Author's Notes:

The Usual Disclaimer:

The following is a work of parody, and is protected as Fair Use under section 17 U.S. Code § 107 of US Copyright Law. My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic and all affiliated characters are property of Hasbro Inc.

I own nothing. All characters, settings and other belong to their respective owners. This is purely a fan-work with no intent towards profit, slander or harm towards the characters, settings or other, or their respective owners. If the respective owners feel that this fan-work in any way, shape or form threatens or besmirches their property, please let me know so that it be can be removed asap.

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And the plot sickens.

I'm not ashamed to admit that some parts of this chapter made me physically ill to write, but there's also world-building to be had, and some moments to further harden Twilight's resolve, as well as foreshadowing some future twists in the tail of this tale.

Also Trixie proves she's actually somewhat competent and useful.

There's a youtube link in here somewhere for people who like to click those sorts of things. Make sure you've got a headset on, or at least you're not in a public place or internet cafe. Having that song blasting out of your speakers and having everybody staring at you is an experience, I can tell you.

CHAPTER 55

“Twilight? Princess Luna? What brings you here, the lunch-rush finished an hour or so ago, didn’t it?” Berry Punch asked, raising an eyebrow in surprise as the two Alicorns slipped into her small bar, looking somewhat damp and mildly homicidal, the sound of distant shouting echoing into the bar as the door opened, and cutting off immediately as Princess Luna slammed the door shut behind them.

“We’re here to see how much alcohol it takes to get me blootered.”

“Ahem. We’re here to see what type of alcohol Twilight has a preference for.”

“And my preference is what will be the quickest way to get from sober and frustrated to delightful oblivion.”

“Twilight …”

“Luna, we had to sneak out of the Everfree Forest inside of a fake Timber Wolf just so the reporters would run away and we could make a break for town. And it ended up attracting the attention of a real one. Which is currently abusing an unfortunately-placed knothole in our fake one. Vigorously.” Twilight snapped, one eye twitching in a fashion that made Berry Punch think of purple-coloured mushroom clouds. “A fake Timber Wolf that I just so happened to occupy the back end of.”

“Ouch. D’you want a padded seat, a bag of ice or a cigarette?” Berry Punch’s mouth engaged before her brain did, and for several moments, found herself the focus of attention for two of the Princesses of Equestria, before Twilight burst into stammering, blushing so heavily Berry thought the purple Alicorn was about to spontaneously combust, while Luna fell over onto her side, clutching her sides and howling with laughter.

“N-none of those! I made a shield-barrier just in time, but uh … I feel the need to bleach my brain of the past ten minutes of my life, so uh … my options?”

“Oh, oh, oh don’t worry Twilight, I’m sure it’s … knot a problem!” Luna gasped from the floor, before continuing her fit of laughter on the floor, ignoring Twilight as she levitated a cushion off a stool and began battering Luna with it.

“NOT HELPING, LUNA!”

“Sounds like your day has … gone to the dogs?” Berry Punch offered with a broad grin, earning a loud groan from Twilight and a wheeze that sounded like “yes!” from the prone Princess on her floor.

“Just … just what would you recommend, Berry Punch? I’m afraid hard cider has been my only real alcoholic experience thus-far, and Luna tells me soon I’ll need an entire keg of beer to get even a little bit tipsy, so … figured I might as well make up for all those missed opportunities in college, and learn what sort of drinks I actually enjoy before I start getting diplomatic ‘gifts’ that I won’t be able to stand.”

“Oh man, I can just imagine the parties where a bunch of rich young Unicorns get together? Champagne, caviar, licking salt off a stripper’s sheat…”

“Whooooooooa, no! Hold your horses there, Berry, if they were doing that kind of stuff, I wasn’t invited. Youngest Pony to ever make it into Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns, remember?” Twilight stammered, easing herself onto a bar-stool and giving the bar-mare a nervous grin. “So … go easy on me, okay? Let’s start with the simple stuff, and work our way up from there?”

“Oh wow, you really haven’t touched the sauce, have you? Don’t tell the Apples, but hard cider is barely even alcohol as far as I’m concerned.” Berry Punch chuckled, reaching under the counter for two bottles, then again for a trio of shot-glasses and a spoon. “Tell you what, we’ll get some grub in your belly, then we’ll get started with an old favourite of mine, the buttery nipple, just to see if you like your mixed spirits, and after that, we’ll try some other stuff.”

“This sounds depraved …” Luna snorted, having dragged herself back up onto her hooves and seating herself on a barstool next to Twilight, her ethereal mane rapidly going back from a crumpled mess from her fit on the ground back to it’s normal, flowing self. “Is not the more common name something to do with roosters, suction and cowponies?”

“Eh, I figure we don’t want to scare the newbie off. So, we’ll stick to ‘buttery nipple’ until she’s feeling a bit more mellow.” Berry replied over her shoulder as she retreated out behind the bar for a moment, a loud clattering announcing her presence as she rummaged through the store-room for something, and came back with a basket containing some avocados and a loaf of bread. “So before anypony starts drinking on an empty stomach, here’s an old standby for when I don’t have the time to have a proper meal before I start drinking: avocado toast. It’ll slow the spread of alcohol through your system, although if we had the time, I’d say we should have goat cheese and beet salad to really prep our stomachs, but this’ll do for a rush job.”

“Why not just make the salad then?” Twilight mumbled, staring at the avocados nervously. They’d never been a favourite food of hers, although her mother had sworn by them … and pineapples.

Faust only knew the nightmares Twilight had suffered when she had made the mistake of asking Velvet why she insisted Night Light have so much pineapple in his diet.

“Because I’m willing to bet you’ll be calling for Ralph and Huey before we’re done, and I am not wasting a perfectly good salad on a recon-run of your alcohol tolerance when just toast will do.”

“Ralph? Huey?” Luna asked, looking perplexed.

