//------------------------------// // Bonding // Story: The Endeavor Within // by Ghost Mike //------------------------------// “Thank you for your time, Your Majesty.” Phyllis gave a small curtsey, her curls level with the Queen’s ears. “Not at all.” The winged monarch flashed a troubled, yet sincere, smile. “If there’s anything else I can do, just let me know.” As Phyllis raised her head back up, the ruler of Zephyr Heights turned around to resume conversation with the heavyset gray unicorn stallion who had been waiting nearby. Left to her thoughts, Phyllis looked around herself, observing the flurry of calm activity across the streets of Maretime Bay. Here, a pegasus was savoring a smoothie with one of Phyllis’ workers. There, one unicorn was giving his rather pedantic opinion about the accuracy of the unicorn-starring action movie plastered atop the town’s multiplex. To quite a few earth ponies, at that. And over there, some unicorns and pegasi were enjoying their first ride on the town tram. It all still felt like a fever dream. Like she’d wake up tomorrow and find she’d just had a bad case of nervous exhaustion in advance of Canterlogic’s annual presentation, and nothing had changed. Not that she ever got nervous before the event. At least, not after the first few. But no, this was very much real. Magic was too mild a word to describe what had happened, and what was still happening. Even the very grass, when she’d walked on it, seemed softer, warmer, more inviting. Phyllis almost felt a pang, imagining future generations so accustomed to this they didn’t fully appreciate it. Regardless, magic didn’t change everything. And with the first and smaller of her tasks now over with, Phyllis could put off the one she’d been dreading no longer. She stopped, barely aware she’d been walking. Ahead was a group of five ponies, congregated by the small overhead bridge at the town’s edge, talking excitedly. Hitch, the unicorn who’d set everything in motion by coming here, plus the two pegasus princesses. Most prominent was the mare in the middle, still marginally unfamiliar to the senses with the rainbow streaks in her magenta mane alongside the translucent wings and horn. Phyllis paused, just outside their peripheral vision. Risk management went totally out the window here. But all those moons had taught her the value of not prolonging the inevitable, especially when it would only get harder with time. Checking her bag was still secure at her side, she strode forward. Having talked to the pegasus queen already, it was now or never. No sooner had Phyllis taken a few steps than the ivory princess’ ears flicked up, and she whipped around with alarming perception. On cue, the others did too, all sporting varying degrees of curiosity. Except for the unicorn, as giddy and upbeat as she’d been every time Phyllis had seen her. “Afternoon, Mrs. Cloverleaf.” Phyllis couldn’t help but grin at Hitch being the first to speak, nor at the polite, measured smile he bore. Their sheriff never forgot his manners. “Always a gentlepony even off duty, isn’t he?” the ivory pegasus whispered to her sister, getting a small smirk in response. “Lovely to see you all.” Phyllis’ eyes flicked around the group. She noted the unicorn maintaining a smile so wide it displayed all her teeth, while the short pegasus bobbed daintily, head cocked. “Ms. Starscout.” The pony in question started slightly at being addressed, which was fair – her second name was almost never used in isolation. “Could I have a word?” Phyllis was aware of the others adopting differing degrees of suspicion and confusion, but she had eyes for nopony but Sunny. The young mare didn’t smile, nor did she relax, but there was a certain dawning comprehension there. “Sure. No problem.” Separating herself from her friends, Sunny trotted forward. “Why don’t we take a walk?” She jerked her head to the outskirts beyond the bridge. “I could stretch my legs.” “Fine.” In truth, Phyllis would have preferred staying in town, but it was fair to relinquish the choice of locale to Sunny here. Grinning, Sunny looked back. “I’ll see you guys in a bit, ’kay?” They all nodded or gave varying statements of assent. As the pair left under the bridge, Hitch seemed to take calm charge of the group, judging by how he talked with an odd gesture in their direction. He always was a sharp one, Phyllis mused, picking up on what was going on that quick. Sunny didn’t seem rushed, and with Phyllis in no hurry to prematurely broach such a delicate matter, quiet dominated as they left town for the grassy hills beyond. They met the occasional pony, Sunny exchanging a friendly greeting and accepting many thanks, but soon they were over the first hill, nopony in sight. She may have been walking leisurely, but Phyllis’ thoughts continued to race a mile a minute. All her prepared ways to broach the subject appeared to have abandoned her back in town. With nothing but a blank slate to go on, she looked upward, observing the rainbow auroras trailing across the sky, casting it in a kaleidoscope of colors. Phyllis privately wondered how long they would remain. Not that she minded them, though they did make telling the time of day difficult. They just felt like a celebratory gesture, and such things didn’t stick around in the flesh. