Touched up and released on the day that I'm officially a year closer to death. Don't say I don't do nothin' for yous

It was easy enough for Fredrick to just put his shoes back on, and—like Schiavona had so graciously reminded him—to re-fasten his belt. Just like that: fully dressed again. Thankfully his shirt and pants weren’t too wrinkled from power-bombing himself onto his bed for a perceived early night in.

And after running a brush through his hair and quickly taking a toothbrush over his teeth, he lamented that he wasn’t tired anymore… not after shitting himself at her sudden entrance. Based on this, he had no preconceptions that he’d be getting back to the embrace of his bed any time soon.

Not that there was much he could do about it now, so Fredrick figured that he might as well enjoy his time out with… Stella’s mom of all people.

Such was his rationalization as he strode out of the castle archways and across the moat bridge.

And—much as he had expected—there was no Schiavona to be immediately found once he stepped foot from ‘Royal Ground’ and into the city proper. Hands in his pockets, a quick sweep from left to right down the main avenue that ran perpendicular to the bridge was devoid of any smol batpone mares.

But as Fredrick had learned over his tenure with anything even remotely related to Stella, things were rarely what they seemed.

His intuition served him correctly when he heard a familiar, feminine batpony scree just above and to his left.

Fredrick smirked, and turned to face the source, which—as custom by this point—was a rather elegant-looking Schiavona… by virtue of her sitting with her legs crossed, atop a street pillar. The streetlight that it cradled in its concrete structure gave an extra amber sheen to Vona’s figure.

He was convinced that Stella’s family was hoarding all the best genes.

She exaggeratedly announced, gesturing with both her arms:

“I see ya finally made it out intae the fresh night air! It’s beautiful out!”

He chuckled and noted offhandedly:

“And now I know where Stella gets her penchant for extravagant entrances.”

Schiavona gracefully pushed herself off and landed on her hooves with a couple, tactical flaps of her wings. She confidently strode over to his right side from behind him.

And he sure as hell wasn’t blind to the rather… allusive tone with which she conveyed her next sentence.

“And you’d be right! I taught her everythin’ she knows,” she said.

And like most suggestive words with his marefriend (and Sveta for that matter), he couldn’t really tell at first glance whether she was joking or not.

“That’s… kinda disturbing, not gonna lie.”

Vona, to all her credit, didn’t seem to care.

“Right then! Come on, ya leaky protein hose! There’s one place Vampir and I would always go to when visiting Canterlot… since we were datin’!”

She linked her arm with his and aggressively dragged him along… and Fredrick was brought back with yet another whiff of nostalgia when he damn-near face planted on the street. As he was whisked away—debatably against his will—into the night, he was once again struck by how so many things about Stella just… made sense now.

For better or worse.

Welp. Tonight will at least be exciting.

And literally the moment they got to strolling towards… wherever Schiavona was taking him, she suddenly launched into a scathing tirade, having apparently taken issue with the admittedly awkward arm linking.

“And don’t just let yer arm go fuckin’ limp like yer dick after Stella vacuums yer balls outta yer pisshole! Hold me arm in yers like ya fuckin’ mean it! Be the fuckin’ gentlecolt I know you are, cunt!”

Fredrick folded his arm at a proper angle where Schiavona could properly link her arm—he was getting some quality Vietnam flashbacks from his first outings with Stella.

Vona’s tone was suddenly much sweeter this time around.

“Now that’s more like it, love!”

At this point, Fredrick trusted Schiavona to lead them where they needed to go—he was more than content to just quietly enjoy a stroll through nighttime Canterlot, on the way to get some evening refreshments…

…all while engaging in discourse regarding him proposing to Stella. With her mom.

Because… of course he would be.

By virtue of having a more adventurous marefriend, he had been fortunate enough to explore a fair bit of Canterlot by now. And this made him all the more curious as to where Schiavona was taking him, because it was likely some place that he passed constantly… but remained blissfully unaware of the connected, wholesome history it harbored. When thinking of it in this light, Fred was kinda low-key stoked at the prospect. Once again, he had to lend some thought to how fate had interesting ways of ensuring he had a good time against his will.

“So… random question,” Fredrick ventured.