“Well, now I am nervous.” Twilight muttered as Berry Punch loaded up a toaster with slices of bread, and began cutting the avocados in half before moving on to the making of the ‘buttery nipples’. Twilight looked upon the process nervously as Berry Punch poured a semi-transparent yellowy-brown liquid into the glasses with a practiced ease, then put the spoon in her mouth, concave-side down and sticking out over the glasses, then slowly poured the other drink, a milky brown-white substance over the domed part of the spoon’s head into the glasses, creating a two-layered offering.

“Ain’t nothing to be scared of with alcohol … provided you pace yourself.” Berry Punch dropped the spoon onto the table, her voice shifting to a very authoritarian tone as she placed a hoof on top of Twilight’s shot-glass before Twilight reach for it. “Now I like a drink, flames of Tartarus, Ponies call me the town drunk because I like my sauce that much, but I drink to my limit and not a drop more. So we’re gonna push your boundaries today, Twilight, in privacy, with some food in your belly and with supervision from Ponies who know their sauce, but when I cut you off, that’s me telling you and Luna when you’ve hit your limit and it’s on your head to remember that for next time. Piña Colada would never forgive me if I sent her favourite Princess to the hospital for alcohol poisoning.”

Berry Punch removed her hoof from the top of the glass, and then nudged it over to Twilight with the edge of her hoof as the toaster dinged, six slices of slightly-browned bread popping up out of the slots, the bar-mare turning rapidly with a half of a avocado and began smearing the pale-green innards of the fruit over the toast. “Always have something in your stomach before you start drinking, Twilight. Now this drink is what we call a ‘shooter’, meaning you slam it down your throat as fast as you can, like a bullet.”

“So how do I taste it then?” Twilight asked, picking the glass up between her hooves and staring at it as if expecting an angry Hydra or, worse still, a bitterly disapproving Princess Celestia to burst out of the creamy top layer before putting it back down again and nudging the drink away to the side.

“Shooters? You don’t, which is a crime against good booze if you ask me, but normally you’d drink something light to start off the night and then move on to the heavier stuff as the fun progresses. Here, we’re testing what kind of drinks you like, and what your tolerance is, so we’re gonna start you off on something hard and see how you react.” Berry explained, pulling up a stool on her side of the bar and shoving a plate of avocado-covered toast into the space between the three mares. With a deft flick of her wrist, Berry Punch snapped up a slice of the toast and devoured it with a swiftness that would have done Pinkie Pie proud, licking the last traces of avocado from her lips.

“Uh, thank you for the meal then, I … yeah …” Twilight mumbled, picking up a slice and crunching her way through it, hoping the long lessons on decorum and social customs drilled into her skull as a child under Princess Celestia’s tutelage held as the flesh of the avocado fruit hit her tongue. Toast made it a little more palatable, but it still tasted like fruit-flavoured grease to her.

Luna on the other hoof picked up the food and attacked it with great gusto, eyes closing as she savoured the meal. “Truly, Ponies have come such a long way in the past thousand years! Before my time on the moon, such fruits had to be shipped up the coast from Mulexico, and they would require a host of preservation spells to survive the trip, which made them taste absolutely vile.”

“Heh, there’s a couple of greenhouse-farms down south and on the isles that specialize in avocados and other tropical fruits, and ship their produce up to us on the trains and with zeppelins, but those have only been around for the past five or six years. Before then, we had to get the more exotic stuff express-ferried into Equestria on a special train all the way from Mulexico, which is where I met Piña’s dad. I was working as a fruit-picker to pay my way after I failed to get into college, and I’d gone to Mulexico to get away from my family, who were on my plot, trying to get me to settle down and become a house-mare for some nine-to-five Stallion they’d picked for me.” The bar-mare sighed and stared at her next slice of toast with a sad smile on her face. “Paloma was a lousy fruit-picker, but by Celestia’s beard, he could mix a mean chimayó cocktail …”

“Sounds like a lovely Stallion. Did he … not follow you back to Equestria?” Luna asked hesitantly as she picked up her second slice, eyes alight with interest.

“No, we wanted to, but he had to look after his grandmother, and she was in such poor health the trip across the border would have likely killed her. But he did give me, ah, one for the road you could say. Hence where Piña got her name from. Like I said, the Stallion could mix a mean cocktail. I guess I’m like a lot of Mares in this day and age, with a foal at our heels but no Stallion under our roof. Although in my case, it wasn’t something I looked for, but I’d do it all over again if given the chance.” Berry gave a soft chuckle before eating her slice, much, much slower this time and took a long time swallowing before she spoke again. “Paloma knows he’s got a daughter, if that’s what you’re asking, and Piña knows who her dad is, I even managed to get a family pedigree out of him before some shit hit the fan when he got stuck with a shotgun marriage. His wife … well, she’s not the sharing type, and when I tried to contact her about visitation rights, that’s when I learned my Paloma had got involved with a Cartel.”

“Wait, I was under the impression that one could not stop a Stallion from paternity visits to their offspring unless a case could be made that the foal would be in danger somehow?” The Lunar Princess hunched over and stared hard at Berry, who just shrugged and made a sad smile again.

“Under Equestrian law, you’d be right, but in Mulexico? The law plays fast and loose down there, depending upon who is supplying the salt to whom or who has a razor-blade against their balls. While we were together, there was this really gloomy Mare that kept trying to get poor Paloma to pay attention only to her, but he wouldn’t touch her with a ten-foot pole because she was way, waaaaay too fond of her salt, if you get my meaning. But sometime after I’d left, he’d gotten really drunk and without a wingmare to watch his back, she apparently jumped him and got what she wanted, which was unfortunate since she just happened to be a niece to one of the cartel-bosses who had been planning on marrying her off to one of his lieutenants.” Berry explained, picking up her glass with one hoof and downing it with a swift, smooth upward movement of her head before flipping the glass upside down and tapping it down onto the bar. “Paloma had to talk the fastest he’s ever done to get out of that with all his pieces still attached, but he managed it in the end.”

