The scent of cupcakes emanated from the oven as a pink pony with a frizzy mane and a cutie mark of balloons on her rump stirred, packed, and baked various confections in the crowded kitchen known as Sugarcube Corner.

The kitchen itself was a mess of pots, pans, and dishes piling over the sink like skyscrapers. Notes, both old and new, were scattered and stuck onto various planes, their orders detailing the requests of the bakery’s customers. On several neatly placed tables, laid cakes that were beautifully decorated by Mrs. And Mr. Cake. The couple was busy furiously working in the other kitchen, so Pinkie had to finish up the remaining orders.

“Boy,” the mare breathed, “The Cakes sure get a lot of business when it comes to the holidays!”

It was true, for Hearth’s Warming Eve was approaching around the corner, and many ponies, especially the ones who didn’t possess the culinary talent, were going to be purchasing from the best bakery this side of Ponyville, if not Equestria.

Yet, despite the enormous workload ahead, Pinkie hummed a gentle tune as she molded the flat, blobs of dough into masterpieces. She still had a lot of energy left in her.

The crying of Pumpkin Cake and Pound Cake made the mare halt her current task in order to hear. The Cakes were too busy to check up on them. As much as they would like to, it was nearly impossible. With a sigh, Pinkie trotted up the stairs and cradled the twins into her hooves, singing a lullaby.

The song was one that was told to her by surprisingly her father , especially when her days at the farm were excruciating and exhausting. The sweet tune made the melancholy emotions inside her vanish like thin wisps of smoke. Eventually, the twins closed their eyes and fell asleep with a lasting smile on their faces.

That alone made Pinkie’s day as she dashed downstairs to continue filling out orders.Yet, the song reminded her of her father. There were times where he was gruff and strict, and times where he was kind, gentle, and protective. That side of him never showed itself until the day that the war was announced...

...the war that changed everything.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Several years earlier...

Rock Pie Farm

The sun was setting on a ramshackle cabin in the middle of what looked like a sea of murky dirt, with rough bubble of rock. Mrs. Pie and the girls were doing chores and preparing dinner before moving the other rocks.

Mr. Pie always reserved this time to sit on the porch swing, a twig in his mouth and a cup of cold, non-alcoholic cider by his side. It was on a day like this that he should have been happy. The business wasn’t doing too bad or too good. His family was all in good health. He had no looming debts. Yet, the awful presence that surrounded Equestria dimmed the atmosphere so that it looked like a gray fog had settled over the entire land.

It was the fervor of war.

He remembered his earlier visit with the clerk at the trading post in Ponyville. The gardeners were visiting and he needed to showcase the rocks he had been preparing for them.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I never understand how you grow rocks?” the clerk would always say.

He would always have an answer.

“Because they need to be seasoned before they're perfect.”

It was true. The elements of exposure- wind and rain- would always have a profound effect on his rocks. It made them look natural and artificial. It was important to know, however, when and where a rock had to be in order for the erosion to be just right. Naturally, it would take a million lifetimes to shape a rock, but for the Pie family, their land was sacred. Its magic went back way beyond Equestria’s history and only the Pie family could harness its power.

The gardeners observed the prospective rocks on a tiny wooden wagon painted with balloons and flowers by Mr. Pie’s daughters. Recently, Pinkamena, his youngest daughter, had received her cutie mark. Now she was obsessed with parties and balloons.

He had to grin at that. When Pinkamena Diane Pie was born, he and his wife, Molly, had been worried about their newborn filly. They had brought her to the doctor, only for him to tell them that she was blessed with a trait from some distant ancestor. Ever since then, however, the little pink pony seemed out of place from the rest of society. He would remember seeing her trying to hang out with the colts and mares in the Ponyville playground, only to come back with bruises and scratches.

Only recently, had she suddenly become happy. It was intoxicating for the whole family. Mr. Pie himself couldn't help but chuckle at the insane hair doo that took over his daughter when she did receive her cutie mark.

After the gardeners made their choices, the clerk split the profit with Mr. Pie. As he was carrying his bag of bits, however, the clerk murmured something that caught his ear.

“Darn rebels…”

“What was that?” Mr. Pie asked.

“You haven’t heard about it yet?” the clerk asked puzzled, “the war that’s going on in the east.”

“I thought they resolved the conflict,” Mr. Pie spoke in a voice that was just above a whisper.