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Caught unawares, Phyllis looked over. Sunny too was gazing at the streaks of light, eyes lost in them. Phyllis found herself struck anew by how prominent Sunny’s spectral horn and wings were. Were they here to stay, or would they leave when the light show did? Magic sure did behave in strange ways. “I never thought I’d see magic like this.” Phyllis was about to respond, when giggles and laughter reached her ears. Her eyes flicked sideways, observing three foals running past, having the playtime of their lives. A pegasus, unicorn, and earth pony. “Yes. Me neither.” As the volume of the foals in chase faded, Phyllis pressed a hoof to her shoulder bag. That its contents were still there did little to calm her nerves. Maybe she should start there… Or was that too forward? Phyllis heard two pairs of hooves stop. “Mrs. Cloverleaf.” Stopping herself almost on instinct, she looked back. Sunny stood a few paces away, looking intently at her. Like back in town, there was confusion, but her face was softer, her brows less furrowed. “Is there something you want to tell me?” A small sigh left Phyllis. No going back now. “I have something for you.” Unfastening her bag and reaching inside, she felt around for the desired item. By the time she’d withdrawn her hoof, Sunny had closed the distance enough for Phyllis to hoof it right over. It was only as Sunny took the object that she registered what it was. Phyllis heard a slow, short breath escape the mare, forehoof shaking as she lifted the brand-new, reinforced frame closer. Against her will, Phyllis felt her eyes draw down, observing the aged, torn photo inside, and the depiction of a much younger Sunny, mouth agape in delight, laid across the back of a spectacled blue stallion. Why, she didn’t know, for the image had been burned into her mind ever since pushing in the last side of its original broken frame. More so after applying the tape as carefully as possible. “You put it back together.” Another shallow breath made itself known. “You even found the rest of it.” “Yes,” Phyllis said, smiling bashfully, her eyes traveling over the recovered scraps at the margins. “Noticed it again once everypony started moving back to town. Got Toots and Sweets to help find all the fragments under the debris.” It was still broken, raw, rough, incomplete. Yet perhaps because of the face-breaking grins on the two ponies, the photo looked brighter than ever. Phyllis looked back up, observing Sunny still taking the photo in. Slowly, the young mare looked up from her frozen-in-time father. The corner of her mouth twitched. Then, suddenly, Sunny leaped forward, throwing her forelegs around Phyllis. Caught off guard, Phyllis was so stunned she could only stumble with her rear hooves to keep upright. “Thank you, Phyllis.” Despite the soft warmth of Sunny’s words by her neck, Phyllis felt colder, if anything. Yet something about those words also felt liberating. She was still nervous, but her hesitation had diluted. “…Do you remember last year, when you were in my office?” Phyllis felt Sunny pull away, forelegs retracting. Phyllis almost choked at the melancholy expression on Sunny’s face when she parted, but retained enough strength to keep going. “Remember the story I told you? “I… I asked the pegasus queen about it.” Sunny’s eyes widened. She took a step back, but took another one forward again just as quick, craning her neck. “What… what did she say?” Phyllis’ eyes flickered sideways, confirming out of instinct that nopony was within earshot. “She knew what happened.” Phyllis didn’t pause to absorb Sunny’s reactions. She needed to get this out. “The second set of tracks, they were a patrolling guard.” Dimly aware of Sunny’s mouth opening wider, Phyllis averted her eyes. “Because of… what we believed… our pony got so scared, he backed too close to the cliff edge. The pegasus tried to warn him, he even dove forward, but that just made our pony back up further… and slip.” “…And