“By the Mother, my sister has informed me of the so-called Salt-Lords of Mulexico. My sympathies to your paramour, Berry.” Luna whispered softly, while Twilight’s eyes just bulged in shock.

“Eh, my Paloma will be fine. Like I said, he mixes a mean cocktail, and apparently he smoothed things over cartel-boss and the lieutenant with a few long island iced teas.” The bar-made said breezily, waving a hoof at Luna to dismiss the sympathy. “As far as his last letter claims, the crazy Mare who got him into this mess is long-gone, something about tainted salt-licks and getting caught dipping into the Cartel’s private supplies, and he’s keeping his kids fed, sheltered and out of the Cartel's salt-business with the money he makes as a bartender in one of their bars. In a couple of years, we’re planning on having the eldest come up and stay with me to start his schooling in Ponyville, and once things are set up, Paloma and the rest of the kids should be able to slip past the border and make their way up into Equestria.”

“…You do realize you just admitted to planning to pony-smuggle Ponies across one of our worst borders, second only to the Gryphonia/Equestria border in terms of political tensions and skirmishes? To two Princesses of Equestria, no less?” Luna’s face was an expression of stoic concern, but her tone was one of mirth.

“Oh please, you know as well as I do that everybody, pony or otherwise, that flees Mulexico gets across the border into Equestrian territory and immediately heads for the nearest Border Guard outpost to turn themselves in and get the paperwork started. Your sister’s stance on immigration from ‘troubled’ countries is legendary, so long as they make themselves known to her Border Guards, and Mulexico’s government is more interested in keeping the cartels from tearing the country apart over who controls the salt-trade than they are about their poorer citizens fleeing the country.” Berry scoffed, waving her hoof at Luna again with a broad grin spreading across her muzzle. “Paloma is planning on leveraging his parentage of Piña as grounds to keep himself and his children in Equestria, and I fully intend to support his claim every step of the way in the immigration courts. Odds are in our favour that by this time, five years from now, I’m going to have a family so big helping me run this place I might actually give the Apples’ a run for their money.”

“Now, Twilight, you ready for your first drink?”

Twilight looked at the Mare before her, a Mare whose life had more twists and heartaches than Twilight had ever considered possible, then at the glass in her hooves, then around the small, homey bar, polished to a loving shine by many elbows and that same Mare before her. A Mare she barely knew except from a few pleasant conversations when they’d met in the markets, or the stories Rarity and the other girls had told her.

A Mare who was nothing at all like she had imagined, a fact which made Twilight burn with shame and consternation. How could she have imagined everypony lived a life like hers, with loving parents, a fairy-tale childhood and a charmed life leading up to … the confusing morass of contradictions her life had become these days?

Twilight tipped the glass to her lips, then tilted her head back in one jerky movement, trying to imitate Berry Punch, and was only partially successful, although to her credit Twilight did manage to pour most of the alcohol down her throat, only coughing and spluttering for a minute or so.

“So?”

“Indeed, Twilight, how was it?”

“Ponies do this for fun? It was fine, except for the part where it touched the roof of my mouth, but could I try something a little less … uh, how about something I can drink slowly and enjoy?” Twilight spluttered, wiping tears from her eyes.

“I think I’ve got just the thing. Wash your mouth out with some water, and then I’m going to introduce you to some friends of mine. They go by the name of Jack, Jim and Johnnie and Tia Maria.” Berry smirked, offering a tall pitcher of iced water that she had somehow fetched while Twilight had tried to not die from the burning in her mouth and throat.

“Perchance, good barmare, does anypony still stock mead these days?” Luna asked, a plaintive note in her voice.

“Huh … you know, I think I’ve got a bottle of great black-mead somewhere out back, been resting for about six or seven years now I think.” After a few moments of thought, Berry answered, and was nearly strangled when Luna lunged across the bar and hugged her. “Whoa, easy girl!”

“Oh thank you, thank you, thank you! First, we shall let Twilight taste the divine nectar that is aged mead, then we see what she makes of this era’s offerings!” Luna squealed, while Berry chuckled and gave the delighted demi-god a series of understanding pats on the back and slowly peeled Luna’s hooves off her neck. “You must tell me who made it, I must commission more to be made!”

“Uh, Luna, what exactly did Berry mean by ‘great’ black-mead?” Twilight whispered as Berry staggered off out the back to fetch the bottle, working a newly-acquired crick out of her neck along the way, the newest Princess rolling her eyes as Luna rocked back and forth on her barstool, tittering with glee.

“When one speaks of a ‘great’ mead, it is a variety of mead made to age over time, much like some types of wine. And a ‘black’ mead is made with blueberries or black currants, which is where the name comes from.” Luna babbled, wrapping a wing around Twilight and dragging her upright, her excitement infectious even in Twilight’s current state. “Truly, I feared I would have to start making my own mead! I have a recipe for a wonderful pineapple melomel, err, a mead made with fruit, just gathering dust in my room, and my sister will not allow me to make a Royal Distillery! Fie, she just prefers her ales, but I prefer sweeter nectar than that bitter swill of hers!”

“Well, three years with Pinkie will give anyone a sweet tooth … or diabetes. So long as it doesn’t make me feel like I’m gargling acid, I’ll try this ‘great mead’.”

“Oh trust me, Twilight, you will not regret this!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Dayum girl, you can afford all of this on a cloud-technician’s wages?” Rainbow blushed and gave a sheepish grin as Spitfire walked around the spare bedroom, having been given the ‘grand tour’ of Rainbow’s cloud-mansion a few minutes earlier. “Seriously? I don’t think my house is this big, and I’m Captain of the Wonderbolts.”

“Eh, technically there’s no laws about using clouds that form over the Everfree Forest for building material, even if we’re not allowed to use them for drinking water without heavy filtration.” The rainbow-maned Pegasus pointed out, leading the Wonderbolt out of the room and back to the entertainment room, or the ‘dash pit’ as Spitfire had called it with a teasing grin, where Wonderbolt memorabilia and other trophies lined the walls and a huge television hung off the largest wall. “And I kind of get a reward every time the girls and I go save the world, so with Twilight’s help, I invested the bits we got for sealing Discord back up, and I got some sponsorship deals when I first got the Element of Loyalty, so I’m … not hurting for bits.”

