Canterlot Academy For Pets

Chapters

Year One -Term One - Week Zero: Departure
Addendum - Canterlot Academy For Pets: An Explainer.
Year One - Term One - Week Zero: Arrival
Year One - Term One - Week Zero: The Tour
Year One - Term One - Week Zero: Welcome to the Academy
Year One - Term One - Week One: The Morning After
Year One -Term One - Week One: A New Start
[CLOP] Year One - Term One - Week One: Recess

Year One -Term One - Week Zero: Departure

Script Write’s eyes fluttered open, her orange fur bathed in the warm morning sunlight passing through the crack in her curtains. She lazily gazed around her room from her bed, emerald eyes staring at her pink wallpaper, taking in the familiar marks and scuffs she made when she was younger. Her eyes then wandered to the window as she sat up in her bed, where she could see the base of Canterlot mountain.

She lived in the residential district of Canterlot, where everypony who couldn’t afford the expense of owning an apartment in the city center at the mountaintop lived.The residential district lay at the base of the mountain, sprawling with suburb after suburb.

The thick smell of honey and oats the wafted through her slightly ajar bedroom door, bringing her further into the waking world. Suddenly, she remembered, today was the day she left for school, and a very special school at that!

Script was like many six year-old foals: hyperactive when energised, grumpy when tired and anywhere in between at any other time. However, Script was among a very special group of foals who were to be chosen by Masters to be their pets, an age old Equestrian tradition which still serves well to this day as a privilege granted to those of noble status.

The unicorn filly jumped out of bed, her usual happy grin brightening her face even more than usual. She hopped up onto a stool in front of her dresser, looking at herself in the mirror as she readied herself for the day ahead.

She picked up a brush in her magic running it through her short yellow mane. Brushing it into her usual tidy, short and straight hairstyle. Turning around she looked over her shoulder, using the brush to do the same to her tail. She slid on her flowery headband and slipped some of her magically preserved, vibrant tropical flowers into her mane and tail. Then she picked up her coat brush, combing through her orange fur to straighten it out, taking extra care to go over every inch of her body as she wanted to look especially good for her first day at school.

Finally, she picked up her special bottle of perfume, given to her by her mother after being granted her scholarship and sprayed a few squirts onto her neck. It was just like any foal’s perfume but with a little bit of a special chemical, whose name she could never pronounce, added to give it a special ‘kick’ as her mom said.

Once she decided she was ready for the world to see her, she practically bounced down the stairs and into the main living area of her family’s house. She glanced to the kitchen to see her father, Engine Steam, humming as he stirred a pot, presumably full of delicious oats.

Engine Steam was the head engineer at the Royal Airship Company, the company that produced almost all of Equestria’s military and royally operated airships, this meant he gained a certain amount of influence with the princesses, granting him and his family their noble status.

As Script trotted into the kitchen, she inhaled the pleasantly thick and rich scent, her mouth already drooling with anticipation as she watched Steam cook.

“Where’s mother?” She asked, noticing the absence of her mother, who was usually up and preparing for work.

“What do you say to me first thing in the morning, sweetpea?” he asked teasingly, smiling down at her.

“Good morning Father!” she replied forgetting the question she was asking as she mentally kicked herself for forgetting the phrase that had been drilled into her since the day she could speak to make sure she always respected her elders.

“Good girl, how about you let Father take care of everything this morning?” The brown unicorn said affectionately, “You’ve got a big day ahead and I want it to be the best first day it can be.”

“Thank you Father!”

“You’re welcome. How about you go make sure your saddlebags are packed up with everything you need, okay?”

The filly nodded in response, “Yes Father!” She said gleefully as she bounced out of the kitchen down the hallway, passing her father’s study (where she’d never been allowed to go lest she mess with any of his important documents), her father’s basement-turned-dungeon (where her parents spend at least one night a week) and her parent’s bedroom. Finally, she passed into the living room where she’d left her saddlebags after they’d both packed the night before. The filly picked up the bags along with a list of her required stationery and equipment as sent to her by her school, The Canterlot Academy For Pets and Broodmares.

The living room wasn’t all that different to that of most families. It sported some slightly worn black faux-leather sofas and a coffee table, which at that point in time hosted the remnants of the last family game night. Playing cards were strewn around an in-progress game of Appleloosa Hold-em from the night before. Everypony involved had realised it was three in the morning and their wives had expected them home two hours ago after leaving with the kids, promptly leaving the game as not to be reprimanded for being out too late.

Script started listing off all the items she was required to take to school as she removed them from her bag, “Pencils, ruler, gag, and…” She trailed off, “Father?” she called out.

“Yes sweetpea?” he replied from the kitchen, where he was serving the pair’s oats and topping them with sliced strawberries, one of Script’s favourite treats.

The filly scrambled around the living room desperately, looking for the maths textbook she couldn’t find in her bags, “I can’t find my maths textbook!” she shouted.

“I’ll help you look after breakfast, okay?” he replied, wandering into the room and looking down at the orange blur running around, checking under sofas and cushions.

“Okay…” she griped, giving up her search temporarily to make her way back into the kitchen and hop up onto her stool at the table.

“Okay who?” he reminded her, tapping her on the horn lightly with a hoof.

“Okay Father…” she repeated exasperatedly.

“Now, eat up,” Steam said, “I made your favourite!”

He picked up the two bowls in his magic. One being a clean white color and the other a bright pink, with the word ‘princess’ written on the side. He placed the pink bowl in front of Script and the white one in front of his own seat before sitting down next to her, watching her face to see her reaction.

Script was overjoyed, her textbook woes forgotten as a huge grin spread across her face. She looked down at her oats which were covered in plenty of cream, sugar and strawberries, so much so that one could barely see the oats underneath!

She picked up her spoon in her yellow aura and started digging into the oats, getting stray food spread all around her mouth as she scoffs it down as quickly as possible.

Steam chuckled as he watched his daughter eat, taking his time to eat his food, “Slow down sweetie, those oats aren’t going anywhere,” he told her, prompting her to slow down for a few bites before going back to her breakneck pace.

Having finished her oats, Script quickly downed the glass of juice her father had placed beside her bowl, making the orange fur around her mouth just a little more vibrant as she placed it down and hopped up from her seat simultaneously.

“Careful sweetpea, you’ll-” Steam’s warning was interrupted by a loud gurgle from Script’s belly and a groan from her mouth, “Get a cramp…” he finished, bringing his hoof to his face.

Script stood for a moment, her face grimacing until the pain subsided. She bounced off to look for the missing textbook once again with renewed vigor from the unhealthy amount of sugar she had consumed.

She checked everywhere, under the sofas, under the cushions, even in the lampshades but the book was nowhere to be found. Script’s panic was mounting as she started getting more and more anxious, checking the clock on the wall constantly.

Engine Steam, however, was much calmer than his daughter. He stood from the table, leaving his spoon in his bowl of oats and trotting over to the filly. He booped her on the horn, “Are you sure you should be worrying, sweetpea?” he asked, glancing over to the coffee table where a thick textbook with a series of equations inside lay open.

“O-Oh!” Script exclaimed, casually trotting over to the coffee table and grabbing the textbook, taking it back and stuffing it in her saddlebags as she turned to face her Father with a look of embarrassment on her face.

“What do we say?” he asked her, raising an eyebrow.

“Thank you, Father,” Script said embarrassedly.

Steam nodded, “Good girl,” he told her, glancing up at the wall clock, which read as 8:35. A look of worry spread across his face as he realised, Script was meant to be to at the train platform ten minutes ago!

Script was confused by this, tilting her head at Steam, “What’s wrong, Father?” she asked, looking up at the clock with him, they had 45 minutes before she had to be at the platform! He lept into action, explaining nothing as he put her saddle bags on and grabbed her luggage while he hurried her outside, “Come on sweetie, we’ll be late!” he quickly exclaimed before shutting the door behind her, leaving her to stumble about confusedly for a little while.

Her father hurried down the street towards the town square, where the great spire of a clocktower dwarfed the surrounding buildings, “Come on, Script!” he shouted over his shoulder, “We’ll be late!”

Script obeyed her father’s instruction, figuring he just wanted to make sure they were there nice and early so they don’t miss the train. She cantered after him, her saddlebags adding an extra weight with all the extra items they’d stuffed in the night before after trying and failing to fit them into her already overfilled and forcefully closed suitcase.

She panted as she caught up to him, “Wh-What’s the rush?” she asked, slowing to a brisk trot as they approached the familiar sight of the town center setting up for the sunday market. The warm scent of freshly baked bread wafting past her nose and filling her with memories of her little corner of Canterlot’s lower residential sector.

She slowed as a pang of sadness suddenly pounded into her the depths of her belly. She wasn’t going to be home for a long time, much longer than she’d ever been away from her town, or her parents!

Pain shot through her ear as Steam gave it a quick tug, a reminder of her father’s apparent haste as he powered through the small crowd of ponies looking to get first dibs on the more premium goods on offer at the market, not even apologising as he pushed his way through ponies patiently lining up in front of the stalls, causing a few cries of frustration.

“Sorry!” Script shouted back at the crowd as she was dragged towards the clocktower, which towered above the entrance to the train station where she would be taking a train to upper Canterlot.

The train station was a grand building, functioning as one of the main thoroughfares for trains travelling to and from Canterlot. The entrance was an intricately decorated doorway with two large statues of the Princesses on either side.

Script didn’t have time to admire the details of the entrance as her father pulled her into the main lobby of the station, which was just as lavishly dressed as the outside of the building with its marble pillars covered in engravings to represent Equestrian legends and stories.

Her father stopped for just a moment, allowing her to pant for breath as he checked her ticket, looking for the platform number, “Platform three!” he announced before resuming his haste towards the platform, Script in tow.

As she neared the platform, a realisation started to dawn upon Script as she spied her mother, aunts and uncles, cousins, along with all kinds of other family members.

Were they waiting for her?

Script suddenly realised why her mother wasn’t at home that morning, giving herself a mental kick for the second time that morning. How was it so easy for her father to distract her like that?

One of her cousins pointed at her as he saw her round the corner onto the platform, prompting all of the ponies to rush towards her excitedly, her mother reaching her first, pulling her into a tight, warm hug as the rest of her family crowded around her.

“Ooh, my little girl is growing up!” said her mother, Clean Sweep as she squeezed Script as tightly as possible.

“Easy dear,” Her father chuckled, placing a hoof on Sweep’s shoulder and prompting her to let go of Script, allowing her the room to breathe for just a moment before she was crowded with other ponies all trying to give her some form of advice.

“Make sure you do all your homework!” her older cousin told her as he ruffled her mane playfully.

