Cheerilee’s Grief.

 

I’m Crimson Brew, earth pony, dark coat, gold mane, mixing drinks with a sharp quip and sharper eye. I’m stirring a cocktail now, bottles floating easy thanks to this human-made collar, telekinesis in a gem. Humans, always crafting wonders. Tonight, the bar’s alive, and there’s Cheerilee, Ponyville’s kindest teacher, her filly Smilly Patch toddling nearby. She’s got a fire in her eyes, dimmed but stubborn, and word is Twilight’s kicked up a storm for every interspecies couple in town.

 

I’m Cheerilee, and my heart’s a knot. Smilly Patch, my little star, lights my world—her laughter, her clumsy hooves, they’re my everything. A year ago, she came to us, a perfect filly, proof of the love I share with Anon, my human, my strength. But something’s slipped away. It’s not Smilly, never her. It’s not Anon’s heart—his love burns as fierce as ever. It’s us, the us we were before. The games, the nights, the spark we struck in the shadows.

 

I point the hoof at Twilight. Celestia’s prized student has Ponyville’s interspecies pairs in a chokehold, all for her “study” on how we live, love, blend. It’s not that Anon drags home weary from work—oh, no. Those hours apart only fueled him, his need to hold me, to love me with a hunger that left me trembling. Before Smilly, he’d stride in with gifts—a toy for her, and for me… things that set my pulse racing. A collar, amethyst and rubies gleaming against my coat, paired with black lace that clung like a secret. I never grasped why humans fuss over jewels, but in the mirror, gems sharp against the lace, I felt it—a dare, a thrill, a vow.

 

Our games turned bold. He’d guide me into the night, my eyes veiled by silk or a sleep mask, the cold air kissing my coat as he led me. I couldn’t see, only feel—the breeze, his touch, a fire swelling in my chest. Some nights, I’d plead, voice low, “I’ve been a good mare, haven’t I, my master? Please, cherish me.” And he never held back. His kisses stole my breath, left me shaking, collapsing into his arms. He’d lift me, possessive, my hooves never grazing the ground. “You’re mine,” he’d whisper, voice a growl, and my heart would roar, cursing my body for not being in heat, for not giving him another child—a human colt, or, if Celestia blessed us, a rare pony colt.

 

Now, he stumbles home spent, not from work but from her. Twilight’s rules—daily testimonies from every human bonded to a pony, endless questions, probing, repetitive. Other mares see it too; their whispers echo mine. Their humans, once vibrant, now slump back, biting back sharp words to shield us from their strain. Anon’s no different. Some nights, he sinks into the sofa, as if sparing me his storm. But I catch his eyes—love, fierce, trapped behind exhaustion, yearning to reach me.

 

Smilly giggles, chasing Anon’s fingers, oblivious to the weight. She’s our joy, our core. But I ache for us—the lace, the dark, the way he claimed me. Twilight’s study is choking our fire, and we’re not alone. Ponyville’s heart beats in us, and we won’t let her dim it.

 

Crimson Brew here. Cheerilee’s spark’s still kicking, even with Twilight’s meddling dulling half the town’s flames. Smilly’s laughing, but her mama’s eyes hunger for the old heat. The Portal’s sparked plenty of fires—what’s it gonna take to fan hers? I’m pouring cider, waiting for the next tale. Who’s it gonna be?

 

To be continued.