“Aye?”

“I’ve never dabbled in this stuff, so I’m not sure what the customs here are for ponies, let alone batponies… but if one was to ehhh… initiate a marriage proposal, what’s the proper way to do it?

“Are there like… rings? Getting down on a knee? What… exactly happens?”

“There’s certainly… customs, if you will. And yer spot on, mate—a wee bit o’ difference fer batponies. And specifically, our clan…” said Vona.

Fredrick cocked an eyebrow and glanced down at the smol batpony mare gracefully holding his arm with renewed interest.

“Oh? Do tell~.”

She gestured with her free right hand appropriately as she talked, with Fredrick more than keen on the reassuring edge to her words:

“Well, we do have rings here, and those are all peaches n’ cummies. And wedding rings do mean somethin’ fer batponies and our clan, don’t get me wrong, lad. Stella would absolutely love love love love a proper ring from ye,” she said.

He knew there was clearly more to this.

“Go on…”

The sly smirk on her face revealed more than Fredrick could’ve guessed. It told him that whatever she was going to tell him wasn’t so much of a ‘suggestion’ per se.

“If ya really wanna get in Stella’s knickers when ya make yer move, give her a ring fer certain… but in addition…”

Schiavona hung on her words briefly as she led him around a corner and down another street. He carefully noted the turn she took, navigationally.

“…you will get her a dagger, and a sheath for said dagger. But not just any sheath or any dagger. Commission a custom build, including the blade material, the handle, cross-guard, any decorations—you get the idea. And beyond that, make it personal tae her.

“The knife you give her represents her in yer eyes. What she means to ye. And the sheath represents you… what you feel about yourself that best accents Stella. Combined as one, the dagger only fits the sheath.”

She excitedly gripped his arm.

“In other words, a symbol of you two being made fer one another. A perfect fit. A perfect combination. And overall, a testament to the strength and integrity of yer relationship and commitment to one another.”

Wide-eyed at the sheer thought that went into this ‘custom,’ Fredrick did have to ask about one thing that was on his mind:

“Real talk—does everything surrounding you batponies tangentially involve physical violence?”

Schiavona giggled.

“It makes a lot more sense when viewed through the lens of our history. The practice isn’t as prevalent in the rest of the range… but our family is a military one goin’ back generations. You bet yer sweet, pale bollocks that we maintain it!” she beamed.

“Didn’t you marry into the Sabre family?” Fredrick asked.

“I did! And I learned exactly what this meant to Vampir and his lineage when he proposed tae me with exactly this. I have every intention of keeping this goin’.”

Fredrick thought about it further for a few moments—he would be remiss to disregard this outright, as literally the mother of the mare he loved was telling him insider trading secrets on how to get best results. Such an act would lend even more of a pleasant surprise factor to the whole ordeal, as Stella had never informed him of such customs, nor would she expect him to know.

And the more he thought about it, he smiled. It was certainly unique compared to anything he heard of back on Earth… and this would—without fail—be the catalyst for many, many memories to come.

Even more than that, Fredrick wasn’t gonna lie to himself—the whole concept sounded cool as fuck. Just the thought of it was making him smile devilishly to the point that his dimples were starting to hurt.

Fred replied—genuinely excited:

“Alright… consider me in! I’d love to do this for her. For both of us, actually!” he said.

And as genuine as he felt in his answer… and how he wanted to go about this whole thing, it made him feel inexplicably better to know that he clearly gave the right answer. Schiavona’s warm glance up at him was worth it in its own right and warmed his heart in kind.

Fred had to hide how adorable he found it when she successfully suppressed the biggest squee she would’ve emitted.

“Fredrick that makes me so happy tae hear ye say that!” she said. “And I know whatever you decide on… she’ll just love it! I think ye know her well-enough tae make the perfect calls.”

Fredrick pressed his lips into a line.

Oh yeah. There’s actually logistics to this. Son of a bitch.

“While that’s definitely calming my nerves a bit… not gonna lie, I haven’t the first goddamn idea how to even go about this,” he admitted.