“Don’t be afraid to ask the teachers for help, it’s their job to teach you!” her uncle instructed, nodding at her approvingly.

When she got to her aunt Oven Mitts, however, her advice was seemingly a lot more secret. Her collar bell ringing as the pregnant broodmare leaned towards Script, "The door to the western end of the stallion’s dorms is usually loose, just give the handle a good bash~” she whispered teasingly, just loud enough so her parents behind her couldn’t hear, but enough to cause Script to blush furiously as she remembered that Oven was an Academy alumnus.

The hugs, hoofshakes and kisses seemed to take forever. Everypony had come to see her off, even some family friends and ponies she hadn’t met at one time since she was a tiny foal!

Finally, the clocktower sounded ten o’clock, the time when the train was scheduled to arrive at the station.

As the bell rang, the crowd of excited ponies fell somewhat silent, realising that it was time to say goodbye to Script as the sound of a train’s whistle sounded from far down the tracks, slowly getting louder as the train approached.

The time between the bells chiming and the train arriving felt like the longest thirty seconds of Script’s life. She felt the pang of sadness return in full force, the empty feeling growing in her belly with every moment that the train got closer.

The train pulled into the platform, it’s doors sliding open to reveal a few ponies standing with luggage in their grip, magical or otherwise. Script watched them get off the train as her parents came back to hug her once more, pulling her into a tight group hug that felt like it lasted forever.

Once the hug was over, her mother stepped back, placing both of her hooves on Script’s shoulders, “Now, remember to keep your dorm tidy and make sure you always do what your teachers tell you and--” She started to ramble as tears welled up in her eyes before she was interrupted by the feeling of Steam’s hoof touching her shoulder lightly.

“Don’t worry dear, she’ll be fine,” he told her, his expression not matching his calm tone as he too held back tears.

The train’s whistle blew again, reminding the ponies on the platform of their schedule.

“Well…” Script said, “I guess I gotta go now, huh?” she asked, prompting nods from her parents.

“We love you sweetie, don’t forget that,” her mother told her, kissing her on the forehead lovingly.

Steam hugged his daughter one last time, not saying a word lest he burst out in tears. He offered her the handle of her suitcase, which Script took with her mouth, dragging it backwards until she passed through the door and into the cabin of the train.

As she backed on, she spotted a few other family gatherings also coming to an end in the same way, it seemed she wasn’t the only foal heading to The Academy.

While she thought about this fact, the doors closed in front of her, jolting her out of her stupor as she ran to the window to look back at her family one last time.

The whistle sounded again before the familiar hiss of the steam engine reverberated through the train, the platform starting to move outside as the train pulled away from the station

“We love you!” her family called, their cries muffled through the walls of the carriage. “Don’t forget to write!”

Before long, the end of the platform raced past the window, leaving Script to nothing but her thoughts as the train made it’s way up the mountain.

What would school be like?

Would she make any friends?

Only time would tell.

Addendum - Canterlot Academy For Pets: An Explainer.

The Canterlot Academy For Pets is a school in Canterlot for the explicit purpose of teaching foals (mainly fillies) how to be good pets, broodmares and other less foal-safe occupations in a safe, controlled manner. The school starts from 6 years of age, just after preschool, the students are expected to know basic maths before entering the school (addition and subtraction), while more advanced concepts such as multiplication and division are taught in the first year. Additionally, the students are to speak clear and fluent Equestrian, as they study texts throughout the years pertaining to sexual practices from eons past.

While the school partakes in some unsavoury activities (which would of course be highly illegal in the real world, but this is horseland), the school is one of many of its kind, there are similar schools in almost all other major cities of Equestria, The Academy is considered the most desirable one.

The school’s teachers are all either submissives or Masters, and hands-on demonstrations are encouraged, though it is considered incredibly bad form to impregnate a foal without the consent of both the foal (see: Laws of Sexual Engagement With a Foal) and the Master of the foal or, if the foal has no Master, the permission of the foal’s father. This is a fireable offense, although such an occurrence often doesn’t happen on accident, as the foals are all enchanted with infertility spells while on campus.

Within classrooms, all desk chairs are equipped with ‘endurance trainers’, at first, these are nothing but slight bumps in the chair, mainly for self-relief rather than training, as the foals progress, however, these bumps grow larger, eventually taking the shape of a horsecock, despite their wooden appearance, the bumps aren’t made of the same wood as the rest of the chair, enchanted to make them feel like the Equestrian equivalent of silicon rubber. Past the 5th year, a foal caught bringing themselves to orgasm before the end of class, when they are allowed and encouraged to relieve themselves as reward for listening, is punished with a detention or other methods of punishment as permitted by the individual foal and their master/father (see: Laws of Sexual Engagement With a Foal). The fillies are encouraged to start training themselves for this eventuality during the third and fourth grades, and most fillies are equipped to handle the ‘bump’ styled trainers by the fifth.

All Masters claiming a foal as pet are expected to send them through a school of this type, and in doing so pay all the fees of sending the foal to the private school, few scholarships are offered for special cases.

There is also an equivalent school for masters, doms and alpha stallions, the two schools are linked, run by the same school board and commonly partake in learning together. The campus is shared with the pet campus, though students are prohibited from visiting the each other during school hours until the final four years of school.

Year One - Term One - Week Zero: Arrival

Script always loved everything about train rides. Everything from the bumpiness of the tracks, the clicks and clacks of the wheels and the view from the window as she watched the world pass by.

This train ride was different.

The bumps turned from a fun jostle to an erratic roller coaster, each jump and bend threatening to make her spill her stomach’s contents as the feeling of longing to be home already grew stronger and stronger with each passing second.

The clacking wheels turned into a vicious timekeeper, a clock counting the seconds she had been away from her parent’s loving embrace.

The view was the only thing Script could still appreciate. She rested her chin on the back of her seat which pressed against the wall of the train carriage, her eyes watching the suburb she called home for so many years get smaller in the distance.

After a while the train started to ascend Canterlot Mountain, the suburbs disappearing behind the purple-grey rock face as the train made it’s way around the mountain. By the time she could see her home district again it was indistinguishable from the rest of the expansive sea of roofs spreading out from the mountain.

She was alone; no parents, no family, just her thoughts to keep her company.

She had never experienced such intense feelings of isolation, they bubbled in her stomach like a pot of boiling water, threatening to overflow and flood her face with tears.

Deciding that her current view was far too upsetting, she turned her attention upwards to the city she was spending most of the next year in, Canterlot.

From below, Script could see the intricate magical glyphs on the underside of the city which stopped at it from falling off the side of the mountain. She saw the Canterlot airship bay, the port for all of the airships between Canterlot and Manehattan, as well as where her father’s airships were built.

‘Ugh…’ The downtrodden filly thought to herself, ‘That just made me feel even worse!’.

She sat in her loneliness for a little while longer, counting each long second as she waited anxiously for her arduous thirty minute journey to be over.

It felt like a lifetime had passed before she could finally see the station where her train would stop, a much more extravagant building with statues and carvings lining each of the five platform entrances.

This wasn’t an unfamiliar sight for Script, as being a noble obligated her to attend a host of different dinner parties and events in Canterlot with her parents, even if they were only a maid family.

She had always seen the big city as nothing but a place where such parties were put on by ponies with considerable amount more money than her parents could afford, a place she could only hope to visit every other month or so, let alone live right in the center of!

And yet, there she was, sitting on a train with her bags packed to do just that.

Her glum thoughts were quickly replaced with that of nervous excitement, her face lighting up with glee as she thought about what she would do in and out of class.

Reaching into her saddlebags, she pulled out the letter she received confirming she’d been accepted to the academy, its envelope marked and torn around the edges from the countless times Script had read and re-read the letter in excitement.

She hugged the envelope close to her chest for a moment before carefully opening the envelope and removing the letter, which had been kept in a much more pristine state, with almost no signs that the parchment had ever even been touched by anything but the pen used to write on it.

Careful not to touch it any more than she absolutely had to, she admired the letter, her eyes still sparkling the same way as when she first opened the letter over four months ago as she admired the immaculate hoofwriting. Each familiar word still filled her with anticipation, anxious to start her new life at school.

She imagined meeting her teachers and learning all kinds of new things in class.

She imagined new friends and playing with her them at lunch time.

She imagined staying up late and studying with her roommate.

‘Probably not just theory study, too~’ She thought to herself, her orange face gaining a slightly redder glow for a moment as her thoughts wandered into lewder territory, her hoof starting to make its way across her lap and--

“No!” She muttered to herself quietly, biting her lip and moving her hoof back to her side as she recalled something her father told her before she left.

“Now Script, just because we’re not around to keep an eye on that naughty hoof of yours, doesn’t mean you can throw all your training to the wind!” Steam had told her the night before she departed.

The filly shook her head, clearing her naughty thoughts and refocusing on the real reason she’d opened up the letter, as in addition to her acceptance, the parchment detailed what she was to do once she got off the train,

She didn’t really need to read the instructions again, being that she’d recited them over and over again until she remembered them off by heart, not wanting to mess anything up on her big day.

Her eyes scanned the instructions carefully, making sure she knew exactly what she needed to do once she left the carriage.

Once she was sure she knew what she was to do, she painstakingly slipped the letter back into its envelope, closing it with a strip of tape she used to make sure it stayed closed after the original seal broke after her tenth time reading the letter the day it arrived.

She fidgeted in her seat, anxious to get off the train as quickly as she could as soon as it pulled in so she could get to her new school as quickly as possible.

Slowly but surely, the train came to a stop next to the train platform, the hiss of the excess engine steam being released resounding through the carriage as a sign that the ride was over.

Script jumped to her hooves, placing her saddlebags securely on her back and concentrating hard on her suitcase, willing her still weak and unrefined magic to take the handle in its grip. After a few seconds, her horn sparked and sputtered to life while the faintest sign of her yellow magical aura enveloped the handle.

Silently congratulating herself for her success in using her magic she eagerly began trotting to the doors of the train with her head held high and her tail flicking happily.

It was only now that she noticed the train’s other passengers, two stallions in airshipwright’s outfits, jovial bantering with one another about the work day ahead, a group of young mothers discussing the latest gossip as they rock their foals in their magic or hooves and three schoolfillies, not more three years older than Script.

They giggled and snorted, joy written onto their faces as they chattered to each other.

“Hey, did you hear the new Sapphire Shores song?” One of them asked enthusiastically.

“Yeah, her other one was way better, though.” Another said matter-of-factly.

“No way!” The third filly protested.

“Yes way!” Came the response from filly number two.

“It’s two-versus-one!” The first rebutted.

“Fine, it wasn’t that bad…” The filly Script had labeled ‘two’ admitted before all three of them broke into a fit of giggles.

