You can’t step into the same river twice, or so they say. Once it’s crossed, the river behind you is no longer the same. The water you passed through no longer present; the ground is altered; everything has changed. If the river always changes, is it possible to retread one's steps to fix things? Is it possible to go back at all?

Like so many doomed decisions, it started with the best of intentions.

Option A stood for apathetic asshole: I could break my promise to avoid temporary discomfort and psychological trauma, at the “small” cost of ruining the dreams of Fluttershy, who put her neck out for me.

Option B’s prompt was to bite the bullet, taking a (possibly literal) roll in the hay with the resident redneck to rid myself of the mingle-mark, which I still saw as my fault for drunkenly agreeing to without comprehending the repercussions. The options weren’t exactly ethically ambiguous…In theory. Of course, it wasn’t until the plan was already in motion that the variables began to work their muddling magic, clouding my judgement. I just wanted it to be simple. I wanted to get rid of the damn mingle-mark, so Fluttershy could get on with her fairy tale and I could get back to the slightly more pressing task of trying to get home. Of course I was conflicted and naturally didn’t want to admit that. Detached and exhausted, I just wanted for this to be the one thing that actually went as planned, and to stay in control

The hours I waited hadn’t gone to waste, as much of that time had apparently been spent in preparation. Things were taking a turn for the almost disturbingly pleasant. As I followed the flowing, golden mane of the barely recognizable orange pony to our mystery destination, I began to put the pieces together. Twilight had really gone to bat for me. I suspected she was at least partially to thank for Rarity’s involvement, which I realized wasn’t limited to Applejack’s makeover when we stopped in front of Carousel Boutique.

The shop’s typical open and welcoming atmosphere was conspicuously absent, a sign hanging behind the drawn curtain of the front door that read “Closed for the day. Regular hours resume tomorrow.” The reality quickly dawned on me

Well… at least it’s not a barn.

Applejack had apparently read my mind, pausing with her hoof on the doorknob. “Ah’m sorry. I wanted to do right by you—dinner and a fancy show or somethin’, but from what Twi’ said, it’s best if we don’t spend too much time in public, ‘fore gettin’ that thing off you,” she said regretfully.

Sometimes it’s the sentiment that counts. In this case, the sentiment was rather endearing. I gave her a small smile. “It’s fine. It’s already nicer than I was expecting.”

She grinned. “In that case, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.” Playing the part of the Gentlecolt, she swung the boutique’s door open. I walked into the dark chamber cautiously, all too aware of the sound of the lock as the door shut behind us. It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust. I had to blink a few times just to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating.

Applejack wasn’t the only one who had gotten a makeover. The inside of Carousel Boutique was completely foreign. It had been entirely rearranged, with what was probably intended to be romantic overtones. I say “intended” because it was painstakingly obvious that Rarity’s rather superb fashion sense had no overlap with tasteful interior décor. The floor was littered with rose petals, scattered around in an obvious attempt to set the tone, though the hurried dispersal pattern of the flowers looked more indicative of somepony being beaten to death by a raging florist. The smell was overpowering; the wafting scent of dissected rosebuds sent my stomach for a loop.

I’m usually a sucker for candlelight, “usually” being the operative word. The boutique was not so much lit by candles as it was drowned in them, conflicting scents of the dozens—maybe hundreds—of candles momentarily rendering me light headed. Their flickering light bathed the room with almost occult-ish undertones. All things considered it would have been a more appropriate scene for a séance, with a touch of human sacrifice on the side; oddly appropriate, though instead of my life it was my dignity in peril, precariously positioned under an invisible, ritualistic knife.

On second thought, maybe a little fresh air wouldn’t hurt. I turned and made my way back towards the door-

CLICK

-which was immediately locked from the outside, as if telepathically sensing my misgivings. The tumblers of the mechanism clicked chiddingly, mocking me for the continued lack of foresight. I took a moment to calmly assess the situation.

Trapped in an unfamiliar place?

Check.

With somepony you barely know?

Check.

Night?

Check.

Storm rolling in?

Check Check.

“While I shan’t say in certainty, Mr. Green, I believe it was Applejack who shagged the human, in the study, with the candlestick.”

“I concur, Professor Plumb. The question is WHICH candlestick. Harde-har-har.”

I was so screwed.

Applejack leaded into my focal point, interrupting my staring match with the now-locked door of the boutique “Kate—uh, you okay? You ain’t lookin’ so good-“

“yupsuperjustgimmeasecond!” My powerwalk reached Olympic levels of urgency as I navigated around the table, nearly knocking over several candles in my retreat to the guest room. Closing the door behind me, I turned, almost immediately regretting my chosen avenue of retreat. The guest bedroom was obviously the “end” destination for the night, elaborately redecorated with unrestrained cliché. Most notably, the queen-sized bed was refitted, white comforter and pillow cases replaced by red satin counterparts which shimmered, leering in the candlelight. A bottle of whipped cream sat on the nightstand next to the record player. I touched the needle to the record for only a few seconds, an involuntary shudder running through my body; it was a nauseatingly sweet and sentimental ballad, overflowing with sappy sentiment and whispers of diabetes.