“Quite the opposite,” the clerk magically picked up a cloth and started to wipe the sweat that had stuck to his spectacles., “the conflict escalated into an all-out assualt on the Royal forces stationed there. The Princess is ordering that all colts and stallions, that are able-bodied of course, should report to the Royal Army. They are already enlisting one member from every family.”

Mr. Clyde Buckwheat Pie stood their dumfounded. He had never expected war to ever occur in the peaceful land of Equestria, but somehow the rebels far east had managed just that.

His voice had become shaky.

“When…when will they start enlisting?”

The clerk’s expression was grim. His spectacles laid in his hooves untouched and still dirty.

“They are coming to the outer farms of Ponyville first.”
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Now he was sitting on his porch swing, overlooking a majestic sunset by the Princess.

“So,” he mused, “this is how a farmer dies. For a sunset.”

This was going to be how many ponies would die. For this scene. For this moment in time.

Harold Buckwheat Pie had always tried to be the backbone of his family. If he were to be enlisted, which he knew he would, then his family would have no one to lead them.

As he sat there, sulking over the gloomy future ahead, his wife, Molly, trotted outside. Her eyes stopped, however, at the sight of her husband.

“Clyde,” she began,” what’s wrong?”

“Molly, the Royal Army is collecting stallions from every family to fight in the war looming over Equestria. I...I have to go.” Harold’s words were accompanied with tears.

His wife nestled her coat next to his, comforting his shivering body.

“Shhhh…don’t worry." she mused," I will take care of the kids. The...the farm will be running still...”

But he knew that Molly was taking this just as hard as he was. Her gold, antique glasses couldn’t conceal the salty tears dripping from her eyelids. Her body was just as shaky, if not more, then his.

“But what about Pinkamena, she can’t stay here. I…she..she’s too delicate.”

Pinkamena was indeed a fragile thing. After her cutie mark, anything negative would strike her down like a lightning bolt. She wouldn’t handle losing her father too well.

“She’ll be fine honey. She’s a strong filly.”

“Before maybe. Now, not so much.”

“We’ll discuss this as a family okay?”

“Fine”

The sun had finally vanished into the mountains.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

At the small wooden dinner table lit by candles, the Pie family ate in complete silence…except for Pinkamena. She was babbling on about her latest party ideas and how she would end up being the best party maker in all of Equestria.

After finishing their meal, and laughing at the jokes told around the table, Clyde cleared his throat: a sign that the family should be silent.

“I am sure you have all heard from your friends in Ponyville about the war that is going on in the east.”

There were slight nods from all three, including Pinkamena, whose hair had suddenly flattened to the style of her sisters.

“I’m afraid,” Clyde’s voice began to choke, “I’m afraid I must leave you for a short…”

There was an outcry as the fillies dashed to their father, tears streaming from their cheeks. That is, except for Pinkamena who stayed in her seat like a propped statue.

“No Dad, you can’t go…” Inkamena was pleading.

“Who’s gonna harvest the rocks with us?” Blinkamena whined.

Pinkamena stared at the scene before her, then, ever so slowly, got off her stool and silently slipped through the door that led to the porch.

The family watched for what seemed like an hour, before Molly got up, her voice heated and fuming.

“Why when I get my hooves on her I’ll…”

Clyde raised a hoof and got up.

“I’ll talk to her.”

Pinkamena was watching the stars and constellations waved in beautiful patterns. She couldn’t handle it. She was…too weak. Just like she was too weak to handle those bullies.

They sang a song titled the “Pink Weirdo”

It was a chant that signaled another brutal beating from the pegasi bullies.

Pinkie dreaded those days. She always did.

Then one night, when coming home from another beating, her father saw her and rushed her into the house.

As he laid ointment over her wounds, his voice became gruff.

“Who did this to you?”

“Nopony.”

“I’ll only ask you one more time Pinkamena, who did this?” His teeth were gritted.

“They…they were just some colts who were playing around and…”

She never finished her sentence before her father got up and left the pink pony on the counter.

The next day, the colts never hurt her again and whenever her father passed by to pick Pinkamena up, which he insisted was to keep her safe, the foals would whimper and scuttle off.

Clyde saw that his daughter was sitting by the porch swing, her tiny pink hooves dangling like twigs on a windy day.

“Pinkamena?” her father said in a wary tone.

The blue eyes of Pinkamena darted towards her father and she heaved a sigh.

"What's wrong darling?"

"I...I don't want to talk to you."

"Would you rather have me or your mother?"