A pang of jealousy hit Script in the chest, she’d never really had true friendships like the three girls she was watching, laughing and bantering with each other without a care in the world.

‘Going to a new school will change that, right?’ She asked herself, frowning a little.

She shook those thoughts from her head, instead focusing on the exciting day ahead of her as she stepped onto the platform, dragging her bags behind her.

She took a deep breath, trying not to get lost in the scores of ponies rushing past her in every direction, pushing her tiny body around carelessly as they rushed to wherever it was they were going.

Taking short and brisk steps, the filly made her way into the main building of the station, a large rectangular hall with towering arches of white stone which appeared to be holding up the intricately decorated ceiling depicting a host of constellations, the names of which Script could never remember despite her father explaining them each times they came to the city.

The flag of the two sisters hang above the main entrance to the building, which was in the wall opposite Script.

The cold stones of the station walls served as perfect amplifiers for the sound of each hoof hitting the smooth marble floor, creating an exciting symphony of city life which filled Script’s ears from all sides.

In the center of the bustling hall, a brass and marble pagoda served as an ticketing booth, mainly used by visitors who didn’t have a magical ticket card. Sitting atop of the booth was a large glass faced clock.

Her attention drawn to it, Script read the time from the clock, “Eleven thirty four…” She muttered to herself, “I was meant to be at the carriages four minutes ago!” She exclaimed, causing a few passing ponies to glance at her for a moment or two.

She galloped towards the other end of the building, quickly cantering up the steps and out into the open air. She briskly made her way to the taxi bay, where she was to be picked up by a carriage owned by the academy for the purpose of taking students to and from school.

As she neared the taxis, she noticed a few other of colts and fillies of various ages, a stark contrast to the grown ups who had dominated the inner station. She noticed a few of them carried a familiar envelope with them, recognising that all of those with the letter were close to her in age, they must have been new to the school like she was!

She decided that she would make friends with as many of them as she could as soon as she got to her first class, but first she had to find her carriage.

“Twenty three, twenty three…” She repeated, recalling the number of her carriage.

The carriages were painted a deep royal purple, with a few gold highlights painted onto various parts such as the hoofrails on the inside of the cart. Large numbers were painted in light blue on each side of the carts, making them easy to tell apart. They cycled in and out of the taxi bays each time a student boarded a carriage, allowing a new cart to come in and prepare for the next wave of students to arrive.

After a little searching, Script finally came to carriage number twenty three where a large, brown unicorn stallion stood waiting for her.

He smiled down at the panting filly, “Script Write?” He asked in a curt tone.

Script caught her breath for a moment, the toll of running around the station finally catching up with her, “Y-Yes sir!” She panted.

“Hop on up and we’ll be off!” He instructed, motioning towards the carriage with his head as he took her suitcase and placed it in the back compartment of the carriage

Script climbed into the carriage, splaying out across the faux-leather seat as she finally took off her heavy saddlebags, the panic from earlier slowly leaving her body.

The stallion closed the compartment and briskly trotted to the front of the cart, lifting the saddle and locking it to his torso, “You’re a first year, right?” He asked as he set off from the parking bay.

“Yep!” Script replied excitedly, sitting up in the back seat having recovered a little bit of energy.

“I thought so, only a first year student arrives at the carriages thirty minutes early!” He chuckled.

“E-Early?” Script stuttered. “B-But the clock in the station…” She trailed off, trying to work out what he meant, she was sure the letter said to be at the carriage bay at eleven thirty!

“They still haven’t fixed that dumb clock?” The stallion asked. “It’s been fast for a week now!”

Script groaned, “S-So I didn’t need to rush?”

“Not at all,” he told her. “At this rate, we’ll reach the school early!”

Script sighed with relief that she wouldn’t be late, her perfect first day was back on track.

“The name’s Geo, by the way,” he told her. “You’ll probably see me around school sometimes, so don’t be a stranger, okay?”

Script nodded, “Okay sir!” She said respectfully, happy to already be making friends even if they were considerably older than her.

They chatted all the way from the station to the school, the talkative filly eager to tell Geo whatever it was he wanted to know, everything from what she wanted to be when she grew up to her family and where she came from.

Though talking about her family made her feel the pangs of homesickness she had as she rode the train, talking to Geo about it made her feel much better. He was a great listener, and was always asking more about whatever it was she was explaining as her topics drifted from one to another.

As they talked, the pair slowly passed from downtown Canterlot, where the train station was, to uptown Canterlot. The streets became considerably nicer to ride on, the storefronts decorated with beautiful dresses and suits which Script could only afford in her wildest dreams and the greasy diners from downtown became fancier and fancier until they became cafes serving fifty-bit brunches.

She stared at the ponies walking along the sidewalk, each wearing a unique outfit with their heads held high as they headed to wherever they were going, mostly towards the castle which dominated the horizon.

The castle also served as another landmark for Script, as the Academy only lay a block from the castle walls!

Her eyes sparkled with awe as the cart rounded the corner, the large white gates of the pets dormitories swinging open for the cart as soon as the royal guards who stood watch recognised the unique Academy carriage.

“You’re back early, Geo,” One of the two guards remarked as they neared the gates.

“Yeah, seems they still haven’t fixed that darn clock at the station.” He replied, causing the guards to roll their eyes.

“Really?” The other guard asked, “It’s been a whole week since it broke!”

Script was rather oblivious to the conversation as she marveled at the size of the dorm building. Its 10 storeys towered over the immaculate gardens surrounding it, dominating her view.

Thick columns held up the white marble canopy which sat above a set of large wooden doors. A few mares and fillies of all ages passed in and out of the building carrying various bags and luggage.

‘This is it!’ Script thought to herself as Geo waved goodbye to the guards and set off once again.

After what felt like much too long for Script, Geo pulled into the designated taxi carriage parking close to the steps leading up to the entrance.

“Well, this is where I leave you,” he told her. “Head inside and talk to the one of the teachers. They’ll get you sorted out,” He instructed as he untied himself from the carriage and made his way to the back compartment, undoing the latch and swinging it open to retrieve her luggage.

“Thank you so much sir!” She said, beaming up at him as he handed her the suitcase, which she took with her magic.

“It was my pleasure, Script!” The stallion replied, nodding at her softly. “Remember what I told you, don’t be a stranger!”

“Yes sir!” She said, her tail flicking happily behind her as she set off for the dorm building. “Bye!” She shouted over her shoulder as she bounced up the stone steps.

He turned to re-attach himself to the carriage, before suddenly remembering something and spinning around quickly.

“Script!” He called, causing her to stop and turn to look at him, “Just Geo is fine!” He shouted.

Script nodded in response, somehow seeming to smile even wider than before. “Okay si--” She caught herself, “Geo!” She finished, glad to have made her first friend at her new school.

Geo chuckled to himself, continuing to fit the carriage’s saddle to his torso as he inspected the curious little filly, who hopped up the stairs with glee. For some reason, her name felt familiar to him, though he figured it was just his imagination.

“She’s definitely cute though~” He muttered, admiring her tight flank, it looked like he’d already started to find his favorite new arrivals.

Script was oblivious to the attention she was being given as she ran up the stairs and into the lobby, disappearing and leaving Geo to make his return to the station.

She stood in the doorway, watching as ponies moved around the lobby, dragging around bags and talking amongst each other. A few teachers stood keeping an eye on the students, helping them with their luggage and directing them to where they needed to go.

A lump formed in her throat as she started to trot towards one of the teachers, her ears flattening as she got closer as she started to panic.

‘What if I say something I’m not supposed to?’ She thought, wanting to make the best first impression she could.

By the time she came to stand in front of the older pony, her legs quivered with fear, trying desperately not to run away and hide in case she embarrassed herself in front of the grownup.

The teacher turned to look at her, “Yes, sweetheart?” He asked, smiling down at her kindly.

She sputtered, opening her mouth to speak but only managing to mutter incoherent sounds without forming a single word.

‘Oh no!’ She thought. ‘He must think I’m so stupid, I can’t even talk!’

The teacher simply chuckled, “There’s no need to be scared, you’re a first year, aren’t you?” He asked.

Script nodded, “Y-Yes sir!”

“And you’re living in the boarding houses?” He asked.

“Y-Yes sir!” She repeated.

“Good, we have to make sure you’re in the right place now don’t we?”

“Y-Yes sir!”

“Do you know how to say anything other than ‘Yes Sir’?” He teased.

“Yes sir!” Script exclaimed, causing the teacher to raise an eyebrow. “I-I mean…” She trailed off, panicking as she desperately searched her brain to figure out what to say.

The stallion before her chuckled once more, “It’s okay to be nervous, you are on your own in a new place you’ve never been before, after all,” he reassured her. “Let’s start with… Your name, what’s your name, sweetie?” He asked.

“Sc-Script Wr-Write!” The shaking filly stammered.

“My name is Riding Crop, that’s Mister Crop to you,” he told her. “Now, I expect you’re anxious to get to your room now aren’t you, sweetheart?” He said.

Script nodded quickly, still too scared to say much of anything lest she say the wrong thing and get into trouble.

“Well, normally we’d take you up with the other newcomers,” he explained. “But seeing as you’re early, I’ll take you up myself!”

Suddenly, Script remembered all of the other colts and fillies from the station. If the clock was fast, why were they not all arriving with her, they should have all been just as early as she was.

“Hold on,” The stallion in front of her said. “Sweetheart, do you remember the name of the pony who brought you here?” He asked.

“Y-Yes Sir!” She replied, causing Mister Crop to raise his eyebrow at her. She bit her lip, an embarrassed blush spreading across her face as she realised her mistake. “H-His name was G-Geo, sir.” She said.

Mister Crop rolled his eyes, “Of course it was Geo…” He muttered. “He was meant to turn you away if you were early, he just can’t resist getting to know any new fillies, especially ones as cute as you!”

Script’s blush thickened at his comment, her tail swishing behind her as she smiled sheepishly, breaking eye contact by staring at the floor while kicking her hoof.

Mister Crop grinned at the embarrassed filly, taking her luggage in his magical grip.

“Come on sweetheart, I’ll take you to where you’ll be staying,” he said before turning away from Script and setting off for the steps leading up to the dorms, pausing to check that Script was following him.

It took a moment before she realised that Mister Crop had started trotting away, hurrying along behind him as she noticed he had moved.

After making sure Script was close behind him, he began heading up the stairs to the floors above.

“Do you remember which floor your dorm is on, sweetheart?” He asked, looking back at Script.

Script tapped her chin with a hoof, trying to remember the floor number written on her letter, “Th-The fourth floor!” She said. “R-Room three!”

Mister Crop nodded in understanding, continuing to lead her up the stairs. Eventually, they arrived on the first floor.