“Well we’ll have to talk about those sponsorships when you become an official Wonderbolt, we’re a bit strict about who can and cannot monetize off our fame, but still, nice work rookie.” Spitfire gave a short laugh as she walked along one wall, looking at the photographs with a small smirk on her muzzle. “Lots of photos with you and the farm-mare here? Anything I should know about?”

“AJ? Ah, no, we’re occasionally … close, that’s all. She’s married to her farm, I’m always striving to be Wonderbolts material, we hashed it out years ago that what we want personally isn’t going to work out if we ever went for being more than friends.” Rainbow explained, blushing a little at how easily the words came out to Spitfire. A part of her just wanted so desperately to get the other Mare’s approval, another part of Rainbow felt she had to make sure that Spitfire had no illusions about how dedicated to the Wonderbolts Rainbow actually was.

And another part was still reeling over the thought that her idol, Spitfire, was an honest-to-Faust Royal Agent. She hadn’t felt this excited and foalish since she learned Daring Do was the real-life alter-ego of A.K. Yearling, and it was taking all of Rainbow’s control, of which she was never exactly blessed with, to not blurt out something embarrassing. A part of her mind that was spending almost as much energy squealing over Spitfire’s revealed status as it was trying to suppress the knowledge that Derpy and Bulk Biceps were also Royal Agents …

“Hey, Rainbow?” Spitfire’s voice broke Rainbow’s concentration, the yellow-coated Pegasus stopping at one particular photo, the good humour missing from her voice. “Sorry, I think I lost you for a minute or two there, but who is this little foal? The orange one with the purple mane?”

“Foal? Oh, that’s Scootaloo.” Rainbow explained, hobbling over to the photo and picking it up with the primary feathers of her wing, smiling warmly at the picture of herself and Scootaloo, wearing matching helmets, seated in a billy-cart at the top of a steep hill. “She’s a cool kid. Don’t let the stubby little wings fool you, even if she can’t fly, the kid has got the heart of a champion.”

“She so old … I mean, she can’t fly?” Spitfire’s voice sounded … mechanical as the Pegasus picked up the picture-frame with a hoof and stared at the picture, her expression inscrutable. “Does she … does Scootaloo live in Ponyville?”

“Huh? Yeah, Scoots is a local, although her parents do a lot of work out of town, they’re surveyors so they’re always on the go but they make sure she’s got enough bits for food and her school-fees. And she’s close friends with Apple Bloom, Applejack’s little sister, and Sweetie Belle, Rarity’s little sister. You actually missed her earlier, she was in the library having a shower after getting nabbed by Pinkie Pie when you came into the library.” Rainbow said, starting to laugh before she took a closer look at Spitfire’s face, her laughter dying slowly and awkwardly on the compressed cloud-matter floor. “Spitfire?”

“Oh …” The other Mare mumbled, her hoof and the picture frame it held trembling for a few moments before she put the picture back in place. “So … she’s happy?”

“Well, she’s angsty about not having a Cutie Mark at her age and still determined to figure out why she can’t fly properly, but she’s about as happy as a young filly can get. But after getting caught up in Rarity’s mess last night, I won’t lie, Spitfire, I’m feeling all kinds of nervous about Scoots.” Rainbow sighed heavily and walked up next to Spitfire, picking up the picture frame and smiling fondly at the grinning orange-coated filly in the billy-cart with her. “I’d be willing to bet my last bit that Scootaloo got all tangled up with Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle last night, and that’s … not a good place for a young mare to be, especially not one with all the gruff Scootaloo is dealing with already. Once we get you settled, and Twilight’s had a chance to de-magic whatever the Crusaders did to themselves last night, I gotta figure out the best time to sit Scoots down and give her the sex-talk.”

“I might give you a hoof with that.” Spitfire said, sounding oddly flat still as she walked away and sat down on a couch-shaped piece of cloud, her expression one of frustration. “Have you ever actually met her parents?”

“Huh? No, they’re always away at work, surveying the borders for months on end.” The blue Pegasus frowned as she thought on that. Scootaloo had said they were surveyors charged with keeping the borders of Equestria clearly marked on the maps, but even the most hard-working Pony got leave to be with their families. Did they just come back to town, rest, and then go back to work? “I think they’ve gotta be Earth Ponies, or maybe Unicorns. I had to teach Scootaloo how to preen her wings after I met her, and boy was that awkward. Poor kid wanted to fly so desperately, and since I was the best flyer in town …”

“So she fixated on you, because she thought maybe you could teach her how to fly.” Spitfire sighed and leaned her head against the back of the couch. “But that never struck you as odd? Why would parents not learn how to preen their child’s wings, even if they weren’t of the same tribe?”

“Do you think that’s why Scootaloo can’t fly? Her wings got stunted somehow, or maybe injured, because her parents didn’t know how to take care of them? I mean, look at Bulk Biceps! Maybe they got broken and reset badly or something?”

“You mean Snowflake, and no, he’s a … special case. Partial pygmyism syndrome, specifically his wings and hooves. I … has anyone actually tested this filly? For … anything?” Spitfire pointed a hoof at the offending frame, a hoof that trembled. “She’s just been stuck here, not able to fly, not able to be a Pegasus, and nobody has done anything to help her fly?”

“Well, I give her lessons on how to maintain her wings and exercise her flight-muscles, but no parents around to sign the forms means no tests. I know Cherilee, the town’s teacher, has a Tartarus of a time getting signatures from Scootaloo's parents.” Shrugging as best she could with one foreleg in a sling, Rainbow tried to scoot away from Spitfire with mixed success, since Spitfire followed Rainbow over with a look somewhere between outrage and horror.