because they had no magic, he couldn’t fly to save him.” Sunny’s voice was barely a whisper, but it carried more gravitas than if she’d had a megaphone to hoof. “Yes,” Phyllis said quietly. She looked out to the ocean, watching the thin lines of waves caress the horizon. Not even when Sunny walked out ahead of her onto the grass, observing the same, did she move. For what felt like the longest time, the two stood there, watching the bay. The celebrations back in town were faintly audible, but next to the shimmer of the aerial rays and the water below, they might as well have been absent. Phyllis felt a choke in her throat. It had been a long time since she’d had to do something like this. Being the leader of the biggest company around, adored by all, meant you were always on the other end of this situation, and well used to it. None of that front-row observation was helping here. Yet despite her legs threatening to wobble, she found the strength to get one word out. “Sunny.” It was enough. Once her companion had turned around, Phyllis saw her react with surprise at the look on Phyllis’ face. Though her muscles sagged further at Sunny’s expression, Phyllis finally had the conviction she needed. “I’m sorry.” With the deed done, Phyllis waited patiently. Sunny didn’t move, the wind lightly stirring her mane. Every sparkle and shimmer in her horn and wings seemed to hesitate, as though they sensed the moment’s importance. Even more still was Sunny’s face, locked in a kind of frozen digestion. Eventually, Sunny responded. “For what?” Phyllis let out a bittersweet chuckle. It felt right, somehow. “For many things. For never truly considering we didn’t have to live in fear. For having Canterlogic endorse that distrust all these moons. For ignoring every plea for peace you made. For… for playing a major part in ostracizing you from everypony.” In the seconds she took to gather herself, Phyllis caught sight of the photo clutched in Sunny’s hoof. Of the little filly so happy you felt better just looking at her. Of her laid across the stallion’s back. “For turning my flank on what I once believed. And… and on a friend.” Phyllis closed her eyes, lowering her head. She heard the wind through her curls more than she felt it. “I used to think you were blinded from the truth.” With her head still lowered, her eyes opened, focusing sideways. She could just make out the faint hoofprints of the foals who had run by earlier. “It was the rest of us who had our eyes shut. Some more than others.” When she raised her neck back up, Phyllis was pained to see what she saw, more than she’d thought possible. Sunny’s pupils were averted, downcast, her mouth threatening to droop off her muzzle. Across her face was the painful reminder of what she’d endured all those years. Just as Phyllis had suspected. And on top of all that, a conflicted evaluation of Phyllis’ apology. If it even deserved that label. “Can you forgive this foolish old mare, Sunny?” Sunny’s ears flickered, though she didn’t raise her eyes. “This stubborn, withered pony too set in her ways?” Phyllis waited for a reaction. Any kind of sign. Sunny finally looked back to Phyllis, eyes locked on each other. For a moment, she remained still, mouth marginally ajar. Then, just as it closed, it widened into a small, but beautiful smile. Pure, unfiltered, sincere. In that moment, Phyllis could feel her heart beat faster, even through the shallow breath she drew as the corners of her mouth turned up. She wasn’t foolish enough to assume too much from this simple gesture. And she knew Sunny would never truly forget. Yet she felt far more relieved from this than from anything Sunny might have said. Setting the photo down, Sunny closed the distance. “Dad and I promised we’d prove all ponies were meant to be friends.” It was to Phyllis’ credit that she didn’t stiffen more than marginally when Sunny placed a hoof on her. “Age, the past… that doesn’t matter.” At this, Phyllis failed to surpass a relieved chuckle. It must have been infectious, for Sunny giggled herself. As relief continued to wash over them both, Phyllis found herself lost in Sunny’s mane. Not the rainbow streaks, pretty as they were, but the familiar purple bits among the magenta. They felt new at the same time. She closed her eyes briefly, letting a long breath out, one that seemed to calm with her heartbeat as it dissipated away. She still had much to do, but now… it felt doable. Now, she had the courage to say what she should have said last year. “He never really left you, you know.” Before Sunny had even had a chance to react more than widening her eyes, Phyllis found her own hoof