Right then, Schiavona led him (yanked him) suddenly into a rather cozy-looking tea shop… of which he wasn’t able to grab the name, nor glimpse around at the interior before she riposted:

“Well what a fuckin’ coincidence…” she began as she guided the two of them into the small queue that had formed in front of the counter.

“It’s almost like I just so happen tae be an expert designer and forger—one who specializes in blades and pistols fer a living.”

Amusedly, Fredrick smirked down at her and shook his head.

“You fucking orchestrated this shit from the beginning, didn’t you?”

Schiavona didn’t answer with words, but rather a toothy grin that told him more than words ever would. And as a comfortable silence descended on the two of them, Fredrick’s mind began to wander to his speculative ruminations. Namely, how deep did Vona’s scheming actually go?

As his thoughts meandered, he thought back to when he first met Schiavona ‘all that time ago,’ and wondered if she started drawing up plans for he and Stella ever since… and just helped coax and nudge the pieces into place over the months and eventual year that passed. He certainly wouldn’t put it past her if she was willing to go through all the effort for… this.

Fredrick suddenly envisioned Schiavona sitting on a throne in a dark robe, much like a smol Emperor Palpatine… telling him that his fate was already decided by her.

“Everythin’ has happened accordin’ tae mah fuckin’ design, ya naïve cunt!”

He accidentally loosed a peep of a throaty giggle, which garnered a suddenly bemused Schiavona’s attention.

“What? Ya fuckin’ shot yer cake batter in yer trousers ‘r something?”

“Nah… nothing. Just a failed cough. That’s all.”

She smirked lopsidedly.

“Right. Welp, we’re next in the queue after this mate, so see what the fuck yer mouth is horny for. My treat tonight, aye?”

Fredrick exaggeratedly glared back down at her.

“Well excuuuuuuuuuuuuse me, Vona.”

She then curtly added with a tone that refused to go further with the conversation:

“If ye touch yer fuckin’ wallet, I’ll core out yer anus with a rusty fuckin’ butter knife, shitcock.”

Fredrick shrugged, ‘admitted defeat,’ and crossed his arms as he began to take in his surroundings properly. The whole aesthetic reminded him of some mildly-hipster Boba place that he’d find in the heart of Los Angeles when he’d make the trip. All the walls were lined with beams of polished wood that hung random pictures of both Canterlot scenery, as well as pictures of what he presumed was the food and drink served here. Well… at least he hoped the latter was the case, because his stomach was starting to vacate some extra room at the sight.

The tables—identically—were wooden with metal frames… and this place appeared to be able to seat maybe sixty ponies comfortably. Lush plants were strung up in pots around the perimeter, and added some greenery to the cozy, social ambiance. Fredrick wasn’t sure of the time right now, but at this time of night, he wagered that this place was eighty-percent packed. And the clientele that didn’t stay to eat or drink, was rotating in and out with some regularity through the sieve that was the queue.

Fredrick was impressed.

Hmmm… I actually wanna sleep tonight. Hot cocoa and ummm… a chocolate croissant it is!

Right on time, too, as Schiavona yanked him right up front and center. He nearly kissed the counter when he lost his balance. Déjà vu was hitting him pretty goddamn hard tonight.

Even more so when she slapped him right on the right asscheek, which earned a yelp from him.

“Order up, fucknugget. Whatever ye like,” she said.

“I am! Jesus…”

A college-aged-looking batpony stallion waited for him behind the till with a bright, welcoming smile for this time of night.

“Hey there! What can I get’cha?”

“Hi! I’ll take the chocolate croissant with a small hot chocolate, please—”

He was promptly interrupted by Vona right next to him:

“Get him a medium, aye?”

Fredrick shot her a sideways deadpan—with which she returned a devious smile that held an undertone of ‘bitch, I dare you.’ Vona was giving off some serious motherly vibes… the types of vibes where if he didn’t eat what she thought was ‘his fill,’ she’d threaten him with physical violence until he was ‘properly full.’

He wasn’t gonna test that.

Fredrick turned back to the pony behind the counter and nodded.

“Yeah… what she said.”

The stallion chuckled—perhaps knowingly—at his plight.

“Heh, you got it, sir! And anything for you, ma’am?”

Schiavona answered eagerly:

“I’ll have me the classic lemon cake, please! Fuck me up with some proper brew of the night, too, lad… please!”