Breathe Kate, breathe.

Determined to pull my thoughts into the present, I gave myself a little slap on both cheeks and turned to the three-way mirror perched on top of the armoire, checking myself. Much to my irritation, the nervousness had made me clammy, light perspiration causing the thin fabric of the already form-fitting dress to hug my curves much more suggestively than before. Adjusting it proved rather moot, as movement stimulated the skin underneath, complicating the issue by bringing two other problems to the forefront… so to speak. Rarity and I were going to have a little conversation about why making free dresses for me took precedent over my paid order for unmentionables.

Giving up on my three-way struggle with the dress, I replaced several stray locks of curly, chestnut hair that had fallen in front of my glasses, tucking them behind either ear as I cursed my hair’s unruliness. It bounced out of place again, mocking me glibly.

At this point I’d seriously consider selling my soul for a straightner

“You ever play somethin’ like this back home?” she drawled amicably, wiggling her eyebrows

“Little bit.” I answered, eager for the distraction. “It looks sort of like Life, or Chutes and Ladders.” I tossed the dice, appreciative for the simple distraction. Settling on an eight, I reached over to move the piece… and felt the blood drain from my face as the piece traveled eight spaces automatically. My Ackbar sensor was flying off the charts, indicating all too late what I already knew from the moment I saw it: games that move their own pieces tend to be extremely bad news. I turned to AJ, smile still pasted on my face. “I take it that’s not normal?”

“Nope.” She shrugged. “Wasn’t doin’ that earlier. Can’t say I’ve ever seen a game quite like this one. Ah just opened it up and blew the dust off.”

“Where’d you find it?”

“Sittin’ in the middle of the table. Looks like an antique, not something Rarity would own.”

After looking taking a closer look at the aging board, I had to agree. Rarity wouldn’t have touched it with a ten foot pole. Applejack hadn’t acquired the acute sense of smell I had for one scent in particular, etched in from trauma. It smelled old yes, but there was something beyond the musk. The rotting sweetness that filled my nostrils with dread was unmistakable.

Cupcakes…

AJ, Why hast thou forsaken me?

The winding path of the game’s multi-colored spaces ran through several different pictures, each depicting the path of two ponies through a trail of seemingly mundane illustrations. Any concerns I had for the most part disappeared after several turns. In between the white spaces were colored “penalty” spaces. I could already tell this was going to be a long night

For obvious reasons I’d been very cautious of penalty cards at the start, but after a few turns there was a distinct absence of bats and man eating plants, and the punishments seemed fairly tame. Some part of me was still concerned. It’s just hard to take a game seriously that makes you pat head and rub your tummy while spinning.

“Applejack! Now would be a great time to stop!”

“Nineteeeeeeeeeeeen… ” Her face blurred across my vision as she finished the count as slowly as possible, obviously enjoying the reversal of circumstances. “… Twenty. Ah suppose ya’ll can stop now.” It took a few seconds for the merry-go-round of candles looping in front of my vision to stop. I smoothed down my dress and sent a pointed look in the direction of my tormentor as I retook my spot on the rug across from her.

“Jerk.”

Applejack snickered unapologetically as I caught my breath. With the blue cup in hoof, she pressed its lip onto the edges of the dice, shooting the spotted cubes forward; the natural backspin of the flourish eventually pulled them back towards her and landed them squarely in the container, sounding a solid clunk. The youthful manner with which she shook the cup was adorably out of sync with her sultry appearance: she jostled the dice vigorously, head tilted to the side to bring an ear closer to the container. It was a technique that would have looked right at home to a locksmith feeling out the numbers of a complicated safe. I leaned back from the table on my palms and studied her discretely. Rarity had obviously styled her hair to mimic Fluttershy’s, but the end results couldn't have been more of a contrast. Fluttershy had always seemed to use her hair as a curtain to hide behind, only fully emerging from the shelter if somepony made the mistake of really rubbing her the wrong way. The flowing, straightened hair looked completely different on Applejack, who only seemed to be aware of it when she was pushing the wispy bangs out of her eyes. I was beginning to think I’d misinterpreted the cocksure attitude I’d originally disliked. It wasn’t so much an inflated ego as it was a total shunning of false modesty, an aura of carefree self-confidence left in its absence.

It certainly didn’t leave a bad impression.

Um. Kate? She has ears. Ears that go straight up. Pointy pony ears. And see those feet? Yeah, you don’t, because those aren’t feet. Hooves are not feet. Oh, and, you know, there’s also the oh so tiny detail that she’s A FREAKING FEMALE?

My inner voice was correct; however, it was neglecting to take something into account: the glasses were god damn killing me. No, not literally—my eyewear wasn’t a constant stream of discomfort, though I think constant discomfort might have been easier to deal with than the constant ebb and flow. You know the feeling when you’re just about to sneeze, the onset watering eyes and that horrible tickle in your nose that just gets worse and worse as you feel the pressure building? Your eyelids droop and you suck in a deep breath, and just when the explosion is imminent; that’s a horrible feeling, but it’s nothing compared to the awful sensation of losing that release, which is what I felt every time I took them off.

