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The Princess and the Rose

By Chris

        Once upon a time, the Princess of Equestria decided to go for a long, long walk.  She traveled from Canterlot all the way to the Everfree Forest, a land full of strange and unnatural creatures.  But she was the Princess, and neither Ursas nor Manticores nor any of the Forest’s myriad denizens posed a threat to her.  Neither did she fear the weather which no pegasus can tame, for what storm could blow so fierce as to trouble the Princess?

        As she walked, she came upon a thicket of wild white roses, for at that time all roses were white.  She stopped and regarded the flowers, drinking in their sweet scent and admiring their beauty.  Presently, she decided to pluck one, intending to bind it in her hair.

        When she grasped the stem with her hoof, however, she was pricked by the rose’s sharp thorns.  The Princess pulled back her hoof with a cry, and a single drop of her royal blood landed on the flower, dyeing it crimson.

        “And that flower,” finished the old mare, “Was the most beautiful flower in the whole wide world.  And ever since then, red roses have been the most valuable, most gorgeous, and sweetest flowers in all of Equestria, because each one carries a little bit of the Princess with it.”

        “Even me?” asked the young earth pony filly, snuggled up in her bed.  It was the same question she asked every time grandma read her this story, and her grandmother gave her the same answer she always did.

        “Especially you,” the mare asserted as she gently kissed her red-maned granddaughter.  “Now that’s enough stories for tonight.”  Rising, she balanced the book from which she read on her back and took the room’s lone candle in her mouth.  With these in tow, she walked to the door.  “Goodnight, my sweet little Rosie.”

        “G’night, grandma,” Rose mumbled as she pulled the covers tight around her.  Soon, she was fast asleep.

*****

        It was nearly seven by the time Rose left the house.  The sun was already low to the ground, and the moon could be seen peeking over the horizon, waiting for its turn to rise.  Rose locked the door behind her, then reconsidered and unlocked it once more.  Tucking the key into her small saddlebag, she turned towards the town square.  She began trotting away, but a pang of guilt forced her back.  She returned to her window, looking into the main room and assuring herself that everything was in order.  This done, she turned yet again and set off, this time galloping.  She knew it was too much to expect him to still be waiting, but she hoped against hope that he hadn’t given up on her yet.

        The town clock’s chimes were sounding the new hour as she entered Chez Selle, the restaurant where she had planned to meet Coconut.  She looked around at the packed tables without much optimism; after all, their date had been for six o’clock, making her a full hour late.

        To her surprise, the brown stallion was still there.  He had his head down in a bowl of ratatouille, and was muttering something under his breath as he ate his meal alone.  Cautiously, Rose walked up to the table and sat down in the seat across from him.  When Coconut didn’t immediately notice that he was no longer alone, she cleared her throat softly.  Coconut looked up and promptly did a double-take, the frustration and annoyance on his face immediately replaced with surprise and hope.  “Rose?  You came?”

        Rose smiled.  “I’m sorry I’m late.  I didn’t think you’d still be here, but I’m glad that you waited.  That’s very sweet of you.”

        Coconut snorted as some of his frustration returned, but he couldn’t quite hide his blush at her complement.  “Well, I’d made the reservations, so I figured there was no sense going home hungry...sorry I didn’t wait to order.”

        “Please, it’s my fault.  Let me order a salad, and we can still eat together,” Rose assured him as she flagged down a waiter.  “I know tonight hasn’t gotten off to a good start, but maybe we can still salvage something out of it, do you think?”

        Coconut nodded vigorously.  “I’d definitely like that.”

*****

        The next afternoon, Rose came home boasting a degree of excitement not normally associated with doing one’s homework.  The teacher had assigned each student in class to write a paragraph about their favorite bedtime story, and for Rose the choice was obvious: she would write about The Princess and the Rose, the story her grandmother had read her every evening for as long as she could remember.

        As soon as she reached her house, Rose hurried to her desk and pulled out her pencils and paper.  She was about to start writing when it occurred to her to take down the book and read the story herself before she began working on her assignment.  She knew every word by heart, of course, but that wasn’t the important part.  After all, grandma had long since memorized the short tale as well, but she still took down the book and opened it to the right page every time she told the story.