“Seriously, her parents are never home, why did you never check up on her at her house? Is she eating right, does anyone take care of cleaning the house while her parents are away, is she getting any help with her homework? Does anyone take care of this filly or is she all but abandoned?”

“I … was asked not to! Scootaloo said her parents were private ponies!” Rainbow stammered and held her uninjured hoof in-front of her face to ward of Spitfire’s hoof, which was now firmly pointed at her. “There’s this thing called ‘right of entry’, and I’m not a Guardspony. If an adult doesn’t invite me onto the property, I’d be technically trespassing, and you know the Wonderbolts wouldn’t touch recruits with criminal records, no matter how small!”

“She’s alone and you … gah!” Yelling in frustration, Spitfire threw herself up off the couch and began stalking around the room. “Seriously? SERIOUSLY?”

“Spit … Captain Spitfire, I get this isn’t the best situation for a young Mare like Scootaloo, but why has this gotten you so worked up?”

“Because I … I had a foal, Rainbow. I wouldn’t have been much older than this ‘Scootaloo’ of yours when I fell pregnant, on my first heat no-less, and you know the Wonderbolts won’t allow anypony to join if they’ve got dependants, or if, like you said, they’ve got a criminal record.” Spitfire answered after several tense moments, staring rigidly at the picture with eyes lost in the past. “My family is Nobility, we can even trace our heritage back to Commander Hurricane. They had my post all picked out for me before I even finished Flight-School, and when I couldn’t hide the bulge anymore, well … I was put into isolation for the remainder of my pregnancy.”

“Isolation, Rainbow. Imagine you’re locked up in a cell, a lovely cell, but a cell nonetheless, with nobody to talk to but a doctor and nurse who say nothing to you no matter how much you beg or plead, just give you shots of vitamins, make sure you haven’t miscarried and then lock you away again. All perfectly legal considering my aunt had the local Guards convinced I had suffered a ‘nervous breakdown’ during my first heat and needed to be kept under supervision till my mind healed, and since the Stallion who’d jumped me was an up-and-coming member of the family to begin with, the entire family went along with what she was saying so I had no way to convince anypony I was being railroaded.”

“So when I’m finally ready to pop after months of isolation and almost out of my mind from the double-whammy of the roller-coaster of pregnancy hormones and being just about broken from getting cut off from everypony around me, the doctor and nurse come in, get me to sign a document they say will get me out of that damn room, strap me down and let me just about kill myself giving birth. The next thing I know, the doctor tells me it’s a filly, then my foal is swaddled up before I can even hold her once and taken away by the nurse as my aunt saunters in and tells me I’ve got three days to get myself ready for my role as a Wonderbolt Trainee and to not fail the family again. The only information I’ve ever got out of the evil bitch in the past fifteen years was that my ‘mistake’ was safe, and the piece of paper I’d signed was my waiving my rights as the filly’s mother to my aunt.”

“So maybe now you can understand when I start to freak the buck out when somepony I thought had her head on straight tells me she’s a close confidant of a filly who is all but raising herself, has some sort of condition that means she can’t fly and it’s just … there? No worries? Not your problem?” Spitfire turned around and gave Rainbow a withering look, which quickly turned into one of confusion at the slack-jawed, wide-eyed expression on the blue Pegasus’s face. “Rainbow? I swear to Faust, Mare, if I just bared my soul to you for some crude joke to come out of your muzzle …”

“Pregnant?” Rainbow whispered, slowly blinking as Spitfire trotted over and tapped the blue Pegasus on the muzzle. “Why … but how …”

“Trainee, if I have to explain the birds and the bees to you …”

“No, I mean, surely somepony must have asked before …”

“I’m Spitfire of the Windstorms, a branch-family of the Hurricanes themselves, flames of Tartarus, we’re so closely intermarried we all but are the Hurricanes, so two guesses what happens in Cloudsdale when somebody asks awkward questions about my family. The Wonderbolts uniforms are designed to mask small ‘defects’ like scars … or stretch-marks, so unless I’ve got somebody’s face right under my haunches, nopony gets to see them.” Sighing heavily, Spitfire sat herself down next Rainbow and hooked a forelimb around the other Mare’s neck. “And the only ones who got to see the marks were either too afraid to get blacklisted by one of the most powerful Noble families in Equestria, or already knew about my situation and thought my aunt was justified in protecting the family’s ‘honour’.”

“And that brings me a point I was … kind of hoping to broach a bit more tactfully over the coming weeks. Soarin’ and I didn’t so much volunteer to come out here as we spent every political favour and every drop of influence we had to get away from the Wonderbolts for this assignment. I can’t speak for Soarin’s reasons, but I’m here primarily to see about getting Twilight friggin’ Sparkle to use that big brain of hers, and all of that immaculate political clout that Celestia’s favour affords her, to find my baby for me.”

“But if you had your foal at … sixteen? Seventeen? And you’ve been a Wonderbolt for the past fifteen years … wouldn’t that mean your foal is almost fully grown now?” Rainbow whispered, snaking a hoof around Spitfire’s middle as she felt the other Mare begin to shake and shudder. “Uh … I mean …”

“I know, Rainbow. She’s probably already fully grown now, probably has a loving family, a sweetheart of her own, a life of her own by this stage.” Spitfire sniffled, an act that made Rainbow hug her tighter in reflex as the Pegasus’s brain had yet another hiccup at the thought of Spitfire, Spitfire of all Ponies, sniffling. “But I have to know she’s okay, that my li-little filly got a good home and a good life. I lie awake at night sometimes and have panic-attacks about what my bitch of an aunt might have done, and I want …”

“Oh Faust, Rainbow, I’m not expecting a fairy-tale ending. Logically, I know, she’s going to go ‘Oh, so you gave me up. Why?’ and then I have to try and explain everything to a young Mare who is going to see me either as the heartless whorse who gave her up to pursue my career, or some delusional nutjob celebrity trying to come up with excuses for not being there for her. But I have to know.” Spitfire stopped and took several deep, shuddering breaths before continuing. “I’ve spent fifteen years working my way up the Wonderbolts to become the Captain, pretending to be the good little girl so the Windstorms wouldn’t be aware of what I was doing under their noses, and working with the Royal Agents to get the evidence of bribery, fraud and illegal deals needed to lock away such old and powerful familes, and we’ve had to move slowly, carefully to avoid making them aware of what we’ve been doing.”

