February 25th, 993 Domina Solaria

Doug grunts as a heavy tail slapping against his thigh awakens him. He groggily grumbles, rubbing at the sore spot on his leg. It’s dark in Applejack’s room, heavy rain pounding against the roof, and his sleepy mind has trouble processing anything except that there is a very cuddleable mare in the bed spooning with him. If only he wasn’t little spoon. He stretches an arm around her warm barrel, the other hand sinking into the soft fur of her belly. Yet for some inexplicable reason the mare swats at him again.

“What?” he asks in the middle of a long yawn.

“Bakin’,” comes the obtuse reply. She rolls over.

Oh, right. That.

“Jus’ five more minutes,” he mumbles into the earth scented mane as he rolls over, now the big spoon, his hand resuming the hunt for her teats. Not that he doesn’t know where they are, but he likes hunting around her belly for them.

He’s met with another hard slap of her tail against the exact same spot on his leg. “Ya said that the last time.”

“I did?” Doug frowns in confusion. Did I? I guess it wouldn’t surprise me. I often set two alarms for that reason.

“An’ Granny’ll tan mah hide if you ain’t out there helpin’ bake. Now git.” Applejack would roll over, except she can’t roll over any farther. So she settles for whacking him again with her tail. It’s surprisingly effective at improving her mood this early in the morning.

“I’m going, I’m going,” Doug protests. He can’t help himself as he rolls over his mare, planting a kiss on her muzzle. He waits, resting his weight on top of her, another kiss to her muzzle getting her to oblige and kiss him back. Satisfied, at least for now, Doug rolls the rest of the way and heads to the bathroom, leaving his mare to get another two hours of sleep.

A drink of water works just as well as a cup of coffee to get Doug going in the morning. He heads to the kitchen, the wet stains by the side door suggesting Granny Smith already collected the eggs despite the pouring rain. Crotchety old coot might not have even noticed. He greets the weathered green mare with a crisp, “Mornin’,” and gets the barest flick of a head in return. He looks over the ingredients already pulled out. “More fritters?”

“Two gross of ‘em,” the mare replies, methodically rolling out the dough.

“Why not just make three hundred?” Doug says jovially as he starts peeling and coring the apples.

“Because then we’d have eight left over.” She waggles a rolling pin at him as he goes to retort. “An’ don’t think Ah don’t see you filchin’ a bite here’n there. Jus’ make four extra once we’re done. Same’as the eggs; if you need more, jus’ say somethin’!”

“Wilco.” Doug grabs the basket of fresh eggs, cracking them into a large bowl.

Two hours of cooking later and Doug has the last of the boxes into their crate, waiting at the front door for whichever hapless pony gets to take the goods to market. He smiles when an orange hoof graces the stairs, the scowl under her Stetson decidedly out of place. At least, that’s the way Doug sees it. An overpowering desire - not unlike a certain pink somepony - bubbles up inside him and wants to turn it upside down, even if he has to bodily flip the mare to do so.

“Storm’s raging out there,” Doug says as he bends down, casually flipping Applejack’s hat up.

“Ah can see that.” Applejack’s green eyes bore into his. “Last time Ah count on those airheads to keep it short.” She sighs as she counts up the crates, trying to ignore the hand scratching at her ears. “You gonna help me load?”

“‘Course,” Doug says, pulling the rope out from inside her hat. Two loops around Applejack’s newly hatted head and he cinches it with a large bow. It looks decidedly out of place, like a last minute Hearth’s Warming gift. He sits down to tie his jackboots on, then his backpack. He stands, a bemused Applejack watching him. “Ready?”

“Thought you’d take all day.” Applejack shakes her head, then opens the door. A ferocious wind howls as it blasts inside, her hat valiantly struggling to stay put.

“No time like the present!” Doug calls back.

Applejack’s eyes narrow.

The two take work together to heave the crates outside, shutting the door after them. Applejack hustles to get the cart. The two silently and quickly load the crates and cover the whole thing with a tarp.

Applejack raises an eyebrow as they head off. The rain has turned the road into a veritable mudslide. She nearly has to shout over the hard rain, “Ya just can’t resist sayin’ somethin’, could ya?”

“After you gift wrapped a statement like that?” Doug smirks, a hand holding onto the cart for support. He’s almost sorry he’s getting Rarity’s hoofwork so dirty. At least that’s what they’re made for.

The water merely adds to the weight of the tail whipping Doug across the thigh.

“Hey, I need those!” Doug calls, rubbing the singular sore spot on his leg.

“You’re just lucky Ah ain’t aimin’ higher,” Applejack calls back.

The two trudge on, eventually making it and taking refuge under the Apple stall. “At least Ah don’t have deliveries,” Applejack says with a long sigh, glaring up at the dark storm clouds still releasing their plentiful bounty. “But those weather ponies better find a way to keep that storm from floodin’ the farm. Ah’d hate to be Fluffy Clouds right now.”

“Because he has to redo everything?” Doug asks, rubbing the water from his hair. At least it’s not cold, merely cool.

“Reschedule it all, eeyup. And you best believe Ah’ll have a long list of changes.” Applejack chuckles to herself. “Okay, maybe just one. Clear skies.”

“Open Skies?” Doug says, looking outside the stand.

“No, clear- Oh, hey Open Skies!” Applejack waves at the arctic blue stallion wearing a heavy duty set of saddlebags. He nods back. “What can Ah get for ya?”