        Rose felt a twinge of reluctance as she was about to open the door to grandma’s room.  After all, grandma had told her many times not to go in her room without asking.  But grandma didn’t get home from work until late, and she had also told Rose many times that she should do her homework as soon as she got back from school.  Reasoning that she couldn’t be blamed for breaking the first rule to keep the second, Rose opened the door.

        Stepping inside, her eyes settled at once upon the dull blue book sitting on grandma’s nightstand.  Recognizing it as her compendium of fairy-tales, Rose took the book in her hooves.  Pulling back the cover caused the pages to open straight to The Princess and the Rose, the binding broken there from constant use.  Not even bothering to return to her desk, Rose mouthed the words to the story as she read the lines she knew so well...

*****

        “...And then the bartender said, ‘the clown can stay, but the griffin in the gorilla suit has to go!’” Coconut chuckled at his own wit.

        Rose nodded absently, causing Coconut to frown and scratch his head.  “Well, I thought it was pretty funny when Caramel told it to me.”

        “Mm-hm.”

        “...You aren’t hearing a word I’m saying, are you?”

        “...Hmm...”

        Coconut sighed.  “Rose, your mane’s on fire.”

        “...That’s nice- wait, WHAT?!” Rose leapt from her seat in a panic, drawing the stares of more than a few patrons at the high-end restaurant.  When she realized that she was not, in fact, engulfed in flame, she sat back down and made herself as small as possible, a furious blush quickly spreading across her face.

        “That was rotten of you, Coco,” she muttered.

        Coconut rolled his eyes.  “You were completely zoned out.  Thinking about her again.  Look, she’s fine.  Relax.  Just for one night, think about you and me instead of her.”

         Rose looked troubled.  “But what if-”

        “I said,” Coconut interrupted, “She’s fine.  She can go a few hours without you worrying about her, especially with Lily on the job.  Now look, I got us something,” he fumbled in his bags for a moment before producing two theatre tickets.  Dropping them onto the table in front of Rose, he proclaimed, “Tah-dah!  I got us two seats at the Royal Orchestra of Equestria’s production of Donkey Giovanni.”  Mistaking the look on Rose’s face for confusion, he continued, “It’s their only performance in Ponyville, and it’s been sold out for weeks, but a friend of a friend helped hook me up.  The show starts at 8, so we should probably get going if we don’t want to miss the overture.”

        Rose looked down at the table, unable to meet Coconut’s eyes.  “Coco, that’s really sweet, but...but I have to be getting home soon.”

        “WHAT?!” cried Coconut.  The restaurant suddenly became very quiet as all the other ponies looked over to see what had caused this latest outburst.  Finding himself suddenly the center of attention, Coconut waved his hoof weakly and put on his best reassuring smile for the other diners.  As conversation resumed, he leaned over the table and hissed, “What do you mean, you have to go home?  You told me you were free all night!  Dammit Rose, we’ve been planning this date for almost a month!”

        “I’m sorry,” Rose muttered, still unable to lift her eyes from the table, “Lily had promised to house-sit, but she had to make a business trip to Canterlot.  You know she’s the only one I can trust to look after her.”  Finally dragging her face up to meet Coconut’s, she whispered, “I’m so sorry.  I shouldn’t have come here at all,” and left the restaurant, not bothering to hide the tears in her eyes.  

Coconut glowered at the empty seat in front of him for a long minute, then screamed, “DAMMIT!”  He threw some bits on the table and galloped out of the restaurant, heedless of the disapproving stares he drew from patrons and waitstaff alike.

*****

        Although the tale was like an old friend to her, Rose had never read it from the book before.  Always, her grandmother had told the story.  She found reading it on her own to be a novel experience, and soaked up the familiar words with fresh eyes:

        Once upon a time, the Princess of Equestria decided to go for a long, long walk.  She traveled from Canterlot all the way to the Everfree Forest, a land full of strange and unnatural creatures.  But she was the Princess, and neither Ursas nor Manticores nor any of the Forest’s myriad denizens posed a threat to her.  Neither did she fear the weather which no pegasus can tame, for what storm could blow so fierce as to trouble the Princess?

