“Whew, what a day,” Soarin’ said. He shut his front door and stepped into his house’s foyer, breathing an exhausted sigh. “Those Wonderbolt derbies sure are trying.”
Soarin’ unzipped his uniform and, carrying it in his mouth, trudged up the stairs, stopping every once in a while to rest his tired legs. He passed by several family portraits lining the staircase on his way up, ones of him and his parents, as well as various other relatives of his, with the occasional addition of Spitfire and other fellow Wonderbolts sprinkled throughout.
Soarin’s parents wore proud smiles in every picture, and the last one which Soarin’ passed by had them embracing their son with joyful, tear-streaked faces while he proudly showed off his, then-newly received, Wonderbolt uniform.
Soarin’ trudged down the hallway and, lazily reaching for the doorlock, pushed in and opened the door to his room, practically falling inside. Staggering over to the far side of his room, he reached up and hung his uniform onto the coat rack, then entered his bathroom.
Soarin’ set to work performing his bedtime routine, intent on getting to bed as quickly as possible to rest up well enough for an early morning practice flight the next day. He spent the next several minutes restoring his sweaty, dirt-encrusted coat to its former sheen in the shower. After taking another minute to dry himself off, Soarin’ stepped up to the sink, and spent another few minutes brushing his teeth so they shined a pearly white.
Handsomeness, thy name is Soarin’ he thought, grinning at his reflection in the mirror.
Satisfied that his physical appearance was up to par with his standards, Soarin’ fetched a plastic cup from a dispenser on the counter. He followed by fishing out a medicine bottle labelled “Nyctolin” from a sink drawer. Opening the cap, he raised it over the plastic cup and tipped it over.
Nothing happened.
Soarin’ frowned, and tilted it further, but with results no different. Now slightly alarmed, Soarin’ gave the bottle a good shake, but still none of the syrupy substance poured out into the cup. He raised the bottle to his eye and peered inside. To his disappointment, not a single drop of Nyctolin remained in the bottle.
Soarin’ set the empty bottle on the counter, then began rummaging around in the sink drawer, searching for another one. A full search yielded no results, however, and Soarin’ eventually closed the drawer with a heavy sigh.
I knew I should’ve gotten the two-for-one deal. Grabbing the empty Nyctolin bottle, and his bit saddlebag from his nightstand drawer, Soarin’ made his way back downstairs to the front door. Hopefully, the pharmacy is still open.
A few minutes later Soarin’ was flying through the cool night air, headed towards Canterlot at a brisk pace. All the while he flew, Soarin’ internally cursed himself for not noticing he’d used up the last of his Nyctolin the previous night. If he had, he could’ve easily picked some up while the derby was going on, since the pharmacy was located just a single block from the racetrack.
Spotting said pharmacy as he reached Canterlot, Soarin’ descended to the cobblestone streets. They were completely deserted, with not even so much as a scurrying rat anywhere to be seen. The streetlamps were all lit, illuminating the mountainside capitol city in a brilliant yellow shine, visible from as far as both Ponyville and Cloudsdale. The city as a whole was embraced by a tranquil aura, and a smile crossed Soarin’s muzzle as he touched down in front of the pharmacy.
After taking a moment to retract his wings, Soarin’ began approaching the pharmacy’s front double doors, only to stop upon noticing the “Closed” sign hanging on the other side. Panicked, he rushed up to the doors.
No, no, no, please no! He tried the doors, but found them to be locked. A quick scan of the place through the doors showed the pharmacy was completely barren of ponies, the various medicine bottles and other miscellaneous items filling the shelves being all that occupied the building.
Soarin’ stepped back from the double doors, a frustrated scowl on his face. With a stomp of his hoof, he turned away from the building, only to be greeted with a familiar, and regal, mare.
“Good evening, sir,” Princess Luna said, smiling serenely down at him. “What brings you out at such a late hour?”
“Princess Luna!” Soarin’ exclaimed, quickly falling into a bow.
Luna chuckled. “You may rise, mister . . .?”
Soarin got up and saluted. “Soarin’ of the Wonderbolts, your highness!”
Luna stared confused for a single second before remembrance took her over. “Oh, that’s right, you participated in the Wonderbolt derby earlier. I was wholly impressed by your might, especially when you pulled that come-from-behind victory against Fleetfoot.”
A small blush came to Soarin’s cheeks. “Heh heh, thanks your highness,” he replied, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head.
“So, for what reason are you here at—” Luna glanced up at the pharmacy’s store name, “—Ironheart’s Pharmaceutical Emporium?”