on Sunny’s shoulder. Why, she wasn’t sure. It was as though a part of her long since buried was active now. But she made no effort to fight it. “I see so much of him in you.” She let out a soft sigh, wistful yet somehow cheerful. Perhaps this was the effect Sunny had on others when there were no opposing stances at play. “His caring nature, and his dedication to the triumphs of the past. But it was your drive for our future that made the difference.” Sunny’s face contorted, digesting these words. Her smile hadn’t exactly vanished, but it seemed subdued by thought. Slowly, she retracted her hoof, walking past. Turning, Phyllis saw her stop a few paces away, her gaze directed at the lighthouse’s split tower. Phyllis had only been watching for a few moments when Sunny sighed softly, and though Phyllis couldn’t be sure, she thought she saw Sunny’s eyes flicker to her phantasmal horn. When she looked again, though, Sunny was focused on the twisting kaleidoscope of dancing, hypnotic rays. As Phyllis made to follow, she instead found her gaze shifting downward, to the lighthouse’s base. Her eyes magnetically drew themselves to the toppled mechanical monstrosity still lying at its side. Observing every rivet, every curve. Every one of them a Canterlogic component. Convincing herself it was to give Sunny more space, and not because of the rising discomfort in her stomach, she turned inland, in the vague direction of Zephyr Heights. Where everything had changed for her, all those years ago. No, Phyllis corrected herself. Where she had let it change her. Let it blind her. And be blinded to what – or whom – she loved. She felt a hoof atop her own. Turning, she saw Sunny. What was equally surprising was seeing something of a knowing smirk plastered across the young mare. Not an unbecoming one, it still radiated warmth. Just with some craftiness too, a look Phyllis identified on sight from experience. Whatever Sunny had been thinking about had long since resolved itself. “You know, there’s going to be a need for unusual gadgets in the future. Especially with everypony having their magic back.” Phyllis blinked twice, sharply, certain she must have misheard. “I’ve seen how unicorns and pegasi live, I have a few ideas for what they could use. All we need now is somepony to make them.” Sunny almost seemed to blur away into an indistinct mush. Phyllis barely felt or heard anything, dimly aware of sitting down. Here she was, wondering what the next step forward would be in a future she had never expected could ever happen. She was sharp enough to know her whole company became obsolete the moment they put the fractured frame back together. That they would need a complete restructuring and rebranding to not collapse overnight. There had just been more pressing issues at hoof. And now the way forward had been hoofed to her on a silver platter. Not only that, it was a golden opportunity with nothing but benefits for everypony. Dimly, she became aware Sunny was sitting even closer than when she was standing. Her patient, knowing look hadn’t left. Phyllis felt her gut twist. She… she didn’t deserve this. She made to retract her foreleg. But as she did so, Phyllis felt the hoof on top tighten, grasping firmer, yet retaining the same gentleness. She drew a short, rattled breath, at which Sunny’s knowing grin faded for a soothing, placid one. “It doesn’t matter how long ago you gave up, Phyllis.” Sunny’s eyes twinkled, emerald irises sparkling more than her horn or wings. “It’s never too late. There’s always a chance for everypony. We’ll all do our part.” “Hoof to heart.” Sunny and Phyllis froze, mouths ajar in the wake of what they’d just said. Both with their spare forehooves held to their chests. And both with a dawning realization of what had just happened. Phyllis was the first to speak. “I… I haven’t heard those words in so long.” Her attention darted sideways, eyeing the salvaged photo she’d returned to Sunny lying nearby. “I thought I’d forgotten them.” Sunny broke into a great, big beam. The kind that made you feel light on your hooves just to behold. “Sounds like they never really left you,” Sunny said softly. Phyllis let out a tiny but perceptible giggle most unbecoming of a pony of her stature, except during public presentations. Sunny was right – already, Phyllis was recalling in vivid detail saying the words with the gestures many times. And carrying through on them every time… except one. Struck by a fresh reminder, Phyllis stammered. “Oh, um…” Breaking from their grasp, she fumbled nervously with the pouch at her side, struggling to flip up the latch, her hooves oddly resistant to this simple