“Hmmm… oh, oh! How about Chloe?”

“Grrr…”

“Not that one either, huh?” A young colt sat in a dimly lit room, just a few hoof lengths away from a large cage. Inside, an equally young spitz puppy sat huddled in the corner furthest from the one that couldn’t seem to take a hint from her growls. She hadn’t expected that he might actually come back, and she didn’t quite know what to think of him. His multi-colored mane was perplexingly bright, his tone more cheerful than any she had heard from a pony, but that didn’t change the fact that he was a pony, and she hated ponies. This created somewhat of a problem, because Merry had really come to like doggies, and that was what she happened to be.

“Grrr…” she growled again, flinching as the colt reached into his lunch pail and rustled around. She made a point of making it very clear she didn’t approve of him moving. Well, actually, she didn’t approve of him being nearby at all, but since she was the one in the cage and he was the one free to come and go as he pleased, she had to settle for making sure he never tried to reach inside the cage. She may not have been eating well, but her fangs were ready if anypony ever tried to touch her again.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m just getting some candy,” he explained with a chuckle. “Would you like one?”

“Grrr!” A deep, guttural growl built in her chest as a small, pale green candy sailed through the air, bounced around a little on the cage, and finally fell to a stop a short distance from where she lay. Given that it had come from a pony, she could only assume it to be poison and didn’t even bother to give it a sniff as the colt went back to whatever game he had been torturing her with that afternoon. It seemed to involved spouting off names in the hope that she would somehow become endeared to him, but the only name she would ever answer to was the one that she had been given by her mother. She missed her mother terribly, but that didn’t seem to matter to the stupid ponies that hounded her at every turn. The only good thing that they had done as of late was giving her a cage and largely leaving her alone. This colt, however, was either too dense or too stubborn to understand that death threats a generally not a sign of friendship.

“How about Heather?”

“Grr.”

“Milly?”

“Grr.”

“Mildred?”

“Grrrrrrrr…”

“Okay, definitely not Mildred,” Merry confirmed. “I didn’t really think that was a good one anyways.”

Wondering how long it would be until she could have her peace and quiet back, the pup tuned out the troublesome pest of a pony and just casually growled after everything that was said. She had long grown tired of this exercise in futility, and found her attention drawn to the strange, pillow-shaped object that he had tossed into her cage. Waiting until a moment when he wasn’t looking so as to give him as little satisfaction as possible, she gave a tentative sniff of the “candy,” hereafter referred to as “poison,” and stared at it. It smelled sweet.

“Maxine?”

“Grr,” she countered, continuing to ponder the heavily scented poison. She had barely eaten anything at all that day. Eating would make the ponies happy, and that was something she was loathe to encourage, but despite her best attempts to starve, she always caved and at least ate something by the end of the day. Tiring of the colt’s rambling, she double-checked to make sure he wasn’t watching as she discretely lapped up the poison, knowing that if it really was toxic then at least she would have her quiet back soon. Instead, she found herself pleasantly surprised by the delicate flavor tinged with something that made her whole mouth feel cool. She didn’t want to like it, but it sure tasted better than whatever slop the ponies seemed to think she enjoyed eating.

“How about… Stella?”

“Grr?” she responded quizzically. It was hard to be properly aggressive when one’s mouth was experiencing a personal winter. However, if it was secretly some kind of sedative, then it was woefully lacking in potency, and she was still ready to take off any hooves that wandered too close. Pain was all that ever came of hooves, and hooves only came from ponies and any related ilk, which was justification enough for her to treat any and all as the threat they probably were.

The afternoon continued to drag on, with the colt who called himself Merry rambling on in a manner that could only be described as daft. No matter how many times she bared her fangs, he never seemed to understand that the only thing between him and a dozen stitches was the flimsy chicken wire type cage. His incessant cheerfulness was nothing short of obnoxious, and the exasperated doggie was beginning to wonder whether or not this wasn’t some cruel plot to strip away her sanity when she heard a name that hadn’t been spoken since she was taken from her mother at barely a month of age. She tried to growl, but it caught in her throat. By the time she had shaken the shock, the colt had already wandered on to other names, and before she could stop herself, she barked.

“Huh?” Merry murmured, his eyes lighting with excitement. “Is your name Zoey? Is that the one you wanted?”

“Grr.”

“Oh, but then… did I pass it?”

“Bark!”

“Okay, then, what were the last few names I… Oh, right! Ginger?”

“Grr.”

“Priscilla?”

