The Great Growing Pains

by Ladybug Minster

Rating: everyone
Tags: Tragedy, Adventure, Alternate Universe, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 3341

A story about the growth, courage, and ego of a civilization.

Life is like a tree in that it needs to gain right nutrients and keep growing to flourish without withering away, a process that happens to the benefit and misbenefit of it's branches. How you understand yourself is how you also understand your friends and foes alike, what they seek from their successes and failures, and how your leaves touch with their's in their eternal purpose to survive.

A short story about the life of a civilization that struggles to overcome it's greatest nemesis: Primal egocentrism.

Published 2015-09-16 14:30:01 UTC
Last updated 2015-09-16 14:30:01 UTC

The Great Growing Pains

I had a dream……….

Once upon a time, in a place unknown by most knowledge, there existed a land much like other lands. A land where magical beings shared space with the rest of nature. Some of them were male, others female, a symbiotic relationship that maintains the rise of new generations.

These magical, beautiful beings had spent much of their existence building a society where they could balance their basic needs, a technologically sophisticated race driven by the enjoyment for what they were doing. Most importantly, they enjoyed each other's company, loving and trustful of their fellows. For some time they had achieved harmony together, a time of peace and equality.

The stallions were not only masterful scientists but also strong in will and flesh through their heritage, helping their female partners by building shelters against weather and beasts, constructing tools and finding food to be grown for consumption so that they and their children could stay healthy. The mares were equally skillful with technology but more frail in physique, some of them admiring the physical strength of their stallions to the point of wanting to share it too.

To this the stallions reacted with either annoyance or spite. Was their trait not unique? A strength that had so long given the mares a shelter against the storms and the predators. A strength that gave them and their children food to keep their bellies full. A strength that gave them rare materials to be made into works of art and tools. A responsibility that only the stallions should keep. Sharing it would only compromise the beautiful look of the mares for no stallion desired a muscular female. A majority of stallions couldn't imagine a world where both genders can share all of the tasks.

That kind of change was intolerable. The stallions upped their performance to keep the mares happy and unquestioning of their ability to deliver in strength. Yet to the annoyance of them, some of the mares kept training in secret, inspired by their example yet without their support.

The stallions, growing more protective and jealous over their exclusive trait by the moment, kept performing until some of them decided that they had enough of what to them had become a moot cycle once they realized their natural limits. The prouder stallions, addicted to comparing each other, saw it as nothing but an excuse to procrastinate, abusing and ridiculing those stallions as the cowardly equivalent of the weaker mares yet nowhere near as desirable.

Pushed around by pressure, the rejected stallions became buried under the hubris of their simple-minded brothers, forced to choose between submission or refuge that destroyed many. Some of the mares adapted to the cruelty by becoming cruel and calculating themselves within the ossifying limit of their social role which passed on to their offspring. The pride of physical strength had consumed the stallion's minds at the expense of their wisdom, to the tragedy of their kind.

The arms race continued, chaining the mares and weaker stallions into positions where the well-being of their existence was compromised by the overwhelming pride of their brothers. Where ever progress happened the pride followed like a stain on a cloth. This continued until the great split came. A large group of mares, having had enough of the dictating compromise, severed their bind to the stallions. Yet there was a price that none had considered of for the forced split further damaged an important bond of life, adding to a growing compound of grief, depression and panic.

The factions, untrusting of each other's differences, used their technical knowledge to build obstacles to keep each other out of their kingdoms. The few mares who were trapped with the physically proud stallions suffered under their regime, chained to their objectified role. The few stallions at the mare regime worked hard to gain the trust of their partners because of the original compromise, fearful and insecure with their own inner workings due to lacking the ability to put them to words, more limited in what they were allowed to participate in by law.

Growing vengeful for the perceived betrayal of their sisters, the physically proud patriarchy began to plant the seeds of war against the matriarchs. They gathered necessary materials to build factories and manufacture weapons without regard for the well-being of their natural surroundings, captured and enslaved hellish beasts to use them as mounts of war, improved their forts and kept downgrading their captives by all possible ways to please themselves. The mares, aware of the brewing storm, remained mostly calm and responded by building their own factories to manufacture their own weaponry and counter measures in order to protect what signified their life and identity.

