The Unicorn and the Syrc

Three years after earning his cutie mark, Rocky Spirit was a social outcast with a hard life that was slowly, but surely, improving. Ponies began to gradually accept him with time. Older ponies with more severe, stoic beliefs passed away, new, younger, more open-minded ponies were born. Rocky and his mother's way of life improved slightly, which was an incredibly good thing, as Opal was getting on for her age, and needed her son to help her with more and more things. Life was hard, but not unpleasantly so.

In short, Rocky was just fine.

That was until, the winter of his sixteenth year. When the true tragedy that would be Rocky Spirit’s life began to unfold...

At fifteen, Rocky was a young adult. He was more than capable of most things, but still not quite old enough to settle down, get married and have a foal (not that any self-respecting mare would want to have a foal with him).

Like any adolescent, male or female, Rocky began to spend less time with his mother and more on his own. He was already a bit if a loner, but as his teenaged years progressed, so had his preference for being solitary.

But he still helped his mother a great deal. Every night, after she went to sleep, he would complete the work that she had not completed herself that day. And slowly, he realised that this workload was becoming a little more each day, and his mother was slowing down.

Her cakes still tasted delicious, but she was taking longer to make them, and there were always a batch or two less each week. She was handing over more of the heavy lifting to him, anything that would strain her. Opal Spirit was a fairly old pony, well into her middle aged years, but even so, he was concerned.

His most recent project had been to winter-proof the bakery for the year. His mother was tired, and she didn’t feel quite up to it, so she had asked Rocky to “Be a dear and do it for me, sweetheart.”

So here he was, putting up boards in the windows, doing anything he could to keep the cold out of their little bakery. A warm winter would be nothing but beneficial for his mother, if she was slowing down. He reckoned the cold bite in the air might have something to do with it, so he was working with a determined dedication.

The hammer thudded rhythmically against the sturdy pine boards, the new, strong nails shone like little silver gems in the wintery light. Despite the biting cold, he was sweating from all the work. Though he didn’t do what his cutie mark told him to (which was to work in a library) he still didn’t have a job that consisted of manual labour. Being a baker isn’t that hard.

“I think that’s enough for today, Rocky.” His mother called from inside, “Take a break, sweetheart, I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“I’m not going to hurt myself, mum. I’m not a little colt anymore.” He replied, not without impatience.

“I know, I know. Just come in and have some lunch and-“

“No.” Rocky replied, “I’m not hungry.” He wanted to get back to library, as quickly as possible, and this pointless conversation with his mother was only wasting time. True, he wanted to help her, but he wanted every moment of his free time devoted to his books.

“Rocky, you’ve been working all day, have something to eat.”

“Mum, I’m fine. I’m just not hungry.” He sighed, “I’ll eat later, okay?”

Before Opal could reply with a grudging ‘yes’ Rocky was already halfway down the street.

Over the years, though Rocky had become less interested in the Sehsi Wfolat Syrc, he was still very much interested in magic. He spent hours poring over magic books every day, and trying out spells. There was something about the idea of doing magic that called to him, probably his Unicorn blood.

But whatever it was, it had gotten stronger throughout adolescence. His idea of paradise was reading late into the night, about mysterious spells and ancient Unicorn masters. The Crystal ponies did not dislike other kinds of ponies, they knew plenty about them. The only ponies they were concerned about, and disliked were Crystal hybrids.

And until Rocky had gotten his hooves on magic books, he had believed it to simply be prejudice. But as he read more and more books, he realised there was a general myth about Crystal hybrids being cursed. He dismissed it immediately; he wasn’t cursed.

Shunned, yes, but not cursed.

Later that day, he was walking home, a book in front of his face, held up by his magic. It was a book about teleportation spells, and he was very interested. He didn’t even need to look as his hooves subconsciously retraced the steps he had taken a hundred times before.

Suddenly, he was brought to an abrupt halt. He lowered his book, mouth opening to tell whoever it was to “watch were you’re going!” when he realised it was a Crystal Guard. He shut his mouth meekly and put his book into his saddlebag.

“You will accompany us to the Crystal Palace.” He said emotionlessly. Rocky followed behind him, wondering what he had done to displease Queen Glisten.

This time.

The Crystal Palace throne room was a room that can only be described as splendid. The crystals glittered everywhere, casting light into every crevice, sparking off of the coats and armour of the guards, but no matter where the sun was, it always seemed to shine brightest on the crown and coat of the Queen, as if the more light that shone upon her, the less her less pleasant qualities would shine through.

Two crystal guards marched behind Rocky and two in front, they flanked him, brandishing spears that, from plenty of reading, Rocky knew were razor sharp and damn near indestructible. They approached the crystal throne, stopping in the center of the room. Rocky glanced out of the window, he could see large, lush fields, and, beyond them, the Empire, glittering and serene as ever.

“Ah, Rocky Spirit.” The Queen said, looking up from her papers. She waved her attendants away, “You may leave us.” She told the guards, they bowed and exited the room respectfully. As soon as they were gone the little gentleness she had managed to muster for the sake of her party disappeared. Her expression was doubting and stormy.

“I suspect you know why you are here.” She said coldly. Rocky, despite the Queen’s tone, demeanour and the fact she was towering over him, stayed standing stubbornly,

“I have no idea what you are talking about, your majesty.” He replied, perfectly polite,

“Don’t lie to me, colt.” Glisten told him,

“I’m not lying, ma’am. I have no idea why I have been brought here.” Rocky said, still standing proud. He was respectful to the Queen, always, no matter how rude she was to him.

She scowled, “Very well, since you insist on playing a difficult game.” She muttered, “I have brought you here because I suspect you of theft.”

