Connie,

I hope all is well with you. I wanted to let you know that

The slash of the 't’ began to darken, and slowly turned into a black blob as Flim held the quill unsteadily against the paper. He ran his tongue over his teeth, his lips pressed tightly, and then scratched a line through what he’d written.

Mother,

I know exactly what you’d say if I was standing in front of you now. First you’d scold me for not writing to you more often. Then you’d tell me about how well my sister is doing. You’d ask me when I’m planning on settling down. And you’d hint at wanting to hear the pitter-patter of little hoofbeats.

That’s blunt, but I don’t care. That’s what every letter of yours over the past decade has boiled down to, isn’t it? We haven’t seen eye-to-eye for years, and now it’s time for me to start being honest with you---and I’d apprecaite it if you could return the favour. I don’t want to waste any more time, or any more dead trees, exchanging these plesanteries.

First off: I’m engaged to Flam. For real this time. We haven’t picked a date, but I thought you should be the first to know. Second: we need to talk face-to-face. And don’t be coy. You know damn well what we need to talk about. I know you know where he is.

Mother, I know it’s compilcated, but I still love you, and I miss how we used to be. I’ll always be your daughter, but I miss being your friend, too. Please write me back. This may have some spelling mistakes in it, but I’m just writing this as fast as I can and shoving it in an enevlope before I can come to my senses and rip it up like the last three times I tried getting all this down.

Flim and Flam say hi.

Love,

Bea

Connie,

I know it’s hard to keep in touch with us since we’re always travelling, but for the time being I’ll be staying at Sweet Apple Acres in Ponyville. I want you to

Another pause, and another defeated groan. Flim crumpled the paper and added it to the growing pile in and around the trash bin. “This is ridiculous.”

My dearest Princess Twilight,

Thank you so much for your most recent letter. Your concerns are quite understandable, and I hope I can assuage your fears. Yes, Luna and I spoke with Discord about his recent actions, and we both felt he was rather glib in excusing himself of any wrongdoing. He expressed what seemed to be genuine delight that Applejack and Flim are now spending more time together in amiability after what might have been an “irreparable” rift (to use his words, not mine). To summarize a rather lengthy monologue on his part, he stated that every pony is the master of his or her own fate, and that no one can truly predict the future. After some pressing, he did admit that he played a role, however indirect, in Hesperides’ premature birth, but justified it by saying that, essentially, the ends justify the means.

As you may well imagine, that did not sit well with either of us, and when the subject of penance was broached, he did not seem disconcerted---at first. To my surprise, he even offered several suggestions, ranging from the understandable (foalsitting duties) to the ridiculous (something about a nun with a bell). After some conferring, Luna and I decided on a punishment we deemed suitable, and when we informed him of our decision, the look on his face assured me this would be something he would not soon forget.

Please don’t worry about Discord’s welfare, Twilight; I assure you he is in no pain, and he is being very well cared for. Unlike the centuries he spent in stone, he is able to move and even enjoy himself. Since Hesperides was born a month and a half early, I’ve decided that Discord will spend the same amount of time in his current state. Although he cannot speak, I’m fairly certain that he’s already itching to get his powers back. I’m sorry if this letter seems vague; the enclosed photograph should clear things up. (You may want to hang on to it---you never know when you’ll want to embarrass him in the future!)

I look forward to reading your theorem about the societal and magical roles of the next generation of Element bearers. I’m sure Cadence and Shining Armour will be interested as well, especially with their own foal on the way.

Sincerely,

Princess Celestia

Connie,

I’m writing this under duress. The baby’s crying for her favourite toy, and Flam won’t tell me where he’s hidden it until I finish this damned letter.

Yes, the baby’s been born. A couple of months ago, actually. She came early. There’s a story behind that, but I don’t feel like getting into that now. Applejack named her Hesperides Loophole Apple. She thought it would be nice to give the foal my mother’s name. Sure is funny how that worked out.

At least this little foal will always know her father. I have to tip my hat to you, Connie---you really did think of a clever way to keep us from asking about ours. I’d say you covered your ass, but that’s not exactly true in a literal sense, is it?

Now, to the point of this letter: if you want to be a part of this filly’s life, you will tell me and Flam about our father. You owe us that much. If you really feel like racking up some bonus karma, you could tell us about the original Loophole, too. Is she even still alive? And if you have such bad blood with your own mother, why did you hang on to that photo of her for all those years?

