, it’s hollow! Kinda like the edge of a brownie that dried up, but without the burned taste. This is neat! I don’t know how—”
Fine had never known the urge to bounce in his seat, but right now he felt like a foal waiting for his birthday present. His lips were spread so wide he wondered if his cheeks would be sore later.
Pinkie peered at the cupcake where she’d bitten it. Carefully, she reached the tip of her hoof through the hole and lifted. The top of the cupcake rose easily, and her ears shot up. “It’s a box. It’s like a present, but you can eat the wrapping paper! This is ingenious. I’ve gotta ask Gustave how he made it.” She flicked the top off, caught it in her tongue, and crunched it down with a grin. As she did, she looked inside the hollow remainder of the cupcake-box.
She froze, and Fine’s heart began performing a drum solo in his ears. His hooves trembled under the table while Pinkie stared wide-eyed at the contents of the confectionery container. She swallowed the chunk already in her mouth, her gulp audible over the soft conversational buzz of the restaurant. At last, her eyes met his, and now he really was bouncing in his seat. “Are those what I think they are?”
He shuddered at how quiet and unbelieving her voice was. “You bet your pretty blue eyes they are.” Then, cheekily, “How’s that for a garnish?”
Another swallow from Pinkie. Carefully, she set the container down and reached inside. Out came a small, clear plastic box, from which she brushed off crumbs. Opening it up, she got a closer look at two gleaming silver earrings. From them dangled three balloons made from sandstone, each balloon a slightly different shade of brown. She studied them, ignorant of Fine’s heavy, eager breaths and fluttery heart.
She peered at them, then at Fine. “They match your coat colors. They… You’re…” Then, as if full awareness was finally dawning upon her, she began to smile. Eyes glistening with moisture, she quietly asked, “Are you sure?”
“I put in a two week notice this morning. Luna’s accepted it. I’m retiring.” The press of the table told Fine he was leaning forward. Closer. He needed to get closer. He stood and walked around the table. “I don’t need to watch over Equestria anymore.” He accepted her trembling hoof in his own and dropped to one knee, gazing into her perfect blues. “I’d much rather spend my time watching you. You’ve been patient with me for over a decade, and I’m sorry it took me so long. I just…”
He licked his lips, savoring the moment. Her hoof in his, her gaze set upon him, his heart thundering. The sheer excitement, an exhilaration that only one pony in all the world could give him. He wanted to taste those lips then and there, but no. He had to finish.
“I want to spend the rest of my life with you as the center of my universe. Pinkamena Diane Pie, will you marry me?”
She didn’t rush him, or shout, or any of a hundred things ponies might expect Pinkie Pie to do. She moved slowly, gracefully, face aglow with warmth, to press her lips against his. It wasn’t a long kiss, but it was every bit as strong and passionate, with all the same power to defy Fine’s literary capacity. There were no words so evocative, so visionary, so dynamic as to capture the sheer spectacle of something like this. Not that Fine had the presence of mind to try. Pinkie Pie could render him powerless and dumb with naught but two lips, and he would never stop loving that.
And then, to his dazed frustration, it ended. He blinked a few times, well aware of his dopey grin. Once able to focus on Pinkie properly, he said, “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.”
“There’s not enough ‘yes’ in the world for the amount of ‘yes’ I have for that question,” she replied sweetly. She raised her hoof, the two earrings on display. “You gonna put these on me, or am I gonna be putting them on you?”
Chuckling, he took them in his magic and carefully started on her left ear, slipping the earring she wore off. “I like my ears unpierced, thank you.”
“You never know, they might look good on you,” she teased, holding still and not taking her gaze from his face.
One earring applied, Fine focused on the other, Pinkie turning her head slightly and flicking her ear towards him to accommodate. He removed the earring already there, then paused, staring at the small hole and the little metal piece that was to go in it. Once he slipped it through, they really would be…
“It’s okay.” Her words drew his attention. Her eyes, confident and heavy-lidded, drew his breath. “We’ve both wanted this for a long time.”