“As much as I can carry,” the pegasus says back, stretching his wings in preparation. “We’ve been at work all night trying to keep this storm from getting worse, and you’re the first ray of hope we’ve seen. Gotta keep everypony’s energy up, you know?”

“Of course, lemme get ya started with this.” Applejack flings a fritter out of an open crate, the stallion expertly catching it in his mouth.

“This isn’t worse?” Doug says, peeking out from under the stand to stare up at the raging storm clouds. It must be around dawn, as everything is starting to look a little brighter.

“When the Everfree decides to add in a little extra?” Open Skies shudders. “We haven’t found a hard limit on what ‘worse’ is.”

“Oof.” Doug shakes his head before steeling himself. “Well, I’m off to Rarity’s. Take care.”

“Same to ya,” Applejack says with a quick wave before she loads Open Skies down with two dozen fritters on each side. “Plenty more where that came from if ya need more!”

Doug and Open Skies take off, the pegasus nearly straight up and piercing through the clouds while Doug jogs to the Boutique. The store is dark, not that he expected any different, and the lack of awning or cover of any kind gets him to try the door, finding it unlocked.

The bell above chimes merrily, the hard rain quickly drowning out the cheerful sound. Nothing can be seen in the shop, but he knows she would be furious if he left this much mud tracked in her lavender scented entryway. He goes to pull off one boot, freezing when a light blue light shines from the other end of the main showroom.

A bleary eyed Rarity looks up from a tangled mess of her climbing gear, currently being used as bedding. Her eyes are slowly adjusting to the light, muted as it is. Next to her, both lying ponyloaf with barrels mashing into the other, is a similarly white unicorn stallion. He quickly comes to, the pink of his horn disappearing almost as soon as it lights. The table behind them has several books and miniatures on top, while the holed wall behind shows obvious signs of repeated use. The rest of the Boutique looks relatively undamaged, ponnequins and dresses everywhere.

Doug’s hands clench together, his heart hammering in his chest. “What’s going on here?!”

“Darling!” Rarity exclaims, her eyes widening as she sees Doug. She glances at the darkened windows, the rain still pounding against the roof. “Did you walk all this way in that storm?”

“Yes, but that doesn’t matter!” Doug takes two strides forward, pointing at the two of them. “Is this what I think it is?!”

Rarity shakes her head, pleading, “I assure you, Doug, that noth-”

“Don’t lie to me!” Doug shouts, his boots tracking mud across the Boutique as he stomps over. Rarity’s ears flatten against her head, and the stallion takes a deep breath, his chest puffing out like he is about to say something. Doug cuts him off. “Not when the evidence is right in front of me!”

“Sir, just stay calm,” the stallion commands in a deep voice. He stands up, muscles flexing, nearly as bulky and imposing as Big Mac. “It’s like the mare said.”

“You stay out of this,” Doug spits out, whirling back to the mare staring at him with glistening eyes. “How could you?!”

“Please,” Rarity begs, her horn about to wink out. “It isn’t like that.”

The sound of the rain is briefly suppressed by the loud slap ringing through the showroom.

Shining Armor’s horn charges, not only to light the room as Rarity’s goes out, but to restrain the infuriated creature if he moves so much as a muscle towards the downed mare.

“Why?” Doug bellows, pointing towards the table and sourcebooks. “Why would you play Ogres and Oubliettes without me?!”

“Wait, what?” Rarity says as she rubs her stinging muzzle.

“Why didn’t you invite me?! You must have known how much I wanted to play!” He shakes his hands at the character sheets clearly on display. “I wanted it to be special! I wanted you to be my first.” He chuckles darkly, shaking his head. “I mean, I should have known that you would have played with other stallions before. But once I was in your life?” Doug collapses, hands rubbing at his temples.

“You mean you weren’t worried about…” Rarity coughs as she cuts herself off, still looking worried. She nervously glances at Shining Armor. He at least has the good sense to look a tad ashamed at their compromising position, at least now that the threat is gone.

“About that?” Doug looks up at Rarity curiously. “Um, I thought he was your brother. White coats like your sire.” He shrugs. “Should I be worried about that?”

“No, darling.” Rarity gets to her hooves, wincing as she walks up to nuzzle Doug. “That hurt, by the way.”

“Yeah, well, I’m still mad about that.” Doug motions to the game before he takes a deep breath, a noisy exhale as he snorts out. A hand comes up to rub at Rarity’s neck. “Sorry I hit you.”

“Save that passion and you can do it again to my flank.” Rarity winks at Doug before nodding towards the stallion. “Shining Armor, this is Doug. Doug, Second Lieutenant Shining Armor of the Equestrian Guard in Canterlot. And, no, he is not my brother.”

“Oh. Right.” Doug waves a hand towards the stallion. “Hey. Sorry to barge in on you like that.”

“Just don’t slap any mares that haven’t given the okay. Celestia knows Cady- I mean Cody likes that.” Shining Armor covers his grimace with a forced grin and glance outside. “Heaven’s light, what time is it?”

“Bit after dawn?” Doug says with a half shrug. “Hard to tell with the storm.”

“Well, I better not be late for the train. Rarity, pleasure meeting you. Doug, we’ll need to play some O and O the next time we meet.” Shining Armor nods to each in turn before he grabs his bag by the front door, exiting to the bell chiming merrily.

“So,” Doug says, hand digging into the marshmallowy flank. “How are you going to make this up to me?”

Next Chapter: Ch. 58 - Garb of the Ephemeral Estimated time remaining: 8 Hours, 8 Minutes