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Organised by
RogerDodger
Word limit
400–750
The Topiary Garden
“Princess! Princess Twilight!”
Princess Twilight Sparkle froze in the act of signing her name. The scroll before her was the third of nearly a dozen royal proclamations she would be signing that day, on topics ranging from letters of congratulations to diplomatic correspondence. In short, it was nothing special, and she knew she could safely sign anything her staff put in front of her without bothering to read it, and have no fear of any ill result of her inattentiveness.
Twilight put the quill down and waited. Sure enough, a few seconds later the doors to her study burst open, and in stumbled a unicorn filly with a salmon coat and a shocking canary yellow mane all askew. She panted, out of breath, and when she saw Twilight seated at her desk she jumped to her hooves and rushed over to her.
“Princess! I have to tell you something!”
“Oh?” Twilight glanced at the open door. Outside, one of her guards had poked his head around the corner, but as usual they made no attempt to stop her student from entering.
“What is it, Firecracker?” she continued, turning her attention back to the filly. The coat around Firecracker’s front hooves was blackened, and Twilight could make out the thick, acrid scent of ash wafting from her.
Neither of those things were particularly unusual.
“In a few minutes Mister Briar might come in and say something about a topiary that exploded but I want you to know that’s not my fault it was just we were testing a new spell like you told me to and we thought maybe the topiary was a good target because we just wanted to set it on fire a little and...” Firecracker petered out, her breath exhausted, and she drew in another lungful of air.
“And I think maybe we learned something new which is really good and I think that outweighs any of the possible bad negative stuff that happened so if you see Briar please tell him that it’s okay because bushes grow back and—”
“Firecracker,” Twilight broke in. “Did you apologize to him?”
“Uh…” She paused, rubbing her forelegs together. A faint pile of ash grew beneath her hooves. “No. I mean, not yet.”
“Well, let’s go do that, then.” Twilight Sparkle placed her quill back in its holder and stood. “I’ve found it's the best place to start.”
“This is rather impressive, Firecracker,” Twilight said. They had just finished speaking with Briar Patch, the royal gardener, and were now surveying the remains of the topiary garden.
Firecracker had, perhaps, left out some details in her explanation. Such as the fact that an entire row of topiary shapes was now little more than cinders and twisted stumps.
Firecracker’s face lit up like the sun. “Really?”
“Yes. But you’re still grounded.”
“Oh.” Like a switch being thrown, she slumped.
Twilight chuckled and stepped over to one of the few surviving topiaries. It was trimmed in the shape of a pegasus, her wings outstretched and her hooves held out before her. At its base was a tiny marble plaque inscribed with the word “Loyalty.”
She must have spent a while staring at the topiary, for she didn’t notice Firecracker sitting by her side. The filly bit her lip as she read the plaque, and then glanced down the line, where five other plaques sat beneath smouldering remains.
“These were, ah…”
Twilight nodded. “Old friends. I loved them very much.”
Firecracker swallowed. “I’m sorry.”
“They’re just bushes, my faithful student. We’ll grow some new ones.”
“Not that. That you, uh, you know.”
“That I outlived them? That all my friends grew old and died, while I endured?” She kept a small smile on her face as Firecracker looked up in shock.
“Uh… yeah?”
Twilight settled down, folding her legs beneath her. She held a wing up, and Firecracker snuggled beneath it. “They were wonderful ponies and lived full lives. They had nothing to regret, and I was happy to have known them. And when they passed, I found other ponies were there to let into my heart.” She leaned down to lick Firecracker’s unruly forelock, managing to smooth it back down.
“I’ve learned a lot in my life, my faithful student,” she continued. “But one thing I keep relearning. Time heals all wounds, and so do friends. Now, would you like some ice cream?”
Firecracker shot to her hooves. “Really? Yes!”
“Good. It’ll be your last for a while.”
Princess Twilight Sparkle froze in the act of signing her name. The scroll before her was the third of nearly a dozen royal proclamations she would be signing that day, on topics ranging from letters of congratulations to diplomatic correspondence. In short, it was nothing special, and she knew she could safely sign anything her staff put in front of her without bothering to read it, and have no fear of any ill result of her inattentiveness.
Twilight put the quill down and waited. Sure enough, a few seconds later the doors to her study burst open, and in stumbled a unicorn filly with a salmon coat and a shocking canary yellow mane all askew. She panted, out of breath, and when she saw Twilight seated at her desk she jumped to her hooves and rushed over to her.
“Princess! I have to tell you something!”
“Oh?” Twilight glanced at the open door. Outside, one of her guards had poked his head around the corner, but as usual they made no attempt to stop her student from entering.
“What is it, Firecracker?” she continued, turning her attention back to the filly. The coat around Firecracker’s front hooves was blackened, and Twilight could make out the thick, acrid scent of ash wafting from her.
Neither of those things were particularly unusual.
“In a few minutes Mister Briar might come in and say something about a topiary that exploded but I want you to know that’s not my fault it was just we were testing a new spell like you told me to and we thought maybe the topiary was a good target because we just wanted to set it on fire a little and...” Firecracker petered out, her breath exhausted, and she drew in another lungful of air.
“And I think maybe we learned something new which is really good and I think that outweighs any of the possible bad negative stuff that happened so if you see Briar please tell him that it’s okay because bushes grow back and—”
“Firecracker,” Twilight broke in. “Did you apologize to him?”
“Uh…” She paused, rubbing her forelegs together. A faint pile of ash grew beneath her hooves. “No. I mean, not yet.”
“Well, let’s go do that, then.” Twilight Sparkle placed her quill back in its holder and stood. “I’ve found it's the best place to start.”
“This is rather impressive, Firecracker,” Twilight said. They had just finished speaking with Briar Patch, the royal gardener, and were now surveying the remains of the topiary garden.
Firecracker had, perhaps, left out some details in her explanation. Such as the fact that an entire row of topiary shapes was now little more than cinders and twisted stumps.
Firecracker’s face lit up like the sun. “Really?”
“Yes. But you’re still grounded.”
“Oh.” Like a switch being thrown, she slumped.
Twilight chuckled and stepped over to one of the few surviving topiaries. It was trimmed in the shape of a pegasus, her wings outstretched and her hooves held out before her. At its base was a tiny marble plaque inscribed with the word “Loyalty.”
She must have spent a while staring at the topiary, for she didn’t notice Firecracker sitting by her side. The filly bit her lip as she read the plaque, and then glanced down the line, where five other plaques sat beneath smouldering remains.
“These were, ah…”
Twilight nodded. “Old friends. I loved them very much.”
Firecracker swallowed. “I’m sorry.”
“They’re just bushes, my faithful student. We’ll grow some new ones.”
“Not that. That you, uh, you know.”
“That I outlived them? That all my friends grew old and died, while I endured?” She kept a small smile on her face as Firecracker looked up in shock.
“Uh… yeah?”
Twilight settled down, folding her legs beneath her. She held a wing up, and Firecracker snuggled beneath it. “They were wonderful ponies and lived full lives. They had nothing to regret, and I was happy to have known them. And when they passed, I found other ponies were there to let into my heart.” She leaned down to lick Firecracker’s unruly forelock, managing to smooth it back down.
“I’ve learned a lot in my life, my faithful student,” she continued. “But one thing I keep relearning. Time heals all wounds, and so do friends. Now, would you like some ice cream?”
Firecracker shot to her hooves. “Really? Yes!”
“Good. It’ll be your last for a while.”