Clover's Disappearance

by ColdGoldLazarus

Rating: everyone
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Sad, Princess Platinum, Clover the Clever
Length: 1948

Well into the modern age, Researchers, Historians, and Crackpot Theorists alike have remained baffled by the mysterious circumstances surrounding the dissapearance of Clover The Clever.

Well into the modern age, Researchers, Historians, and Crackpot Theorists alike have remained baffled by the mysterious circumstances surrounding the disappearance of Clover The Clever. Indeed, the only one who could know what happened to that bright unicorn is Clover herself.

(More bittersweet than sad, but close enough)

Published 2013-05-10 18:40:02 UTC
Last updated 2013-05-10 18:40:02 UTC

The True History

“They’re making a statue of you three!” Queen Platinum’s tone was somewhere between jealous and guilty and proud, and Clover the Clever knew this conversation wasn’t going to be a fun one.

It was nearing the end of Equestria’s first decade as a sovereign nation, and much talk of plans for celebrations had been drifting through the air. The infant nation had done well enough for itself, and despite the lingering remnants of generations worth of distrust, the three reigning oligarchs had managed to keep the peace. (Though doubtlessly with some needed nudging from their assistants on many occasions) And now that the first cities had been chartered, the foundations laid, and the former refugees finally settled somewhere they could call home, it was time to start moving forward and seeing where this nation would take them. Optimism was bright in the streets, and the concept of a new adventure every day was a hopeful one, no longer quite so frightening.

At least, that’s the way it was for most ponies. Clover the Clever, one of the six founders of Equestria and magician extraordinaire, was feeling differently. She didn’t know why, so she didn’t examine it and didn’t let it show. As far as everypony else was concerned, she was just as hopeful and excited to see what the future would bring as everypony else was.

But behind the scenes, when nopony else was around, she let her guard down. A lump in her throat had developed over the past few months. It was almost strong enough at times that she couldn’t speak, couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t do anything but curl up in the corner of her too-opulent chambers and just cry and scream. And above all, she just didn’t know why.

For now, she’d managed to press back the depression, though. Long enough at least for tea with the Queen. A tea that was quickly turning sour. (Not through any fault of Platinum’s, however. Though clearly jealous, the queen had enough grace to realize her role in the legend had been more antagonistic, and that her aide deserved the recognition far more.)

“What do you mean, a statue?” To Clover’s credit, she managed to keep her tone relatively even, but the news had clearly shaken her for some reason.

“What do I mean, a statue? What else could I possibly mean? You, Smart Cookie, and Priva-Err, Sergeant Major Pansy will be immortalized in stone sculpture for the generations to come!” Platinum sounded truly proud. Clover just felt sick.

“But what for?” She simply asked. The mask of composure slipped, and Platinum realized suddenly that there was more going on here than what she’d first thought, and ungratefulness wasn’t even part of the equation.

“Well… for saving everypony.” Her tone was cautious. “Clover… is there something you want to tell me?”

The other unicorn set down her empty cup and stood up. She didn’t move right away, simply standing there and looking out over the balcony for the longest time. A frigid gust from the north, a remnant of the recently passed winter, blew her neat locks into disarray, but she didn’t make any move to correct them. Her gaze was hidden from Platinum’s angle, and the usually self-centered Queen could only look on in helpless concern. “Clover?”

The mage finally moved, but it was only to turn and leave. There were no parting words, no hesitant pauses, no indication that she’d heard.

Queen Platinum stared into her teacup, painfully aware that the conversation had taken a wrong turn, and dreading the possibility that it was too late to fix things.

Nopony saw Clover the Clever the next few days. Meals were brought to her door, the empty trays collected later, but not a single hoof-servant had been able to catch a glimpse of her. For her part, Queen Platinum let her old friend be, sensing that Clover needed her space at the moment. Platinum never gave up on her, though, and often prayed to no deity in particular that Clover would be able to work this out soon. In the meantime, temporary staff positions to fill the practical void left by the scholar.

And then the day came; the statue was completed, and five of the six founders arrived for its unveiling.

Commander Hurricane was as strong in body and will as ever, but the good Chancellor had gone to fat in the land of plenty. Smart Cookie (who had all but officially taken over as Chancellor,) and Sergeant Major Pansy, while bearing a decade’s worth of stress in weary postures and worn expressions, still greeted each other with the same strength of friendship that had borne them through a disaster ten years ago.

“So where’s Clover?”

“…You don’t have her off running you some menial task, do you? Now of all times and days?”

Platinum’s expression was grave, the earned accusations ignored with the authority of a more worrisome truth. “Clover has not been feeling well for some time. While I wish she could join us for this momentous occasion, she deigned not to.”

