Author’s note – This story takes place before the season two episode ‘Baby Cakes’.

Pinkie Pie rolled over lazily, hugging a pillow to herself as the rays of the warm morning sun gently trickled through her window. In a haze, she heard the clatter of plates from below as Mr and Mrs Cake went about their morning chores, but the happy warmth of the sun hurried all thoughts of going downstairs out of her mind, and she stifled a yawn, scrunching her cosy bed sheets around her.

Life was good.

Perhaps after a nice walk around Ponyville she would help the Cakes in the store for an hour or so. Then maybe a bath. Or another nap. She yawned again and cuddled her bed sheets. A nap sounded good.

“Pinkie!”

Mrs Cake’s voice disturbed her peace as her eyes flickered open. She started to rise, but then thought better of it and flopped back onto her mattress. There was supposed to be a travelling theatre that was arriving in Ponyville later, Twilight had been telling her about it. Maybe she could skip helping the Cakes and see a play. And then a nap.

“Pinkie! Your breakfast’s ready!”

It was Mrs Cake again. With a heavy sigh, Pinkie Pie rolled off the bed and onto the wooden floor with a heavy thump. “I’m coming!” she called down, shaking her head as her mane flumped into life. The Cakes usually started baking the moment the sun came up, and technically as their lodger she was supposed to help them, but they never made a fuss if she slept in. Which if she’d been up partying the night before could be a long long time.

***

Pinkie Pie half-trotted, half bounced down the stairs into the kitchen of Sugar Cube Corner. The room was humming with noise and activity – on the far counter she could see Mr Cake carefully cutting up apples and apricots and almonds on the sparkling clean worktop, ready for baking into whatever confectionary would be the dish of the day. He had a knife carefully gripped in his mouth, and dipped down with expert motions to slice the fruit into equal, neat segments.

Mrs Cake meanwhile was darting back and forth between several boiling pots, and Pinkie’s heart leapt as she smelt the familiar sugary odour of boiled sweets. “Sorry I slept in!” she chirped, scooting up to the dining table, upon which a bowl had been placed. “I was just so super sleepy!”

A smile crossed Mrs Cake’s face and she trotted over to Pinkie, tipping out a jar of sweets into Pinkie’s bowl and pouring a good serving of milk over it. “Don’t worry dear!” she soothingly replied, though Pinkie could swear she heard a slight tremor in her voice. “Just enjoy your breakfast, it’s your favourite!”

Pinkie stared at the bowl suspiciously. Mrs Cake was usually cross at her whenever she had candy cereal for breakfast. It was Pinkie’s own invention – candy and milk – though the Cakes seemed to be adamant that this was for some reason unhealthy. Pinkie looked back and forth between Mrs Cake and the bowl, and then making up her mind dipped her mouth down to slurp it all up.

“Oh, a letter came for you.” There was that quiver in Mrs Cake’s voice again, and the sound of a slightly more frantic chopping in the background as Mr Cake sped up his work.

Pinkie Pie’s tongue was touching her sugary breakfast, but froze as her eyes darted around to see a bulky letter sitting neatly on the table in front of her. Making a decision, she turned back to her breakfast, wolfing it down hungrily.

Mrs Cake had stopped in her work, and was just standing beside Pinkie, wringing her apron nervously. “Aren’t you going to take a look, Pinkie darling?” The chopping noise in the background became slightly more frenzied. Mr Cake looked away, slightly bashful. “The envelope was ripped when we got it and the letter fell out, I didn’t mean to read it, but I saw a bit…” she trailed off as she watched Pinkie for any flicker of a reaction.

Pinkie slowly licked off the sugary milk which caked her mouth and prodded the letter curiously. “I know you would never read anypony’s mail on purpose Mrs Cake!” she squeaked out happily, and Mrs Cake gave a sigh of relief. Pinkie inspected the envelope – there was a familiar postmark crisply stamped on the top right corner, and a large hard object inside which was just a bit too big for the letter – at some point it had seemingly torn through the envelope. Pinkie deftly ran her hoof over the top of the envelope, which had been neatly taped shut again and pulled out the letter.