“Grr!” Frustrated with herself for humoring the colt and even further upset with his inability to remember what he had said mere moments prior, she added some emphasis to her displeasure with a snarl. It was stupid, but even if it came from the mouth of the callous creatures that she despised the most, she wanted to hear the only name that had ever been spoken to her in a caring way. She could have been wrong, could have misheard, and the desperation welling in her heart was nauseating, but she wanted to hear it. Her ears had somehow pried themselves upright, just waiting for the word. Their eyes met, and for the first time she actually thought, for just a fleeting second, that he actually cared. It was in that moment that she heard herself called by the name that she had longed to hear since the ponies had come and taken her away from her mother, and in that moment she lost her bark.

“...Maria?”

“...Bark.” She had barely managed to make the sound. Her throat was tight, and she found herself having difficulty dredging up her viciousness as he scooted a little closer to the cage.

“Maria is a beautiful name,” Merry chortled, beaming back at the puppy. “From now on, I’ll call you Maria.” He turned at the sound of tapping on the door, and responded with a pout. “It’s time for me to go now. I’ll come back and see you again soon, okay? Bye, Maria!”

Maria had meant to send him away with a snarl, but she couldn’t manage to make a sound as the colt gathered up his pail, slipped a beanie over his head, and waved as he let himself out the door. She wouldn’t have thought that simply hearing her name would have moved her the way it had, but it did, and it left her with more questions than answers. Her eyes wandered over to the bright blue scarf that still lay atop the cage with its tassles hanging through. Ignoring her reluctance, she slowly stood and made her way over to it. It smelled like that colt.

Confused as to why her mind was marking that as a pro rather than a con, she gave it a rough tug and dragged the scarf back to her corner. Whatever fabric had been used was incredibly soft. Sighing at herself for accepting two gifts now from the ponies, she began to chew on one end, with the other held within her paws. Promising to never let the colt see her with the scarf, she made a note to stow in the furthest corner of the cage from her self. What she didn’t know was that the colt was watching through a window on the other side of the door, held aloft by a mother of his own. He had seen, and he would never forget.

Having come to a house in the middle of nowhere, where the world had been painted in grays and browns, it was with great care that Merry cracked open the pink door, entering with quiet steps. There wasn’t much in the room by way of decoration other than a few framed pictures hanging on the wall, and the furnishings were minimalistic, as with the rest of the house. An unlit lamp sat upon the nightstand near the bed in the leftern most corner of the room, with a dresser against the wall opposite the shuttered window. The overall light level in the room was dismal at best, and even the multi-colored quilt acting as a comforter did little to brighten the room. What needed brightening most, however, wasn’t the decor, but the brightly colored pony that lay trembling on the bed, curled into as tight a ball as she could. It was a dichotomy that he had seen before, and he found a familiar ache growing in his chest as he neared.

His eyes were drawn first to the mare’s beautifully rosen coat, its hue reminiscent of cotton candy. Her mane was longer than most and of an even more vivid hue of pink, and he followed the straightened locks as they tumbled around her shoulders and down her back. Merry discreetly redirected his attention away from the trio of balloons adorning her flanks, though he couldn’t keep himself from admiring them for just a moment: they just looked so fun. Feeling a flush rise to his cheeks, he took a deep breath through his nose to clear his thoughts only to find them more muddled. The package that he had held in his mouth slipped from his jaw with a resounding thud as he caught a deep draft of the mare’s scent and realized that the mystery smell he had spent days scouring Dodge to try and find a source came not from a what, but a who. It took every ounce of self-control he had not to pounce and let the intoxicating fragrance flood his senses, and just when he thought that he was beginning to get a handle on himself, the mare stirred, lifting her tear-stained muzzle from a soaked pillow and transfixing him with her stunning blue eyes.

They stared at one another in silence, each with their own thoughts. Pinkie couldn’t even begin to understand the presence of a stallion she’d never met just wandering into her room, though even that paled in comparison to the fact that her father, who stood just outside the door, was giving him leave to do so. Part of the reason that Pinkie kept company with females were that they were the only ones her father didn’t seem intent on running off, and the fact that the pony with a mane of pastel rainbow was there caused no small amount of confusion on her part. His tail seemed extraordinarily poofy, like Winona when she got startled, and she honestly couldn’t say how she felt about the way he was looking at her. She didn’t suspect any mal intent, but that was about all she could say as she sniffed back further tears, wondering what was going on.

“Those eyes…” Merry felt a shiver race through his being, all the way through the ends of his nose as he peered intently at the mare. “She looks just like Maria did when I found her.” Though there was no growl coming from the pony before him, he could see that she wasn’t just upset. There was no question about the evident sadness held in her gaze, but the longer that he looked, the more he grew certain that there was more to it than that: she was terrified. Of what, he couldn’t say, and he honestly didn’t need to know right then. All that mattered to him in that moment was doing anything he could to bring her what comfort he could.