“Of course I’ll help!” The words left Rainbow’s mouth before her brain could even react, and the way Spitfire’s all but broke Rainbow’s ribs in a hug as the yellow-coated Mare burst into tears, sobbing into Rainbow’s mane, smothered all hope of the Element of Loyalty backing out with some shreds of grace.

Twilight won’t object, right? Rainbow thought nervously as she stroked Spitfire’s mane with her remaining forelimb. I mean, what else can she be doing right now that’s more important than this?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Twilight found, to both her and Luna’s delight, that she quite enjoyed mead. The Holy Quadrology of Jack, Jim, Johnny and Tia Maria had also been a pleasant experience, as had a selection of cocktails, mixer-drinks and even some vodka that had followed them, leaving Twilight pleasantly numb from nose to tail, and all her concerns seemed so unimportant, so far away …

Twilight wasn’t sure why Berry Punch insisted that Twilight be taken home when she had asked if the bar-mare had any water-balloons. There hadn’t been anypony else in the bar even an hour or so after Twilight and Luna had burst in to hide from the panicking paparazzi, so Twilight was just going to go outside and share the magic of friendship and alcohol with the reporters via some water-balloons until they decided to be her friends and stop being snoopy-snippy-spoilsport-spy ponies.

And then Luna had grabbed Twilight, thanked Berry Punch and taken them out a window and straight up into the sky …

If only Luna would just let her teleport back to the Library, but her marefriend had steadfastly refused, insisting on carrying Twilight underneath her, which Twilight found simply adorable, attempting to cuddle Luna back, but gravity seemed to keep trying to pull her down to the ground no matter how nicely she asked.

And despite how much she told Luna it was okay, she was sure she’d Ascended already and the long drop would mean nothing because Twilight could just teleport away from the ground and back into her hooves, that just made Luna clutch Twilight tighter and mutter to herself, something about ‘lightweights’. So Twilight thanked Luna for complimenting her about her dieting. Which simply made Luna utter an adorable noise and remove one hoof from Twilight’s shoulders to rub at her temples.

“Huh-hey … heeeeeeeeey Luna. How ‘bout we jus’ crash oooon a cloud fer a biiit? M’light, buh yuuuuuh been flah-ehn fer a whiiiiile.”

“It’s been five minutes, Twilight, and we’re as far up in the air as I can manage without your lungs imploding from the lack of oxygen so the reporters can’t see Twilight Sparkle, Princess of Drunken Shenanigans.”

“M’Phreen-ceeess ohv Fhran’sheep!”

“You were about to beer-bomb every Pony with a camera in town until they agreed to be your friends.”

“They jush need this wunnaful aaaahl-co-hole, an’ we can aaaaaall be fhrans!”

“Dear sweet Faust’s left plot-cheek. I think the first part of your training as a Princess will include learning to either handle your booze, or figuring out ways to avoid it entirely.” Luna muttered, aiming them down in the general direction of Ponyville’s library, her horn flickering with dark-blue magic as Luna began scooping cloud-matter towards them, slowing down as she did so as to keep the cloud-matter intact as the pair began a slow descent towards Twilight’s home.

“Dun you mean ‘hoof’my bhoose? ‘Cause we dun haf haaandsh, we haf hooooves!”

“Figure of speech, Twilight, figure of speech.” The larger Alicorn said softly, the wisps of cloud-matter slowly swirling around them, growing thicker with each revolution as the entangled Princesses, beginning to form a thick cocoon. “Besides, I think you need a little more training in spacing your drinks out or you will end up … well, like you are now.”

Twilight tried to explain she most certainly knew how to handle her liquor, but her mouth betrayed her, giving vent to a lip-rippling burp instead, much to Luna’s disgusted amusement.

“FHRAN’SHEEP ISH A DEEP AN’ MISTER … MUSHTURIOUS … STRANGE THING!” Twilight protested, trying to crawl up to look into Luna’s eyes to make her point, but Luna simply grabbed her tighter and flew faster towards the library, muttering under her breath. “Uuuugh, Wuna, stop grabbin’ me so haaa … WHUUUUUUUUUEY!”

“Huey? Where is Hu-OH MY ME, THAT IS DISGUSTING!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Carrot Top, are you sure this is wise? We’re talking Princess Twilight Sparkle here, the darling of the nation, international super-hero, favored student of Princess Celestia?”

“Please, I have everything under control.” Carrot Top scoffed, turning to give her friends a confident smile as they trotted out to her place to plan for their next move. “There is nothing on Equuis that that spoiled purple witch can do that can bring me down!”

As if to punctuate her statement, the clouds above parted for a brief moment, a beam of golden light illuminating Carrot Top for several seconds before something vile dropped from the sky, plastering Carrot Top, her sixteen hard-won signatures and those closest to her in a horrific mixture of alcohol and what appeared to be diced carrots.

In the following seconds, eyes met, mouths opened in silent horror before the band dispersed, rolling on the grass to try and scrape whatever vile substance they had been bombed with out of their fur, while Carrot Top simply stood there, staring cross-eyed at a familiar-looking cube of orange mush slowly sliding down her muzzle to the tip of her nose.

It looked like it might once have been a carrot, but she couldn’t be sure. Her stomach roiled at the mere thought of other forms of tests, and her eyes watered both at the smell and the thought that somewhere, somehow, some filthy, flighty Pegasus had wasted a precious carrot.

