"Queen of Hearts Chapter 6"
By lulzies (https://pastebin.com/u/lulzies)

URL: https://pastebin.com/C1LPjEzi
Created on: Tuesday 21st of August 2012 10:55:46 AM CDT
Retrieved on: Saturday 31 of October 2020 09:11:28 AM UTC


Chapter 6

>”Come on doll, you’re just doing yer job.”
>The mare flicks her head towards the pony, and glares at him.
>”I said, NO.”
>The stallion quickly slides in front of the mare, and strokes her cheek.
>The mare recoils away, and jerks off the stallion’s touch.
>”I’m starting to think you believe you have a choice, doll.”
>”Stop calling me that.”
>A quick slap lands on the mare’s face, causing her to yell out in pain.
>She clutched her face with a hoof.
>A manicured pink hoof goes out to wipe a single tear.
>The mare hangs her head low.
>”See, won’t this make it all easier?”
>The stallion smiles, and lights a cigarette.
>He slides it between his lips with his magic, a green aura.
>”Come on doll, it won’t be that bad, not to mention if your coltfriend wins the bet.”
>The mare’s face drain of color.
>”W-what bet?”
>The stallion smirks.
>”Why dear Fleur, the one everypony is talking about in Canterlot!”
>”H-he’s not in this for the money!”
>The stallion shrugged.
>”But the audience are. Bet they’ll give the winner a hefty sum as well.”
>He lets out a column of smoke.
>”You’ll know what to do then.”

>A cold sweat rolls down your forehead, as you clutch onto the knife with your teeth.
>Your incisors begin to hurt, but you don’t dare let go.
>The sweat rolls across your forehead, and drops to the floor.
>Well, you always wanted monochrome polka dots.
>Slowly, you begin to move your tilted head against the cloth.
>You watch as the fabric slowly breaks apart, individual strings coming loose.
>Your dresser would kill you for this.
>Almost…
>You hear knocks on your door.
>Taken by surprise, you drop the knife.
>It lands with a dull thud on the wooden floor, as you straighten your neck.
>The accumulated strain erupts right away, forcing you to bend your head the opposite direction.
>”Anon?” A gentle voice calls for you over the door.
“Coming!” You shout downstairs, as you try to unbind the rope behind you, holding both of your wrists.
>You ignore the knife and push open you bedroom door with your body.
>Rushing down the stairs, you try to make it as loud as possible, just to let your company know you are there.
>”Hello? Any day, Anon!” The voice calls out again.
>You stop by your front door, and pull on the knot again.
>Wait, how did you even tie yourself in the first place?
>You pause for a second, not sure what to do.
“Uhhh, just a minute!” You shout.
>You pull on the rope, which was obviously in vain.
>So you pull again, still nothing.
>But first, the door.
>You lower you back, and move your tied wrists down to your thighs.
>It stops about half-way; your arm isn’t that long.
>Then slowly, slowly, you lift your left leg and try to put it over your bound hands.
>After much struggle, you manage to lead one leg out, now having it awkwardly under your crotch.
>You try to do the same with your right leg, barely balancing yourself.
>And then, the knocks come again.
>This slew of noise catches you off guard again, tipping you slightly to the side.
>And that was just enough.
>You feel the gravity pulling you closer, and before you know it, one side of your body is aching.
>You try to get up, but only end up flailing your legs like an overturned beetle.
>Giving up, you put up your head and say;
“It’s open!”
>The door is wrapped in a pink aura, and it slowly unhinges from its position.
>Then it follows its arc slowly, revealing you Fleur.
>It was more like you were revealed to Fleur.
“Afternoon.” You greet her, forcing a smile.
>She looks mortified for a second, before returning the false calamity.
>”He…llo.”
“What bring you down here?”
>”Do you want me to leave?”
>She slowly turns away.
“No wait!”
“Can you help me out of this?”