Her eyes widened as she looked around the room, it was populated with sofas and chairs, a large floor-to-ceiling window on the wall opposite Script along with a bookshelf on the wall to her right

containing various fictional and nonfictional books. A pinboard was hung on the wall with various parchments tacked on, most of them notices from the previous year which were long out of date.

A few older fillies sat in the couches, chatting idly about various topics such as what they did over their holidays and which popular fashion was ‘all the rage’ with various celebrities or popular ponies from around school.

“This is the common room, you and the other first years will be getting a tour of the school starting from here…” Crop trailed off, checking a clipboard hung on the pinboard which he levitated over to himself, then the clock on the wall above the pinboard. “Two forty-five,” he said.

Script nodded, taking in this new information and committing it to memory as best she could.

Mister Crop hung the clipboard back where he got it from before retaking his place in front of Script and continuing up the steps with the filly close behind him.

The floors which housed the living quarters weren’t as much floors so much as a series of hallways with brown wooden doors labeled with the floor number followed by the individual room number and two plaques with the hoof written names of the room’s residents

The floor was covered with an ugly dark red carpet with a boring pattern of small black diamonds repeating endlessly across the span of the itchy carpet.

There were various stains all over the carpet, dull grey walls and even the plain white ceiling. The hall smelled of a mix of cleaning products and the scent Script was greeted with when she dared to disobey her parents and peek into their dungeon at home.

Script loved it.

She bounded up the steps behind Mister Crop, her reservations being replaced with foalish excitement as he lead her to a door labeled ‘4-3’, the room she was to be living in while going to school at the academy!

Crop’s horn glowed for a second before the sound of turning gears reverberated through the empty hall.

“Well,” he said. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave you to get settled in on your own because I’m needed back in the lobby, is that okay, sweetheart?” He asked.

“Yes sir!” She replied, causing Crop to raise an eyebrow as she mentally facehoofed.

“On your desk you’ll find your key, I’m guessing you picked a horn ring, so put it on now so you don’t forget it!” He instructed.

Script nodded quickly, anxious to see her room as she bounced on the spot.

The teacher noticed her eagerness, smiling down at her kindly.

“Alright Script, if you need anything, you know where to find me,” he told her, ruffling her mane with a hoof. “Oh, and let me be the first to welcome you to The Canterlot Academy for Pets!” He said.

Script grinned giddily, “Thank you!” She said as he turned and headed back towards the stairs.

“You’re very welcome, sweetheart,” he called over his shoulder. “Bye now!” He said as he disappeared back downstairs.

Script waved goodbye until she couldn’t see him anymore before quickly turning back to the door and staring at it.

This was it, she was taking her first steps into her new life as a student at the school of her dreams!

She pulled the handle and swung the door open, picking her bag up with her magic and stepping into her room for the first time.

Year One - Term One - Week Zero: The Tour

Script’s eyes widened with amazement as she looked around the dorm. The door behind her softly clicked shut as she took in the scene in front of her.

Compared to the rather messy and grimy hallway, the room looked like a five-star hotel suite The walls were a warm beige, matching the color of the clean, feather-soft carpet beneath the filly’s hooves.

There were two matching beds on either side of the room, made immaculately with blemish-free sheets, and a soft pillow at the head of each bed. The sheets were pure white, showing not a single wrinkle as they tucked neatly under the mattress. On top of them, a velvet red bedspread sat embroidered with the crest of the Academy.

Script was rather familiar with the symbol, as it was stamped into the seal of the acceptance letter she adored so much. Her eyes traced it, taking in the impressive amount of work put in to make the crest exactly as it should appear.

She didn’t need to look at it to know what it was, of course, she had remembered the imagery of a majestic alicorn facing outwards with it’s wings spread proudly and it’s head raised high, encircled with the silhouette of a collar.

Despite having seen the crest a number of times, it was only at that moment that she wondered who the alicorn actually was, though after a short time spent thinking on it, she decided it was in fact Princess Celestia, after all she was rather admired by the nobility who donated to the school.

With that mystery solved, she turned her attention to the rest of the room, taking note of the chest of drawers at the foot of each bed as she looked to the end of the room where a large window sat above a pair of desks.

She dropped her bags, rushing to the window and pressing her face against the glass to look out over Canterlot.

The view was breathtaking, her floor being high enough to allow her to see the whole city in all it’s glory. To her left she could see her school, where she would be having her first of many lessons the next day and to her right was the towering form of Canterlot Castle, where she figured the princesses were setting up for the afternoon’s proceedings.

She could see quite a few more ponies arriving in carriages below her, crowding around the entrance to the dorms with their luggage and bags. They were all so tiny from Script’s perspective, like dolls in her doll house back at home.

‘Home…’ She thought, feeling the familiar sensation of homesickness creep up on her slowly.

She stomped her hoof on the soft floor, pushing such thoughts from her mind for the umpteenth time that day.

Pulling herself away from the view, she unzipped her luggage and methodically packed her meager luggage into the drawers at the foot of her bed. She’d made sure to fold them into piles where each unique type of clothing was grouped with others of the same type so she wouldn’t have any issue once she got to her room.

After watching the ponies below her and the view in front of her for a few moments, she couldn’t help but let out a tired yawn. It seemed the trip to her lodgings had sapped her energy more than she thought and she was incredibly grateful for the soft warmth of the bed she chose.

She figured any bed would be fine, considering they were completely identical, and picked the bed on the left; the one of which she’d admired when she gazed at the school crest a few moments earlier.

It didn’t take long for her exhausted mind and body to fall into a deep slumber, not even bothering to pull herself under the covers as she thought her last thought before sleep pulled her into a pleasant dreamland.

‘I wonder what my roommate will be like?’ She wondered, one eye slipping closed, then another before her whole body lost its tension, her mouth twisting into a soft smile as she snored the afternoon away.

She woke up much earlier than she would have liked, the sun’s rays still shining in through her window and illuminating the still untouched bed. Her vision was blurry, and she was still collecting her thoughts as she gazed up at the wall clock above the window.

Her hooves rubbed the sleep from her eyes, revealing the waking world as she shook away the last of her slumber. She focused on the clock, reading the time as ‘2:46’.

Suddenly, a thought raced through the filly’s mind, ‘Wasn’t the tour supposed to start at 2:45?’.

She lept out of bed, quickly running a hoof through her mane to make sure she didn’t have bed-mane.

After she’d finished making sure she was presentable, she raced out of her room and down the steps, cantering down stair after stair as she made her way to the common room as quickly as she possible could.

Arriving in the common room, she found herself surrounded with a moderately large group of foals her age chatting amongst themselves as they waited for their tour to start.

The sound of a bell rang through the room, it’s tinkling bouncing from every wall as the students’ chatter slowly came to a halt.

“It appears everypony is here!” Called a familiar voice from the front of the crowd. “My name is Mister Crop, and I’ll be taking you sweethearts on a tour of the school!” He explained.

Script pushed her way to the front of the group, wanting to be the first to see all the Academy had to offer.

She watched as a mare whispered something into Mister Crop’s ear, causing him to cock his head and furrow his brow in thought.

After a while of this he whispered something back to the mare who replied with a curt nod and a bow of her head, which allowed Script to see the black collar around her neck, not an uncommon sight in her life.

“Well then,” Mister Crop began. “We are missing one little sweetheart after all, but I think we’re getting far too antsy just standing around! Let the tour begin!” He called.

The crowd’s chatter began once more, each foal’s enthusiasm bouncing off of their friends as they talked about the excitement of the tour, this would be the first time they saw their new school, after all.

Script was excited too, but found herself left out of the talking since it seemed everypony already had friends around them but her.

She didn’t let this discourage her, however as she simply figured it would take a little bit of time before she’d get the chance to join in and make all the friends she could possibly have.

“Now now, settle down sweethearts!” The stallion in front of them called, causing the ruckus to die off once again. “I want all of you to form pairs of two, and make sure you stick with your buddy like glue for the whole tour.” He explained, causing a little more talk as each pony sorted out who they’d be partnered up with.

Once again, Script found herself left out of the conversations. Everypony seemed to have their partners decided before Crop even finished speaking! How was that in any way fair?

“No thanks...” One foal told her after she asked.

“I’m buddying up with her, sorry…” Said another, pointing to her friend on the other side of the room.

One filly didn’t even respond to her question, just turning up her nose and trotting away.

Script felt the burden of being a student of a lower social class, she didn’t have the latest fashion in perfume or hoof polish and her manestyle was far too wild for the high-society lifestyle of most of the prim and proper ponies around her.

She made the decision to be simply her own buddy, surely it wouldn’t matter too much if one filly out of the some forty-odd foals didn’t have a buddy to stay with? After all, she didn’t want to cause any trouble by complaining to the teachers about it.

“Does everypony have their buddies?” Crop asked, causing a monotone chorus of ‘yes’ to rise from the foals. “Good, let’s get this show on the road! Follow me, sweethearts!” He called before turning his back to the crowd and setting off down the steps and into the lobby of the dormitories, causing the murmuring fillies to follow behind him.

A few other teachers scattered themselves around the crowd, a few taking up the rear to make sure nopony lagged behind and a few others standing to the sides to ensure none of the more curious foals got themselves into trouble by leaving the group.

Script found herself at the front of the crowd, keeping the position she’d forced her way into earlier. This allowed her to see all the sights the tour had to offer as they stepped into the late afternoon sun and set off down the path towards the main pet school building.

Glancing behind her and across the street that ran past her dorm, Script noticed a group of colts walking out of a building not unlike hers, it faced the opposite direction to her dorms, but otherwise looked almost exactly the same.

The colts were also surrounded by teachers in much the same way as her group, leading Script to believe that these colts were the first year group for the Academy for Pets’ sister campus, the Canterlot Academy for Masters.

Turning back to her own group, Script headed up the path Mister Crop was leading the fillies down.

The gates to the school were extravagant, a pair of large wooden doors which swung open to reveal a building that didn’t look too dissimilar to the dorm building the fillies had come from.

Script had seen photos of the school prior to arriving at the school, but nothing could prepare her for the sheer size of it. It was only a few storeys high but it stretched as far as the eye could see, needing to be so long in order to accommodate the full 12 years of students attending the school at any one time.

The building curved back on itself, creating a long arc not unlike the impressive archways running along the path Script had just came up. Within the arc, a few groups of smaller buildings sat disconnected from the main school, some had numbers written on the sides.

Script wondered what the buildings could be for a moment, before turning her attention back to the teacher in front of her as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Allow me to be the first to welcome you all to the Canterlot Academy for Pets!” Crop called, using a quick magical enhancement to make his voice loud enough so that everypony in the group could her him clearly. “Today you’ll get to see all the school has to offer...” He explained, “and yes, that includes the playground.” He added exasperatedly as the foals broke into a cacophony of happy giggles and squeaks.