Except, I’m… not actually talking about sneezing.

I could deal with the headaches. It was the other part that was driving me insane. I’d gone through some dry spells in my life before (okay, a lot of dry spells,) but this was by and large the worst. There are no batteries in Equestria. NO BATTERIES. I had started the habit of gnawing my way through three cups of ice on a good day. On my way to work, I generally settled for taking the long way around Ponyville market – the problem urges tended to multiply when passing the cucumber stand. It’s amazing how flexible things like orientation can be when you’re in the midst of a metaphorical sahara.

The orange pony leaned forward over the coffee table, blinking in a manner that anypony unfamiliar would have probably interpreted as innocent “Anypony in there? I said you landed on blue again…”

Snapping back to the present, I reached for the blue card. I couldn’t speak with any authority on it so early in the game, but from what I could tell each color represented its own category. Yellow was by far the most common, and generally involved simple movement augmentations and penalties, plus or minus three or four spaces. Blue was oriented towards more physical embarrassment, like spinning around and making an idiot out of yourself. The remaining two colored spaces, purple and red, seemed to only be present in the last third of the board. Again, it seemed the very design of the game was almost tailor made to slip under my defenses.

I had spent far too much time on the receiving end of creatively disguised sexual advances to fall for any of the usual suspects: had the equine equivalent of anything even mildly reminiscent of “Twister” or “Truth or Dare” been suggested as an icebreaker, it would have been shot down by yours truly faster than anypony could say “plausible deniability”. Unfortunately, the deceptively innocent-looking Candy Land clone slipped through my Milton Bradley profiling radar without raising a single alarm. Now, I would say the reasoning behind this was fairly solid. The pitfalls of a game like Twister are fairly obvious: it’s not so much a game as it is a polka-dotted shortcut to the physical flirting process, insidiously disguised as innocent group bonding,

“Heh our hands accidentally touched!”

“No problem. I’m totally not rubbing legs with you intentionally!”

“Oops! The only open yellow’s on that side, guess I’ll have to straddle you!”

Yes, I’m speaking from experience; No, it is not an anecdote I particularly wish to expand on. Let’s just say the day-and-a-half hangover isn’t the only reason I have yet to attend a second sorority party. But at the very least Twister is mildly straightforward in its promiscuity. Candy-land—or a game that resembles it—should not be an arousing experience in any way, shape, or form. At no point in my adolescence did the confection themed foliage of the Gum-Drop forest strike me as sexy.

I read the blue card aloud

“Drawing pony must place a piece of ice on his/her body until it melts. Opponent may receive half the movement points if they help accelerate the melting process using nothing more than air.” I looked up at her with a slight smirk. “Well this should be a cakewalk.”

“Uhuh. How do ya’ figure?” Her eyes looked almost dangerous, glimmering with a competitive edge.

“Come now, we both know hot air isn't exactly something you’re in short supply of".

This is probably a good place to stop and make a note. I know I said that I’m not a competitive person. I’m not. I’ve just never really felt the need to dominate, or demonstrate superiority. There is one massive caveat to that, however. It started when I was a toddler: no one, and I mean no one beat little Kate Winsor at Hungry Hippos. Lizzie Potamus was her bottom bitch, and if you got in their way… she. would. END. you. I eventually outgrew the game, moving on to Scrabble and chess, but I guess I never really outgrew the behavior.

Despite my history of being an unstoppable force, little did I know I was about to meet my immovable object.

“You’re seriously just going to sit there and do nothing?” Any higher pitched and my voice would have been in danger of sounding whiny.

“Yeeeep.” AJ reclined next to me after making her best Big Mac impression, watching with a faux-bored face I was sure was carefully covering a leering grin. “I have to take it easy. Since I’m so full of hot air and all.”

I winced. Touche

It was, in short, another debacle of misread fine-print. Nowhere on the card did it indicate the suggested size or shape of the ice-cube. It was a loophole that left me staring at the whitewashed ceiling, trying very hard not to focus on the frozen monstrosity balanced precariously just below my neck. Like any normal person, when I heard “ice” I thought “ice cube,” a tiny square thing that would melt in five minutes or less.

Silly Kate, this is Rarity’s shop. God forbid for a pony of such sophistication to partake in something as simple and pedestrian as boring old cubed ice.

The spherical instrument of discomfort that sat perched above my sternum was similar to the sort of ice-ball traditionally served with Japanese whiskey or high proof sake. Not only did it melt more slowly than regular ice, the lack of flat edges meant that if I fidgeted too quickly the frozen ball would roll off, further lowering my chances of winning that infernal game.

“So…” Applejack ‘s stare seemed to be fixated on my dress, eying the blue fabric curiously.

“So?” I retorted, not feeling particularly generous given the circumstances. Whoever had designed the game either had a sick sense of humor, or had taken the phrase “breaking the ice” a bit too literally.