        As she walked, she came upon a thicket of wild white roses, for at that time all roses were white.  She stopped and regarded the flowers, drinking in their sweet scent and admiring their beauty.  Presently, she decided to pluck one, intending to bind it in her hair.

        When she grasped the stem with her hoof, however, she was pricked by the rose’s sharp thorns.  The Princess pulled back her hoof with a cry, and a single drop of her royal blood landed on the flower, dyeing it crimson.

        Rose paused.  The next line was supposed to be, “And that flower was the most beautiful flower in the whole wide world.”  She’d heard the story hundreds of times, she knew that that was the next line.  But the words on the page didn’t match the tale she knew so well.  Instead, she found herself reading a story which she was sure she had never heard before:

        Then the Princess grew wrathful and cursed the flower, still red with her blood.  “Oh red rose,” she declared, “For your impudence I shall make you wholly subservient unto me.  You shall not grow save by my sufferance, and your life shall be bound to my whim.  Your freedom I shall abolish, and your wild spirit I shall utterly crush.  You shall neither multiply nor prosper save by my will as enacted by my subjects, and the rows and plots which they set for you shall be your prison until the end of time.”

        And so it came to pass.

        Beneath the story was a note by the editor:

        Although there are some who will insist that this is a factual recounting of past events, the more reasonable among us can enjoy this tale as a creative and poignant example of the ‘just-so story,’ which provides a narrative, usually tied to a particular moral, showing how a given facet of nature came to be.  The truth, of course, is that the Equestrian red rose is a genetically anomalous subspecies of the white rose which has been selectively bred for for generations by earth pony farmers.  This is why white roses are found throughout the world, growing both wild and in gardens from the Draconridge Mountains to the shores of Zebrica, while the red rose is found only in Equestria, where it is grown and tended by both professional and amateur farmers, just like all other plants.

        For young foals, this story is an excellent jumping-off point for discussions about the difference between Equestria and the rest of the world in terms of weather, seasons, and natural planning.  

        Rose carefully replaced the book to the exact position it was in when she entered grandma’s room and left, closing the door behind her.  She sat down at her desk and stared at the blank paper in front of her for a long time, but found she no longer had any idea what to write.

*****

        Rose knew that she was being unfair to Coconut, but she also knew there was no other choice.  At least, no other choice she could bear.  As she trotted towards her house, she tried to push thoughts of her abortive date from her mind.

        She had nearly succeeded when she heard a voice calling her name from behind her.  Turning, she saw Coconut come galloping up to her.  His mane was disheveled from running, and he was panting hard.  When he reached her, he paused a moment to gather his breath, then said without preamble, “This isn’t fair, Rose, and you know it.”

        “Listen,” she began, “I’m sorry.  I know those tickets must have been hard to come by, but-”

        “Tickets?  What tickets?  Oh, you mean THESE tickets?”  Coconut produced the two slips of paper with a grin that bordered on manic.  With a sudden flurry of rage, he violently shredded them beneath his hooves.  “FORGET ABOUT THE TICKETS!  I don’t CARE about the tickets!  I care about us, Rose.  And right now, there isn’t any us.”

        “I know it’s been hard-”

        “This is the first time I’ve seen you in nearly a month, you know that?  Three different nights you’ve stood me up, and each time I just smiled and scheduled another date with you.  ‘She’s just busy tonight,’ I told myself.  ‘She’s got responsibilities,’ I told myself.  ‘It’ll get better soon,’ I told myself.  Well guess what, Rose?  IT ISN’T GETTING ANY BETTER!”

        “Will you keep quiet?”  Rose hissed, “The whole neighborhood will hear you!”

        “Oh, good point!” Coconut said theatrically, waving his hoof at the houses stretched out on either side of them.  “I guess you could invite me inside so we can argue in private- Oh wait, you won’t even let me into your house!”

        “She doesn’t do well around strange ponies!”  cried Rose, now genuinely angry, “That’s not fair, and you know it!”