At this Rocky’s composure snapped, “What?!” he exclaimed, staring at her, she glared at him and he cleared his throat, “I...I beg your pardon, ma’am?” he enquired meekly,

Though she was still obviously annoyed, she continued, “Recently a great deal of money has vanished. Tax money, earned by hard-working, honest ponies, and paid faithfully too.” She threw him a dirty, accusing look as she continued, “And at about the same time, your mother was suddenly able to pay all her bills quite comfortably.” She paused, “Now naturally, I would not accuse dear Opal of such a thing...”

“What?” Rocky asked again, “but...you hate my mother!”

The Queen looked at him, surprised this time, not disgusted, “You don’t...know?” she asked him in disbelief, but before she could answer she began muttering to herself, “I suppose...still young....too kind to say...but how?”

Rocky stood there patiently, but his curiosity was bursting. Eventually, however, Queen Glisten returned her attention to him, “Your mother was an attendant of mine when I was pregnant with my daughter.” She told him. Rocky studied her expression. It was for the most part, serene, but there was an edge of white hot fury to it, “One day, I asked her to find me a plant called Heart’s Desire - I daresay you’ve heard of it? What with the amount of time you spend in the library.”

Rocky nodded.

“I asked her to find some, as I knew that my heart’s desire was that my child be born healthy. Your mother was gone for several days, before she returned, beaten and bloody.” Rocky paled at the thought of his mother so ailed, “And I rushed her to hospital. She made a full recovery, but upon checking her vitals, we realised she was pregnant. Pregnant with you.”

“And?” Rocky asked, Glisten continued as if she hadn’t heard,

“At first I thought she had found a suitor, for she was a beautiful mare, but when the child...you...were born, we realised that your existence had not begun so harmlessly.”

Rocky’s eyes were wide as plates, he had a feeling something bad was coming, but he so desperately wanted to know...

“Your mother was abused.” Glisten said, the fury more prominent now, “Abused, beaten and impregnated by a sadistic Unicorn. And as if her suffering wasn’t enough she was lumbered with a child, a unicorn child, forcing her to remember that moment every second...for the rest of her life.”

Rocky was appalled. Him? Unwanted? A...rape foal? No. No. No...

“My mother loves me.” He said shakily, Glisten sneered,

“She managed to fool me for nine months that she had simply found a suitor. She is an excellent actress.”

Rocky’s eyes were tearing up and threatening to spill over, “What does this have to do with the tax money?” he asked,

“Because it seems that your mother’s child being a rape foal was not enough, and now you must resort to petty theft.” Glisten said, her voice deadly, “I will not press charges, for your mother’s sake, not yours. But if you ever come near the Palace without a formal invitation from myself, I will have you arrested on the spot. Guards!” she addressed this last word to the closed doors, which sprung open. Four Crystal guards trotted in.

“Take the colt away. And if he ever sets hoof on Palace soil without my say so, arrest him.” She said, waving a vague hoof in his direction. And with that she turned away back to her papers, leaving Rocky to be marched out by four guards.

Rocky was distraught. He couldn’t face his mother again. Even if she did love him...did she? ...If she did, the thought that he was a constant reminder of her suffering was too cruel. He loved her more than any other pony in Equestria, he couldn’t do that to her.

So he went to the local tavern, The Crystal Chalice and spent the next five or so hours drown his sorrows. He drank pint after pint of beer, beer that was far too strong for a colt his age and too much to be healthy. Eventually he was thrown out once it was found that he was too young to even be there, and he staggered home, singing nursery rhymes under his breath.

When he entered the house, it was dark. Pitch black, even. He tripped over a rubber ball, the edge of a rug and something soft before he finally made it to the stairs, and up to his room. He fell asleep on his bed and didn’t wake up until way past noon the next day.

When he did finally wake up, all he could think about was how his mother must hate him, how he was far, far more unwanted than he had ever thought. The majority of the Empire didn’t know about how he came to be, so treated his mother just as badly, believing that she had had a foal with a unicorn by her own accord.

So he made his way downstairs with a new weight upon his heart, as well as a massive hangover. He stumbled into the bakery, and before he could even make a start on anything he rushed over to the bin and promptly vomited into it.

Deciding against dealing with food whilst he was ill, Rocky decided to lie down for a few hours, maybe read a book, until his hangover cleared up. He made his way into the living room, and sat down on the sofa. His brain was still very much alcohol-addled, and it was a full ten minutes before he realized what the something soft he had tripped over was. The same thing that was still lying on the floor now, over twelve hours later.

His mother.

Opal Spirit was lying on the floor, a bruise forming on her crystalline coat (most likely where Rocky had tripped), completely unconscious. Her breathing was very slow, and faint, but regular. He teased open her eye, and it was glazed over with a milky white film.  With rising panic he looked in her mouth, placed a tentative hoof inside and took it out, it was smeared with blood. His hangover seemed to disappear as Rocky dashed from the bakery, down to the local doctor’s house.

Doctor Red Heart was not a particularly kind soul. True, he would aid those who needed it, regardless of social status, but only if they had sufficient money to pay him. So when Rocky Spirit knocked on his door that afternoon, he only had one thing to say,

“Pay me now and I’ll come along.”

Rocky’s jaw dropped, “P-pay you?” he said, Doctor Red Heart nodded,

“Yes. Then I’ll come along.”

“But...but...” Rocky began, “My mother could be dying. Can’t you just come along now? I can’t pay you now. I haven’t got any money.”

Doctor Red Heart merely shrugged and began to close the door. The last thing Rocky heard from him before the doors closed was, “Pay me, and I’ll do my best.”

Rocky gulped. His mother had no close friends who could help him out, and he knew they didn’t have any money to pay the doctor. He thought hard and fast, Who? Who? Who? Then he came to a conclusion. It was a conclusion that could well kill him, but it was that, or let his mother die.