Schiavona took care of the rest from there, and Fredrick had no desire to test her earlier threat. From the counter, he wandered off to snag one of the empty tables for two, as well as gathered napkins and other ‘supplies’ that would be needed for their… feeding.

And soon enough, Schiavona dropped the tray on the table between them as she arrived and took her seat.

“Care package, bitch! Eat up, Fredrick!” she said.

Clearly the staff of this lovely establishment had put above-and-beyond effort into the arrangement of their snacks. And that was not to mention the actual look of quality of their desserts and drinks.

Fredrick smiled widely as he stared at the simple setup in front of him.

“Alright! Thanks, Vona! Really appreciate it…” he said as he placed a napkin on his lap and got ready to dig into his croissant.

Goddamn it looked delicious.

Her smile back to him now seemed genuine—no mischievous undertones detected. Probably because she didn’t have time for that when good food was literally inches from her maw.

“Believe me, Fredrick… the pleasure is all mine,” she said.

She then promptly cut a sliver of her lemon cake with her fork and (cutely) chomped it down. Fred followed her up by sinking his teeth into his evening snack, and it was every bit as good as it looked.

Holy fuck this is great. I’m dragging Stella out here every goddamn week whether she likes it or not. Fuck it—I’ll take a damn dozen of these home!

And as he eagerly sank his jaws to further polish off the croissant with little regard to his hot chocolate, he figured he would draw the conversation back to its more interesting starting point. The purpose of this little outing in the first place.

“So… specialized wedding daggers. Does this mean that you have one that Vampir gave you when he proposed?”

Fred watched as Vona continued to chew her food jovially, and rather than compromise her manners with words, she instead reached down below the table. With seemingly zero effort, which belied its hitherto concealed nature, she plopped modestly worn dagger in its sheath… right on the table, which sounded with the telltale clanging of metal and wood.

The object captured his attention right away. He didn’t wanna know in the slightest from where she pulled that.

And that’s when Vona spoke up with a prideful lilt after whetting her whistle:

“Ya know it! Kept it with me ever since he gave it tae me the night he proposed. Never let it outta me sight, or off me person.”

Fredrick tentatively reached his hand towards it.

“May I?”

Schiavona gestured invitingly, open-handed.

“Please! Have a gander, mate.”

He delicately picked up the small weapon with both hands and immediately, internally remarked at how heavy it actually was. He was no expert in knives—he had little frame of reference beyond ‘pointy metal on some hilt,’ so to him, it looked like any ol’ dagger that he had seen. Fred did notice a coat of arms of sorts right in the center, on top of the worn sheath material that was exactly the color of Vona’s navy-blue mane.

Then, he drew the blade.

Regardless of seeming like any ol’ knife at first glance, he recognized Schiavona’s personal blade being slightly curved to a single point… almost like it was just a giant fang. While the hilt looked like it had been ‘used,’ the shiny blade was immaculate, and a second pass over it with his eyes (and his fingers on the flat) revealed Vona’s full name engraved in gorgeous cursive up one of the sides. The hilt itself was likely metal by the weight alone, encased in some faux-leather-like material that was the color of her coat almost exactly.

What stood out the most from the ensemble was the lone, rhomboid crystal embedded on either side of the handle—a perfect match to Schiavona’s eyes. And much like her eyes, it twinkled and glinted at every angle that the comfortable establishment lighting struck it.

Somehow, Fred felt he was holding a piece of Schiavona’s personality. Focused, no-nonsense, and just the right amount of trollish spunkiness.

He returned the blade to its sheath and delicately placed it back on the table in front of Vona. His excitement welled up at both handling something so sacred to her, and in getting ideas for the future.

“It’s beautiful!” said Fredrick.

Schiavona beamed.

“Cheers, mate!” she said, then slipped it back under the table and ‘reattached’ it to herself… somehow.

Again, Fredrick didn’t wanna be in the business of knowing where she stored that.

He focused back on his food and continued to chomp down on his dessert when he heard Schiavona speak partially with her mouth full:

“Now…” she began anew. “I can see yer wheels turnin’ in that weird-shaped head of yers…”

His own mouth full, Fredrick looked back up at her, his faux offense manifesting in a rather sarcastic glower.