“Ya’ll really wear clothes all the time where you come from?” Her eyes ran up and down my body in a surprisingly naive manner, devoid of sexual connotation. It was a nice reminder that I was as much of an oddity to her as she was to me. I made a zipping motion across my lips and pointed to the sphere nestled just above the neckline of the dress, raising an eyebrow. “Oh… I suppose.” She relented. The light green fabric of her dress rustling as she rose, reaching a foreleg over my torso to get a better angle before leaning down and blowing two sparse puffs of warm air onto the sphere before looking up and mimicking back an exaggerated parody of my demanding expression. I wasn’t particularly happy with the very marginal progress, but maybe if I kept answering questions she would keep blowing–

Er. Blowing warm air on my ice-ball–

Melting my ice with her mou–

Coaxing the liquid–

Okay. You know what, there’s no good way to phrase that.

“Yeah, most of us wear clothes, though dresses aren’t as common now days. There are small groups of humans who don’t wear clothing, but they’re few and far between. I honestly can’t even imagine walking around outside without clothes.” I shuddered involuntarily, partially from the cold, partially from the thought of indecent exposure and subsequent pony attacks.

AJ shook her head in disbelief before inspecting my relaxed arm with a hoof. “Well, if somepony went and shaved off my coat, I can’t imagine I’d be in a hurry to go outside lookin’ all pale and bald.”

Note to self: The Element of Honesty lives up to her name.

I instinctively pulled my arm away in undisguised irritation, nearly sending my ice-cube bounding away.

“Ah, sorry, sorry, I do that sometimes.” To her credit, AJ was scrambling to recover, looking surprisingly panic-stricken by my reaction. “You’re the prettiest lookin’, pale, bald alien I’ve ever seen!”

I didn’t find the reassurance particularly flattering. “See this, right here?” I put a hand through my hair. “See this lovely head of long, brown hair that is nowhere near receding? Ergo, not bald.”

“Right.” She drooped her head, looking sufficiently bashful.

“My turn,” I crossed my arms, trying to take charge of the situation as much as possible whilst being pinned to the ground by an oversized chunk of ice. “Did you always want to be a farmer?” The stupid grin that had been pasted to her lips since the beginning of the evening thinned, the corners of her mouth flattening. The change in demeanor was drastic enough that I quickly regretted the question. “Sorry. You don’t have to answer.”

“No, s’okay.” She turned away, hair obscuring her face, her voice lowered in a steady, controlled tone. “When I was a lot younger I wanted to be a singer. Auntie Orange up in Manehatten offered to give me lessons if I wanted to come up and live with them for a while, so I figured I’d give it a shot.”

I felt terrible, it was obvious she was telling more than she was comfortable with, probably due to her straightforward personality. The ice had finally melted, so I sat up, about to interrupt her before she continued.

“I’d just gotten rid of the accent when Mac wrote me towards the end of that summer, sayin’ Momma needed help with the harvest that year, that we were short-hoofed. I didn’t leave on the best of terms, so I wasn’t exactly motivated to hurry, but somethin’ about the letter worried me.”

Her… mother? In a unsettlingly sober moment it clicked. She didn’t have to finish the story; I could see it in the way her shoulders drooped and her ears flattened. The emptiness in her eyes spoke silent volumes. “Applejack-“

“I ain’t gonna go into the worst of it, but suffice it to say that Apple Bloom’s the main reason I stayed, least at first. Eventually I started enjoyin’ the work. There’s something to be said for an honest day's work with your own four hooves,” she said, composure returning to its original aloof state.The fake smile was good, excellent even. It was identical to her previous smile, though it was completely missing the sparkling of her eyes.

Still shivering a bit from the residue of the ice, I crossed my legs and leaned forward to take her hoof, an expression I think surprised us both. The dark appendage was less shiny than Fluttershy’s and Rarity’s spa-spoiled hoofs. What it lacked in shine, though, it made up for in elegance. The outer rim was perfectly smoothed from years of manual labor. The underside of her hoof was surprisingly soft and pulpy towards the base and more firm close to the front. I could feel her watching me quietly as I considered my next words with care.

“When I was a kid, I… had a speech impediment.” Annoyingly, my mouth suddenly felt dry. It wasn’t a story I brought up often—actually, I’m not sure I’d ever told it before that day.

“Ya couldn’t tell listening to ya now.” The resurfacing of her genuine smile encouraged me. Her forehooves began to explore my hand in return, attentive all the while.

“I had no end of difficulty pronouncing my sibilates – ‘S’ sounds. I’m not sure why it happened or even when it started. I always thought I was saying it right before my mother started telling me she didn’t know what “theconds” were. She wasn’t cruel. She’d always end up giving me what I was asking for even if I couldn’t say it correctly, and she never pretended to misunderstand me for more than a few minutes at a time. She was an english teacher, and I always used get the feeling that having a daughter who could barely speak proper “englith” was a bit of a professional embarrassment to her. A gigantic thesaurus from my father’s study became my greatest ally. If I couldn’t conquer “s”, I was going to learn as many ways to circumvent it as possible.”