“G-Go away…” He stood rooted in place as the mare’s barely audible voice whispered in the quiet. “Leave me alone.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that just yet,” he said softly with a hesitant smile. He had dealt with resistance before, and he knew that wasn’t really what the mare wanted, though it still hurt to hear.

“Why n-not?” she asked with a shiver. “I’m not any fun right now…”

“That’s alright, you don’t have to be,” Merry assured her, taking a seat beside the bed. “I’ll be the fun one for now, okay?”

Pinkie could hardly believe what she had heard. Being a party pony, there was a constant pressure for her to be at peak excitability so that she could keep everypony smiling. Hearing somepony, even a total stranger, tell her that they didn’t mind her being as excitable as a damp rag brought her a bizarre sense of comfort. It was as if she were being told to take a vacation she hadn’t known she needed, and she found herself temporarily distracted from her woes.

“I, um… okay, I guess,” she mumbled with a sniffle. “What did you have in mind?” She had scarce finished the statement before the stallion lifted a hoof, gently booped her on the nose, and then ducked down out of sight. Perplexed, Pinkie blinked a few times before looking down over the edge of the bed to find that the stranger had wiggled his way almost entirely under the bed, with just a short length of his tail poking out. His tail couldn’t seem to sit still, and were she not busy being a rag, she would have found the sight amusing. As lethargic as she was, her attempts to trap his tail under hoof failed several times, but when she finally did, his head popped back out from under her bed with a grin stretching ear to ear.

“Ding ding ding! We have a winner!” he cheered, wiggling out a little further and holding his hooves to his chest as he lay on his back. “That means you get a prize!”

“A prize?” she repeated, growing curious. “Prizes are nice. What kind of prize?”

“A surprise prize!” Merry explained triumphantly. “Juuust let me go grab it from the vault.” He disappeared underneath the bed, making more noise than could possibly be necessary to retrieve whatever it was that he had somehow stashed under her bed without her knowing. Just enough of his muzzle popped out for her to see his eyes and the corners of his grin. “Do you like surprises?”

“Of course I like surprises,” Pinkie countered, rolling her eyes.

“Oh? You do?” he snickered, he eyes narrowing playfully. “What about waiting?”

“Waiting is boooring!” Pinkie testified, her voice raising to a normal level.

“Really? So does that mean you want your surprise now?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to wait?”

“Double yes.”

“Are you reeeally sure you-”

“Just give me my prize, you meanie,” Pinkie interjected, paying him back for earlier and booping his nose. She watched with bewilderment as his eyes grew wide. He stared at her for a brief moment before slowly receding back under the bed, leaving just his ears poking out. Despite his darker coat, his ears were taking on an obvious scarlet hue. “Do your ears always change colors before you give somepony a surprise?”

“N-Nope, juuust you,” Merry murmured from his hiding spot. He could feel a decidedly non-minty burn overtaking most of his muzzle as he answered, and he fought to ignore the heat flaring in his cheeks as he grabbed the parcel by the bindings and eased himself out from under the bed. It would have been ideal had he been able to wait for the tingle in his cheeks to calm, if only so that the stern earth pony that still stood in the doorway wouldn’t get the wrong idea, but Merry couldn’t help but grin as he set the parcel down in front of the mare.

“Th-This is…” She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Pinkie had honestly thought that the parcel was lost to her, having been swept away in the storm after she had lost her temper and hurled it away. It wasn’t until she looked up at Merry and noticed the bandage around one of his hind legs that she began to suspect what had happened. “I’m… I’m so sorry…”

“Sorry? That’s not what’s supposed to happen when you get a prize,” Merry explained, his ears drooping a little as he watched Pinkie shrink away. “Why are you sorry?”

“Because I’m the reason you got hurt,” she choked, a lump rising once more to her throat. “You’re the pony that got caught out in the sandstorm, aren’t you?”

“Well, yeah,” he admitted, “but you didn’t make the sandstorm, right?”

“You don’t understand,” she countered, hiding her face behind her hooves. “I was the one who threw the package into the storm. If I hadn’t tossed it away, then you never would have been hurt, but now you are, and it’s… it’s all my fault.” For a time, all Pinkie could hear was her own muffled crying as she awaited the stallion’s ire, but the sensation of something bumping against her hooves caused her to look up.