“My head’s not fuckin’ weird!”

Her deadpan told all.

“Mate, yer literally not of this fuckin’ world. Yer goddamn alien to us in all aspects, dickholster.”

He couldn’t exactly argue with that.

“Fair… but it’s symmetric! At least gimme that.”

Vona dismissed his words into the ether for more important conversation.

“Sure mate, whatever ye say tae keep yer twat hairs clean,” said she. “But now that you’ve had some… inspiration, what ideas do ya have? I wouldn’t mind giving ye some direction, either~.”

“Well. If we gotta even think about this now… Here’s maybe what I’m thinking…”

Fredrick knew he wasn’t gonna walk away from here and propose to Stella tomorrow… nor would he do it next week, next month, nor even the next few months. Hell, he thought he had at least a couple of years to sort his shit out and have a rather corporate discussion with his mare about what they wanted to do. With Schiavona’s shadowy intervention of sorts, and with several ideas being planted into his head and further reaffirming how he felt about his foul-mouthed marefriend…

…he perhaps could be convinced to move up the timetable by… a couple years at most.

Schiavona and he discussed several ‘prototypes’ that Fredrick had committed to thought after taking inspiration from her personal dagger. Much to his surprise, she was much less sarcastic and ‘shitpost-y’ around this matter. She offered genuine advice, expert opinion, and even helped tactically fill in some of the gaps that Fredrick had in conjuring the perfect ‘projection’ of Stella.

The birth of the ‘idea’ in front of him was surreal in its own right. With Schiavona’s help, he had a place to start… and in a sense, this ceremonial giving of a dagger would act to him as the quantifiable ‘readiness’ of him fording that last step with the mare of his dreams. He also learned that said giving was called ‘Sheathing the Blade.’

One evening drink, dessert, and napkin design later, Fredrick came away with something that—surreally—was getting the ball rolling. The next six-months to a year were going to hold very interesting bits of sleuthing and secrecy.

By the time everything was finished, it appeared that Schiavona had accomplished what she came to Canerlot for. Fredrick figured as much because the two of them left without any violence being inflicted upon him, and that Schiavona asked him to escort her back to Canterlot Central Station.

Because… apparently, she had purchased her roundtrip tickets according to a rather strict timetable around ‘convincing’ Fredrick.

This mare was actually starting to scare him in some ways.

“So!” said Vona, smiling brightly up at Fredrick as her night train back to the Northern Range was boarding.

“Thanks again fer… entertainin’ me tonight, aye?”

Fredrick watched her open her hands to him whilst bouncing on the tips of her hooves. Rolling his eyes but smiling widely nonetheless, he opened his arms to her in kind, and she jumped into his embrace. He hugged her tightly around her waist as she hung off his neck, and with a rather grandiose peck on his cheek, she dropped back down to the floor.

“Heh, honestly towards the end, it was my pleasure! I’ll write you when I’ve got something fully fleshed out, alright?” he said.

She nodded eagerly.

“Aye! Just drop the design in the post, list all the materials… fuck on and fuck all, just like I showed ye tonight!”

She then flashed her teeth allusively.

“Once I get it, I’ll start the proper commission process. When I size that shit up, I’ll send ya an invoice! Can’t do it fer free, but I can get ye the ‘soon-tae-be-family discount,’ mate,” she said, winking.

Fredrick chuckled, feeling his cheeks blush as he fit his hands in his slacks pockets.

“No worries at all—Stella will be worth whatever the price happens to be. And thanks, Vona… for everything, really. Won’t be done tomorrow, but you’ll be hearing from me at some point.”

She beamed, then hugged him tightly around his torso once again.

“Sounds like a plan, mate! And, thanks fer walkin’ me tae the station, aye? Means a lot!”

Before Fredrick could reply, a commanding voice from a faceless, ethereal-sounding stallion broke over the Central Station’s loudspeaker system:

“FINAL BOARDING CALL FOR TRAIN NUMBER SIXTY-NINE NONSTOP TO THESTRALSHIRE ENCLAVE ARRIVAL AT TERMINAL FOUR-TWENTY. FINAL BOARDING CALL.”