“But only if you be good and pay attention for the whole tour!” He informed them, shouting over the noise and causing every filly to instantly stop talking.

“We’ll start with the classrooms!” The teacher said. “Follow me!”

After a while of following Mister Crop, the foals came to a large circular courtyard surrounded by a freshly cut field of grass. There were three large signs in the center. Their corners touched, making it so that they formed a triangular shape.

In the center of the triangle of signs were two towering flagpoles. One had a flag with the school’s crest in gold at it’s peak and the other had the Equestrian national flag flying proudly at the top.

The signs themselves all had the same image printed upon it: a map of the school labeled carefully with various numbers, all corresponding to a key which sat underneath the map.

The map also had one extra marking, a large red dot labeled with ‘You Are Here’, positioned over the courtyard which the foals were currently standing in.

A series of paths led away from the courtyard, each path’s end destination marked with a signpost. The pathways were of various sizes The paths sprouting to the north and south being the widest as they led towards the school’s main entrance and the campus of the masters’ school respectively.

There were ponies of various ages scattered around the courtyard, grown-ups making use of the generous amount of seating provided on the edge of the paved area while the younger ponies made use of what the group of fillies felt was by far the most interesting and exciting attraction of the area.

The playgrounds.

The group’s excitement was rapidly building as they saw they expansive and well-equiped pair of playgrounds that lay on either side of the path leading north. Everypony smiled at their friends as a few of them slowly shuffled in the direction of the colorful and bright adventure playground before being noticed by the adults on the edges of the group and being nudged back with a quick reassurance that they would get to play later.

Mister Crop paused in the courtyard momentarily, waiting for them to settle before saying, “Now, if you ever get lost, look for these flagpoles. The maps will help you get to where you’re going and there are always ponies who are willing to help you sweethearts if you still can’t work it out, so don’t be afraid to just ask for help!”

He didn’t wait much longer before setting off up the path leading towards the school. He hurried past the playgrounds, trying not to allow the anxious fillies any chance to slip from the group and start playing earlier than he intended.

He’d had some rather distressful experiences during past tours.

Huge white arches cast strips of shadow on the wide brick path leading to the school gates, with finely groomed hedges spanning the gaps between each arch.

He continued toward the main building, it’s glass doors being pulled open by a pair of the schools multiple resident maids, allowing the ponies through.

Mister Crop nodded a thank you to them as the group passed into the long school hallway.

“These rooms and hallways are where you’ll be spending most of your time here at the Academy,” He explained. “You’ll find that all of the classrooms are labeled with their floor number and their letter.”

This explanation was met with mixed responses, some fillies nodding in understanding while others furrowed their brows, trying to work out what he meant.

Crop noticed this, opting to explain further by leading the group to the first classroom to his left, which had a golden plaque with ‘1-A’ etched into the metal.

“We’re on the first floor, which is why the number one is written,” Crop started to explain. “And because it’s the first classroom, it’s given the first letter of the alphabet, which is?” He asked, trying to pull the fillies into some healthy interaction.

As it expected, his question had the desired effect, almost all of the fillies called out the letter ‘A’, their tones blending into an atonal chorus as they all mentally patted themselves on the back.

“Good job!” Mister Crop congratulated, deciding to test their knowledge a little as he asked another question. “So, if I was looking for the fourth classroom on the second floor, what would that one be called?” He asked in an over-enthusiastic voice, developed over his many years of teaching to ensure any filly couldn’t resist calling the answer.

“2-D!” Every filly called back, causing Crop to smile.

‘Like clockwork…’ He thought to himself, smirking softly.

“Great, you’re all so smart!” He said. “Now, the classrooms are all locked up today, but you’ll be seeing them tomorrow on your first day! Let’s keep going, shall we?” He asked, setting off further down the hall.

The fillies were even more excited now, the interaction from the teacher having riled them up enough to make them eager to hear what he was saying.

He lead them to a large pinboard, which had a series of colored pieces of paper lined up along it.

“Next, I’ll explain what really makes this school special; the colors system!” He said, coming to a stop and causing a few foals to bump into the ponies in front of them as they came to an abrupt stop.

“We use a lot of special toys here at the Academy, but some of the equipment we use is just for small and inexperienced sweethearts like you little ones, so we have a handy system to make sure you all know what you are and aren’t allowed to use!” The stallion told them. “Which of you sweethearts can name all seven colors of the rainbow?” He asked, prompting almost every foal to thrust one of their hooves into the air as quickly as possible to try be the first to grab the teacher’s attention.

His eyes searched the crowd as he looked for the filly to whom he would give the honor of answering the question.

His eyes gravitated to one specific orange filly.

“Yes, Script?” He asked her, looking down at her grinning face as the other foals dropped their hooves disappointedly.

Suddenly, Script felt the intense glares of what felt like thousands of pairs of eyes, judging her every word and action, “R-Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and…” She trailed off, the intense pressure was making her forget the last one!

Mister Crop chimed in, helping her along by telling her the first syllable of the word she was looking for, “Vi…?”

“Violet!” Script finished the word, causing a few fillies to giggle at her clumsiness and making Script’s face to gain a slightly red glow.

Mister Crop winced internally, noting Script’s embarrassment and opting to simply bring the foals’ attention back to himself.

“Great!” He said, deliberately leaving Script’s name out of his praise, “We’ve added an extra color, too!” He continued, trying not to dwell on her mistake.

The crowd tilted their heads, before noticing an extra sheet of paper was stuck to the pinboard, a plain, blank white one.

Mister Crop confirmed their suspicions, “White!” He said, “One of each of these colors is on each and every piece of equipment in the school, and you’re only allowed to use the equipment if you have that color assigned to you. Obviously, you can also use the equipment if you’ve got a color ranking higher than the one on the equipment, but you little sweethearts mustn’t worry about all that, because you only have the white rank right now!”

The whole crowd took a few moments to process the information, a few of them pouting as they realised that they were to be prohibited from using some of the toys in the school.

Their sulking didn’t last long, as the teacher spoke up again, “Next, we’ll take a look at the dungeons!” He said, causing a low murmur of excitement to rise from the fillies.

Script had seen dungeons before. Her home contained a rather sizeable one which unlike most foals, who were banned from even setting hoof near, she had been inside a multitude of times for various reasons, though never for the purpose one usually used it for.

Despite being familiar with the overall inner workings of such a room, Script was excited to finally see the inside of a bigger and more equipped one than her own, and even get the opportunity to use it!

The teacher led them out of one of the sets of doors that were dotted along the front of the building. Leading them down the carefully maintained pathway, which was lined with a short hedge and led back past the gate to the school and towards the circular courtyard.

After returning to the courtyard (passing the playgrounds, which once again required the teachers to tactically block bratty fillies trying to sneak off), Crop set off down a path to their right, leading them all to a rather small black building.

Its size perplexed some of the more experienced students, as it couldn’t have been much bigger than the average classroom at first glance.

“This is just one entrance to the dungeons, I know it may not look like much, but bear with me!” Crop explained.

The entrance was guarded by two staunch royal guards, who checked the I.D cards of the staff before stepping away from the open doorway and allowing them to pass through.

The ponies stepped inside the building, being presented not with a dungeon but with a large set of steps which led deep into the ground. Red light radiated from deep below, pouring out and filling the room.

“Downstairs we go!” Crop called, setting off down the steps and into the red light. “While you fillies still have your special white color rank, you’re not allowed to come to the dungeons without a teacher to make sure you don’t hurt yourself, but soon enough you’ll be making your way down all on your own!”

The fillies followed along closely, all a little scared by the ominous red glow that was slowly surrounding them. Friends cuddled close to each other for support, leaving Script to deal with her fear alone.

Despite having been in dungeons before, somehow this one made her much more nervous. This was the place she’d spend hours having all kinds of acts performed on her, just like her mother was always been taken into her own house’s basement to do.

Of course, it wasn’t like she didn’t want such things to take place and if she ever didn’t like something, there was safeguard after safeguard to make sure nothing really bad happened to her.

Arriving at the bottom of the staircase, Script was greeted with a slightly familiar sight.

Down a short hallway, Script could see a room bathed in color, the larger toys such as breeding racks and suspension devices visible through the doorway, which was as wide as the stairs the group had just descended.

Their tour guide led the excited, yet slightly nervous fillies into the large room, the public section of the dungeons. Their eyes widened as they looked around it, even Script being caught off guard with how neat and tidy the sex dungeon was when compared to the slightly grimy basement which housed her parents’ toys.

“Welcome to the dungeon!” The teacher said, “Feel free to take a look around, but don’t get too naughty~” He teased, causing some of the fillies to blush and shy away.

Eventually, the crowd dispersed, various ponies wanting to see different features of the dungeon while others stayed close to the exit, eager to leave as soon as possible.

The dungeon felt slightly cold, the room’s polished stone walls making the room considerably chillier than outside. The walls were painted with magical runes, exuding the red glow which filled the whole room. Sniffing the air, Script detected the slightest scent of rose petals on the air.

Underneath the runes, racks of equipment ran along the walls, all carefully categorized and labeled with the color rankings one needed to use the equipment. All of the racks except for the one labeled ‘white’ were locked with a physical lock, reinforced with a magical enchantment to make sure they stayed closed.

Script could not be happier as it was everything she hoped for! Everything from the expensive and elaborate binding devices to the host of dildos and buttplugs that sat next to each bench, bed and rack.

Everything was perfect. Almost.

While everyone else wandered around talking about what they could see with their friends, Script found herself standing alone.

She realised something as she watched the other fillies poke and prod at the equipment, unsure of what one was to do with such objects. Script had an opening!

She made her way over to a pair of fillies inspecting a classic bondage bed, Script had slept in one a few times in her life, making her intimately familiar with what to do with the various chains and bindings.

She froze, what was she supposed to say to make friends? She’d never really introduced herself to anypony before. She took a moment to think over what she was going to say before stepping confidently towards them.

The two fillies gave her slightly dirty looks, but that didn’t discourage her from opening her mouth to say, “I’ll tie you up if you want, it’s super easy!”

The foals looked at each other, then at her, “Aren’t you that girl who didn’t know the colors of the rainbow?” One of them asked, malice dripping from her voice. “That must have been so embarrassing.” She said, looking at her friend.

Script’s ears flattened, her eyes staring at the ground as she remembered her embarrassment back in the hallway earlier in the tour.

“Don’t be mean, Juniper,” The other filly replied, causing Script to look up, her eyes filling with hope, maybe this pony would stick up for her!