“Let’s not speak of that again.”
>”Agreed.”
>She goes around your workshop, poking at random items.
>She rummages through your neatly organized (and set) card stack, trying to recreate your air-pass.
>Meanwhile, you grab a towel and wipe off the sweat accumulated around your head.
>You throw it on your shoulder, and walk over to your wardrobe.
>You pull out a waistcoat, a dress shirt and a clean undershirt.
>”What are you doing?” Fleur studies you, as she picks up the cut fabric on the floor.
>And the knife.
>She notices it and looks to you, asking for explanation.
>You quickly make your way next to her and take both items from her sight.
>”What was that?”
“N-nothing, just practice.” You quickly throw the items into the same wardrobe you produced the clothing from.
>You slam it shut, and give Fleur a reassuring look.
“Right, now I’m going to change.”
>”Change?”
“Yeah, we’re going out.”
>Jumping into your clothes, you rush Fleur out of your workshop and take her to the streets.
>You ignore her pleas asking you to stop, and begin to make your way to the main streets of Canterlot.
>You pick a random restaurant, and take Fleur there.
>Almost literally.
>By the time you reach the bewildered attendant, you are literally carrying her in your arms.
>”Can I help you?”
“Do you have a table for two?”
>”Ehrm… yes, yes we do.”
“Excellent!” You shout as you make your way into the building.
>You find an empty table, pull out a chair, drop Fleur on it, and get to your own chair.
“SO. What were you saying?”
>”Well, I was about to comment on your destructive habit, but you seem well-aware of it.”
>You smile and nod, trying to take interest on her words.
>She goes to talk about her job as a model, with her oh-so-painful schedule of attending parties.
>The two of you order your food respectively, and go on with small talk.
>”Now.” Fleur takes a sip. “Will you tell me what the fabric was for?”
“Just… Practice.”
>She raises a brow.
“For the bet with Trixie. Did you know some ponies are actually betting money on this?”
>Fleur chokes out a chuckle, and rubs the base of her neck.
>”R-really?”
>You stab a piece of lettuce, more intent on playing with it rather than to consume.
“Yeah, can you believe it? And guess this-“
>You point her with the fork, the lettuce still dangling on it.
“Fancypants is offering me a some form of a…”
>You twirl the fork around, thinking for the right word.
“A… sponsorship, quite a large sum of bits, I might add.”
>Fleur shallows hard, and lifts a cloth to wipe her mouth.
>”Really? That’s… Interesting.”
>She reached for her cheek, gave it a gentle stroke.
>You noticed some white powder falling gently at her touch, like the snow outside.
“You alright?”
>She tenses up suddenly, her hoof going down fast.
>”Of course! Why wouldn’t I be?” She lets out a weak laugh.
>You can’t help but to wonder.
“No really, anything- anypony bothering you?”
>”Anon, I’m-“
“Maybe the food is-“
>”I SAID I was FINE.”
>Half of the restaurant goes silent.
>You drop the subject immediately, not wanting to cause a scene.
>Fleur takes a sip of her wine, closing her eyes.
>The sudden rise in her emotions dissipate as fast as it came, retreating back to her usual, calm self.
>”I’m sorry, but please- do not inquire too much. It’s… personal.”
>You nod, and shrug.
“Well, sorry if I was being too forward. Want to go?”
>You call the waiter, and ask for the bill.
>Leaving the right amount of bits, the two of you rise and vacate the premises.
“Say, Fleur, what’s with the flour?”
>”Excuse me?”
“The make up. Why cake it?”
>”Oh…” Her hoof goes up to that place again.
>She barely has a second to react, before a snowball impacts her face, coating it in a nice pack of tiny fragments of frozen water.
>She angrily wipes the snow off, looking to kill you in a whim.
>She could, if she really tried.
>You kneel in front of her, wiping off some spot she couldn’t reach.
“There, much better.”
>Her anger is now replaced by confusion, as she studies your actions in such close proximity.
>You lean away for a second admiring your ‘work’.
“Actually, I don’t see any difference.”
>Except for her eye-liner.
>It can be overlooked.
“You still look attractive.”
>Her expression loosens up a little, and she gives you an unimpressed look.
>”Please, I get that a lot from stallions, won’t work with me, Anon.”
“Would it amount to anything if I’m from a different species?”
>”No. It just makes you a freak.”
“Yeah, a freak you kissed.”
>The two of you share a laugh, as you continue your unplanned path.

>From a distance, a certain mare lowers her sunglasses, alongside with her newspaper.
>She watches the human, with his company walk through the street.
>Still nothing.
>She had to get her mane done this afternoon, and she could not miss it for this!
>She WAS great and powerful.
>And half of power comes from looking this good.
>She tipped her hat closer to her horn, trying to conceal her identity.
>”Crouch lower!” She barked at the stallion acting as her hoof stand.
>She was completely invisible.
>And she’d wish the back of this stallion wouldn’t be so arched.
>Ohh, Warm Chocolate!

>Two knocks on the door.
>A small compartment slides open, putting you eye-to-eye with Joe.
“It’s me, Joe.”
>He snorts and closes the hatch.
>You hear a lock slowly opening, and the metal door creaks open.
>Before you can enter, a box comes out of the space.
>”Here you go. Instructions are inside- thank you for your business.”
>You gingerly take the box, and the door closes again.
>You put them inside a duffel bag, and proceed to go home.

>And behind you…
>A unicorn pokes her head out from the corner, watching your leave.
>As soon as you make your turn, she pops out, trench coat waving with her movement.
>Silent as a rat, Trixie, reminded herself.
>”HELLO, ANYPONY THERE?” Trixie slammed on the metal door.
>The noise resonated throughout the alleys, coupled with her loud voice.
>”THE GREAT AND POWERFUL TRIXIE DEMANDS YOU OPEN THIS!”
>A small rectangle on the door slid open, revealing a very annoyed pair of eyes.
>”What! What is it?”
>”It is I, the Grea-“ The opening shut.
>She would not have this.
>Summoning her magic, Trixie aimed her horn at the door.
>”I believe I commanded you to open the door, foal.”

>”I swear I have no idea!”
>”You will tell Trixie- EVERYTHING.”
>Her horn, fixated on Joe’s forehead, glowed brighter.
>He looked away in a vain attempt to avoid it.
>”I-it’s a handcuff!”
>”A handcuff?”
>Trixie leaned away, wondering.
>”Yes, a very hard one, kept with a five-letter-key. Anon was planning to do an escape show!”
>Trixie rubbed her chin, wondering.
>”Interesting, and the code is?”
>“K-keyes!”
>Trixie dropped the fat stallion to the floor, and left the shop.
>”I thank you for the help, Joe. And please, no need to clap.”
>And with that, Trixie teleported away.
>Unknown to her, her commotion attracted a certain someone’s attention.

>You watch the mare disappear, and open your box.
>A finely crafted handcuff, with the five letter key.
>You glance at the manual, and a certain instruction grabs your attention.
“Well, hello…”