Fredrick smirked.

“Niceeeeeee.”

“Hmmm?”

“OH! I said ‘anytime!’ The least I could do is see you off, Vona. You better get on board before they leave without you!”

Another quick hug followed before the Sabre matriarch pivoted on her hooves towards the still-open train car on the platform.

She called out over her shoulder with a wide smile:

“Cheers, Fredrick!”

Fredrick watched as Schiavona crossed her arms behind her back and literally began skipping all-merrily-like on her hooves towards the train-car door. With one last friendly wave when she passed the passenger door threshold, the doors sealed her off from his view, and the train’s brakes disengaged shortly afterward.

And so ended another close encounter of the thestral kind in city of Canterlot.

It was the exact same path she had taken as a filly. The same path that she had shown Sveta the first time when she was old enough to finally brave the obstacles, and it was the same path that Stella had led Fredrick on well-over a year ago. The path never deviated… well, perceptibly at least. And it would likely only change significantly through erosion when Stella was long but dust in the wind.

And by that point, she figured her descendants would’ve inherited the secret spot by then… or she’d haunt the shit out of whomever was squatting in it.

But for now, it was hers… and Sveta’s. And by dual decree, it was also Fredrick’s. And it never failed to bring a smile to Stella’s face when her hooves retraced that same path... using the same techniques, and using the same hoof and hand holds to make their way into their lush, wet, mossy enclave.

Just as she had left it last.

Sveta broke the silence as she led into their ‘home away from home,’ as it were:

“Fuckin’ hell… how long has it been since you an’ I were up here?” she asked, large beer bottle in hand.

Stella was right behind her, with an equally-inappropriately large beer bottle in hand.

The two of them, like clockwork, drew a passing hand through the gorgeous, picturesque curtain of water that flowed down the middle.

“Too long, mate. Why I wanted tae come up here again in the first place… A good place tae end the night, innit?” she said.

Stella and her sister took their seats on the same stones that they always had… the ones that gave them a perfect view out of the rock aperture and down to the lush world below. The same seats that she and Fredrick took when she marshalled up all the courage she had in her body to tell him that she loved him.

Stella offered her hand once they properly settled in.

“Here… lemme get that fer ya.”

Sveta handed over her beer, and Stella popped both tops at an instant before handing it back to her.

Her sister smiled.

“Cheers, mate!”

Stella shrugged.

“The bare fuckin’ minimum I could do. You got me fer food and drink tonight. Next time is on me, per custom,” she said.

Sveta put forth the neck of her bottle, and Stella followed reflex and clinked her bottle against hers in a wordless ‘cheers’ gesture.

“I’ll drink tae that, mate. To a lovely evening out!”

Stella mirrored her sister’s smirk identically.

“To a lovely evenin’ out.”

The two simultaneously took a drink, and it was one of the few times that Stella was able to just relish in the comfortable silence with a view to go with it. While said view was limited due to the night time, she could hear the always-present, gentle rain that continued to fall on the lush world outside… a simple sound from her earliest memories as a filly, and one that she would always cherish when it came time to relax and ultimately sleep.

After an undetermined amount of time, Stella flicked her eyes over to Sveta, and found her nearly dozed off with a dopey, accomplished grin plastered to her muzzle. With this much alcohol in her, and the long day behind her, it simply was impossible to not smile along with Sveta.

Stella softly broke the silence:

“Hey Svet’?”

Sveta’s eyes opened fully and she answered:

“Hmm?”

Stella’s chest felt light… her heart fluttered in a manifestation of all the beautiful feelings that were cycling around in her core. She regarded her sister with a much fonder expression than she would otherwise feel inclined to at any random moment.

“This… this is nice. I’ve missed this. A lot. I’m glad we got tae do it again, aye?” she voiced.

And then she promptly added in the same, fond tone:

“By the way… have I told you how fuckin’ proud of ye I am?”

To say that Sveta appeared completely horrified yet bemused would be the understatement of the century. She looked like Stella just broke her guitar in two in front of her. Still, Stella had to give her younger sister credit where credit was due with the razor-sharp with sarcasm that was native to the family:

“You some kinda fuckin’ Changeling Agent? Ya got arse cancer and dying? What’s the fuckin’ deal? Never heard ye level a word’a fuckin’ praise at me in me life!”