Pinkamena sighed. Her father had a point. Her mother could be very harsh at times, even if she didn't mean to be.

"Soooo..." her father stood by the swing.

"Oki...doki...loki..." Pinkie replied sullenly.

As he sat down, Mr. Pie began to converse with his young daughter.

"What's troubling you?"

"Oh I don't know, maybe the fact that your'e LEAVING US TO GET KILLED IN SOME STUPID-IDIOTIC-GOOD-FOR-NOTHING WAR!"

Her tone had been more harsh than she had meant for.

"Pinkie..." her father came and hugged her as the pink filly sobbed into his hooves.

Only her father could ever called her "Pinkie". The colts use to call her that to make fun of her, and it almost always ended with a clash of hooves and a swollen eye.

Yet it wasn't just Pinkamena's name that Mr. Pie simplified. Her father always liked to call her and her sisters by their shortened names because, as he would say it, "Your mother always thought that our children needed prim and proper names like her family of bankers. I was content with just Buck and Chuck."

Those days when her father joked, which was rare, Pinkie found it necessary to celebrate with a party, much to the annoyance of her mother. But that was the past. This was the present, several weeks later.

"Pinkie, I know your'e mad at me. You have every right. I shouldn't be deserting you for this stupid conflict. But I am doing this for you. I am fighting to make sure that those enemies in the east don't turn my family's future into a living Tartarus."

When Pinkie finally settled and held her tears back, her voice was still choked up.

"I...I..I don't want to lose you Daddy. You...you always protected me and my sisters. When I saw that enormous shower of colors the day I received my cutie mark, I thought it meant that everything was going to be okay from now on. But now with you leaving, what...what if the bullies come back again?"

"Then you give them the old Pie Family Rock-Hard brawl. And everything is going to be okay, you'll see. I'll be back in no time for your graduation. After all, what kind of father would I be if I couldn't attend the graduation of my own daughters, whom I will remind you are some of the smartest fillies I've ever met."

Pinkie made a noise between a snort and a giggle before looking up again at the stars.

"Do you...do you think I will be able to see you Dad?"

"Maybe. I will be quite a distance away from you and your sisters."

"Promise me that you'll write to me every day Daddy."

"Now Pinkamena, you know I can't write like you do..."

"Then have someone write for you. Just promise me that you'll stay in touch."

Clyde heaved a sigh. Pinkie Pie definitely inherited her stubbornness from her mother.

"I promise."

"Pinkie Promise?"

In order to ensure that no promise would be left unkept, Pinkie had developed her own oath. To Pinkie Pie, breaking this kind of promise was as sinful as drinking alcohol in a schoolhouse.

"Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye."

The little filly seemed to loosen some of the tension in her shoulders and gave a sigh of relief.

"I love you Daddy."

"I love you too Pinkie."

And with that they shared in a tight hug that no wind or force could ever separate.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning, two white pegasi in shining gold armor visited the farm and talked with Pinkie's father. After packing his bags, which was just a sack filled with a picture of the family, his favorite rock, and a drawing by his daughter Inkie Pie, Mr. Pie headed out to go with the guards into the wagon already filled with other colts and stallions in straw hats and solem expressions.

Molly gave him one last kiss.

His daughters gave him one more hug.

And his daughter Pinkie Pie, gave him a letter.

"What's this you have here?" Clyde looked at the piece of paper dismissively.

"It's a song I copied down from Granny Pie before she...she passed away."

"Why that's real kind of you..."

But then the pink pony rushed inside the house and dashed out just as quickly with another piece of parchment.

"Ummm, another song?"

"Not really, more like a message or a phrase." Pinkie seemed excited and anxious at the same time. "I wrote this one myself."

"Why thank you, let's look and..."

But his daughter's hoof halted him from opening the sealed note.

"Don't open it yet, or else it loses its magic." Pinkie whispered.

"Okay then Pinkie," her father rubbed his hoof over the frizzy mane of his daughter and they shared once again in a warm embrace.

The guards stood by stoically, though their expressions and darting looks showed that they were getting impatient.

"Molly take care of our kids." he called out as he stepped into the wagon.

"I will Clyde, be safe out there you hear?" his wife called back.

The wagon was now pulling away and Clyde waved a hoof back at his family and farm. Everything he worked for. Everything he ever loved. Everything was being left behind.

Would he ever see it again?

"Of course I will," he whispered to nopony in particular, " I have to. For Molly. For Inkamena. For Blinkamena...
....and my little Pinkamena."