“I mean, Daddy says that ponies with less status have worse education than us, but I never thought it would be that bad!” She continued, making Script’s shame return in full force, churning in her stomach.

The filly named Jupiter nodded in agreement, making her movements deliberately obvious as she continued, “My Daddy says that we always have to show sympathy to those with less than us, especially ponies who are stupid!” She finished, turning her gaze to Script as she emphasized her last words. Script took the hint, feeling tears well up inside her as she backed away for a few steps, suddenly taking off and running to the other side of the room.

Why were they so mean to her? She only messed up once, and it was only small!

She took a deep breath, seeing another group of fillies who were inspecting a ring gag and paddle set.

Steeling herself, she trotted up to the group, once again opening her mouth to speak.

This time, the group didn’t even give her a chance to speak. They took just one look at her rather amatuer hoof polish and the fake flowers in her slightly messy mane and dispersed as quickly as they could, leaving Script alone once more.

Alone, the slight chill of the room started to get past her thin coat, sending chills up her spine. She slumped to the floor, her flank hitting the cold floor with a solid thump.

The dungeon was suddenly a lot less exciting. in fact, Script couldn’t wait to leave the room which began to slowly close in on her, where it once felt expansive and breathable, it was slowly becoming overwhelming and claustrophobic.

It felt like everypony who passed her gave her a dirty look, their slightest disapproval becoming an intense hatred, making her want to sink into the floor and disappear.

Finally, after what felt like decades, Mister Crop brought an end to the dungeon exploration, “Okay sweethearts, time to go!” He called, making all the foals groan with disappointment, excluding Script, who jumped to her hooves and raced to the front of the room, eager to leave. “Make sure you find your buddy and stick with them!” He reminded.

Script felt a pang of jealousy in her chest, balling up inside her and rising as a lump in her throat as she watched everypony else talking with their friends about what they’d seen in the dungeon.

Mister Crop scanned the room to make sure that nopony would be left behind before calling, “Okay everypony, it’s time for your first assembly, follow me!”

He set off back up the steps, the loud chatter from the other foals bouncing off of the cold walls and surrounding Script.

She felt nervous about assembly. what kind of things were they going to talk about? Would she mess up again? What if they called on her for something?

Only time would tell.

Year One - Term One - Week Zero: Welcome to the Academy

The rest of the tour was relatively uneventful. The foals were made aware of the other buildings within the school such as the sports gym, which had a large swimming pool, and the arts rooms, where one could find equipment for almost any artistic endeavour they wanted to pursue. They were also taken past the library, which was bigger than any Script had ever seen in her life, making her ecstatic to get inside and read all that she could.

Finally, the tour finished outside the school hall. “We’re going to be heading into your first assembly,” Mister Crop chimed. “Remember, you only get to go on the playground if you’re good. So stay nice and quiet once you take your seats, okay sweethearts?” He asked.

“Yes Mister Crop…” The slightly disgruntled fillies replied. How were they supposed to talk to their friends about how excited they were to be going to school if the stupid grown-ups were talking over them?

“Good!” He nodded. “I’ll lead you in soon so just talk amongst yourselves for a moment.”

There was no protest. Everypony burst into conversation almost instantly. There was so much to discuss about; like the classrooms, to the dungeons, or to the playground, which was by far the best any filly had ever laid eyes upon.

The only foal not shouting over everypony else was Script, who stood awkwardly trying and failing to start conversations.

How was she supposed to make friends when everypony else wouldn’t even give her a second look?

She couldn’t contemplate long on how best to make friends, as the sound of a loud fanfare suddenly burst forth from the open doors of the hall.

Mister Crop retook his position at the front of the group, motioning for the fillies to follow along behind him before trotting up the short steps and into the hall.

The group followed him closely, their eyes widening as they looked around the impressive auditorium.

It was spacious, with row upon row of chairs filled with foals of all ages on either side of the pathway that Script and the other first years made their way down. Their teacher led them to the front of the seating area, where they were instructed to file into the two rows of empty seats on the left.

The room was filled with a soft purple light, illuminating each smiling face as the room filled with the boom of the horns and drums from the orchestra positioned in front of the large stage that dominated the end of the hall.

Script was one of the first to sit down, landing her at the very front so she could look up at the extravagant stage in front of her.

At the back of the stage were more seats, this time filled with grown up ponies in suits and ties who looked over the crowd proudly.

A lectern was visible in front of the adults, made of mahogany wood with the school’s crest displayed in a lighter material on the front.

The stage appeared to have been extended, with a slightly lower tier added to the front of the main stage, hosting even more seats with ponies in sharp, proper suits and refined, pretty dresses. These ponies were considerably younger than those seated behind them, obviously students of the school.

Script inspected the stage for a moment longer before realising that the fanfare hadn’t stopped playing and another group of students were to make their way down the aisle. Another group of first years, obviously from the other dorm building on the opposite side of the school.

They took a seat in the empty rows on the right side of the hall, the final triumphant tones of the fanfare sounded through the room.

The room was silent for a moment before a young pony in a well kept dress took her place in front of the lectern, looking proudly over the hall. Script recognised her as one of the senior school’s head fillies as documented in one of the many leaflets of information her parents had been given to go over after her acceptance.

“Please stand for Principal Paine!” She called, using a quick spell to amplify her voice across the expansive hall.

The room bustled quietly as everypony within stood up, the first years being the last to stand as they realised what they were meant to do, quickly bouncing to their hooves to try fit in with all the older ponies around them.

As they rose from their seats an older stallion took the teenager’s place, nodding as he called, “Please be seated.”

The auditorium filled with sound once again as every seat was filled simultaneously.

“Hello everypony, and welcome to another year at the Canterlot Academy for Pets!” The principal’s voice seemed to fill the room, as if it were emanating from the walls themselves. “I know most of you have probably had quite the journey here from wherever it is you have travelled from, so I’ll keep this short!”

The principal stood proudly in front of the students, adjusting his tie a little with his magic as he confidently continued his speech, “I’d like to specially welcome our new students, who bring new ideas and fresh faces to the school every year. I hope you will find your time at school as exciting as I do, and that you’ll put your best effort into learning everything you can; but remember, you are all still young. Take your time and don’t rush into anything. That goes for all of you younger students, not just the first years!”

“As headmaster of the school, I am honored with the responsibility of reminding everypony why we teach what we teach,” He explained, some of the older students sat at the back of the hall groaning with boredom already. “The process of herding has been a part of Equestrian culture from before we even knew to call it Equestrian society, but herding was a violent, distressing and highly one-sided ordeal!”

Script paid extremely close attention to the speech, eager to learn everything and anything she could about her new school.

“When our lovely princesses revolutionised the way we governed and composed ourselves, becoming the rulers they are today, they noticed an alarming amount of colts and fillies just like all of you who were being taken advantage of,” He continued. “So instead of simply outlawing the practice altogether, like so many rulers of other countries before them, they elected to create a system to educate prospective pets on how to properly handle themselves as humble lovers to masters everywhere. This school was the first of many in this new system, which is one of the longest-standing and most well-known Equestrian traditions, drawing creatures of all races from all over Equus to learn alongside us!”

He paused, “In fact, this year, we’re celebrating the diverse backgrounds that everypony here at the Academy has to offer, with the addition of dear Cross Stitch here to my growing herd, all the way from Saddle Arabia!” He continued, pointing to the three mares that sat at the front of the extended stage.

Script hadn’t noticed them before, having been far too preoccupied with marvelling at the sheer size and majesty of the hall she was sitting in to notice who was sitting in it with her.

She took in the three ponies’ appearances, each one unique in their own special ways.

The first one, on the far right, was obviously the saddle arabian. Her facial features were considerably thinner than Equestrian ones and she wore a traditional Saddle Arabian jewel crown; a silver one studded with vibrant red and blue gemstones, contrasting her sandy coat and deep hazel eyes. Her collar matched the styling of the crown, hosting a series of jewels of a similar cut and color to the crown resting upon her head.

The second, in the middle of the three mares was a maid. Script was used to seeing her type of clothing, coming from a family who consistently produced maids and butlers. The mare wore a typical Prench maid’s outfit, rather tame for Script’s liking as it covered most of her body and left quite a bit to the imagination, nothing like her mother’s uniform, which really served as nothing more than fetish fuel (well, that’s what her father called it, anyways). Her collar also matched the style of her outfit, being jet black.

The third mare, however, was the most interesting to Script. She wore no special ethnic decorations like the first mare, nor a full outfit, but was simply bare. It was not what she was or was not wearing which made her special to the filly, but the noticeable bulge in her belly.

She was a broodmare.

Her green mane was messy, like she hadn’t slept very well in a while. Her coat was not nearly as smooth or shiny as the other mares, and her collar was considerably looser around her neck.

Yet still, it seemed to Script as though her smile lit up the room, more so than the two mares before her. Her eyes were bright and full of life and love and she rubbed her belly periodically as if to tell the foal growing inside her how happy she was to have him or her there.

The filly thought about how nice it must be, sitting around just waiting for the big day when you become a mother to your own foal to raise and care for.

And yet, there was the issue of her family, who she knew was counting on her to become the best maid the family had ever produced. They wouldn’t stop talking about it in the months leading up to her departure and she was sure she was going to make them proud!

But in that moment, she wasn’t so enthused.

“And that’s why I am so proud to introduce our chairpony, Princess Luna!” Principal Paine’s voice only barely registered in Script’s mind, the words only processing once the sound of the orchestra started to ring through the room once again while everypony rose from their seats.

Script hurriedly shot to her hooves, her face flushed red as she realised she was the last pony in her group to stand by a considerable margin. Her earlier dilemma was pushed from her mind, replaced with her mild embarrassment, followed by the awestruck feeling brought about by the dark blue alicorn who proudly strode down the aisle, rising into the air with one stroke of her majestic wings.

The princess gracefully floated down onto the stage, taking her place in front of the lectern to speak.

She stood silently as the room waited with baited breath to hear what their Princess had to say.

One second passed, then five, then ten. Still no sound.

She closed her eyes for a moment before her face took on a look of frightened confidence.

“Students of the academy!” Came the booming sound of her Royal Canterlot Voice, her face going from a dark blue to a deep red as she realised her mistake.

Most of younger students sat at the front of the hall quivered with fear, Script included. The princess of the night was scary in real life, nothing like what her parents had told her; that she was no longer the scary and evil nightmare moon that had been portrayed in fables and legends and had changed.

She had believed them when they told her, but now that the princess was standing in front of her, shouting at her with such a cold tone? She wasn’t so sure.

The princess paused once again, regaining her composure as she reminded herself to use her inside voice. “I-I apologise…” She said in a calmer, considerably more manageable tone, “I haven’t been the chairpony of this school for over a thousand years, and much has changed since I have been absent…” She explained.