“It’s from home!” she called as she began to read. Mrs Cake stood silent. The only noise in the room was the sound of Mr Cake’s chopping, getting faster and faster as Pinkie looked at her letter. From the corner of her eye, Pinkie could see beads of sweat on Mr Cake’s head. She concentrated on the letter.

My Dearest Pinkamena Diane Pie,

It seems like forever since we have heard from you, I hope all is well in your hectic life in the big city of Ponyville, and that the Cakes are treating you well. A travelling baker came round earlier with the most delicious cupcakes; it made me think of my darling daughter and I knew I had to write! The farm is doing well; we’ve had a bumper quartzite crop this year! Your father has been working all day and night bringing it in. It’s difficult with just the two of us, but we know you girls need to live your own lives without us in your way and we are so so proud of you Pinkamena.

If you ever grow tired of Ponyville though and want to move home, your room is still exactly as you left it. I know how much you love running about the fields, and the local fete is in a few weeks, it would be wonderful to see you again, if you have the time.

I have put one of those rocks you love so much in the envelope, you can add it to your collection!

Lots and lots of love,

Mum

Pinkie Pie nudged the large bulky object out of the envelope. It was a grey and white speckled rock wrapped in some tissue paper. It looked decidedly un-fun as it rolled across the table top and came to a stop before it fell onto the floor.

“It’s from home!” she announced loudly, glancing back down at the neatly written letter again. “They want me to go back and live with them.”

Mr Cake’s frenzied cutting suddenly stopped with a yelp of pain. The kitchen was silent as Mrs Cake cleared her throat. “Now Pinkie, you know we love having you live here with us, you’re like…” She placed a hoof gently on Pinkie’s shoulder. “You’re like the daughter we never had and having you here makes us so happy, but if you want to move back home with your family, if that’s what will make you happy, then we’ll understand.”

Pinkie gave a start as she turned around to see Mrs Cake stock-still, save only for the slightest quiver of her bottom lip. She had never seen Mrs Cake look so upset before, not even after Pinkie had eaten the year’s supply of candy canes after a particularly big sugar rush. Mr Cake was frozen too, staring at Pinkie. He was a strange, tall, thin gawky-looking pony, but Pinkie thought that somehow was right, that married to the short and dumpy Mrs Cake they somehow averaged out into two perfect ponies.

She scrunched her eyes up and beamed her biggest smile back at them. “Turn those frowns upside-down!” she half-sung, hopping to her hooves and doing a half-spin on the kitchen floor. “You’re just as much family as my actual family are, I’d never make you sad or leave you!”

The Cakes both gave an audible sigh of happiness at this, and Pinkie bounced towards the rock on the table. Recently for some reason her mother had taken to mailing her rocks. Pinkie had always said ‘thank you’ in her letters back, and the rocks kept coming. She imagined her mother at home, writing her letters and being delighted that she could still make her little filly happy. Pinkie didn’t have the heart to say otherwise; instead tucked under her bed was a shoebox full of rocks. Every time one arrived in the mail was a reminder that despite everything that had happened, her parents still didn’t understand her.

Mrs Cake did. Mrs Cake would never give her a rock.

“Uh, Cup Cake?”

Mr Cake called gently from across the kitchen, but Mrs Cake didn’t notice. Her crumpled face had turned into a beaming smile to match Pinkie’s, which in turn made Pinkie want to smile more. “That’s wonderful Pinkie dear, it really brightens up the place having you about.” She started to fuss around a jar of candy. “Would you like a second breakfast?”

Pinkie nodded as hard as she could, bounding back to her place at the table as Mrs Cake poured her another bowl of sweets. “I love being here in Ponyville Mrs Cake, everypony is so friendly and there’s always so much to do and so many parties to organise!”

“Uh, Cup Cake darling?”

Mrs Cake didn’t seem to hear her husband as she poured milk over Pinkie’s bowl and gave it a little stir. “Maybe you’d like to have the morning off, you could go and relax and see your friends, I don’t want you to think we’re working you too hard or taking advantage of you!”

Pinkie immediately dived into the bowl, scoffing down her milky candy before surfacing for air. She had already planned on not working that morning, but it was always nice to hear it officially rather than sneaking out the back. “That’s a great idea Mrs Cake! I’ll go to the market, I can pick up some new ingredients and make a super nice cake for us!”