        “I know it, do I?  I’ll tell you what I know, Rose,”  Coconut leaned in close, suddenly quiet.  “I know that things can’t continue like this.  I know that we can’t continue like this.”  For a moment, Rose thought she saw a crack in Coconut’s mask, thought she saw pain and regret hiding beneath his angry exterior.  But in a flash, it was gone.  Coconut took a step backwards and announced with dreadful finality, “I’m sorry Rose, but this isn’t working.  For either of us.  I know things are hard for you, but I can’t wait around for somepony who I never even see.  I...I think it’s best if you don’t trouble yourself with trying to cram me into your busy schedule anymore.”  He waited for Rose to respond, but she said nothing.  Instead, she hung her head so that Coconut wouldn’t see that her tears had returned.  He wavered a moment longer, clearly wanting to say more, but instead he abruptly turned and galloped away.

        Rose took several deep breaths and composed herself.  Once she felt like she had regained some semblance of self-control, she entered her home.  

        Lying on a bed that had been brought down to the main room on the first floor was a decrepit mare, wrapped in white linen.  As soon as Rose entered the room, a fecund stench assaulted her nostrils; the old pony had evidently soiled herself during Rose’s absence.  Removing her saddlebag, Rose slowly walked to the side of the bed.  “Grandma?  I’m back again.”

        Although the pony she spoke to was clearly awake, there was a considerable pause before she answered.  When she did, all she said was, “Eh, what now?”

        “It’s me, grandma.  Your granddaughter,” Rose gently prodded.

        Another long pause.  “Granddaughter, eh?”

        “Yes, grandma.  It’s me, Rose.  We’ve lived together ever since I was a foal.”

        A longer pause this time.  “Rose, eh?  Well, it’ll come to me.  Eh, are you going to take me home?”

        Rose gave the old mare a heartbroken smile.  “Yes grandma, we’re already home.”  Putting her hooves under her grandmother’s shoulders with practiced ease, Rose said, “Let’s get you rolled over so that I can clean you up, and then I’ll read you a story.  I think tonight’s a good night for The Princess and the Rose.”

        When Rose spoke the title of the classic fairy-tale, the old mare looked up with a glint of awareness in her eyes that hadn’t been there a moment ago.  “Do you know,” she said to Rose, “That I used to read that story to my grandfoal every night?”

        Although there were tears in her eyes once more, Rose kept her smile in place, and her voice was steady as she said, “Yes, grandma.  I know.”

*****

        Once upon a time, the Princess of Equestria decided to go for a long, long walk.  She traveled from Canterlot all the way to the Everfree Forest, a land full of strange and unnatural creatures.  But she was the Princess, and neither Ursas nor Manticores nor any of the Forest’s myriad denizens posed a threat to her.  Neither did she fear the weather which no pegasus can tame, for what storm could blow so fierce as to trouble the Princess?

        As she walked, she came upon a thicket of wild white roses, for at that time all roses were white.  She stopped and regarded the flowers, drinking in their sweet scent and admiring their beauty.  Presently, she decided to pluck one, intending to bind it in her hair.

        When she grasped the stem with her hoof, however, she was pricked by the rose’s sharp thorns.  The Princess pulled back her hoof with a cry, and a single drop of her royal blood landed on the flower, dyeing it crimson.

        “And that flower,” finished the old mare, “Was the most beautiful flower in the whole wide world.  And ever since then, red roses have been the most valuable, most gorgeous, and sweetest flowers in all of Equestria, because each one carries a little bit of the Princess with it.”

        Rose paused.  She had said nothing to her grandmother when the old pony came home from work, had said nothing as they ate dinner together, had said nothing when the old mare produced the book from which she always read Rose’s favorite story.  What could she say?  “Grandma, you’re telling the story wrong!  I know because I went in your room without asking and read it for myself.”  

Realizing that her grandmother was still waiting patiently for her to complete their evening ritual, Rose came to a decision.

        “Even me?” asked the young earth pony filly, snuggled up in her bed.  It was the same question she asked every time grandma read her this story, and her grandmother gave her the same answer she always did.

        “Especially you.”