“Oh that does it! I’m going home to have a shower!” One pony shouted angrily, getting to her hooves and all but running away, followed swiftly by the other Ponies, leaving Carrot Top alone to trudge back to her small farmhouse to bathe … and to add another insult to her beloved vegetable to her Big Book of Grudges.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Sir Spike?” Luna said as loudly as she dared, fearing that Twilight would wake up and proceed to burst into drunken singing, or trying to adorably snuggle her in the way drunks do, or worse still, projectile-vomit like the world’s most disgusting water-cannon.

Sneaking into her marefriend’s own home via the back door, cocooned with the comatose Twilight in a mass of clouds to prevent the paparazzi that might be staking out the library and entering the living tree while keeping the clouds outside without allowing any part of herself or Twilight to become visible had been … taxing. Emotionally and otherwise. And the constant gurgling from Twilight’s stomach had only increased her anxiety!

Faust as her witness, where had all of it come from? Luna was certain Twilight could not have possibly contained half of the liquids that had blasted from her mouth like an unholy stream of nope, yet the volume had been … had been …

Luna put a hoof to her mouth and resolutely swallowed the bile that rose up, gagging slightly and wincing as her lack of grip, and concentration, allowed Twilight to slip down and bang her head on the wooden floor.

“M’head …” Twilight whimpered, slipping completely from Luna’s grasp to land with a thud on the floor, cradling her head between her forehooves. “Wuna? We home?”

“Yes, Twilight, we’re home. I think that, in future, you’re not allowed to drink alcohol. Hard cider at best. Especially if we’re flying. From the screaming, I think you might have gotten somepony.”

“Wuh-would expwhain why m’mouth tastes … yikky.” Twilight whimpered, needing Luna’s aid to get back onto her hooves before the two Alicorns risked tackling the stairs, a formidable feat given that Twilight had apparently forgotten how to move her front hooves and back hooves at the same time, and when Luna tried to pick Twilight up in her telekinesis, the purple Alicorn nearly hurled from the pressure on her stomach.

“Mmmph. Let’s get you into the shower, use some of that mouthwash, and then tuck you into bed.” Luna whispered softly, knowing full well that Twilight’s head would likely be as fragile as a chicken’s egg after such an ordeal as the two snuck up the stairs and came face to face, or face to mask, with Spike, Trixie and the Cutiemark Crusaders.

Twilight, mercifully, was too blasted still by her first battle with the booze to probably appreciate the absurdity of the scene before her, but Luna was not so blessed, and thus found herself asking without thinking.

“Sir Spike? Why are you and the rest of the household wearing gas-masks and rubber gloves, and why do you all smell of bleach and baking soda?”

“Because the Crusaders ruin everything for me. Also the bathroom has been disinfected. Also, Twilight owes me a new bath-tub, because I am never washing myself in the one we've got ever again.” Spike snapped, pulling his mask off and shooting a positively filthy look at the Crusaders, who lowered their heads in shame, their features obscured by the black rubber masks and thick coke-bottle lenses of the eye-pieces, while Trixie tittered behind hers. “Where do I put the Cutiemark Crusader Fetish Destroyers and the Terrible Trixie?”

“Cutiemark Crusader … Fetlock Deployers?” Twilight mumbled in confusion, swaying on her hooves and looking decidedly greener by the second.

“Oh by the Mother Earth, I do not need this right now. Spike, put them into the spare room, and Crusaders, I expect you to go to sleep. Tomorrow, when Twilight is recovered, she will try to help you with … whatever you’ve done to yourselves, but right now is not a good idea. Get some sleep, read some books, whatever you do just be quiet.” Luna hissed, pushing past the four youths and one adult Ma ... hermaphro ... Pony of dubious gender, to get Twilight to the bathroom, nose crinkling at the stringent smells that assaulted her as the pair of Alicorns entered the room. She had been in operating theatres that hadn’t been cleaned half as thoroughly as this bathroom …

“Buh … help Spike …” Twilight stammered as Luna half-carried, half-led Twilight over to the shower and began fiddling with the controls, Luna grimacing as the smaller Alicorn began to make gagging noises.

“I am fairly certain Sir Spike can handle three young Mares, even if they are the Cutiemark Crusaders.” Luna replied sternly, pulling the new shower-head down to her eye-level and inspecting it with both her eyes and her magics, finding only residue of cleaning agents that she began to wash off with telekineticly-manipulated globs of water until she felt it was safe enough to start washing Twilight’s head, neck and mane. “Now if you feel sick, Twilight, don’t try to hold it in. Just let it out, or you’ll be throwing up for the rest of the day.”

“B-buh I’m fhine!” Twilight whined even as her stomach began to flex and her head drooped. “I jus’ … whaaaalph …”

“And this, Twilight, is incontrovertible proof that I love you.” The Lunar Princess said to herself as she held Twilight’s mane back while the other Alicorn began to retch into the drain at the end of the shower-recess

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So … uhm, sorry?”

“Not interested in your apologies, Scootaloo. You guys have just ruined a full quarter of my Neighponese collection forever. I’m going to have to either burn them, or sell them to Snips and Snails for a fraction of what it cost me to get them imported.” Spike muttered darkly as he hustled the Crusaders into the guest room, eying the spare bed with understandable concern given the … scene … he had walked into a few hours before.

Cleaning the bathroom, even with Trixie’s help, had been an agonizing foray into a domain Spike had felt he would maybe have enjoyed … if not for the fact it involved three of his closest friends, and in an intimate fashion he just felt far too awkward to even think about right now.

“Uhm … Spike, if Trixie may, you leave this to me. Trixie is … intimately familiar with the trials these Ponies are suffering from right now, and you could probably do with some privacy to … recover.” Trixie pointed out, using her magic to ease the gloves off her limbs, her voice slightly distorted by the mask she still wore.

“Ugh, that’s right, you’re also …” Spike muttered, giving Trixie an appraising look as she pulled her mask off with magic, her new golden torc proof that she was under supervision of beings more able to stop her than a juvenile dragon with no wings or claws. “Would you mind? I’ve kind of had enough emotional body-blows today without having to try to figure out how I’m going to deal with three of my best friends deciding to repaint my bathroom with semen.”