Stella leaned her head against the rock wall, and annoyedly replied:

“Oh fuck off, lass. Am I not allowed tae say anythin’ nice about me sister?”

Sveta cocked an eyebrow. Stella immediately knew that she walked into whatever she was gonna spew out her mouth.

“I mean… not without suspicion of high treason. Ya goin’ soft on me, twat?”

“OoOokay, turdfucker. That fuckin’ better for ye, ya cheeky cunt?”

Sveta launched into a massive laughing fit, and the warmth in Stella’s core—courtesy of the alcohol—implored her to participate in havin’ a giggle.

“PFFT! ‘Turdfucker.’ I don’t think I’ve ever heard ya say that one.”

“Plenty more first-time one-liners if ya don’t let me heap fuckin’ praise on you, ye fuckin’ tit. I oughta slap the shit outta ya! I’ll fuckin’ pull yer goddamn ovaries straight outta yer fuckin’ meat cavern and wear ‘em fer cuff links. Twat!”

Sveta beamed.

“There’s the Stella I know! Haha! Well, now that I know yer not a fuckin’ imposter… wanna repeat what I never thought I’d ever hear come outta yer mouth?” she asked, almost a bit too innocently for Stella’s liking.

Then again, Sveta was all-too good at the same tactic when put to use against Fredrick, so she couldn’t exactly hold that against her.

“Heh… aye, I’m just in a fuckin’ good mood after everythin’ that’s happened. It’s kinda put everythin’ intae perspective, but…

“You’re right—I really haven’t said it much but… I really am proud of ye. Yer education, yer band… all of it. I just…”

Stella wasn’t sure why she was bringing this up suddenly, but she paused for just a couple of seconds to make sure she could properly vet her next words carefully. She silently acknowledged the irony, considering she normally took pride in letting her mouth run unrestrained, especially with her family.

But this, undeniably, felt wonderful to voice.

“Yer a good lass. You deserve the world and even though yer just walkin’ titwank fantasy, yer the best sister I could ask for and I love you.”

Sveta seemed genuinely touched by her words, though such a vulnerable face gave way to a soft, and eventually loud and unbridled laughter.

“What all this sounds like… is that you and Fredrick are doin’ really fuckin’ well!” she said, then added:

“He find yer special spot up yer bunghole?”

Stella giggled under her breath.

“Nah mate. I dunno… ever since we kinda came tae terms that we’re gonna… remain together, it’s just been one long sense of…”

Stella twirled her hand to jog her lexicon.

“Fuckin’… blissful acceptance? Aye. That’s the word. The words. Fuckin’ hell. Never been good with ‘em. I probably learned those from Fredrick.”

Sveta adopted a much more teasing, sarcastic demeanor, and infantilized her tone:

“Oh yeeeaaahh? Well if ye love ‘im sOOoooOOOoo much, why don’tcha MARRY HIM?”

“That’s the plan.” said Stella.

Sveta took a good swig of her drink before replying:

“So matter-of-factly. Huh. Never thought I’d ever hear those words outta yer mouth about anypony, Stella. Yet somehow I’m still not surprised—it’s Fredrick after all.

“Ya gonna force his hand? Or do it yerself?”

Stella shrugged, then sighed out dreamily.

“I honestly don’t know. I figured we’re at least a couple years out from that… so I’ve got time tae decide. Not even sure who wants it more, really…”

Sveta cocked her head.

“Eh? How? I thought you two talked about this or something—would’ve figured that you two would know where ye stand with each other in that regard,” she said.

“We did talk… and we do know where we stand with each other. But…”

“But what, lass?”

“Just never seems like it’ll be the right time. That I’ll be ready, y’know?”

Sveta killed another third of her bottle with one swig and shrugged.

“I mean… will ye ever be? What’s yer criteria fer ‘readiness?’ Can ye define it?” she asked.

