February 20th, 993 Domina Solaria

Doug self-consciously adjusts the pack on his back as he walks through the streets of Ponyville. Hordes of ponies are out and about this close to dusk: milling around restaurants, trotting briskly to and fro, or just standing around chatting before they turn in for the night. Except heads keep turning, and judging by the hard stares he keeps getting word has spread of his and Applejack’s herding. And not necessarily in a good way. The occasional pony grins at spotting him, perhaps a word of congratulations on their tongue, but close their mouths after visibly deciding against it. Maybe because of the disapproving glares from too many of the others. Regardless, Doug forces a smile, trying not to show any teeth, and waves back.

Without warning a gray pegasus mare lands directly in front of Doug. He startles backwards, a hand gripping the pack against himself. His legs tense as he crouches, a split second from dashing away. But when she merely flips her blond mane out of her yellow eyes and reaches a wing to the mailbags at her sides? He takes a few rapid breaths, slowly calming down.

A single letter comes out of the mailbags, her pretty little mailmare’s hat dipping low and nearly covering one of the two yellow eyes squinting to read the recipient’s name. The other wanders around before locking onto him as she waves the letter at him. “Are you Doug Apple?” she asks in a high-pitched, nasally voice.

“I am,” Doug replies cautiously, standing up. A response? Already? “Is that for me?”

“Maybe?” The mare flips the letter over, reading it again. She frowns. “I’m supposed to deliver this to a Doug Apple at Sweet Apple Acres. But there isn’t a Doug Apple registered at Sweet Apple Acres.”

“That was a recent change.” Doug offers her a contrite smile. “I’ll be sure to rectify that.” He holds out a hand, patiently waiting.

The pegasus glances at his hand, then at the letter. “But, how do I know if you are the correct Doug Apple?”

“Do you know of any other Doug Apples living in Ponyville?” Doug glances around. For all I know, Applejack has some second cousin with the same name.

“Hmm,” she ponders, staring up at the sky with one eye while the other wanders over the nearby roofs. “I don’t.”

Doug nods along. “I doubt you’ll find anypony else claiming to be Doug Apple, either.”

“Of course they wouldn’t.” Her attention turns back to him. “I’m Derpy Hooves.” She points a hoof at a nearby pony. “That’s Lemon Hearts.” She goes to point to another pony, but Doug clears his throat loudly. She turns to look at him.

“Does that mean I can get my letter?” Doug asks, a bit of frustration in his voice.

“Oh!” Derpy Hooves wings the letter over. “Finally! You wouldn’t believe how long I’ve been looking for you!”

“Why didn’t you look at Sweet Apple Acres?” Doug asks, only slightly flippantly.

“Because there isn’t a Doug Apple registered at Sweet Apple Acres,” Derpy responds instantly.

Doug frowns. It’s hard to argue with that. “Well, thank you. Have a nice day.”

“You too!” Derpy says cheerfully, flying off.

The letter feels like it has a weight to it much greater than the mere paper might suggest. Each of the first letters of the vertically arranged 'Research - Inquest - Procurement' is heavily stylized, lending quite the gravity to the situation. Doug puts the letter in his pack, unwilling to even speculate on the contents, at least until he’s inside.

The door to the Boutique is unlocked despite the closed sign in the window, and Doug slips inside to the merry ringing of the bell above. Rarity steps out of one of the downstairs showrooms, her muted grin widening as she spots the pack on his back. “Evening, Doug,” she says, though not as enthusiastically as he might have imagined.

“Evening,” Doug replies, a slight frown as Rarity turns around. What could be wrong? He follows her inside her showroom, now converted to a makeshift dining room. An elegant tablecloth covers the large table in the middle of the room, settings already arranged with two lamps with fireflies in the center. Doug walks up to the table, picking up one of the long-handled forks. “Now I feel a little underdressed,” he quips, putting the fork down and setting his pack on the floor.

“If I thought you should have worn anything,” Rarity says with a wink of her eye, though Doug can tell it’s a little forced, “I would have told you.” Why do I keep leading him on like this? Her horn briefly flares, the lights in the main store going out.

“Fair enough,” Doug says, looking around for something to sit on. He decides to kneel, much like he does at Applejack’s, as the lights go out in this room as well, the fireflies providing a subdued ambiance. He eagerly waits as Rarity levitates three covered dishes, taking a spot next to him. But when she sets them down with little fanfare he has to ask, “You doing okay?”

“Darling,” Rarity says with a hint of hardness, “as long as you brought the fritters for dessert I shall be fine.” She grins as he pulls a covered basket from his pack. “Now, I have here-” she unveils each dish as she names it, adding a little flourish “-a lettuce, olive and onion salad, wheat breadsticks with garlic and butter, and a spinach and sweet pepper pasta. I made sure to only use ingredients you, or Applejack, said you could eat.” She motions to a plate of flower petals set next to where she is standing.

“It looks great,” Doug says, grabbing the serving spoon and dishing himself a generous helping of each. Rarity follows after, plenty remaining for seconds. He spears a few pieces of salad, asking, “You made this?”