“Uh, there’s been a little accident!”

Mr Cake’s voice took on a slightly higher pitched tone and both mares whirled around to see what the matter was. Mr Cake was standing by the kitchen counter, his eyes wide as he looked at his hoof, which had a nasty gash across it which oozed red liquid. “I ah, slipped when I was chopping fruit. It’s the knife I bought the other day from that salespony. Surprisingly… sharp…”

“Oh oh oh!” Mrs Cake was instantly by his side and cradling his hoof, pressing a towel against it. “Keep calm and look away, you know you don’t like the sight of your own blood!”

Mr Cake made a whimpering noise as he obediently threw his head towards the ceiling, his eyes watering as he trembled. “I don’t want to die!” he whispered hoarsely.

Mrs Cake just rolled her eyes as she led him slowly towards the front room, Mr Cake doing his best to stumble and trip over every imperfection on the floor, his eyes still fixed upwards. “It’s nothing a bandage won’t fix!” she chided. “Then it’ll be all better.”

Pinkie watched the scene with some concern as she finished her second breakfast. The Cakes were always so cheerful, it wasn’t right to see Mr Cake so upset. “I’ll help!” she called out. “I’ll clean up the worktop!”

Mrs Cake’s response was as surprising as it was harsh. “No!” she snapped suddenly, her face suddenly a frown as Pinkie sank back. “Don’t you dare touch anything Pinkie, I’ll clean it up once I’ve bandaged Mr Cake’s hoof!”

Watching the Cakes trot off, Pinkie slowly licked her bowl clean, her tongue squeaking loudly against the porcelain. “I’m not a baby!” she muttered at the departing Mrs Cake as she slid down onto the floor and, picking up a towel in her mouth, wandered over to the worktop. Mrs Cake was obviously trying to pamper her too much, but Pinkie didn’t mind doing a bit of cleaning for her beloved hosts. After all, she’d spent enough time helping Fluttershy care for poor wounded animals, a bit of blood wouldn’t faze her.

Reaching the worktop, she started to dab carefully at the red splotches with her cloth. After a few swipes, she lifted the towel away in confusion. The blood hadn’t wiped away. There was a strange, sticky resistance, and several strands glistened in the morning light as they stretched in strings between the worktop and the cloth. It was unmistakable.

It was jam.

“Huh…” Pinkie put the jam-covered towel down as her eyes swept the kitchen, looking for where the accident had occurred. But the rest of the room was clean. It was unmistakably here where Mr Cake had been cutting fruit; there were mountains of apple and apricot slices in neat bowls. There was even a knife with a smearing of…

Pinkie stared at the knife intently. It was jam as well. She could see the tiny crystalline sugar structures in it; her nose could detect the faintest sweet whiff rising from it. The worktop was splattered with beads of red jam and a dusting of cake crumbs. There was no blood anywhere.

“Maybe Mr Cake was making a cake…?” Pinkie muttered out loud as she started to walk around the perimeter of the kitchen. There were pots of sweets being boiled, a tray of meringues, even a half-finished fruit flan, but there was no cake.

Pinkie Pie shook her head quickly. She had seen Mr Cake clutching his hoof, seen what she had thought was blood. But it was jam. Or was it? Pinkie’s tongue was instantly hovering over the jam that lay on the worktop. She could feel her taste buds pricking at the thought of the delicious preserve, but she hesitated, uncertain. What if she was wrong? What if it was blood? What if the Cakes came back in and saw their lodger voraciously lapping blood off the kitchen worktop. That would be awkward.

Looking around for a container, Pinkie’s eyes settled on a nearby empty jam jar. Lifting the knife carefully by the handle, she slowly scraped the sticky red substance into the glass jar and screwed the lid on tight. A mystery was ahoof, and she wasn’t about to be kept in the dark!

“All better now!”

Pinkie turned around guiltily, almost dropping the jar as the Cakes wandered back into the kitchen, Mr Cake now sporting a bandage around his hoof and a rather exaggerated limp. Slipping the jar into the curls of her tail, she put on the most innocent grin she could manage and scuttered back towards the table.

“That’s good!” Pinkie bobbed her head up and down as she carried her breakfast bowl to the sink. “Oh hey, I’m rather hungry!” she exclaimed out loud, turning to her hosts. “Say Mr Cake, could I have some of that delicious cake you were making?”