Then the war came. The factions, driven into ultimate conflict by the never ending cycle, gathered their armies and met at what would become the battlefield.

One faction, physically raw, proud and armed with blades, armory, siege weapons and mounted behemoths, seeking to annihilate everything the mares represented in their world without pity, mercy nor remorse, led by the sadistic king of the stallions.

The second faction, sleek, powerful and skilled in it's mastery of many arts, harnessing it's experience to meet all incoming threats without gullibility nor pity, was led by the wise queen of the mares, not clouded by pride nor hate yet still an experienced fighter who knew how to play the game of warfare for the benefit of peace in her territory.

The armies stood silent, waiting in their positions, one eager to attack, one eager to defend. The leaders of the armies eventually spoke to their troops.

"The time of reckoning has come! The time to rid the world of an ancient evil that denies you your freedom! All they wish for you is your death and damnation! Do not expect pity nor understanding from the mares for they are nothing but deceiving filth without a heart, soul nor honesty for what they really are! With your strength they will end up regretting that they ever set out to question our rightful place to rule! Destroy the witches! Tear them apart! Wipe them out! Spread their remains to this field to be burned in the aftermath dusk," the king roared.

"My sisters, you are here to protect the future and well-being of your loved ones! We must succeed in pushing them back for without your efforts everything that you have worked for all these years will crumble underneath the hooves of those brutes. They do not care about your health nor identity for in their minds you have no rights. They are brainwashed and hopelessly embedded in their cause of making everything look like them. Their blind egos shall suffer a defeat. I trust you to resist their army to the last mare. For freedom," the queen exclaimed.

The army of the stallion king took it's positions, the monstrous reptilian mounts situated at the sides, the siege weapons at the middle, the troops suspending their magical swords and shields to cut their enemy to pieces in a direct attack. The mares, instructed to stand their ground and meet the progressing opposition head on, readied their own in anticipation behind their makeshift barriers. The armies were ready, tense, heated, spiteful and uncaring of the fate of the other.

All except one.

A lone stallion in the king's army looked ahead from his row, mouth agape. His sharp gaze had scanned the opposite army and found something. It had changed the meaning of what he was doing, as quickly as his thoughts had become activated by what he saw. He had spotted an individual who he knew from the past.

A beautiful mare not much older than he was, a unicorn with a curly, tied up mane partially exposed from under the helmet that rested on top of her head. For a moment her stare returned an untrusting, stern coldness. Then a sign of recognition began to develop on her face, started by her noticing him stand out from the rest due to his expression. The mare's eyes widened, her mouth falling slack just like his. She too had recognized him.

He was her brother from long ago. They were siblings.

What the stallion felt at that moment drowned out everything else in the happening and what he had felt before it. Memories of a time before the divide had bubbled up from the depths of his mind, from a time before the walls had been raised to cut him off from his former family, happy times not spoiled by biased hyperbole, times that he had shared with someone who he didn't desire as an object, someone who's opinions and hobbies he had appreciated without condemnation, someone who he had no reason to hate nor downplay even when some days weren't perfectly sunny. His little sister was the kindest filly he had ever known.

Often they were with their mother who's own spirit and life lessons helped their own attitudes for life to grow invaluable roots from. He had never known his father, a father long dead in an accident but deeply missed by his mare who always spoke kindly of him to her children. Most importantly, the children had been lucky enough to grow in a neighborhood that, at the time, had no patriarchal influences. That was decades ago.

Yet now the filly and the colt had grown into "mature" adults, forced into opposing each other in a destructive war that they were fighting in the name of someone else's ego, where survival was not guaranteed for them nor the rest of their brothers and sisters from other families. Maybe the stallions would succeed in their goal, maybe the mares would. Due to popular demand, all that most ever saw was "winners and losers" in a shoving match. Regardless of who won, there would be repercussions anyway since the legacy of abuse prevails in the form of what started it so long ago. Power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely, the pride of strength influential to culture and oral language while invisibly un-attached to them. The war would result in no real change for the long term, only scarred imprints justifying the ones to follow.