Two faces fell, two faces gave shrugging nods built on grudging respect, and one face remained solemn as she privately wondered if she was, in some way, to blame after all. This was affecting the unicorn more than she could ever admit to herself, and the reason was just as uncertain as the reasons for Clover’s depression in the first place.
Chancellor Puddinghead was, of course, the first to break the mood. “Well, it’s a shame, but let’s not dwell on the bad, shall we? Today is, in my incredibly humble opinion, a day for celebration!”

“I agree. Let’s give the ponies what they want, why don’t we?” Came a new voice.

Clover the Clever stood before the group, cleaned up and prepared for a day of festivities. Any and all traces of her depression were tucked deeply away and out of sight. Today was a day to celebrate heroic deeds and the founding of what would hopefully become a great and prosperous empire, and it was most certainly not a day to spend locked up and moping.

The next morning, however, was a different matter entirely.

The spell had been written, double and triple-checked, and sat on her desk, prepared for casting. But Clover wasn’t yet quite ready for it. She had written the new magic on an instinct, and she knew it was somehow related to her recent intense sadness, but she still wasn’t sure how or why. She’d been pushing off inspecting these questions, burying herself in her work, but now that that work was done, she had to face herself. She had to know why she was about to cast this spell. She had to know what was wrong with her.

She’d been feeling it for a while, but the statue had really hit it home for her, somehow. But what?

Clover stared vaguely out the window, at the still-reveling ponies below. A jester entertained a crowd, and even at this distance, his motions were so full of motion and life that Clover could almost be dragged into it herself. But at the same time, there was a sort of screen or filter, some sort of emotional blockage, keeping her distant. Her heart was cold.

For what would the jester amount to in the end? He’d spend his days entertaining the crowd, but sooner or later, he’d grow old and die. His family would mourn for him, they’d remember him in phrases and in stories, and if he was lucky, these stories would be passed through the generations by hoof and mouth, and his spirit would stay alive long after his name had faded and his body had crumbled to dust. But sooner or later, he’d be forgotten as well, his pebble on the beach worn into nothingness by the relentless ocean of time.

But Clover the Clever? She had a statue. She’d be in at least one history book, provided Equestria lasted long enough to have a history. As Queen Platinum had said, she’d become immortal. Long after the jester’s name had been forgotten by his own descendants, Clover the Clever would still be remembered.

And that felt wrong to her.

Clover understood now. She had unconsciously realized the inherent unfairness of History; that just because some individuals had been in the right place at the right time, they were elevated to a near-godlike status and influence future generations in ways even they couldn’t yet know, while all the rest were quietly ground into dust; their personality, their life stories, all the wonderful little nuances and quirks and more inexplicable little things that made their ever having existed a miracle… all of that, forgotten. Destroyed by time.

Forgotten.

And Clover didn’t care if she herself was forgotten or not, for her sense of self-worth was quite frankly, frighteningly minimal. But everypony else? Indeed, even the ridiculous jester down there, everypony deserved to be remembered. To be upheld as paragons of virtue not because of some large event they took part in, or some famous contribution. Simply because they had lived a full, happy, unique life. That was more than worth simply defeating some Windigoes or founding a nation. It was the spirit of life itself, and it deserved the sort of recognition that Clover felt was wasted on herself.

The spell on the desk beckoned, the scroll rustling in the wind as though gesturing her closer. She was ready, and so was it. Time awaited, and Clover the Clever, though nopony would ever hear of it, quietly decided she was now Clover the Scribe. Equestria was well on its way to a bright future, but Clover couldn’t stand to be a part of that, not when she felt she didn’t deserve it. And it wasn’t like she might not see it at all; the possibilities that lay down this new path were simply endless.

A short incantation, a burst of light, and a gust of wind later, and Clover the Clever disappeared forever. Though searches would be organized for the next few weeks, and Queen Platinum in particular would keep looking long after everypony else gave up, she would never be found. Researchers and Historians would remain baffled for a long time, and by the time somepony thought to check her by-then ancient room for any traces of magic, the residue of that particular spell had faded.

Clover’s prediction had been mostly correct; the jester she’d seen out the window would be long buried and forgotten even as her own name lived on in legend, but she’d been wrong about one thing. His presence had quietly influenced history the same as her own existence had had a larger impact; but his contribution was no more or less important than hers.

And meanwhile, unnoticed by the general population, a number of ponies all bearing the same hourglass-shaped cutie mark would begin to appear in the population, and unbeknownst to even each other, they would record the real histories, the everyday actions of everyday ponies, and send these stories back in time, to a hidden library at the dawn of time, where an ageless mare would collect and read them. Nopony ever knew just what had started this hourglass phenomena, and nopony ever recognized the librarian, but that was okay by her. She held the rest of ponykind in such high regard, but her own self-worth was quite frankly, frighteningly minimal.

Author's Note

I don't even know. This had been rattling around in my head for a while, but I'm glad to get it out finally.

It was depressing me.

Author's Notes