“Kate, maybe you should slow down a bit,” Applejack warned, caution in her eyes. I was completely confused by the interruption before I looked down and realized how much my hands were shaking. These were old, old wounds, so why was it bothering me so much?

I shook my head, clasping my hands together tightly to still them. “I’m fine. Anyway, one night my mom and I got into the argument to end all arguments. It was over saying “thanks” - of all the things to argue about, right?” I ran my fingers through my hair half a dozen times, fixating on its lack of straightness. “I outright refused to say anything other than thank you, and after a dozen failed attempts to get me to do otherwise, she lost it. I don’t remember everything she said. The gist of it was: I was running from the real problem, and as long as I kept trying to avoid it instead of dealing with it directly that I’d never be happy. It didn’t make a lot of sense at that moment. I wasn’t an unhappy kid, and generally the lectures put me in a mood more than anything else. I didn’t understand for a long time that she wasn’t really talking to me.”

The torrent of repressed anxiety just came welling up out of nowhere. I guess I really hadn’t ever talked about it before.

Applejack prompted me onward with a tug of her hoof. “What happened next?”

“My parents were arguing the next morning. I couldn’t hear everything they said, but considering how bad our argument was the preceding night, I took things out of context and could have sworn it was about me.”

You’ll never be happy, You don’t love us, blah blah blah.

“The door slammed. I rushed out from behind my door to find my father alone, pouring himself a bowl of cereal. I asked him where Mommy went.”

She left.

Why?

Don’t worry about it.

When is she coming back?

She’s not coming back.

I’m going to call her.

Forget it. Her phone’s on the table. She doesn’t want anything to do with us anymore.

Why?!

Because we’re not good enough, dammit! Nothing’s good enough for that bitch, and I know you know exactly what I mean. I’ve seen the way she bullies you over something you can’t control. I mean what kind of mother torments their daughter over a speech impediment?

“… He didn’t say much.” The shivers worked their way up to my shoulders. “I know now he was trying to hide the fact my mother left us for another woman. Back then, though, I was such a stupid little kid. I was convinced he was just trying to spare my feelings that she left because of me. All she needed was a good, lisp-less apology and she’d forgive us and come back.”

Thorry.

I wath wrong.

I apologith.

Pleath forgive me.

“I couldn’t bring myself to talk to her after she left. Not because I didn’t want to. She called a few times and I called her a few times, but in the end I always hung up before saying a word. The lisp always seemed to resurface the moment I’d resolved myself to talk to her. I was terrified: terrified if I screwed it up she’d give up on us for good. I put myself through that stress for years before I was told the real reason she left.” My jaw clenched, and I tried to pull myself out of the funk of the memory. “I’m just saying, I get what it’s like.” It was frustrating; the “short” anecdote about my childhood, originally meant to connect with AJ seemed to have sprouted legs and took off running. It went far deeper than I intended. I had just wanted to show AJ I understood where she was coming from, and the end result had only ended up confusing me. Maybe I had said too much.

Wow, yeah, you’re really good at the no strings attached thing Kate-

The kiss on my cheek was sudden, sweet, and left the faintest scent of cinnamon in the air.

AJ pulled her head back with a wry grin, forehooves still perched on my shoulders. “Well I don’t give a hoot what anypony else says. I think that lisp of yours is the sweetest wittle thing.”

Whatever you might think about Applejack’s total lack of frills and subtlety, sometimes she just knows how to break the tension. I joke-gagged at the sentimentality, she nipped at my hair, I nabbed her around the waist and she pushed us both down. By the time we got back to the game at hand, childhood scars were the farthest things from our thoughts

Our struggle across the seemingly endless square-segmented paths of “Poni-Land” had been a grueling battle. There had been romance, wrestling, poledancing and far too many redraws of the “chubby bunnies” card. Lets just say the next bag of jumbo marshmallows either of us spotted would probably be stabbed and or bucked repeatedly. So many things would never be the same. I’d never be able to look at a pickle without snickering. I would never be able to hold a hamster without crushing feelings of remorse. And most importantly, I discovered vaseline was my achilles heel.

At that moment, we were tied in the game, within a single space of victory. I held my breath and drew the last red card, reading it aloud. “Tail of Resolve Challenge: Opponent lays flat on stomach, extending legs out behind her. Base of tail must keep contact with the ground. Opponent massages card recipient’s back and/or legs until a tail flicks, or five minutes have passed. Winner advances five spaces.

Applejack’s eyes narrowed, “Uhuh. Mind given’ that here?” I watched with no small amusement after relinquishing it. Her eyes bounced around the card fretfully as if desperately looking for a loophole. After not finding it, she turned the card itself around several times. “Well… buck.”

“Don’t worry about it.” I shrugged.

“Really? Ah don’t want to cheat.” Applejack insisted, leaning back dejectedly.

“Who said anything about cheating? See these?” I held up my hands, doing spirit fingers. “These are what we call an unfair advantage. Resistance is futile. So just forfeit the challenge and give me the win.”

Her expression hardened as she stood and trotted around the table, stopping a few inches from my face. “That ain’t gonna’ happen.”