“Oh, I wasn’t making any cake!” Mr Cake replied, slightly confused as he looked at his pile of fruit slices whilst Mrs Cake busied herself in clearing up the worktop behind him.

“No…” Pinkie’s eyes narrowed at Mr Cake as she felt the weight of the jar in her tail. “No you weren’t, were you…” Throwing her head up in a huff, she marched out of the kitchen, leaving behind a rather bemused Mr Cake.

“Now, what the hay was all that about?” he wondered out loud.

Pinkie didn’t go far. The moment she was through the doorway, she dropped her head and begun to look around the Cakes' sitting room. She lifted her hooves one by one as she felt something rough on the floor. Cake crumbs. There was a trail of cake crumbs leading from the kitchen doorway across the room to where Mrs Cake kept the first aid box.

Looking behind her to make sure the Cakes didn’t follow her in, Pinkie leapt across the room and opened the box. Inside was carefully packed cotton wool, plasters, a roll of bandages and…

Cake crumbs.

“I don’t get it…” Pinkie glanced back towards the kitchen door where Mrs Cake was talking and laughing with Mr Cake. But Pinkie wasn’t laughing. Was she somehow mistaken? Were the Cakes trying to trick her? She turned her attention to the bin and began to sift through it. Almost immediately she found what she was looking for – cotton wool from the first aid box, but covered in jam and cake crumbs.

Pinkie hid the evidence in her jar and stroked her chin thoughtfully. She wasn’t mistaken. It couldn’t be a trick. There was just one possible explanation.

“Mr Cake is literally a cake!” she squeaked.

***

Twilight Sparkle looked down at the jar Pinkie Pie was offering her with a degree of suspicion. “You want me to… tell you what it is?” she muttered in an unconvinced tone. Around her lay a heap of books, which had been dislodged from their neat piles when the pink pony had barrelled into her library babbling something about jam.

Pinkie just nodded firmly. “It’s very, very important!” she exclaimed. “I was thinking ‘oh Pinkie, who could help in your hour of need,’ and then I was all ‘Twilight, Twilight will help, she’s the most cleverest and scientific of all ponies’!”

Twilight gazed forlornly at her fallen books and then back at Pinkie Pie. With a large sigh, she started to unscrew the jar and dipped a spoon inside. “Fine, fine! Just as long as I can get back to my studying, I’ve got a lot to do and I’m supposed to be seeing a play tonight!” She lifted the spoon out, now coated in a thin red veneer, and dipped it into her mouth thoughtfully. “Hmm. Strawberry!” she called out, rolling the tip of the spoon about in her mouth to get the full taste. “Yes, definitely strawberry!”

“Phew!” Pinkie wiped her hoof across her forehead. “So it’s not blood then?”

The spoon slowly dropped out of Twilight’s mouth and clattered to the floor. “W-why would it be blood, Pinkie?” she stammered out, swallowing hard as her face went slightly green. “Why would it be blood?”

“Oh, because Mr Cake cut himself and I found this on the kitchen worktop and thought it was blood, but it turns out it is jam!” Pinkie Pie said brightly, smiling at Twilight. Twilight did not return the smile.

“So you… thought it might be blood… so you gave it to me to test…” Twilight couldn’t quite wrap her head around the concept, and instead started to stare down at her outstretched tongue as if it would suddenly start dripping crimson.

“Uh-huh!” Pinkie proudly nodded. “I thought ‘Twilight is so fantabulous, she’ll have some special test to work out if it is jam or not! And you did, you’re so clever Twilight! Now I know that Mr Cake is definitely a cake!”

“Oh Pinkie!” Twilight’s worried frown turned to one of disappointment as she looked glumly at her happy friend. “Mr Cake isn’t a cake. Don’t do this again, do you remember when you thought Rarity was a marshmallow and you kept on trying to bite her? Or when you started following around Daisy with a net because you thought she was a daisy and was in danger of having her pollen carried off by bees? Ponies are ponies. Rarity isn’t a marshmallow, Daisy isn’t a daisy, and Mr Cake isn’t a cake!”