“Please, don’t cry about that,” Merry said gently, grinning ruefully as he nudged the parcel closer. “I don’t blame you for what happened. Weathering the storm was my choice to make, and I would do it again if it meant I’d have another chance to make you smile.” He desperately wanted to give the mare a hug, but he had given his word that he wouldn’t do anything forward. “Go on,” he murmured with an encouraging nod, “open it. I’m sure that it will make you smile.”

There wasn’t any excuse for Pinkie to refuse the stallion’s request, though she wished she could share in his optimism. When last they spoke, Pinkie had given Rarity a rather nasty dressing down that she was sure both of them would carry for a long while to come. Coupled with the utterly lackluster wrapping, Pinkie couldn’t imagine that anything bright could be inside. Her hooves trembled as they fumbled with the twine holding the heavy-duty parchment paper wrapping together, and it took quite an effort to undo the knot that had formed from all the yanking about. After a bit of struggling, the bindings fell away.

The crinkle of the paper shifting under her hooves sounded extraordinarily loud to her ears, but what she found inside was more than she could ever have hoped, and her heart leapt within her chest as she peeled the paper back. In her hooves lay one of her scrapbooking albums that she used to chronicle the moments of laughter and wonder that she had shared with her friends. They were among her most prized possessions, and she had poured countless hours into getting every page just right. Cracking open the cover, she ran a hoof over the pictures that lay within, reminding her of when she had first met each of her friends. A powerful longing began to grow in her chest as she quietly absorbed the images captured upon each page, starting from when they had worked together to meet Nightmare Night, on through the first time that Discord had been freed, and even pictures of Shining Armor’s wedding in Canterlot, all interspersed with parties, trials, and special moments that she had shared with her friends. Her hoof trembled as she turned to what she knew was the last page, and her eyes grew wide as she found the album had yet more to offer.

All of the photos that followed after weren’t ones that she had gathered herself, but ones that had been put there by each of her friends. Starting with the day that a despairing stallion had wandered into Ponyville and moving forward, Pinkie was shown time after time in picture form that she had never been excluded the way that she had felt, and the proof was in her hooves. From the welcome party she had thrown for Cerulean, who went on to marry Twilight, to the grand opening of the tavern that she had spent whooping it up with her friends, all the moments that she had felt she was just the outsider looking in were cast in a different light. Those pictures were there to show that she was more than just another source of mirth, and the evidence set before her was as condemning as it was touching. She had assumed ill of her friends once, only to find that they had been trying to keep her birthday party a surprise. Now, she had done the same thing to them again, only much, much worse, and even still they were doing what they could to make sure she knew that she meant the world to them.

“I couldn’t have been more wrong about them,” Pinkie thought, laughing weakly as she relived the moments of each photograph. She knew she was nearing the end when she found a few pictures of her modeling Rarity’s latest creations, but it wasn’t dread that would overtake her on the final page, but hope. There, she found five blank photos, three on one page and two on the other, along with a simple note that read: “Let’s make the rest together.”

“Together…” Tears rolled down her muzzle as she clutched the book to her chest, a genuine smile lighting her features. One by one, her locks of long, flattened hair began to curl as the memories that had been buried underneath her insecurities and doubt came flooding back, filling her heart with gladness. It wasn’t long before her hair had regained its former life, and she lifted her eyes to look upon the one that had brought her the treasure held in her embrace, and given his everything to make it happen. Before either of them knew quite what was happening, Pinkie had laid aside the scrapbook and launched herself at Merry, sending them both tumbling to the floor. When the world stopped spinning, Merry found himself wrapped tightly in the mare’s embrace as she lay upon his chest, her cheek nestled against his neck.

“Thank you,” she whispered, tightening her hold. “Thank you so much for the surprise.”

“You’re so welcome,” he said quietly, reaching around and returning the mare’s embrace. He knew what he had said, knew that her father was probably still watching, and even more probably didn’t approve of his hoof placement, but all that mattered to him was the joy that had returned to the mare atop his chest. He felt an immense warmth wash over his being as he heard the sweetest giggle escape from Pinkie’s lips, and an even more intense heat as her mane tickled his nose, filling his senses with the most wonderful scent he had ever smelled. It had nothing to do with the shampoo she had used, nor was it any kind of added fragrance. No, there was just something about the mare’s natural aroma that he found intoxicating, and he found himself lacking coherency as another trill of laughter graced his ears.

“Oopsie! Sorry, sorry, I shouldn’t have tackled you like that,” she tittered, pulling away with a sheepish grin. She offered a hoof to help him up, feeling a little more than slightly embarrassed, and she felt a little heat rising to her cheeks as their hooves met. It was confusing, but in a fun way. “Come to think of it,” she continued after he was upright, “I don’t even think we even introduced ourselves. I’m Pinkie Pie! What’s your name?”