“I came here hoping to buy some Nyctolin to get me to sleep,” Soarin’ answered. He sighed depressedly. “But now that it’s closed, I’ll be hard pressed to get a good night’s sleep tonight, and it’s a shame, because I wanted to get in some early morning training tomorrow.”
Luna tilted her head in confusion. “What is this ‘Nyctolin’ you speak of, and why do you need it to help you get to sleep?” she asked.
“Nyctolin is a medication that helps ponies fall asleep,” Soarin’ explained. He opened his saddlebag. “Because I’m an insomniac, I use it to ensure I get enough sleep every night so I’m not too drowsy to perform with my team.” He fished out the empty bottle in his saddlebag and showed it to Luna.
“Very interesting,” Luna said, taking the bottle in her magic to inspect it. “A thousand years ago, such a condition as insomnia was curable only through a sleeping spell, and even then only a scant few unicorns knew how to cast it.” She continued inspecting the label for a few moments before returning it to Soarin’. “I’m sorry you were too late to purchase any.”
Soarin’ stowed the bottle back in his saddlebag. “Don’t be, princess,” he said. “I have only myself to blame for not realizing I was out sooner.”
“Well, since you’re here, would you care to accompany me on a stroll around Canterlot?” Luna asked. “Perhaps the night’s ambiance can help soothe your brain to sleep in place of Nyctolin?”
Soarin’ stared for a moment, then smiled impishly. “Sure thing, princess.”
With that, the two set off down the street toward the palace, walking softly so the clopping of their hoofsteps against the cobblestone didn’t wake up anypony sleeping inside their homes.
“So, you’re saying you suffer from insomnia, correct?” Luna asked, after they’d taken no more than a few steps.
“That’s right,” Soarin’ replied with a nod. “Ever since I was seven years old.”
“Interesting,” Luna said, “and have you been taking Nyctolin for as long?”
“. . . Yes, I have.” Soarin’ cocked an eyebrow. “Why the sudden interest in this, princess?”
Luna smiled. “Your Cutie Mark makes it all but clear you were destined to become a Wonderbolt, and yet, your insomniac condition should’ve seen to it that never happened.”
Soarin’ cocked the other eyebrow. “So, you’re saying that, had I not become dependent on Nyctolin to help me sleep, I wouldn’t have become a Wonderbolt later on?”
“If what you’re saying about the Wonderbolt lifestyle is true, then yes,” Luna replied.
Soarin’ paused to consider Luna’s assertion for a moment before returning his attention to the road in front of him. The two continued their walk for about ten minutes, busying themselves by taking in all the sights, from the starry skies above to the landscape that stretched for miles away from the mountain, and just enjoying the serene beauty of it all.
It wasn’t until they reached the palace and turned back the way they came that Soarin’ spoke up.
“Princess Luna?”
She turned to Soarin’. “Yes?”
Soarin’ turned to her in kind. “What exactly is destiny?”
Luna frowned slightly. “I’m afraid I don’t quite understand the question.”
“Earlier you said that my destiny wouldn’t have been to join the Wonderbolts had I not become dependent on Nyctolin.” Soarin’ tilted his head curiously. “Isn’t destiny supposed to be what determines everything about a pony’s life?”
“Ah, yes, well, destiny is a very misunderstood concept among ponies.” She briefly glanced back to the palace, a slight deadpan crossing her features. “And then there’s some who fancy it a playing piece . . .”
“What’s that?”
“It’s nothing, Soarin’.” Luna sighed, then turned back to him with a smile. “Anyway, ‘destiny’ has come to erroneously be associated with the concept of ‘predetermined fate’, or the idea that one’s life is planned out in its entirety upon or before birth.” She shook her head with dissatisfaction. “I don’t know where such a silly idea originated, but it simply isn’t true.”
“Then how is a pony’s destiny determined?” Soarin’ asked. His interest in the conversation at hoof had grown immensely, and it wasn’t every day, or night, one got to learn something directly from one of the royal sisters.
Luna smiled. “There is no single force that determines a pony’s destiny, and by extension their Cutie Mark,” she replied. “Rather, your life itself is what determines the course it takes after receiving a Cutie Mark.”
“My . . . life?”
“Indeed.” Luna stopped, followed by Soarin’, and she turned so he could get a good look at her flank, and the night sky Cutie Mark it held. “My Cutie Mark indicates I am meant to raise the night sky at the end of each day, but that’s only because the experiences I had as a filly, before receiving it, afforded me the skills and knowledge required to perform that task.” She pointed to Soarin’s Cutie Mark. “Tell me, what kind of upbringing did you have?”