I tried hide the elation of near victory as I patted the carpet at my knees, more than a little smug. As much as reading the earth pony anatomy textbook at Twilight’s might have rattled my nerves, that little misstep was about to pay off in spades. Applejack looked slightly concerned at the sudden burst of confidence. She was just about to slip out of her dress for the massage before abruptly stopping, displaying a completely uncharacteristic degree of modesty.

“Heh, actually I think I may keep it on.” A light tone of strain underlined her voice.

I frowned. “Why? Taking it off would be easier and more comfortable for both of us. It’s not like its anything I haven’t seen before.” The orange pony’s eyes darted about the room, trying to look nonchalant. The attempt at concealment was spectacularly telegraphed far before she started trying to whistle. In the end though, her secret was ousted by a gust of wind: When Applejack’s dress tried to follow it...

Well, what was seen could not be unseen.

The bright orange and white horizontal stripes were unmistakable. My face must have cycled through half a dozen expression before settling on pursed lips, stretched thinly whilst desperately trying not to laugh.

“AJ... are you wearing panties?”

Applejack looked utterly mortified, facing her flank directly opposite to me and scuttle-back-pedaling to the other side of the room. “NO - yes- Maybe - I ain’t that kinda pony, I swear!

“This is your first time wearing such a risque item, then?” I deadpanned, biting my lip in a desperate bid to maintain a straight face.

She nodded her head desperately. “Yes! -Well, Ah did wear something like this once before, but they weren’t so stripey, and that was during my -watchamacallit- rebellious experimentation phase!”

The shamed look, and the tomato-esque shade of her face proved to be too much. I collapsed in a fit of giggles. AJ watched in confusion as I regained my breath, carefully raising the side slit in my dress along the side of my thigh, revealing just a thumb-sized portion of the black lacy strap underneath while showing as little skin as possible, Having realized the reality of the situation, the earth pony’s left ear began to twitch violently. She trotted over to the spot I had indicated earlier, settling herself down with harumph.

“Lets get this over with so I can win already. And you best not tell anypony.”

“Well duh.” I rolled my eyes at her paranoia. We’d already established the confidentiality agreement hours ago, directly following the hamster thing. “That's the whole point of the rules. What’s the first rule of Poni-Land?”

She let out a soft moan as my thumbs started to rub more deeply into the tense crest between her shoulders. “dun... talk... about Poni-Land.” Her breathing became so steady after a few minutes I was almost certain she was asleep.

It was all going according to plan. Game, set, and match.

I was in the process of pulling my hand back for the coup-de-grace, a firm squeeze on the now totally relaxed nerve cluster beneath her mingle mark would be an almost guaranteed reflexive tail-flip. Suddenly, she spoke.

“Kate?”

My hand froze inches from her mark. “... Yes?

“You sure you wanna do this?”

“Do... what?” For a moment I thought I’d been had.

“You know what. Especially when you’re still so confused over Flutters.” She opened a single eye and tilted her head towards me knowingly. “I know Flutters wouldn’t want you to if she thought it would be difficult.”

“God dammit.” The orange pony looked at me in surprise as stood up abruptly and walked to the other side of the room. I’ll be honest, I was a little pissed at Applejack for reminding me, though it wasn't really something I could blame her for. I’d been ever so carefully building up distractions, a series of psychological spinning plates designed to keep me from thinking about certain things, and the earth pony had sent them all crashing down with a single query. I didn't want to think about that pegasus, much less her, dark, brooding, enigmatic, sympathetic, all-powerful goddess-bride to be. It’s bad enough discovering complicated feelings for somepony entirely antithetical to what you should be attracted to. It’s even worse when you know that despite your feelings, theres someone much better out there for her, someone who needs her much more than you do.

I didn’t want to think about that. Couldn’t think about that. Thunder crashed in the distance as the pounding in my head grew louder. Another draft came in much more strongly than before, extinguishing the candles and bathing the boutique in utter darkness. The silence between us was filled by the pitter-patter of rain on the roof. The clopping of hooves added to the cacophony of the downpour. The lines of her face were almost distinguishable as she made her way towards me in the dark. Her tail wasn’t touching the floor. According to the rules of the game I had won

The scary part was, for once, I didn’t care.

I reached a hand around her neck, gently guiding her lips to mine.

Rainbow Dash landed somewhere in the Everfree forest. The high-speed winds had come out of nowhere. It was a frustrating limitation. Pegasi were well suited to deal with smaller clouds, yet horribly out matched when it came to storms of this magnitude.There really wasn’t a way to deal with a storm this large.

She zigzagged towards potential cover in a hollowed out tree while fighting the current, dodging under an airborne bunny and various other wind strewn projectiles. The sky had always been her ally, an old familiar friend she could always count on, but now the cloud pattern was utterly unfamiliar and alien. The storm was moving towards Ponyville, and something was very, very wrong.