“It took a few trips back to the house to make sure everything came out perfectly, but it was well worth it.” Rarity takes a bite of her own salad, then adds a few of the petals. “I just…”

“Yeah?” Doug asks as Rarity trails off.

Rarity stares at the fork held in her light blue aura. “It’s…” just my doubts about our future together. “Nothing. How have you been since I’ve seen you last?”

Doug purses his lips, but ultimately says, “Well, after our boring day” -Rarity’s eyes narrow, then her expression brightens as she rolls her eyes- “I went on two jogs with Rainbow Dash. Well, the first day I carried her. The second day we both ran.” He spears another bit of salad and breadstick, their meal quickly disappearing. “She could stand to work on her legs more. Well, we both can, really. But she kept up, which she really cared about, and then got me to massage her legs and wings.” Doug takes another bite, chewing thoughtfully. “Mare can be quite a handful.”

“Indeed,” Rarity says neutrally. She takes a deep breath, slowly letting it out. I can’t put this off any longer. “Doug, you care a lot about family, yes?”

“I do, yes,” Doug replies guardedly. “Actually,” he pulls his pack over, “I got a letter about that.”

“You did?” Rarity says, quite surprised. She reaches a hoof, gently pressing against Doug’s hand. “I…” I can’t join you, because I’m afraid what will happen with our foals. She forces a smile to her face. “I’d like to hear what they said.” Coward.

“Let’s see,” Doug says, ripping open the envelope. Two pieces of paper are inside. He pulls one out, reading,

“In regards to your second inquiry: the field of interdimensional travel is a closely regulated and monitored one, per the orders of Princess Celestia. Common knowledge says that they strictly go from one established location to another. We at Research, Inquiry, and Procurement regret to inform you that we are unable to further pursue such a matter. Furthermore, any reports that the recovered crystal skull is in any way related are a complete fabrication.
Regards,
Amy K.”

Doug blinks a few times as he gets to the small, tightly scrawled signature at the end. “Huh.”

“‘Huh’, indeed,” Rarity echoes. She looks up at Doug. His mouth pulls to a thin line, eyebrows nearly running into each other as his brow furrows. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“That they most certainly do know something?” Doug nods to himself. “Also, they couldn’t have possibly written this without knowing that it’s practically tailor made to make someone insatiably curious.”

“Which means it’s a trap,” Rarity says, horn lighting and a fedora levitating to her. “But we know it’s a trap.”

“But they must know that we know it’s a trap,” Doug counters, snatching her fedora from midair and donning it himself. “Which means they aren’t trying to conceal something, but don’t want us to bother looking.”

Rarity pulls her fedora off Doug’s head as soon as he lets go of it. “Unless they think that by informing us that they don’t know anything, and doing so in such an obvious manner to make it look like they are setting a trap that we must know about is in fact the trap, and we should go investigating.”

Doug chuckles. “Why do I get the feeling that you just want to go investigating?” He flips the paper over, pushing it away and pulling out the second one.

“Wait!” Rarity calls, pointing to the first piece. “There’s more!” She drags it over, reading, “P.S. It’s not a trap. Withers.” She rolls her eyes. “Well, that doesn’t help anything.”

“I don’t think anything they say could help matters, because you can keep chasing down that rabbithole forever.” Doug flicks the second piece, clearing his throat.

“Dear Doug Apple,
First, congratulations to you and your mare! While not the norm by any means, interspecies relationships have always had a steady presence in Equestria, primarily in Canterlot. No spell or potion is needed, and the foal or young is almost always healthy - similar to any pregnancy. The foremost doctor in the field, and many others, is Dr. G. Horse, H. D. He specializes in exotic diseases and rare disorders, though it is doubtful that you will need his assistance as most pregnancies progress normally. A word of caution - he can be difficult to get along with, but his expertise is invaluable should complications arise.”

Doug smiles at Rarity, hand rubbing through her mane, though she can barely muster a smile in return or a caution against messing up her mane. Doug continues, his happiness slowly fading,

“This assumes, however, that the combination is a viable one. Princess Celestia’s own research into the matter found it is possible until you reach a certain threshold. Once you dip below the equine-adjacent species, such as donkeys, conception becomes an impossibility.”

Conception becomes an impossibility. Doug stares at the line for several long seconds. ...Damn.

Next to him, Rarity wraps a hoof around him, pulling herself close, but he barely even notices. Doug reads the rest in a flat monotone, his faint flicker of hope dying with every word.

“This is all common knowledge, provided free of charge, but should be researched further if looking to reference in a publication. If you are interested in a more thorough investigation of any particular aspect, standard billing hours will apply. For detailed reports regarding Princess Celestia’s research, contact the castle or the Princess herself.
Best wishes on starting your family,
Withers”

Doug sinks into the table as he stares at the letter, eyes rereading the ‘impossible’ line again and again, wishing the words would change. He flips it over, hoping against hope.

Blank.

“Rip,” he mutters, feeling exactly like one of his hardcore characters when they take that fatal blow.

Like I’m never getting back up again.

Next Chapter: Ch. 36 - Hrimsorrow Estimated time remaining: 11 Hours, 23 Minutes