Soarin’ followed her gaze to the image of two pegasus wings jutting out from either side of a golden lightning bolt adorning his flank. “Well, I remember taking a strong interest in joining the Wonderbolts when I was really young, and made it my lifelong goal to do so. I became obsessed with training myself so that I’d be worthy of joining them one day, and my parents supported me every step of the way toward that goal.” He smiled, the nostalgia tugging at his heartstrings a little. “When I finally got my Cutie Mark, I was immediately sure it meant I would become a Wonderbolt someday, and I was right.”
“Indeed you were,” Luna said, smiling again. “However, as I noted before, this was not likely to happen had you not become dependent on Nyctolin.”
Soarin’ turned his gaze back to her, his smile turning into a slight frown. “So even something as innocuous as taking a medication can affect somepony’s purpose in life?”
Luna nodded. “A pony’s future is determined by everything they see and do at an early age. The hobbies they gravitate towards, the experiences they have, the decisions they make, and especially how they’re raised by their parents, all play a role in shaping a pony’s future. Their Cutie Mark acts as a visual cue to let them know where that future lies, and for you, that future could only be with the Wonderbolts, but only because of your decision to take Nyctolin.”
Soarin’ smiled for a moment, but then a pensive frown crept its way onto his muzzle as he recalled something from his foalhood. Something that ran contrary to what Luna had just said.
”. . . And they all lived happily ever after. The end.”
“Wow, that was an awesome story, mommy!”
“I’m glad you liked it, Soarin’.”
“Can you read me another, pretty please?”
“Now, Soarin’, a young colt like yourself needs lots of sleep, especially if you want to be a Wonderbolt someday.”
“But mommy, it’ll be soooooo boring just waiting to fall asleep here.”
“That’s why you’ll be taking . . . this, again.”
“Nooo! It tastes yucky and gross and I don’t want it!”
“I see, not even if I added a spoonful of sugar to it?”
“. . . Would that really make it taste better?”
“There’s only one way to find out honey.”
“. . . O-Okay, I-I’ll try it.”
“. . . . . . So, how does it taste?”
“It . . . actually tastes really sweet. Can you add some sugar to it every night from now on, please mommy?”
“Of course I can, and I will.”
“Yay!”
“Soarin’!? Soarin’!”
“Huh, what!?” he turned his head every which way, startled from his flashback.
Luna frowned. “You were, as ponies these days say, ‘staring off into space’. Is everything alright?”
Soarin’ shook his head once more, returning his focus to the present. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said. “Just thinking.”
“Thinking about what, if I may ask?”
“Just . . . stuff,” Soarin’ replied. He looked to Luna with a solemn gaze. “I think I’d better go home now, at least try to get some sleep.” He let a ghost of a smile flash across his features. “Thanks for everything you taught me.”
Luna nodded. “You are welcome, and please, have a safe flight.”
Soarin’ nodded as well, and he quickly took to the air, waving goodbye to Princess Luna, who waved back herself, until he was out of eyesight.
Soarin’ let himself get lost deep in thought about everything Luna had told him during his flight back home. To think that a simple sleep medication could make such a big difference as allowing a pony to live out their dream left his mind a jumbled mess of thoughts. He was ever more thankful for his mother’s insistence on him taking it, and at the same time, Soarin’ mentally cursed his younger self’s childish fear of medicine for almost ruining his chances at being a Wonderbolt.
Soarin’s mind was in an emotional scramble by the time he reached his house’s front door. Slipping inside, he carelessly tossed his saddlebag in a corner and made his way toward the stairs. His steps were slow and weak, just barely reaching each step without tripping. Instinctually, Soarin’ turned to look at all the pictures which lined the staircase, staring at all the smiling and energetic ponies, himself included, contained within.
Soarin’ stopped, and reached out to lift the last picture off its nail, bringing it to his face for closer inspection. He let his gaze wander across the picture’s scene, taking in its contents. It was the best day of his life when he’d been accepted into the Wonderbolts, surpassing even the day he got his Cutie Mark, and seeing his parents’ tear-streaked faces as they embraced him while holding his uniform brought a sense of comfort and calmness to his confusion-addled brain.
What’s done is done. Regardless of what could have happened, I’m a Wonderbolt now. That’s all that matters.
Smiling, he set the picture back onto the nail, and gave it another once-over before continuing toward his bedroom.
Thanks for everything, mom, dad, and Luna . . . Heh heh, and Nyctolin.
