The TARDIS. It sings to her.

The TARDIS hurtled through the darkness of space, spinning and flipping wildly.

"Left button!" The Doctor shouted, sweat falling down his face as he pointed hastily over the console.

"Which button? There is like a million on the left! It's like a Russian nuclear station over here!" Scootaloo shouted as she pulled random levers and flipped random switches.

"Green-ish blue one. Also, how do you know about the Russians?!" He bellowed over the several alarms the TARDIS was making.

"Is that even a color?!" She throttled with a wheel, flipping it right.

"Probably! Also, Russians?! How?!"

"I read some stuff in your library!" Scootaloo murmured loudly, smashing her hoof into the random assortment of buttons.

"Well, don't do-" The TARDIS crashed through something with a loud metal screeching and the horrific sound of snapping wires. It hit with a deep thud. "Thank god for the artificial gravity." The Doctor murmured, shaking his head to pop his ears. "Mmmm... Scoots?"

"Yes, dad?"

"What does the screen say?"

As Scootaloo was about to answer, a electronic bellow came from outside. "TARDIS DETECTED!" After the single yell, thousands upon thousands of electric screams shouted the same sentence.

"Don't worry, Scoots," The Doctor said, straightening his tie and wiped away his sweat. "I know where we are," He walked and stopped at the door. Turning to look at Scootaloo, sulking at the consoles; eyes down at the random assortment of button she had hit. "Hey, come on," he whispered to her, she perked up. Her wings flapping in excitement, her eyes wide with glee. "Quick, before your mother," he looked around at the walls of his TARDIS. "Says otherwise."

She dashed over to him, he quickly opened the door to a vast quantity of copper colored daleks. They looked like domed chrome bins with skirts. Even though Scootaloo knew of their vast destruction and threats to every living thing, she still started to giggle at the fact they looked like they were wearing skirts.

It's like if Stalin wore stockings. She giggled on, causing some concern in her father.

He held his head down. "What's so funny, little one?" He spoke calmly, knowing of her oddly funny sense of humor.

"They look like they are wearing skirts." She chuckled at every word, making it worse by holding her hoof near her face.

The Doctor turned to look at the idle daleks. "They do, don't they? Like Jack The Ripper having a handbag."

"I was thinking Stalin in stockings."

His face held a stone faced look for a second then said. "Thanks for the mental image. Stay here sweet." He waited for her to nod and turned back to the daleks, noticing they had made a circle around the blue box.

"Huh?" He looked around, seeing a whole circle around the TARDIS. As he looked, he noticed the hole which had a thin transparent layer over it. "Are you scared of me?!" He bounced around in a cocky attitude, he came up close to the dalek wall. "Come on, say something, tin-pus." He tried to walk closer but they didn't budge. They looked at the Doctor in a eerie silence. "Are you actually scared of me?" He jumped at one of the daleks, bouncing his chest off it. "Owwww." He raised an eyebrow and looked back at Scootaloo. "Honey, come here please."

Even though she had laughed earlier, she was scared to walk near them. She crept slowly towards her father. But as Scootaloo came half way to her dad, the killing machines back off again; spreading further away from the orange filly. Both daughter and father shared a confused look.

"Keep coming, Scoot." He trailed off, looking around at the daleks; wondering why they are scared of a little filly. "Gallop, if you may."

She galloped to her father in only a few seconds, making the daleks surrender their second line and move back again. They both kept close, Scootaloo noticed one of the dalek's eye-stalk twitching madly with it's laser doing the same.

It did that for a few unnerving moments until it blurted out. "A child of Tyr!" It's lights flashed, then a deathly loud chorus of the sentence started.

She clung to her dad, hugging him tightly. He looked down to her with a fatherly smirk then looked up to the daleks in pure rage. "What did he call my daughter?" He asked the frightened cyborgs. "Answer me!" He bellowed.

"A child of Tyr." The sentence repeated.

"Scoot," he leaned down. "You stay here, I'm just going to asking a few questions." She nodded and let go.

He walked up to one of the daleks. "Why did you call her 'a child of Tyr'. Why?"

"Classified." The dalek responded.

"What is Tyr?"

"Human information. Classified."

"Why is it named Tyr?"

"Classified."

The Doctor went red with anger. "What questions will you answer me?!"

"Ones that aren't classified." It said, discording against it's angrily bitter voice.

"Does it have anything to do with weapons?"

"Question granted. If used wrongly, the weapons will be activated."

"A child of Tyr is a weapon?"

"Correct."

"But you called my daughter one, she isn't a weapon. Why did you call a filly a weapon?"

"A weapon isn't just a tool, Doctor. A weapon can be anything, from a broken sanity to the guilt of a lost planet."

"She is still my daughter! Why is she a weapon?!"

"..." The dalek didn't respond, it's eyestalk just jerked left and right.

"Answer... Me... Now."