“Lemon Dreams is a lemon though,” Pinkie instantly retorted.

“Yes, well…” Twilight clopped her hooves together thoughtfully. “That’s different. Lemon Dreams thinks she’s a lemon, and if she wants to self-identify as a lemon then that’s her own life choice and we should respect that and uphold the Ponyville lemon ban. But come on Pinkie, think!” She tapped a hoof against Pinkie’s forehead. There was a strange hollow sound. “If Mr Cake is a cake, then how does he walk and talk and do all the things a cake can’t do?”

“I don’t know Twilight…” Pinkie Pie took back her evidence jar and buried it back into her tail. “I mean how else would you explain the jam on the worktop? There’s no other explanation that I can think of apart from him being a cake, and I intend to prove it!” She started to zip between Twilight’s bookshelves, pulling book after book out with a cursory glance at each one. “Maybe he’s a magic cake who can walk and talk!”

“…Or maybe he’s not!” With an exasperated sigh, Twilight encircled Pinkie in a shimmer of magic and lifted the pink terror, placing her firmly as far away from her precious books as possible. “Pinkie, not even the most powerful unicorn could make a magical pony cake, trust me. Isn’t it more likely that there’s a simpler reason?”

Pinkie gradually stopped struggling against Twilight’s magical field and slumped her shoulders in a sigh. “I guess…” She looked down at the floor in contemplation and then back up at Twilight with the tiniest hint of a smile breaking on her lips. “Thank you Twilight, you’ve shown me the way!”

Twilight stepped forward to place a hoof against Pinkie’s shoulders. “Now Pinkie, do you promise not to do anything silly and stop worrying?” Her voice was tinged with a slight level of concern; Pinkie just stood there smiling as if she hadn’t been listening at all.

“I do-oo-oo-oo-oo!” Pinkie suddenly roared into life, bouncing out of Twilight’s library as fast as she could in a blur of pink. “OO-oo-oo-oo-oo!” As Pinkie exited into the bright sunshine of Ponyville, her face darkened. “Oo-oo-oo NOT!” she muttered, shaking a hoof as she looked at all the happy ponies going about their daily lives. She was certain now that something was being hidden from her and she wasn’t going to rest until she found out what. Her happy smile curled into a more sinister one. She knew exactly who she needed to speak to.

***

“If I said to you Mr Cake was a cake, what would you say?” Pinkie Pie thrust her face into Carrot Top’s, her eyes wildly staring ahead as she started to shake her with her forehooves. “What would you say?”

Carrot Top screamed as loud as she could, her normally neat mane frizzing out in all directions. “I’d say get the hay out of my fridge!” she squealed, standing frozen in shock as she stared at the pink pony who had somehow become lodged in her refrigerator.

“Yes, it is rather cold in there…” Pinkie slowly extracted herself from the fridge. Half the contents extracted themselves with her, clattering and smashing to the floor as Pinkie pulled herself free. “Oops!” Pinkie rolled her eyes and then glared straight at Carrot Top. “Carrot Top, tell me everything you know about Mr Cake, or as his full name is, Carrot Cake!”

Carrot Top just stared blankly black, half in confusion, half wondering whether she should get the police. “I… he runs Sugar Cube Corner?”

“Aha, I knew it!” Pinkie punched the air in victory, before her brain finished processing what she had heard. “No, I mean, tell me all his secrets!”

“Wait a minute…” Carrot Top gave a start as she suddenly realised why Pinkie was asking her questions about Mr Cake. “Do you think that because my name is Carrot Top and his name is Carrot Cake that we’re somehow related?”

“Or the same pony!” Pinkie leapt into the air at this stunning revelation, her hooves kicking in all directions. “I’ve never seen you in the same place at the same time, apart from last Sunday. And Tuesday. And at the market last week. The perfect alibi…”

Carrot Top’s mouth moved, but for a moment no sound came out as her mind struggled to deal with Pinkie’s thought processes. Her face fixed into a sudden grimace of annoyance. “Pinkie, just because we have the same name doesn’t mean we’re related! That’s…. I don’t know what that is, but it’s certainly rude and doesn’t give you the right to break into somepony’s house and demand questions! I don’t know anything about Mr Cake, all I know is that he’s a nice upstanding member of the community and wouldn’t like to see you acting like this!”