Applejack lost a lot of blood during the birth, and since both she and the baby needed a lot of continual medical supervision, I’ve been picking up the slack on the farm. Me, doing farmwork---I can almost see your sneer from here. Believe it or not, it hasn’t killed me yet. I even got a smile out of the big galoot Applejack calls a brother; I can’t say I like him, per se, but he’s growing on me. Especially when he gets tipsy.

I’ll be staying at Sweet Apple Acres for the foreseeable future, but by the time you get this, I’ll be off on a mini-holiday with Applejack. Flam surprised me by offering a little chunk of the bits he’d been squirreling away; he told me that even though he can’t understand what I’m going through, he’s never seen me “glow” like I (apparently) have been lately. We’ll be spending the weekend at a little resort town and, no, I’m not telling you where. Feel free to drop by any time after next Monday.

By the way, Flam has some big news for you. He’ll tell you himself, should he so desire.

Yours truly,

Flim

“So, y’all are sure y’got this?” Applejack said with a grunt as Hez squirmed in her grasp. She was still trying to lunge at the toy windmill Flim was holding just out of range.

“Of course we do.”

“It’ll be a piece of cake,” Flam grinned, grabbing his brother around the neck. As he pulled him into a noogie, he added “If this dumb lunk can handle a foal, so can I!”

“Everything’s written on the sheet I gave ya.” She cleared her throat, surprised at how nervous she felt. She waited until Flim pried himself away with a showy huff, and went back to addressing Flam: “Be sure not to feed her anything weird. She’s only been takin’ in milk an’ a bit of applesauce, so nothin’ too salty or sugary, or else she’ll get sick.”

He nodded, and leaned forward, one foreleg extended. Her heart skittered; she knew what he meant. He was going to take her baby away. The seizing pang in her chest tightened when he bent down and gingerly took the foal from her arms---and she almost started to cry when her daughter pulled a face and began reaching out to her. “Nyahh!”

Flim soothingly patted Applejack’s back as he floated the toy windmill over to his brother. “If she fusses, try to distract her with this. Or give her the stuffed bunny.”

Flam hooked a protective arm around the foal and held her tight against his chest. “I know. I just---YAH!”

“What?!” Applejack was on the tips of her hooves, ready to pounce. “What happened?”

“Oh, nothing much,” Flam murmured as he tilted his head down to look at the foal, who was opening and closing her spit-bubbled lips over the grain of his coat. “She tried to bite me. I think she’s starting to sprout a little fang!”

“Ugh. You got that right,” she muttered, raising a hindleg to rub against her sore teats.

Flim let his eyes flick down to the bag they’d packed earlier. “We gave you the teething rings, right?”

“Oh, pookie, let me hold her!” Trixie cooed. When the baby was passed from him to her, Trixie fumbld a moment before catching Hez’s hindquarters with her magic, prompting a startled cry from Applejack.

“Dammit, Trixie, don’t let her fall!”

“Trixie knows what she’s doing!” she snapped.

Applejack bit her lip when she saw her baby’s head lolling backwards. “An’ keep yer hoof on the back a’her head! Her neck ain’t strong enough yet!”

Clapping the foal against her, she repeated “Trixie said she knows what she’s doing! Leave me alone!”

“I ain’t gonna leave ya alone until I c’n be sure y’ain’t gonna hurt her!”

“Sweetheart, they’ll be fine,” Flim said as he stepped forward, placing a hoof on her shaking shoulder. “Flam and I used to foalsit all the time. He’s good with babies!”

“AND SO AM I!”

Trixie started to pat the baby’s back, since that outburst had startled her into tears. “You think you can just stand there and praise him over me? I know what I’m doing! Pfft, what do stallions know about raising a foal? Mares are the ones who have maternal instinct, and by the time you two get back, this foal won’t want to leave her aunt Trixie! We’re going to bond like nopony’s business, and quite frankly, I’ll probably do a better job taking care of the little ankle-biter than either of you ever---”

“Trixie, relax,” Flam said through gritted teeth.

Flim smirked and bowed to his brother. “Thank you.”

Putting his arm around Trixie’s shoulder, Flam smiled as politely as he could towards Applejack. “You’ll have to excuse her. She always gets a little tetchy when she starts going into heat.”

“I am NOT in HEAT!” By this point, Flam had decided it best to relieve her of her burden, since the baby was wailing. “Honestly, you think it’s at all acceptable to just assume that any time a mare has a legitimate complaint it must mean she’s hormonal? Trixie never goes into heat until at least April!”