“It’s not that,” he whispered. “I just can’t believe it’s finally happening.” Another laugh slipped its way out of his throat, uncontrollable and giddy. Without wasting any more time, he put the earring in its proper place.
A tingly static ran through his body as she pulled away, shaking her head so that the earrings danced. The lone grey lock over her forehead flicked his muzzle playfully. Batting her eyelashes in a way that most ponies would never associate with her, one shoulder raised and lips curled alluringly, she asked, “How do they look?”
Fine could be nothing but honest. “You make them look so much better. They were but baubles before, and now they shine almost as gloriously as your eyes.”
“Oooh.” Pinkie shivered slightly. “You are flattering tonight.” Leaning in close, she patted his cheek. “You’re gonna spoil me, Peepee.” A peck on the cheek punctuated the remark.
This was countered by a peck on the tip of her muzzle, earning Fine the adorable squeak-nose-wrinkle combination he loved so much. “I like spoiling you, Sugarflanks.”
Their little back-and-forth was interrupted by a quiet clopping from all around. At last, they remembered that the entire scene was set before the happy eyes of the other restaurant goers and the staff, who all collectively offered the closest thing Canterlotians had to a standing ovation in such a setting. Sharing blushing grins, Fine helped Pinkie up so that they could take flamboyant bows, Fine ending the moment by giving Pinkie one last, not-so-short kiss that earned a whistle or two from the less uppity parts of the crowd.
“Magnificent! Simply magnificent.” The famous Gustave himself appeared, somehow managing to get Fine’s hoof and pump it up and down with a sparkling grin. “Congratulations, my friend! I was wondering who had won Miss Pie’s heart.” He released Fine’s hoof to give a giggling Pinkie a bear of a hug. “And you, Pinkie! I expect a proper critic’s feedback on my latest invention.”
Not to be outdone, Pinkie returned the hug with all the strength her earth pony legs could muster, earning a surprised squawk from the chef. “ ‘A’ quadruple-ruple pluseriffic, Gustave! You have to get me the recipe.”
“Before the National Dessert Competition? I think not!” Gustave freed himself from Pinkie’s grasp, taking a moment to thoughtfully stroke his impressive white mustache. “Perhaps after I’ve won the competition, hmm?”
Pinkie’s eyes narrowed. “That sounds like a challenge.”
“You are free to compete, my dear.” With a grin, the old griffon stepped back and raised his talons high. “Ah, but what am I doing? This is a special night for you, and I have a kitchen to run. I simply had to come out and congratulate one of my favorite rivals on this most delightful milestone. It’s on the house tonight, my gift for a friend on this happiest of occasions!” He elbowed Fine in the ribs. “Treat her well. I can think of a small army of creatures who would love to visit you otherwise.” With a last laugh, he turned for the kitchens. “Foot Loose! My esteemed guests require their meals.”
Pinkie and Fine shared a grinning glance before resuming their places at the table. Not a second later, their meals were delivered. As they savored the flavors (and crunch), Fine reflected on his day. Retired, and ready to spend the rest of his life with the perfect mare. Not the sort of mare he’d imagined in his youth, which just went to show how ignorant youth can be. Fleur would take over the Archons, he would live in Ponyville proper, almost certainly moving into Pinkie’s shop. Which wouldn’t be a big change; they stayed at one another’s places all the time.
But this would be different. This time, her home would be his. They would sleep together, wake together, dine together, plan and joke and age together. Maybe in the near future, they would even have children. Foals. What a delightful prospect. It felt… fulfilling. Warming. He would be… They’d be…
“Fine?” Pinkie’s hoof atop his drew him from the quiet, powerful awareness. “Are you okay?”
He met her blue eyes and realized how watery his own were. He rubbed them, unhurriedly, and grinning for her.