command. “I’ve got something else for you too.” Finally getting the flap open, she got out her second gift. With the mare of the moment right there, Phyllis pulled no punches, dropping it straight into her lap. Slowly, Sunny picked up the familiar frame. The picture inside was just as faded as the last time it had seen daylight, perhaps even more. Phyllis watched Sunny’s eyes linger on the colt Argyle and filly Phyllis. One hoof moved over the glass, tracing the path the two foals ran through, their joyful grins forever frozen in time. Finally, Sunny looked up. “You’re giving me this?” Phyllis nodded slowly, a final confirmation. She hadn’t given that photo any thought at all in the last year. Not until magic had been restored. Since then, it hadn’t left her head. A reminder of what once was. Sunny inspected the photo again, a thoughtful look on her face. Phyllis waited patiently, not sure what she was thinking, but willing to give her a moment. “No.” Sunny’s hooves moved, pressing the photo back into Phyllis’ lap. “You should keep it.” “What?” Phyllis’ eyes flashed between the photo and Sunny, unable to decide where to stick. “But why?” “Phyllis, it’s a lovely gift, but I don’t need this to remember him by.” Sunny’s eyes didn’t even dart in the direction of the first photo. “After all, he never really left me.” Phyllis felt her own focus finally settle on the little Argyle. “And… I think he’d want you to keep it.” The very air seemed to hush. Phyllis felt every hair on her coat bristle. For the first time in many moons, she truly took in the photo, eyes drawn to her young, carefree self, a pony who had felt more like a stranger with time. Yet now, the more she looked, the more familiar that filly seemed. Maybe Sunny was right. Maybe it wasn’t too late. When she looked back up, Sunny’s beam was so infectious it only took two seconds for Phyllis to follow suit. Sunny grinned further, and leaned forward, wrapping her forelegs around Phyllis. Phyllis did the first thing that came to mind, and threw her own forelegs around Sunny. As they brushed by the golden wings of light, Sunny bristled, an involuntary shudder fair for new appendages, regardless of their time here. Now in the embrace and returning it, Phyllis had no thoughts of ending it prematurely. It had been so long since she’d been in such an intimate hug with anypony but Sprout. Love him though she did, he wasn’t the hugging type, prone to mumbling she was embarrassing him and wiggling out, even in private. Oh, there would be plenty of embarrassment sans hugs for him, Phyllis mused. But that was for later. “Hey, Sunny!” Blinking, Phyllis and Sunny leaned back from the hug, turning. Hitch stood on the crest of the hill, waving in their direction. Phyllis could even spot the hang-on critters that trailed him everywhere by his side, along with the pegasus queen’s flying dog, bobbing at head height. “Everypony’s gathering for a picnic!” The white bundle of fluff drew sideways, rubbing against Hitch’s cheek. At this, the sheriff pushed him away gently, blushing. “You coming?” “Be right there!” Making to stand, Sunny retrieved her photo lying a few paces away. Phyllis also got to her hooves, returning hers to her pouch. As Sunny set off, Phyllis followed. She needed to get back to town anyway. The duties of an industrious leader rarely slept for long. Especially with all the work that would need to be done in removing past marketing, discontinuing old products, and designing new ones. “Hey, Phyllis.” Phyllis turned as she matched Sunny’s pace, observing her looking somewhat bashful and hesitant. “Would it be okay if we got together sometime? And you could tell me some stories about Dad?” Sunny’s ears flicked up, as sure a sign of an idea as vocalizing it. “I’ll make some unicorn cupcakes. They’re great freshly baked!” Phyllis didn’t even have to put effort into her nostalgic smirk. “I’d like that.” Cocking her head as her smile widened, and not even minding needing to stop to readjust her spectacles, Phyllis continued on with Sunny, Hitch waiting just a hill ahead. She was always a mare who looked to the future, but she was used to some degree of predictability, of expectedness, in doing so. Make new products, keep everypony safe, nurture Sprout, rinse and repeat. Now that had been thrown into disarray, and many old habits would need much tinkering. It wouldn’t be easy. Not least adjusting how she encouraged her own son, she noted with a tightening of her mouth. But all in all, Phyllis had never been more glad not to know what lay ahead. Because with warm memories and old beliefs rekindled, the future never looked so bright.