Pinkie Pie danced around the confectionary, humming as she frosted, glazed, and baked. Realistically speaking the amount of work she was doing should have taken the work of three normal ponies. Then again, it’s plainly obvious at first glance nothing about her is normal. Today was different, because Pinkie had a secret: She usually did the work of four ponies. The fourth portion of her brain had been temporarily reassigned to confectionary statistical analysis, which it tended to be reassigned to on slow days. And today was certainly a slow day. There had only been a few customers, and other than Mr. Cake on his coffee break the shop was totally deserted. Her trays spun with shimmering zeal as she finished all three of them simultaneously -

TWITCH

SPLAT

The pink pony's hair flattened instantly. She stared at the remains of her dear friend in disbelief; a lone cupcake lay spattered on the kitchen’s floor. Only this wasn’t just any cupcake. This cupcake’s name was Tim. He was number 16,180,339,887, but he was as precious to her as the first. He consisted of Egg, Flour, White frosting and trace elements of peanut dust. His frosting wasn’t the most even of the batch but his other bits were perfectly proportional; Despite this exceptional straightness he still wore the pink bow she gave him with pride, even if it was only to be ironic. He had fallen from the second highest row, out of the third column on the left. She had sworn to herself it would never happen again, that never again would her power cause an innocent to die needlessly, yet here she was, cradling the crinkly wrapper of yet another fallen cupcake she was supposed to be protecting. She held him tightly, murmuring sweet nothings as his frosting ebbed away, each moment bringing him closer and closer to the void. “Goodnight, my prince,” she whispered. Yet he said nothing in return... Tim never really did well with the hard goodbyes.

Mrs. Cake leaned over to her husband, inquiring quietly. “Pinkie sense?”

Mr. Cake nodded

“How bad?”

“There was a twitch in the bake tricks.”

“A twitch?”

Bringing a hoof to his chin, Mr. Cake stroked his stubble thoughtfully. “It happens when they change something.”

The rain ran through Luna’s celestial mane, soaking through to the skin. A lesser princess would have taken cover from the rain, but she wasn’t just any princess. She was the night, and her mission held a higher priority than her mane. It wasn’t a matter of brooding or melodrama, it was conviction, pure and simple. Fluttershy and the human had both disappeared. Fluttershy could very well be in danger. Also, there was definitely a funnel cloud forming above Ponyville, but she’d deal with that after she found Fluttershy... she frowned. And maybe the human.

“Princess Luna! Ah’m sorry to say! But AH CAN’T SEE NOTHIN’” Gavenstein screeched.

The rain had gotten so heavy she couldn’t even make out the street signs. For a moment it felt like the very atmosphere was crushing her. Luna staggered; there was a sudden barrage of magical overflow, so much of it that she could barely get a feel for its direction. As much as it pained her, this changed things. She would have to find Fluttershy after dealing with whatever this disturbance was. Lowering her head, she turned and began to push towards the source.

Unzipping the back of my dress, I inspected the small of my back in the mirror.

It’s gone... it’s finally gone.

The tramp stamp had finally been vanquished. I could finally wear form-fitting shirts without worrying that the slightest exposure of skin would risk reveal my “easy” sign. Also, I could now stand to actually look at my back in the mirror without cringing. It was a little sad, but for the most part it felt really, really nice. The rendezvous with Applejack had solved two major problems, the only real remaining issue was that it had somehow made my headache worse. It wasn’t quite to the point where I overflowed and zapped the sparrow last time, however it was probably safest for all concerned if I released it as soon as the rain let up. I pulled the neckline of my dress down a smudge and gawked.

Aw hell. Hickies everywhere.

A clatter outside the bathroom door spiked my pulse a bit. There was no convenient memory loss this time to smooth the process.... no ma’am, this time I remembered every single detail. With this much awkward in play, maybe I should just stay in the bathroom. Just thinking about it instantly turned me red. AJ was probably feeling the same degree of awkward. I took a deep breath and opened the door, preparing myself for -

Nothing...

I had the boutique to myself; Applejack was gone. It left me with an odd feeling of mixed relief and of disappoint. I looked around puzzled for a few minutes before I found the note on the table.

Dear Kate,

I had a nice time. A real nice time. I think the last time I had such a good time with somepony - er, actually never mind. Probably best not to go into that. I needed to go, sorry I had to leave you alone, I just thought it might be best that way. See, I know we said no strings attached, and I’m one pony who’s always true to my word. Thing is, I really liked spending time with you, even before the steamy bits. If I leave now, I can deal with it. Eventually I’ll be able to stop seeing you as Ms. Sexypants, at which point we can be friends again.

I don’t think I could do that if I spent the rest of the night with you tonight though. I just like you too darn much, hahah.

If there’s any possibility you might feel the same way, you’re welcome to come to dinner with the family tomorrow, or the day after that. If you ain’t had the Apple family’s Apple Pie, you don’t no what you’re missing. And uh, don’t think of this as a string or nothin, it’s more like a “you won the raffle but you don’t have to take it” sort of not-string. And uh, I didn’t mean that as egotestical as it sounded, just to clarify.

The letter was surprisingly sweet. At first I was entirely opposed to the idea. I didn’t know where I stood on so many levels and had only just started to recover from half a dozen disasters. I sat back down on the bed, looking over the letter in a few times. I said no in my head half a dozen times before the doubt started to creep in.
I don’t know how long I’m going to be here, would it really hurt to date a little?