Stella pursed her lips and sunk into her thoughts. This was a fantastic question, and one that she had skated around but never got to answering herself. Hell, she was pretty sure Fredrick never really answered that for himself either… otherwise, she felt he would’ve consulted her about his thoughts on the whole matter. While Fredrick had grown a lot since she first met him, and had been much more willing to take the initiative on things, she felt with absolute certainty that he wouldn’t go gallivanting ahead on something as serious as this.

“I’d say…” she attempted to explain. “It feels right. I don’t know how tae explain it, mate… I’ve never been good at words.”

Sveta shrugged.

“Well, if ye can’t really define it, that’s not a bad thing in my personal opinion. But that just means you’re not sure what ‘ready’ means… and by that token, ye can’t really know when you’ll be ready, aye?”

She then took a sip and promptly continued:

“Which then means that—if my theory is correct—one of ye is gonna just snap and pop the question when you just can’t take it anymore. It just remains tae be seen who it will be: you, Fredrick, or you urging him onward so he makes the move.”

Stella giggled.

“You seem to be a lot more invested in the concept than I am right now—we’re still a little ways away from that, lass.”

“How can ye be sure? Ya literally just said that you don’t know when you’ll be ready. Which means you both could suddenly be ready tomorrow mornin’,” said Sveta.

Stella held up her hand for a truce once she downed a third of her own bottle in one go. She hiccuped through a failed belch before she replied:

“Mate, yer makin’ too much sense fer me right now with all this fuckin’ grog in me body. I’m just gonna say ‘sure, you’re right, lass.’”

Sveta had a quip cocked, loaded, and ready to fire:

“Ye should fuckin’ say that more often, mate—would’ve saved ye a lot of heartache and money over the last ten years, Stella.”

Cute, but Stella didn’t exactly feel too threatened by that. Unimpressed, she shot right back dismissively.

“Oh go grind yer mingelips on one of yer books, lass. Don’t act like yer life record doesn’t have any dried up fuckin’ wankstains on it.”

Sveta cheekily piped up:

“One of you’s gonna Sheathe the Blade?”

Stella rolled her eyes and groaned, with her younger sister more than willing to giggle at the thought.

“Oh fuck me… I love that process but mate that’s just so involved with the plannin’ and… fuck. I couldn’t do that tae him, mate.”

She ran her palm over her forehead, chuckling whilst she shook her head.

“You know how he gets when he sets his mind to and obsesses over somethin’. He’ll get a fuckin’ stroke tryin’ tae make it perfect fer me. And if I do it, he’ll want to as well, and he’ll also get a fuckin’ stroke.”

Sveta cocked a curious eyebrow.

“Aye? Then what? Just rings or something?”

Stella nodded.

“Aye. Somethin’ like that. And yes, I know what it means tae the family. We’ll just do it after we tie it. I don’t fuckin’ care what the rest of the family has tae say—they can eat me cunt.”

It was Sveta’s turn to chuckle, which gave Stella some room to dump another inappropriate portion of her drink down her gullet. She then held out a tentative finger before Sveta could respond.

“But, regardless of what happens, or how this all plays out… would you wanna be me best mare?”

Stella had already well-decided years beforehand that, whenever she would settle down with somepony, Sveta would be here best mare. Hell, she was pretty sure they discussed this at some point with each other while drunk in the past. Any normal pony with a halfway functioning brain would figure that she would be her best mare. Even so, Sveta still appeared genuinely surprised and touched by her question. So much so, Stella almost felt like the two of them were having another moment.

Whether Sveta’s pleasantly surprised look was joking or serious, her rather emphatic response was undeniably, unmistakably genuine.

“A-Aye! Absolutely, Stella, of course I’d love to!” she said.

“Sweet! And if ya want… you can bring the band down and perform! I’d rather have you than some pompous fuckers from god knows where that play music nopony actually fuckin’ likes. At least you’d play good fuckin’ music!” Stella added.

“So what yer sayin’… is that you like our music?”

“Okay I wouldn’t go that fuckin’ far, love…” said Stella, grinning knowingly.

And that’s when Sveta’s demeanor devolved into a messy, drunken cackle… one that Stella was all too eager to participate in on account of its contagiousness.

“Fer fuck’s sake, Sveta… I love you.”

“Love you too, Stella.”