There was only one thing that could be done, only one enemy to defeat, only one obstacle to overcome.

"Prepare to charge," the king roared.

The axe previously held aloft fell to the grass, followed by the shield. The gauntlets, tassets, chest plating and chain mail fell apart with mighty yanks, cast aside by his magic, the carved symbols of bias in the metal broken by the tenacity of emotions. Tears formed and fell as the decorated helmet and branded robes followed them to the ground. What remained was only what was alive, the naked individual stallion in the middle of his now confounded kind, every inch of his existence shaking from what was rocking him from inside. His chin dropped in a limp motion, allowing the constant flow of tears to soak the grass.

"No!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!"

The sheer volume of the distressed scream instantly caught the attention of everyone, followed by dead silence. The naked stallion stood alone, paralyzed in place and blinded by a thick layer of tears that now soaked his cheekbones, similar to those rolling down the face of another pony; his sister. Followed by another mare. Another mare. Another mare. Another mare. Even the queen. And, unexpectedly, several stallions from the side of The Naked One. The stunt had left a wordless impression.

"Traitor! You shall pay for your insolence," the king bellowed in rage, intolerant of any servant who would depart in the midst of battle. Charging through his own troops, the imposing, muscular ruler raised his weapon to cut down The Naked One who's eyes remained locked to the only thing that now gave his life a meaning, pleading for her forgiveness. Powerless, the stallion's sister gasped in horror. Her magic could not reach her brother from across the field. Only those near to him could help him.

The king's sword stopped in mid-strike, repelled by another blade. The amazed leader turned his head to look into the eyes of a soldier who had intervened out of the blue, tears also rolling down this stallion's cheeks.

"You too?! Do you not know the rules?! All traitors must be punished," the king growled wildly.

"He doesn't want to fight," the soldier replied bravely, having empathized with The Naked One, "and neither do I."

"Are you willing to sacrifice your freedom for the sake of a coward?!"

"The sacrifice that he just made," the other stallion raised his voice, "is what you will never understand."

"You must fight," the king spat to his face, "or you will die!"

"He doesn't want to fight! Nor do we," the soldier proclaimed, having noticed that new soldiers had taken a position behind him, all tearing up while still showing a clear sign of mutiny against the king by tearing off the symbols of their civilization. "Not for fighting's sake. But if we are forced to oppose true oppression we will fight you to protect him!"

"Shall we exploit this, your highness," a mare soldier asked the queen.

"Wait," the queen replied, watching the unfolding conflict, "do not intervene until I permit. Something remarkable has happened."

She could see how the stallion army quickly split up to two divided groups, the ones influenced by The Naked One's stunt and the ones loyal to the king. The siege weapons stalled and were abandoned, useless in the new skirmish that was taking ahold. The dragon riders guided their restless steeds to stomp in circles, awaiting new orders.

It got ugly. The stallions, now fighting against the foes in their own forces, met in a fierce clash of metal and hooves. In the midst of them The Naked One collapsed to the ground and laid still, unwilling to fight nor protect his now fragile existence from what threatened it. The king was still close-by and aware, shouting at the stallions riding atop their behemoths, "Destroy the traitors!! Feed them to your mounts!! Crush them!! Crush them all!!"

Too stupid to tell friend from foe, the draconic creatures lurched into the crowd with the steering of their trainers, snatching random soldiers to their deadly maws to swallow them whole and bringing their large, elephantine feet down with a kinetic force that made the very foundations of the earth tremble, their deafening bellows and moans filling the evening as innocent troops perished underneath their enormous weight.

It looked grim for the mutineers, their numbers too few to overcome the power struggle.

"My sisters," the queen shouted loud, ”The circumstances have changed! Help the repenting ones! Protect the one without armor!" She rushed forward, weapon ready, her troops right behind.