Here she paused, her lip stiffening as she was about to complete her thought, but something caught her eye: Flim and Applejack were staring at each other as if she’d just told them she had two heads. “What?”

“Trixie... it is April.”

“No it’s not!”

“Sugarplum, it’s been April for over two weeks now,” Flam said gently, wincing a little as his niece yanked on his moustache. “Remember about two weeks ago when Flim balanced a bucket of water on your door?”

She bristled. He’d even put a sign on her door that said ’There’s a big surprise waiting for you inside!’ “Yes, and?”

“That was April Foal’s Day. Remember?”

“No... no it wasn’t! It’s still March! I should know---my heat cycle is like clockwork! I’m never late! Are you telling me you think you know my body better than I do?!”

“It’s definitely April,” Flim said as he threaded his tail in Applejack’s, grinning a bit when her caught her blush. “But if we stand here and let you bitch for as long as you want, it’ll be May, and we have a train to catch.”

Taking a tentative step towards Flam, Applejack raised her muzzle to press against her daughter’s. She’d been dying for a good night’s sleep, but the thought of being away from this child for longer than a few moments felt like a cluster of razorblades she had to swallow. Parting is such sweet sorrow. Putting her lips to the downy ear, she whispered “You be a good girl fer Mama.”

“She’ll be fine, Applejack,” Flam said. “You and my brother have a lot of catching up to do, and I don’t want anything to get in the way of that.”

“Thank ya kindly,” she said, and, against her better judgement, kissed Flam’s cheek. He flushed with colour, and she smiled, pretending she didn’t notice the indignant hiss of breath Trixie sucked between her teeth. “I know y’all’re gonna take good care a’yer new niece.”

He blustered a bit as he pulled back, and decided to focus on his bowtie (that Hez was rapidly untying) instead of her. “Of course. Just go enjoy your weekend, and don’t worry about a thing.”

“But, but, but if anything does go wrong, you jes’ run over ta Sweet Apple Acres, an’ Granny’ll---”

“Applejack,” Flim said with a chuckle, “The train. Come on, sweetheart.”

Dutifully, Flam held the baby out so she could get goodbye kisses from her parents, and waved as they strode off, keeping as close to one another as they could despite the saddlebags between them. Every now and then Hez would let out a shriek or a cry, and Applejack would whip around, ready to run back... but Flim would gentle her along, patting her back and whispering soothing words into her ear as they made their way to the train station.

“Shh. There, there,” Flam murmured as he did his best to rock her back and forth. The steady diet of milk, formula, and applesauce had certainly plumped the little thing up, but she was still weak and fragile, not even walking properly even though she was almost four months old. He grimaced when he remembered the day he’d had to console his brother after the doctor told them she might need physical therapy down the road. Leaning down, he lightly tapped his snout against hers, making her giggle. So this is a whole new kind of love, he thought. ... and it feels so strange.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you back there, sugarplum,” he said, still looking down at the baby. She seemed to be fascinated by how he could cross his eyes or waggle his tongue around. “I just didn’t want them to miss their train.”

When that was met with silence, he pressed his lips together, steadying himself for a fight. “Trixie?”

He glanced over his shoulder, but the room was empty. He sighed. Trixie had apparently stomped off to lock herself in the hotel bedroom. Fine.

But she wasn’t in a sulk---she was almost in a panic. The first thing she’d done when she got into the bedroom was dig out the pocket calendar that Flam carried around with him. He was very good at ticking off each appointment as he made them, and the dentist’s visit yesterday had a checkmark. She stared at the calendar for nearly a full minute---and every second, her heartbeat got faster. No, they hadn’t been lying to her, and yes, it was actually April.

“This doesn’t make sense!” she whispered as her eyes grew. For over a fortnight now, she’d been having all her pre-heat symptoms: she’d been grouchy, bloated, sore in the teats, and despite feeling queasy, she’d been eating nearly double what she normally did. “Why am I not in heat?!”

Author's Notes:

BTW---yes, Trixie's letter had several spelling mistakes. That's because in Little Bea, I established my headcanon that Trixie is actually dyslexic.

Anyway... WHEW!

Well, peeps, there we go! I can't believe how much fun this has been, and how much y'all mean to me. The comments and the faves and the TvTropes page---they mean the world. Thank you so much! I hope you had as much fun as I did!