Script and a handful of the other foals calmed when hearing her voice, which had lost its volume and harshness, rather by a motherly kindness that told them they were in good hooves.

“So in a way, you are not the only ponies at this school who are learning as I too am relearning how to be the best chairpony to the school my sister tried so hard to keep alive despite the fact that every day here must only have served to remind her of…” She trailed off, turning from the lectern as the headmaster rushed to her side, whispering in her ear before waiting for her reply, assumedly about whether she was becoming too overwhelmed.

Luna shook her head, turning back to the podium to continue her speech, “I hope that we can all enjoy learning together and I am very excited to retake my seat at the head of the Academy” She stated, the nerves from earlier all but gone. “I promise to carry the legacy that I, and now my sister, have created into further greatness with all of you.” She finished, before bowing her head and adding a polite, “Thank you.”

The hall was completely soundless, as if time had simply decided to stand still until somepony in the crowd began to clap their hooves together, at which point the whole auditorium broke into a cacophony of clapping and chatter, even the scared fillies being impressed with her lack of scary-ness.

By the time the clapping died down, Script had all but forgotten about the mares sitting at the front of the stage and paid full attention to the rest of the assembly.

There were many different speakers, including the head of the board of trustees, the deputy principal and the head students for the year, who told plenty of jokes to keep their audience interested.

Alas, fillies of Script’s age cannot sit still for very long at all, and they started to get restless, the image of the playground still fresh in their minds.

It seemed the principal knew this as he looked directly at the first years sitting in front of him and chose to finally conclude the assembly.

“Now, I’m sure a lot of you are itching to get out of this stuffy place and enjoy catching up with your friends, so I’ll finish the assembly by reminding you all that your first class starts at 9:40 sharp tomorrow Be sure to get to bed nice and early so you’re ready to meet your new teachers and peers with full energy! Your teachers will see you out.” He said, starting to turn from the stand before remembering something and quickly turning back. “Oh and students, welcome to the Academy!” He called before turning away from the lectern.

The room instantly burst into life, everypony restlessly sitting in their seats and waiting to be let go.

The sound of the orchestra joined the noise as it played another rousing fanfare, continuing to play as Mister Crop and the other teachers trotted over to stand in front of Script and the other foals, motioning for them to rise and leave the hall. The fillies were happy to oblige as they filed out of the hall and into the courtyard outside.

The teacher led them away, back towards the central courtyard they had all become familiar with over the course of the tour. He came to a stop just before the playground, making the gaggle of fillies who he turned to face incredibly restless.

“Now, don’t be afraid to explore a little, your room keys have tracking spells on them so you won’t get lost, though I’m betting that most of you won’t go very far.” He said, noticing more and more foals losing interest in his words.

Script realised something as he spoke, however, she’d left her key in her room!

She scolded herself for making such a silly mistake, but figured that she wouldn’t go far enough that she’d need the tracking spell anyways, as she’d be using her time on the playground to make friends with everypony!

“Before we let you go: no pushing, no fighting, and remember to share. If any one of you is naughty, you’ll be ruining it for everyone. you have forty-five minutes before we’re going back to the dorms. Now, without further ado, go have fun!” Crop called, prompting a sound, Script quickly following along as she searched for somepony to make friends with.

Unfortunately, much like the dungeons, everypony seemed to have their own friend groups, not mingling with other factions as they marked their territory on the playground.

Not to be disheartened, Script decided to rethink her strategy for friend-making. She thought back to her experience in the dungeons, trying to think about what responses the others had to her attempts to befriend them.

They seemed to be against her coming to them, so she figured maybe she just had to wait for them to come to her!

She chose a part of the playground where everypony could see her but was decidedly out of everypony’s way and stood, waiting for somepony to approach her.

Despite being available, she wanted to look approachable, and gave her widest, friendliest smile to anypony who passed her, surely no one could resist talking to her then!

“Hey, that filly over there’s super creepy, right?” Script heard somepony say, though in the crowd of ponies lining up to use the equipment she couldn’t tell who.

“Yeah, I mean who just stands there and smiles without even using the playground, that’s super weird.” Script got a general idea of who it was, looking over in the direction of the long slide to her left, which had a line almost as long as the slide itself leading up to it as foals queued to use it.

The conversation she was hearing came from two ponies in the line who stared at her with disgust in their eyes as they moved down the line, talking about her in a not-so-discreet way.

After they realised they’d been caught, they turned away, looking in the opposite direction as their faces flushed red.

‘They’re right, what’s the point of being on the playground if I’m not playing!’ Script thought, rushing over to join the line for the slide.

She joined the line for the slide, finding it to move incredibly quickly as most of it’s occupants left as she arrived.

Did they leave just because of her?

“H-Hi!” She said to the pony in front of her, who quickly left the line with her friend, leaving Script at the front of the line.

Suddenly, the slide seemed a lot less appealing to the filly, who sighed and left the playground. It seemed she was just scaring ponies away instead of making friends with them!

Maybe they’d warm up to her in class after spending time with her. For now, she decided to wait patiently. Her mother always told her that good things come with time, after all.

She wandered into one of the large grassy fields around the courtyard, which had a small forest of oak trees planted, casting a shadow on the ground with their large, green-tipped branches.

Climbing things had always been a gift for the hyperactive filly, and those trees were just begging to be climbed.

Besides, it seemed like she was going to have to play alone for today, being that she scared the others away for whatever reason.

‘Why are they so mean to me anyways,’ She thought as she hoisted herself into the tree without much effort at all, climbing higher and higher as she lost herself in her thought, ‘I’ve never even met them, let alone done anything to make them not like me!’

Her thoughts reverberated through her mind as she climbed the tree, her hooves idly taking her higher than she’d ever been before.

She found a thick branch to sit on, making herself comfortable as she lent against the strong trunk of the tree and peering through the leaves and out over the field to the playground where everypony else was playing without her, making her frown more and more as she watched and

feeling a pang of jealousy in her belly.

The filly yawned, leaning back in the tree and looking in a different direction as the rush of excitement the tour gave her drained from her small body, her lack of sleep from earlier catching up with her as she relaxed.

She didn’t know when she fell asleep, only that when she awoke it was considerably darker than she remembered. She looked back at the playground, finding it desolate, not a single pony was in sight, teacher or student.

Script was alone.

‘Well, that’s not an issue, I’ll just climb down and make my way back!’ Script thought, shifting so her hooves hung over the side of the branch she was sitting on.

The grassy ground seemed much further away from her than it seemed as she was climbing up the tree.

As she stared, the ground seemed to retreat away from her. An intense fear rising in her throat as she thought about the possibility of falling from such a height.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she imagined spending the whole night in the tree, and even then, what would happen the next day, would she just stay in the tree until someone found her? What if nopony found her?

She wailed, the idea of being alone in a tree for life making the tears in her eyes run down her cheeks drip from her chin, each tiny droplet sparkling in the still dying light as it fell to the grass below her.

Her sobbing continued for what felt like eons before she heard a familiar voice calling her name.

“Script?” Came the familiar voice of a groundskeeper-turned-cabbie, Geo.

“G-Geo?” She called back, trying to work out where the voice was coming from as she looked through the leaves of the tree.

“Where are you?” The voice called back.

“I-I’m up here!” She replied, seeing him come into view not far from her tree.

Geo caught sight of her too, and quickly made his way over to her. “What are you doing over there, silly filly?” He asked, standing under the branches and looking up at her.

“I-I climbed up here and fell asleep and now I c-can’t get down!” She sobbed back.

Geo chuckled, shaking his head as he smiled up at her, “Okay, do you want me to help you get down? Everypony is worried for you!”

Script nodded, looking down at him with tear-blurred vision, “Y-Yes please!” She cried.

Geo effortlessly climbed from branch to branch, quickly making his way up the tree and sitting on a branch next to hers.

“Now, I’ll help you by telling you what to do, okay?” He asked before pointing to a branch a little ways down the tree on the other side of her branch, a route she’d never even thought of taking to get down, “Start there!”

Script carefully shifted her weight to the other side of the branch, reaching out with a hind leg and placing her hoof on the branch.

“Good girl, now your other hoof!” Geo instructed, prompting her to move her other leg to rest beside the first one.

Geo continued directing her until she got the hang of it herself, at which point she climbed down the rest of the way, he climbed down with her as she went, making sure to look her in the eyes as much as possible to comfort her as best he could.

After she planted all four of her hooves on the soft grass along with her adult companion, she practically threw herself into his hooves, the stallion recoiling in surprise for a moment before wrapping his forelegs around her in a tight hug.

“Good girl,” He said, patting her on the back, “you did so well to get the rest of the way all by yourself!”

“Th-Thank you Mister Geo…” Script mumbled into his soft chest fur.

“Just Geo, remember?” He reminded her, “Now how abouts we make our way back to your dorm so you can get some proper rest, okay?” He asked.

Script pulled away from the hug, wiping her tears from her eyes with a hoof. “O-Okay!” She said, waiting for him to lead her in the direction of the dorm.

Deciding to take her mind off her experience, Geo made some idle conversation by asking about various features of her tour, wisely leaving the last part of her day out of the discussion.

By the time they reached her lodgings, Script had all but forgotten about what had just happened.

Geo walked her to the front door, where the teachers who led the tour were relieved to take her off of Geo’s hooves.

“Oh my Mister Geo,” Mister Crop said, “You’ve saved us once again!”

Geo chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck with a hoof, “Aw, it’s nothing, I’m just a caretaker!”

“You say that every time!” Crop replied before turning to Script, “Now Script, what do you say?”

Script suddenly remembered her manners, “Thank you Mister Geo…” She said, bowing her head respectfully.

“You’re very welcome Script, now if you don’t mind, I’m gunna go catch some shuteye myself!” He said, nodding to the teachers before turning and trotting down the steps, disappearing into the night.

After watching him leave, Mister Crop turned to Script, “Thank the sisters you’re alright!” He told her, “Now, I won’t ask you for all the details tonight, I think you need to get into bed for the night, you’ve got a big day ahead! You remember where your room is, right sweetheart?”

Script nodded, “Yes Mister Crop.”

“Good, now off to bed with you, you’ll hear the bell for breakfast at 8:30 sharp!” He instructed.

“Goodnight Mister Crop!” Script said as she made her way towards the stairs leading to the dorms.

“Goodnight, Script.” He replied with a soft chuckle.

Script climbed the stairs to her dorm, opening the still-unlocked door and stepping inside. She threw herself onto her bed, using her magic to close her blinds.

The last thing the filly saw before she fell asleep was the still immaculate bed on the opposite side of the room, untouched.