The king, by now driven into mad rage, approached the unicorn who had foiled his war, The Naked One, who was helpless and alone in his existential paralysis. Having lost his sword, the leader of the troops was nevertheless intent in killing the stallion. "I will snap your spine with nothing but my horn, traitor," the king snarled, his magic horn flashing a light of fury. The Naked One felt himself leave the ground and be pulled in two separate directions by an invisible force that increased exponentially, wrapping around his throat and strangling his wind pipe.

"No! P-p-please! D-d-don't hurt me," The Naked One gurgled, "I want to be alone!"

There was a sharp yelp of pain. In a quick instant the king's magic suddenly released it's grip, letting him take the plunge. Shaking, The Naked One looked up from where he lay, seeing the king cover his head with a front hoof and slip towards the ground. His horn was no longer there, cut clean off from where it had been attached.

"My horn," the king cried, "My horn!!!"

The Naked One's sister had appeared from the chaos, a glowing sword floating by her side, fire in her eyes. It had struck the king when his attention had been elsewhere to save her brother.

"I am nothing without my mighty horn!!" The king screamed in agony, rushing blindly into the fighting crowd. He didn't get far before one of his own beasts took a random step, killing the leader of it's rider. This did not go unnoticed by the queen of the mares as she pierced an enemy soldier with her weapon. "You set yourself up for thou own undoing………brother," she lamented, shaking her head in silence.

"Brother," the sister of The Naked One exclaimed with a frail voice, dropping her sword to affectionately embrace her sibling who at that instant broke down in tears at where he lay, an emotional wreck of who he was.

The tide of the battle turned as soon as the mares joined the fight, assisting the stallions who had repented to defeat the hoof soldiers of the prideful enemy. The monster behemoths, wild, un-intelligent yet powerful in mass, kept claiming the lives of mares and stallions alike until the combined efforts of the warriors finally put them down. Realizing that the fight was over in their defeat, the surviving soldiers loyal to the king panicked, dropped their weapons and fled the battleground, never heard of again.

The mare army, still untrusting and cautious of their possibly unstable allies now turned prisoners due to their origin of identity, disarmed the stallions who all complied without resistance, the look on their faces showing growing symptoms similar to The Naked One. Having succeeded in protecting their inspirer, these stallions now faced an uncertain future. Their old beliefs would haunt them in a tug of war with the ones newly gained, a war that many fight within.

The queen keenly approached The Naked One and his sister who gently embraced the stallion's weakened form. The ruler of the mares lowered herself, looking into the eyes of the peculiar individual who had changed the direction of the battle, a glint of pity in her own.

"Speak your mind," she told assuringly," We are listening."

The Naked One shivered from his bleeding emotions, relaxing when his sibling buried herself to his shoulder and wept. The stallion's retinas spread out to leave behind a black hole in their place, directing the attention of their confused operator into meeting the eyes of the queen.

"For years I have been forced to hide my true feelings within a herd that forsakes them. Yet I can't keep them in for their motion slowly tears me apart. I can not have both a herd and a solitude. Yet I do need both as one. I know my own name. Yet who am I? What am I going to do to change this?"

"That," the queen replied with a smile, new tears beginning to form between her eyelids as she pondered what had been told, "is a good question for all of us."

*

Author's Note

When I first began this it was merely meant to be a manuscript for an idea to a web comic series(sort of a sequel to my two earlier ones centered around Celestia and Luna still viewable at DeviantArt for those interested) that I could use as a guide for directing the narrative focus. As I kept building it I realized that it could function equally well as a stand-alone short story, thus, that is what it eventually ended up becoming.

For the record, I simply refuse to care about what other users may believe or state about the feminist message central to the narrative if it challenges their social values. I chose to put it here simply because FIMFiction is a public place for MLP based stories and there are way more controversial works displayed daily. What's here is simply a story about sibling love that I felt matters in the context of the world's modern affairs, nothing more and nothing less, take it or leave it.

[youtube=https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=IU2SN2jRiCE]

Have a nice day. :)