The dalek's eyestalk jerked again. "Tick, tock, and all too soon, you and I must die." It sang, mocking him.

"Answer... Me!"

"Why do you place this game Doctor?" It questioned, looking from one side of his face to the other,  little flashes of faint blue appearing in the eye stalk. "You travel through all of time and space but never save your friends. Why... Doctor?" The flashes stopped but the dalek's voice continued. "Raggedy man, why? Professor, why?" The dalek took another look at the Doctor's guilt filled face. "Grandfather..." It paused for a few violently long moments. "Why?"

He didn't answer, he slowly walked back to his daughter, his eyes on the metal floor. "Scootaloo." He mumbled. His hair hung, covering his eyes.

"Yes, dad?" She spoke with a slow concerned tone, trying to look at her father's eyes.

"Let's go back to the TARDIS."

"Dad... Are you okay?" She tried to look around his hair again as they walked back.

Scootaloo and The Doctor got back into the TARDIS. Scootaloo stood right next to her dad as he glumly tapped away at buttons.

Scootaloo. A voice came into her head, she looked up at the console.

Yes, mom? Scootaloo thought back, looking longingly at the pulsing cylinder.

Your father is a bit sad, why don't you go to your room?

Okay, mum. I'll go into my room.

She trotted up the metal stairs. She looked back at her glum father, noticing a small tear drop from his face. As she followed the tear, she saw it land in the small puddle of them.

Scootaloo lowered her head, knowing how glum her father was. She turned to the corridors of her home and galloped down to her room.

When she got there, she heard something on the monitor. She scrolled a dial higher slightly, increasing the volume. She heard one of the daleks mumbling about something, she flicked the dial again and hear the voice. "A child of war! A child of war was on the ship!"

'A child of war' on a ship of intergalactic murderers. The latter is scared of the former...

As she thought about it, she picked up 'TARDIS manual' her father had never read it but it's a book.

Button Colours

Written by 'The Doctor'

Scootaloo sped to school, her scooter screeching at the maddening speeds it was travelling. As she furiously fluttered her wings, her speed almost doubled, she turned a corner. Smirking as two ponies yelled at her, shaking their hooves.

The Doctor walked slowly around his console, his hooves dragging at the slow speed he was moving. He hung his head down low, he turned to the console and slumped over it. Sadly grinning as he hugged the console.

Scootaloo made it to school in the nick of time, the bell went as soon as she parked her scooter. She galloped into class and sat by Applebloom and Sweetiebelle; all three grinning with innocently mischievous glints in their eyes.

He span a lever as he always had in his travels through time, he hit a button and the sound of the TARDIS pulsing warmed his heart. He galloped around it's messy array of buttons, levers and switches. Gleefully smiling with a lovingly foxy spark in his eyes.

The bell rang for the end of school, the three cutie mark crusaders trotted out of the school; giggling like fools.

"Hey, why don't we got to Sugarcube corner?" Sweetie piped up.

Sweetiebelle, has a million sweet teeth and will never satisfy them.

"Great idea, let's go now!" Applebloom chimed with her thick accent. "What do you say Scoots?"

Mmmm... Dad and time travel or friends plus Pinkie and sweets. "Okay, Applebloom. Let's go."

All three traveled side by side to their favorite sugary shop. Scootaloo on her scooter, while Sweetie and Applebloom running by her side.

When they got there, Pinkie was already behind the counter. "What can I get you, Cutie Slayers?" trying to sound like a fantasy tavern owner but her fiery giggles didn't really like the seriousness.

"Alright Pinkie, no need to make fun of the books the school is making us read." Scootaloo said, not looking up from the various muffins, cakes and other sweets.

"Books?" Pinkie held a dumbfounded expression. "I thought you were Cutie Slayers," pausing to let the three fillies giggle. "We got the battle hardened warrior," she pointed a hoof at Applebloom. "We have the skilled but silent hunter," pointing at Scootaloo. "And the shaman." Pointing at Sweetie.

"Well, sorry to doubt you Pinkie but I'm not a warrior." Applebloom began.

"I'm not a shaman." Sweetie Belle sang, somehow adding a sing-song fashion to it.

"And I'm, without a doubt, not a hunter." Scootaloo finished.

"A'wwww," Pinkie trailed with. "That would of been fun. I mean, raiding dungeons and defeating dragons in war crafted armor! How cool would that be?!"

"That would be pretty cool Pinkie but I don't think three fillies could defeat a real dragon." Scootaloo said, imagining the three friends jumping around and fighting a big red dragon.

"You defeated Spike in a pillow fight two years ago."

"Pinkie," Sweetie paused. "That's Spike..."

"Fine," she pretended to pout. "Well, what do you need, weary travelers of yonder lands?"

All placed their heads in their hooves then a chorus started from muffled voices.

"Deluxe chocolate muffin."

"Double Decker Red Velvet Cupcake."