The room was dead silent for close to a minute, Trixie’s eyebrows almost merging with her mane, the Crusaders squeaking and throwing themselves under the covers of the bed in shame and Spike giving a snort of annoyance at their shenanigans.

“No, seriously. You three have ruined that particular fetish for me for life. If I hadn’t been reading that Power Ponies comic when I’d walked into the bathroom, you’d have gotten me in the mouth. As it is, my eyes still sting.” The young Drake scowled at the three pairs of eyes that stared at him from under the blankets. “We’re all lucky I didn’t panic and start shooting flames back at you, or Princess Celestia would have been giving her speech to all of Equestria and been blindsided by a rain of your spooge, courtesy of my fire-magic. Ponies have been thrown into Horseshoe Bay for far less.”

“Please don’t tell anypony.” Sweetie whined, extending a hoof from under the covers towards him, and Spike sighed gustily, stumped over and shook it once, then found himself doing the same again to the other two Crusaders before he was grabbed and dragged closer by the three mortified Crusaders and hugged tightly.

“On the plus side, at least this time you guys weren’t stuck together with tree sap this time.” Spike offered, feeling a twinge of guilt. It wasn't the Crusaders' fault, technically, what with whatever traces of the aphrodisiacs running through their bodies still ...

“Heh … that’s true Spike. An’ thanks. Things’re … well, weird right now, an’ we’re countin’ on Twilight to help us out here.” Applebloom whispered softly, her breath hot against Spike’s ear-frills as the young Drake realized he was being hugged by three very attractive young Mares whom he had recently helped clean up the evidence they were very sexually active right now.

“N-n-no worries.” The young Drake stammered, patting the limbs that held him in place and trying to pull away with his dignity intact, walking stiff-legged out of the room as his subconscious started pelting his mind’s eye with imagery that at once intrigued and horrified him. “Friends don’t gossip about friends, so y-you guys just relax, get some sleep, I’ll make a late lunch for us all, promise.”

The Crusaders watched Spike’s awkward, mechanical retreat with confusion, while Trixie held a hoof to her muzzle and fought the urge to giggle.

“Now, children, the Understanding and Sympathetic Trixie wishes to speak to you about Weeaboo’s Curse.”

“The who-what-now?”

“Weeaboo … hey, that spell! Yeah, it was written by a Unicorn called Weeaboo, right Sweetie?”

“That’s right! But Weeaboo called it a ‘Spear Maiden’ spell!”

“Mmmm, Trixie’s distant ancestors had the spell cast upon them many, many generations ago, and when one came to Equestria, they passed it in turn to the native Ponies of this land.” Trixie explained slowly, seating herself on the thick carpet that dominated the floor of the small room as the Crusaders inched out from under the blankets. “Trixie shares your current condition, and as Trixie is determined to prove she is trying to be a good and loyal friend to the citizens of Ponyville, she will talk you through what you are going through right now.”

“Uh, fairly sure sex-ed with Cherilee prepared us for ‘dangle goes in the ding’-mrphth!” Scootaloo’s grumbled refusal was cut short when Apple Bloom reached for a pillow and whacked her friend in the face with it.

“Ssssh! A-ain’t nothin’ wrong with us, miss Trixie!” The young farm-mare gave the biggest, falsest smile Trixie had ever seen, coupled with the boldest lie Trixie had heard in years.

“So you three did not have penises when I came up the stairs to ask why Spike was screaming about ‘my fetishes’, and we did not spend two hours cleaning semen off the walls, the shower-curtains, the ceiling, the underside of the sink …”

“Okay, okay, so we … might have been affected by a spell from a certain scroll we might have borrowed from Applejack, who might have been looking after something for Twilight.” Sweetie Belle snapped, giving Trixie a hot, frustrated look as Apple Bloom and Scootaloo withdrew under the blankets again and began to bicker softly. “But we got weeks of talks from miss Cherilee about Colts and Fillies. We just need to get some pills from the pharmacy, and we’ll be in the clear.”

“You do realize the pills only make it unlikely for Ponies to conceive, yes? They are not a perfect protection against unwanted pregnancy.”

Silence and three widening pairs of eyes greeted Trixie’s words.

“Trixie has been made aware you are currently suffering the side-effects of a false estrus as well as the alterations to your bodies from a spell designed to help a hoof-ful of Ponies repopulate their people.” Trixie continued, shaking her head in mock-annoyance. “Trixie has studied the spell many, many times over her long career on the road, hoping to find a cure for her family’s condition, and Trixie is well aware that the ... uhm ... condition you are suffering from right now greatly boosts the sex-drive and fertility of those who must endure it. Mere pills alone will not save you from falling pregnant to each other!”

“Cutiemark Crusader Single Mothers …” One of the two Crusaders under the blankets whimpered, and Sweetie Belle’s angry expression crumpled into frustration and alarm.

“Trixie remembers being your age with her friends, and Trixie could bore you rigid with tales of her youth.” The blue Unicorn stressed the word loudly, unable to stop a giggle as Sweetie went bright red and disappeared under the covers with her friends. They were so cute! “But Trixie also remembers several close calls as well. So, Trixie the Helpful and Understanding will teach Sweetie Belle the strongest contraception spell she knows, and then the receipe for the herbal tea that she drinks after every … encounter … to protect herself.”

A trio of embarrassed ‘meeps’ were her only response, but three pairs of eyes stared at her seemed a bit more hopeful than they had been a few minutes ago.

Or maybe it was just her imagination.

“How, on to less … dramatic matters. Trixie wishes to know, exactly at that, how well any of you know how to keep their new parts hygienic?” The blue Unicorn asked, sighing as three heads emerged from under the blankets, shared nervous glances with each other before shaking side to side in wordless gestures of ‘no’. “Very well then. Trixie will give you a run-down on how to remain clean and healthy … down there. Trust that Trixie knows all too well how aggravating swamp-crotch can be when one has double the crotch to maintain.”