For Merry, saying his name had never been as difficult as it was at that moment. His tongue seemed to have had a few too many, the heat swirling in his cheeks was making him a little hazy, and his tail couldn’t seem to stop wagging. The mare’s presence was overwhelming, and it was only with great difficulty that he managed to squeak out a response, and even that was horrendously garbled.

“Merry muh...”

“M-Marry you?” Pinkie squeaked, blushing hard. “I, um… th-that’s a little quick, don’t you think?”

“N-No!” Merry sputtered. She had misheard in the worst of ways, and he was pretty sure that his ears were only a few degrees below their flash point.

“Oh, I, um… I don’t know if I-”

“Mint! Merry Mint, my name- Mint, it’s… Mint,” he stammered out, turning his head to the side so she couldn’t look him in the eye.

“Merry? Oh, gosh, that’s your name! I totally thought you said… yanno, that other… thingy,” she said, fumbling around with her words. It wasn’t like her to get all nervicited like she was. “That sure was silly of me to think you said, um… right, daddy?”

“...Quite.” At the sound of Igneous’ gruff voice, Merry’s ear’s went flaccid while his tail took cover between his legs. He was pretty sure that the only thing between him and a good trouncing was the fact that Pinkie was smiling again, though that wasn’t quite the case. While he wanted to keep the colt from getting ahead of himself, Igneous had fast come to hold Merry in high regard, and while the idea of anypony courting his Pinkamena raised his hackles, the red-faced stallion had earned himself a chance, if he so desired. He didn’t need to know that, though. Not yet.

“So, Merry,” Pinkie began, unable to stifle a giggle. It felt so nice to laugh again, and his name was fun to say. “Did you maybe wanna stay for dinner?” His tail started to wag, stretching her smile even wider as he bashfully peeked out from behind the pastel veil of his mane.

“Are you sure that’s okay?” he asked timidly. “I don’t want to impose…”

“It ain’t imposing if it’s bein’ offered,” Igneous said with a chuckle, striding into the room and accepting a loving hug from his daughter. “You’ve given my daughter a smile, and that’s plenty worthy of a meal.” Beneath the rugged exterior, a warming grin lit Igneous’ muzzle as he beckoned towards the door. “Come along, son, let’s get you fed.”

Not having eaten since getting the morning prior to the sandstorm, the notion of getting to share a warm meal with Pinkie Pie and her family made Merry wriggle with excitement. With his tail swishing about and a foalish grin lighting his features, the stallion took a step forward as his hosts turned to head downstairs, completely forgetting about the condition of his fractured hind leg as he did so. Yelping at the pain that lanced through his leg, he stumbled a couple of paces and fell forward, slamming to the ground with a reverberating crash.

“Oh, gosh! That looked painful! Are you okay?” Pinkie asked worriedly, darting over to where Merry lay waiting for the soreness to subside.

“Y-Yeah, I think I’m- oooh…” He clutched a hoof to his head as the overwhelming pain coming from his injured hoof caused an onset of dizziness and potential nausea. Were he on his own, he would have simply taken a few moments to rest, or possibly pass out, but he wasn’t. He cracked open an eye to find the mare watching him intently with eyes full of concern. Determined not to be any kind of a burden to somepony who had only just recently recovered, he made as if to struggle to his hooves. His body, however, was nearing its limit, and he would have fallen a second time had Pinkie not been standing by.

“C’mon, silly, let me help,” Pinkie pressed in soft tone, helping the stallion to stand. He was visibly trembling, and as much as she was itching to exercise her returning vigor and bounce around a bit, she would eagerly bottle that energy if it meant being able to repay a portion of Merry’s kindness. Moving up alongside him, she maneuvered one of his hooves around her shoulder and pulled him close. He was pleasantly warm, something that was more than welcome as much trouble as she had been having as of late with the shivers, and she found an unfamiliar heat bubbling up from within as she looked over at his hesitant expression.

“Just lean on me, okay?” she said tenderly, “We can take it nice and slow.” There were a few moments where they both just stared at one another. Then, without a word, she felt the stallion shift all his weight onto her. She couldn’t help but grin as she felt him drape his chin over her shoulders, and together they began their painfully long journey down towards the dining room. The going was slow, but that didn’t really bother either of them. Pinkie was grateful beyond words to a pony that had been broken on her behalf, without ever having even met her, and Merry… Merry was just grateful to have done for another what he hadn’t been able to do for Maria.