"A pear tart please."

Scootaloo and her two friends walked out of the sweet shop in a giddy fashion, their eyes alive with energy. Applebloom squinted to look at the clock tower in the distance, it read 'quarter to three'.

"Oh shoot, I got to get to the farm!" Applebloom piped up, jumping three feet in the air. "Guys, I gotta go!"

"Bye bye Bloom." Sweetie sang, bobbing her head in a rhythmic way.

"Bye Applebloom." Scootaloo said, nodding her head slightly to her.

She was already running down the street. "Bye guys!" She shouted behind her.

"Well, Sweetie," Scootaloo turned to her. "I got to go back."

"Alright, Scoot, see you tomorrow."

"Well," she stepped onto her scooter. "See you tomorrow." She flapped her wings and sped off.

She knocked on her door. The TARDIS was disguised as a cottage, right on the end of one of the streets.

First time he ever fixed the thing, just to fit in. Like a high school nerd. She thought. She knocked again and the door opened themselves, inside was the good old control room. She looked up to the top of the room. He does love those Galifrey symbols. All of them she didn't understand but knowing her dad, she always thought it would something that he thought was inspirational but to others, it just sounded stupid.

"Hey dad!" she shouted, it echoed through the corridors. No response. "Hey dad-d-d-d!" She shouted louder.

"Oh, hello Scootaloo!" A gleeful voice bellowed back in a happy fashion.

thank god, he's happy again. "How are you?"

"No tears, no regrets." He walked into the control room, he was wearing a white hat and a red bow tie.

Scootaloo giggled. "What are you wearing dad?"

He pretended to be sad. "I thought these looked dashing and elegant."

"Dashing? Elegant?" Scootaloo burst out laughing. "Okay, okay. Do you want something 'Dashing'," she imitated her father's voice. "And 'elegant'?"

"Yes; what man or stallion does not want to look dashing and elegant?" He looked to the right, closing his eyes. Pretending he was the most egotistical being of all time.

"... Good point. Okay, why don't we go to a boutique tomorrow?"

The Doctor turned with a dumbfounded look on his face. "A boutique?"

"... A tailor, a seamstress, something that means clothes maker."

"Ohhhh. A seamstress? Well, that would be nice... I'm going to have to think about my future clothes."

"Well, you go do that. I'll be in my room."

Scootaloo ran past her open bedroom door and made a quick turn towards the library.

Dear? Why are you going to the library? A voice rang through her head.

I got to look at something mum. Something important.

Is it about the 'thing'? Because I know about the 'thing'. I could give you pointers, now-

NO! Mom, something else. Slightly less important but still pretty important.

Well, as a lazy tailor would say, suit yourself.

She ran on and turned a corner to the library. It's shelves brimming with first editions of every book or novel ever published. Sadly, no graphic novels in here.

She turned to look at a monitor, it's buttons were still made for another universe but Scootaloo matched to use the points of her hooves to type 'Tyr' in.

After hitting the enter key, a mechanical arm rocketed from the ceiling and froze at one of the highest selves. Slowly moving sideways, searching through the vast amount of books. Finally, it found a book with a grimy green spine. The arm pulled it out and made a couple of whirring noises, moving down it dropped it in front of Scootaloo; mimicking a nod, it went back like elastic into the hole in the ceiling.

The book read 'Nordic gods vol II'. She flipped the cover and read through the contents, slowly mumbling to herself. "Höðr, Hœnir, Iðunn, Jörð, Kellaa, Kvasir, Lofn, Loki, Magni, Máni... AHA! Tyr!"

She flipped the pages through to the one on Tyr. She read through, the book said:

Týr is a god associated with war and heroic glory in Norse mythology, portrayed as one-handed.

In the late Icelandic Eddas, Tyr is portrayed, alternately, as the son of Odin or of Hymir, while the origins of his name and his possible relationship to Tuisto suggest he was once considered the father of the gods and head of the pantheon, since his name is ultimately cognate to that of Dyeus, the reconstructed chief deity in Indo-European religion. It is assumed that Tîwaz was overtaken in popularity and in authority by both Odin and Thor at some point during the Migration Age, as Odin shares his role as God of war.

Tiw was equated with Mars in the interpretatio germanica. Tuesday is in fact "Tīw's Day", translating dies Martis.

Most of the other words escaped Scootaloo's mind but the ones that stuck were 'war' and 'heroic glory'. The daleks thought I was a child of glory and war?

Her mind was rocking with theories and questions. But the two that stuck were What about dad? and Daleks will sooner or later kill things that scare them, who am I meant to protect myself?

She decided to tell her dad after they went to Rarity's as if she told him now, he would probably freak out and drag her to the train station to get a suit of armor. He would do that tomorrow after Rarity's but not at five in the afternoon, so it would be better.

Tomorrow shall be eventful. She thought, walking back to her room.