“I see…” Pinkie stroked her chin. She didn’t see. Something Carrot Top had said has given her pause for thought though. A new line of inquiry had opened up. First though, she needed one more thing from Carrot Top. “Hey Carrot Top, do you mind if I take your trifle, I kinda sat in it!”

Pinkie gave her most beaming smile as she showed off her rear end, covered in cream and sprinkles. Carrot Top just narrowed her eyes and muttered coldly. “Sure Pinkie. Take it. Take all of it.”

So Pinkie did.

***

“Pinkie, this is brilliant! I thought you’d gone crazy or something when you asked me along, but I couldn’t think of a better way of spending my morning!” Rainbow Dash collapsed into a hysterical fit of laughter amongst a pile of dusty paperwork.

Pinkie Pie coughed, running her eyes over the latest certificate in front of her. The Ponyville Archive was massive; with records stretching all the way back to the founding of Ponyville. There was no way she would have been able to search all the packed shelves on her own and Rainbow Dash had hardly been her first choice, but she seemed to be enjoying herself.

“Did… did you know Lyra’s full name is ‘Lyra Heartstrings’?” Rainbow Dash fell backwards again, tears rolling down her cheeks as she clutched a birth certificate to her chest. “This is golden! And speaking of that, did you know Carrot Top’s real name is ‘Golden Harvest’?” Rainbow Dash gripped a pen in her mouth and started to scribble on another certificate before spitting the pen out. “Or at least, it is now!” She raised her hoof for a congratulatory hoof-bump, but Pinkie didn’t respond. She was too busy searching through a mass of index cards.

“That’s nice…” Pinkie muttered in an uncharacteristically concentrated tone. She had before her all the records of all the Cakes who had ever lived in Ponyville. Banana Cake. Coconut Cake. Toilet Cake. So many Cakes over the years. Thankfully she had found all the Cake files in one place, unlike the myriad other records which seemed to be scattered about the musty room under some impossibly complex filing system. Celestia was surely smiling on her that day!

She had carefully cross-referenced their birth certificates, marriage certificates, even school reports. It was of course not complete – the archives were terribly maintained and didn’t refer to any ponies outside Ponyville, but she doubted that the archivists at Canterlot would be as easy going in granting access as the Ponyville staff. She had always assumed that the Ponyville archives would be difficult to get into, but the pony at the front desk had seemed ever so helpful and even had a pass made up in advance for her as if he’d known she was coming! That was good service! Getting Rainbow Dash in had taken a bit more convincing though.

“Oh oh oh!” Rainbow Dash started sniggering again as she amended another record. “What if it turns out Apple Bloom was Celestia’s long lost niece! Heck, it’s lucky Twilight was too busy studying to come help you! Oh hey, this is mine!” Her laughter suddenly broke off as she fished out another certificate, staring at it suspiciously. “Oh come on, whoever filled this one out got the names of both my parents wrong! Amateur hour or what!”

Pinkie wasn’t listening though. With a sudden shout of triumph, she rose to her hooves, scattering nearly stacked piles of cards all about. “Look at this, Dash,” she cried, pointing accusingly to a marriage certificate lying in front of her. “There’s no record of Mr Cake in Ponyville until twenty years ago! He turns up and marries Mrs Cake almost immediately. But get this – the certificate says ‘Cup Cake’ and ‘Carrot Cake’!”

Rainbow Dash stared back blankly. “So? I mean, they are married, right?”

“No. No no no.” Pinkie shook her head, her voice dipping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Those were their names before they got married. That’s quite the coincidence, isn’t it? Maybe…” She trailed off. “Maybe they’re related! Maybe that’s their secret. I mean, they don’t have foals of their own, they couldn’t, if you have a foal with a relation it could have weird defects like two heads or four wings or never being able to get a cutie mark or something!”

It made sense. Except if that was the Cake’s secret, it didn’t explain the jam. Again Pinkie’s mind came back to the only possibility that seemed to fit the facts. Mr Cake had to be a cake, didn’t he? “C’mon Dashie, let’s get out of here!” Pinkie pushed the paperwork she had accumulated into a semi-neat pile on the table and gave it a determined thump. “I’ve got work to do!”