Heheheheheheh. That’s how it starts.

“Who the hell is that!?” There was no way I’d imagined it. I spun in a circle that was more hysterical than defensive, a chill running down my spine as I searched for the sound of the voice.

All it takes is a little bit of justification. This is going to be fun.

I didn’t see her until I turned to the mirror. It was a dark silhouette, unmistakably humanoid in shape if not figure. It was completely black, as if forged from shadow. The eyes were blue, catlike, and predatory. After two frantic glances back and forth I’d confirmed I couldn’t see it in anything other than the mirror I was standing in front of. My body had just processed the command to run when the shadow reached out to me. I didn’t feel it’s touch, there was no physical impact; what I did feel was the already mounting pressure in my head skyrocket. I momentarily lost vision in my right eye, and the migraine like sensation increased exponentially

As my options were considerably limited and my mind was scattered, I did the only thing I could: Ran like hell... for about two seconds anyway. With my obscured vision and the natural disadvantages that come with exiting a bright building into a rainy night, I almost ran directly into the pony on the doorstep. She reared up, whinnying in surprise as I threw my hands up to defend myself. Mercifully, the hoofs didn’t flail out to strike as she descended, and my hand numbly impacted her chest as it lowered. Lowering the arm that was protecting my face, my jaw dropped.

Holy crap she's tall!

Princess Luna, the Alicorn Princess of the night was giving me a glare that made me feel really rather tiny, because I was still touching her. I tried to remove my hand, only to find the same static cling effect that had preceded nuking the bird back to health a few weeks...

Oh... oh no.

In the next fifteen seconds, I’m pretty sure I nearly ripped my arm out of joint. The pressure I was feeling now as opposed to the first time wasn’t even comparable. Not only had constantly holding in made it easier and easier to wait longer, whatever I encountered in the boutique had pushed it the pressure sky high. The effect I’d had on the sparrow wasn’t entirely unlike a defibrillator. If it was used on a healthy specimen, there was no way to gauge what could happen.

The moment of discharge was so much more excruciating than the first time; I felt what must have been thousands of waves and vibrations passing through my chest cavity and arm, blowing the lid off of any previous pain I’d ever felt before. The world went white

Please let her be all right.

I awoke to humming, an eerily happy tune that sounded a bit too similar to what angels might hum. Opening my eyes, I found myself surrounded by what looked like a a field of some sort. Considering the peaceful setting, it took me a few seconds to realize why exactly the scene bothered me.

Celtic humming, and waking up in the middle of a wheat-field at sunset. Here I'll just go run my hand through it all symbolic-like. Yep, I've seen this before. I'm totally dead.

I looked to my left, if only to confirm that the Celtic voice was indeed disembodied. Instead of the endless field I'd expected, I found myself looking into a light blue pair of kind eyes, and a mane that looked like it held it’s own universe. As I began to get my bearings, I began to realize that the face looking down on me was a bit too happy, considering that, from her point of view, I’d essentially just ran out of a building and electrocuted her.

“Good morning,” She said, in a shy manner that was more than a bit disturbing given the context.

“Uh... Hi.”

“Feeling better?” She asked, in a voice that sounded far too chipper.

“Yeah... it's kind of weird actually, I was sure I hit my head pretty hard... huh." I had no clue what was going on.

"I did what I could to tend your wounds with magic." she replied, matter of factly. I sat up a little straighter, and checked the place my head had impacted the wall when I passed out. There wasn't so much as a scab. Even the wound on my stomach was completely healed. This was too strange, to convenient. I was almost convinced it had to be a dream. Even the warding glasses were somehow still in place.

"Thank you, really. I'm truly sorry for what transpired, it wasn't intentional. You have really pretty hair by the way." I saw a hint of a smile at the compliment, which made me feel a smidgen of hope...

... which was immediately crushed.

"I provided you aid because that is my duty as princess. Regardless, you are welcome. However, gratitude and regret do not excuse you for what you have done. She looked down on me in a piercing stare. “Do you intend to take responsibility for what you did, human?"

I felt my heart sink. What was I going to say? The cat eyed woman in the mirror attacked me, so I ran out and attacked you? It would sound like a lie from a desperate fool. We could have that discussion when they knew I wasn't start raving mad. At this point, It was beginning to look fairly obvious that the princesses were my only way home. Best to at least try and get on her good side, even if that meant starting on her bad side.

"Yes... you have my word."

"It pleases me to hear it. Though you are not a legal citizen of Equestria, I, as acting Princess of the moon and stars accept your spoken oath as a legally binding contract." She rose to her hooves."We will be wed in one weeks time."

"Very well - Wait - WHAT?"

Special Thanks to Editing Team Awesome Sauce: MisterMoniker and Meeester

AN:: Hi all. For some reason the google doc to fimfic converter was giving me non stop trouble, so if you see any areas where stuff is missing / improperly spliced together that's why. I will do more editing a little later today, after I go pass out for a bit. Also yes, I'm back. .