Empress's Epilogue (10/18/2015)


                                            >In a quaint cottage in Ponyville, surrounded by the heady aroma of herbs, amid the quiet bubble of sauce, surrounded by a layer of steam...

                                            >A grand experiment is brewing.

                                            >You take a careful bite, unsure what to expect but too nervous to endure the agony of uncertainty any longer.

                                            >!

                                            >This is...

                                            >The sweet flavor of vine-ripened tomatoes against a basil backdrop...

                                            >Melding with the pasta, served al dente with a light tossing of extra-virgin olive oil...

                                            >Topped with a thin chateaubriand sauce...

                                            "This..."

                                            >you remark to yourself,chewing slowly at your latest concoction,

                                            "...This sucks on ice."

                                            >if anypony were watching, they could clearly identify a lump of food-like material as it slides down your throat.

                                            >Oh god.

                                            >...Are you going to die here?

                                            "I should give this to the Guard Captain, see if he can weaponize it."

                                            >with one deft motion you take the pan off the burner and pour its contents into the sink

                                            >you could almost swear that when the running water hits it, it lets out a squeak and scrambles to claw itself up from the drain

                                            >"Probably not a good idea, Empress. I think even Equestria has rules against bioweapons."

                                            >Lovers chuckles lightly as you try to scrub your abomination from the pan.

                                            >Gilda would never forgive you if you ruined her cooking gear, you think as you wash.

                                            "How come when we split, you got all the cooking skills?"

                                            >"Because I was covering for you in there, bro. That's one of the things I miss about it. Each of us having each other's backs."

                                            >You can hear Gilda snort from the next room

                                            >"Yeah, I bet you do miss having a bunch of other dudes inside you."

                                            "That joke's old enough to collect social security, catass."

                                            >you give the mass of noodles and suffering a poke with the wooden spoon, and it gurgles in response.

                                            >"Kind of outside her frame of reference,"

                                            >Lovers notes casually as he helps put the herbs away.

                                            >The two of you let a moment of silence stretch between you as you work.

                                            >"Okay, I have to ask. Why won't you let me or Gilda help you with this? I don't mind you pissing away money on groceries and then ruining them here, but I don't really get why you won't just let us give you some tips."

                                            >Dammit, you knew this was going to crop up eventually.

                                            >It had with Justice when you were trying to learn legal precedence, and with Hierophant when you were getting your head around talking to foals, too.

                                            "Ugh. It's just something I need to do, okay? Otherwise it'll be cheating."

                                            >"Ohhhhh."

                                            >Lovers strokes his chin in mock consideration.

                                            >"So you're trying to impress Celly by doing something for her only you can do, but you feel like everything worth doing is something one of the other Anons can do better, and if you learned from one of them or their waifus then it wouldn't be YOUR talent, it'd be THEIR talent, but without being willing to learn from them you'll never actually be as good as them. Or better."

                                            "!"

                                            >Has Lovers been taking lessons from Pinkie?

                                            >"No, I haven't developed Pinkie Sense, it's just really fucking obvious what's going on with you, especially since Justice, Hierophant, Priestess, and Hermit all told me you'd pulled the same shit."

                                            "!!!"

                                            >Amazing that even with a mask and no discernible facial features, you still have such a bad poker face.

                                            >Lovers just sighs and closes the lid on the container of salt before leaning against the counter.

                                            >"Spill."

                                            "Huh?"

                                            >"I could give you my advice right now, but you need to get this off your chest first. We were all in there together, we both know just how autistic we all are."

                                            >You sulk for a couple seconds, mad that he'd already gotten the gist of your rant before you could make it.

                                            >And you spent so many hours being indignant about it, too!

                                            "...It's like you said. I love Celestia, and I know she loves me back. And I don't mind other people sharing that love, either from her or for her."

                                            >"But?"

                                            "But she has a whole nation! She has an entire country's worth of ponies that just adore serving her, and they're all so goddamn good at it. Cooks, maids, assistants, dukes, courtisans, ARMIES for fuck's sake! I just don't..."

                                            >You search desperately for a way to phrase it that doesn't make you sound like a whiny bitch.

                                            >"You don't feel special."

                                            >Lovers' tone is a lot less condescending than you had expected.

                                            >It sounded less like derision, and a lot more like the voice of experience.

                                            >"I get it. You're scared you're just going to turn into another face in the crowd."

                                            >he opens the icebox and pulls out a pair of ciders, popping the top off of them before handing one to you.

                                            >"I can't tell you how to feel dude. I'm not going to tell you it's dumb to feel that way, or that you shouldn't."

                                            >"I will!"

                                            >"Gilda...!"

                                            >the gryphoness slinks into the kitchen and rolls her eyes at you.

                                            >"It's true, Lovers. He SHOULD stop feeling that way, because it IS moronic."

                                            >she pounces for the bottle of cider in Lovers's hand, feathers ruffling in pleasure as she downs a third of the bottle in a couple gulps.

                                            >"The Princess isn't some skank who only cares about what you can give her,"

                                            >she stares headlong at you, holding up the bottle in her talons for your former bodymate to take.

                                            >"If she's tolerating you, it's probably because you're you, not because you can cook or clean or sing sonnets or die for her. She probably just likes having someone that she loves close to her, in fact she probably adores that you're the sort of person that would do something they hate for someone they love. And she's probably worried about you spending all your time doing pointless bullshit you don't like when you could be enjoying yourself with her."

                                            "..."

                                            >"Probably."

                                            >she shrugs, turning her head to one side as she looks at you.

                                            >"So stop dirtying my fucking pans and go spend time with her you dweeb."

                                            >Lovers nods in agreement, pointing the lip of his bottle towards the door.

                                            >Hm.

                                            >Y'know what?

                                            >Maybe she's right.

                                            >Maybe you don't have to cater to Celly's every whim to make her happy.

                                            >Maybe you just have to be... you.

                                            >You crack a smile as you heed the pair's advice, making your way out their door towards the train station.

                                            >You can probably make it back to Canterlot by sunset--

                                            >"Wha-? Empress! Are you shitting me?! Did you use a metal spatula on my fucking saucepan?! EMPRESS!"

                                            >--maybe you should spring for the express ticket.