Her last thought was about the distinct crest on the bedsheets as she realised something. She thought that the alicorn on the crest was Celestia, when in fact it was Princess Luna who was represented on the blankets she lay beneath.

Surely nothing could happen to her as she slept so long as the princess of the night watched over her.

She took comfort in that thought as she flicked the lightswitch, plunging her room into darkness.

Year One - Term One - Week One: The Morning After

“Hey, pass it here!” Script called to her friends across the playground, preparing her magic to catch the ball the four of them were playing with.

They smiled at her, happily tossing the ball in her direction for her to catch.

After using her magic to reach out and grab it, she looked around for somepony else to throw the ball to.

All of the fillies started calling for the ball, eager to be the next pony bestowed with the honor of choosing who the ball is thrown to next.

Choosing a filly to her left, Script flung the ball in her direction but overestimated the amount of power she needed and making the ball fly high above the filly she was aiming to throw the ball to.

“I’ll get it!” The targeted filly shouted, running off in the direction of the ball.

While they waited, the filly who threw the ball to Script approached her, smiling and giggling from the excitement of their game.

Script recognized the filly as she got closer, remembering her from the tour the day before. It was Juniper, one of the fillies she’d offered to tie up in the dungeons.

Script held her breath. What if she was coming over to be mean to her again?

“Hey Script!” She called out as she got closer, drawing Script’s attention. “Do you wanna hang out in my dorm room after school?” She asked

Script sighed with relief and grinned happily at her, “Sure Juniper, I’d love t-” She cut herself off with a loud ‘ding’, a sound which sounded less like it was being made with her voice and more by a… Bell?

The filly in front of her tilted her head, “Why are you being so weird?” Did she ask?

Script tried to reply but instead of her voice, the only sound she could produce was the same ding, over and over again.

Other fillies started to crowd around her now, all questioning why she’s making such weird noises.

She couldn’t control herself now. She found herself unable to close her mouth as she kept blurting out the same sound.

“Don’t worry girls, it’s just Script being weird, just like how she was in the dungeons,” Juniper explained to the crowd.

“Yeah, that was, like, super awkward” Another foal chimed in.

Across the playground, Mister Crop heard the commotion and quickly made his way over to the group.

“Hey! What’s going on?” He asked, looking around the crowd, who all went silent as soon as they’d seen the teacher, simply staring at Script, who was still uncontrollably ‘ding’ing. “Now now sweethearts, you should be nice to others,” He said, before turning to Script as he added, “Even if she is stupid.”

Script’s eyes shot open as she awoke from her nightmare with a jump as she sat straight up in her bed. The sound of a hoof-bell rang outside her door, making her remember every minute detail about her dream.

“J-Just a dream…” She muttered quietly, wiping away the tears streaming down her face

Normally, when she had nightmares at home, her father would be right there beside her as soon as she woke up. He always knew what to say and when to say it and would happily squeeze into the bedsheets of her small single bed with her once she’d calmed down, letting her have all the space she wanted while he slept uncomfortably on the smallest section of the mattress imaginable.

But she wasn’t at home, and there would be no father to rush to her side here.

The bell chimed once more, the voice of somepony older than Script ringing down the hall.

“Time to get up, breakfast is ready!” The voice called.

Script rubbed the last of her tears and sleep from her eyes, dragging herself out of her bed and towards the chest at the end of her bed, which conveniently had a small mirror sitting atop it for Script to check her flowers, which she’d forgotten to take out before falling asleep.

She idly trotted towards the drawers, her body moving semi-automatically as her hooves obscured her already cloudy vision. Unfamiliar with the layout of her new room, she stumbled into something hard and flat, dragging her out of her grogginess as she glanced down to see that she’d run into her study desk.

She shook her head to clear the last of her sleep from her head before straightening each of her flowers carefully, picking up her hairbrush and running it through her mane and tail like she always did as she prepared for the day ahead.

Once she had made sure that she was ready for the world, she trotted over to the door, placing her hoof on the handle.

She paused, hearing the muffled conversations the fillies in the corridor outside. Fear shot through her, what if they were going to be mean to her, like the foals in her dream?

‘Be brave, you can do this, Script!’ She told herself as she put on a brave face and pushed down on the handle, swinging the door open.

The corridor was alive with activity, every door either open or swinging open as foals emerged from their dorms.

Script was the only foal without somepony to talk to and it seemed like everypony had become friends with their roommates overnight, chatting and giggling like they’d been friends for years.

She glanced back into her room, staring at the still-untouched bed that should belong to her own roommate, yet still lay unclaimed, its neatly-made sheets still waiting for whoever it is that was meant to be there the night before to come and sleep in it.

Her belly growled loudly, making Script acutely aware of the hunger gnawing away at her stomach.

She swung the door closed, deciding to worry about her friendship woes after she’d satisfied the beast that threatened to eat her from the inside if it wasn’t fed in the next few minutes.

Rushing down the hall towards the steps, Script caught the scent of a delicious hot pot of oats floating up to her, making her hunger pangs even stronger as she imagined the taste of the creamy, sugar coated porridge flowing over her tongue.

She ran down the stairs, rushing past the other foals who were making their way down the steps at a steady, leisurely pace.

“Hey!” They called as Script bumped them on the way down.

Script ignored them, her attention only focused on reaching the common room and being first in line to get her delicious prize.

The common room was radically different to how she’d seen it last, the inviting couches, small tables, and study desks replaced with four long tables which stretched down the length of the room, each adorned with two rows of plates and cutlery.

At the opposite end of the room was another, shorter table with large pots which billowed with steam against the air, as well as large bowls of colorful fruit and towers of crisp browned toast.

Despite her desire to be first in line, there were already plenty of ponies milling around the room, claiming sections of the large bench seats for themselves as they tried their best to not get separated from each other.

Script spotted an empty seat close to the front of the room, heading for it confidently. As she got closer, she noticed that the filly in the seat beside where she wanted to sit was holding a hoof on the seat, in the way of anypony who wanted to sit there.

The filly glanced up at Script, who gave her a hopeful look, “C-Can I sit here?” She asked, looking down at the other filly’s hoof and silently asking her to move it.

“Sorry, I’m saving this spot for my friend…” The filly said, nodding to a filly emerging from the stairwell behind Script.

“O-Oh, I’ll sit somewhere else then…” She replied, wandering off to find different spot to sit in.

Unfortunately, it seemed like she was just too slow, every seat was either taken or ‘reserved’ by somepony, pushing her further and further back until she reached the end of the tables.

She sighed, spotting the last two open seats at the very end of the tables.

“Is anypony sitting here?” She asked the filly sitting beside the seat she wanted, who shook her head wordlessly.

She smiled with relief, sitting down and waiting patiently.

After a short while, a teacher trotted into view at the front of the room, clearing his throat while amplifying himself with his magic to ensure everypony could hear him.

The chatter that filled the room slowly died off as everypony nudged their friends to bring their attention to the stallion and halt their conversations.

“Okay now, I know you all heard this at dinner last night but just for those who might have forgotten, I’ll remind you all how we serve meals here!” He said.

All of the sudden, Script realized why she had been so famished when she’d woken up that morning: She hadn’t had any dinner!

The teacher continued, “We’ll call you up year level by year level, you’ll line up with your bowls and plates over there,” He explained, pointing to the left side of the serving table. “And you’ll be served as you move down the line.” He finished, before adding, “Anypony caught running or pushing will be served last, and have to help with cleanup after breakfast is finished!”

“Now, first years, you may calmly rise and be served.” He said quietly before standing aside as the thirty-nine foals quickly got to their hooves and made their way to the start of the line.

Script was the very last filly to join the line, her position at the back of the room placing her at a disadvantage to the others, who were positioned closer to the serving tables. Her hunger grew with each passing second, her stomach’s growling noticeable to a few ponies around her, who gave her slightly disapproving glances.

She chuckled nervously, smiling sheepishly until they rolled their eyes and returned to their conversations and ignored Script.

Finally, she arrived at the serving bench, holding out her bowl for the pony serving oats to carefully lift the ladle and fill her bowl with the thick oats.

The aroma she smelled earlier was just as pleasant when she got close to the source of it. The rich scent filling her nostrils, making her taste it on her tongue as she breathed in the heat of the porridge.

The next pot was filled with a colorful, sweet-scented fruit salad. As the server gently set a large helping on top of her oats, she tried to pick out as many fruits as she could, taking in the rainbow of banana slices, blueberries, melon chunks and strawberries that settled atop her small mountain of oats.

At the end of the table was a large tray lined with cups of orange juice. Two small signs sat on separate sides of the tray, one labeled ‘pulp’ and the other ‘no pulp’.

Script took a cup from the ‘pulp’ side, grabbing it in her magic and taking it back to her seat with her oats, licking her lips in anticipation as she began to dig into her food.

Her eyes widened as the first spoonful passed her lips, the combination of the rich porridge and the sweet fruit salad exciting her taste buds. She couldn’t help scooping the food into her mouth as quickly as possible, coating the outside of her mouth with stray oats as she gulped down mouthful after mouthful of her delicious breakfast, washing it down with a gulp of refreshing orange juice every few spoonfuls.

As she ate, the teacher who spoke before she was served called out once again, “Once you finish your food, you may bring your dishes to the table, scrape your scraps into the scrap bin and neatly place your bowls and spoons in the correct piles.”

Script glanced down at her bowl, she’d barely finished half of her food even though her fellow students were already starting to rise from their seats to scrape their bowls clean.

Long after all the other first years had finished, she made her way back to the serving table, her bowl completely empty save for a few stray oats which clung to the sides of the bowl.

She burped as she set the bowl down with the rest of the used dishware, blushing and covering her mouth in embarrassment as she rushed away from the common room to prepare for school.

Recalling what she’d been told on the tour the day before, Script went through what she was to do to prepare for the first day. Everypony else had gotten the evening to tend to their preparation, but due to her ‘extended outdoors time’, Script had no such luxury, rushing back to her room to prepare her bag with everything she needed for the day ahead.

Her schoolbag had been used to store some additional items that couldn’t quite fit in her suitcase, which was threatening to burst at any moment from the intense abuse her mother had given it while trying to fill them with anything and everything her daughter might need while at school.

Script took from her bag a few items which she knew she wouldn’t need, things such as her diary (which contained only her deepest darkest secrets), her stuffed bear (which she called Fuzzball) and her prized acceptance letter (the value of which goes without saying).

Once she’d taken out her unneeded items, she went through the remaining contents of the bag to ensure she still had everything she’d need for her lessons.

She double checked her things, confirming that there was no chance she’d be caught without her school gear, before setting off back towards the door with her saddlebags strapped securely to her torso.

As she passed her mirror, she stared at her reflection, she was really going to school, just like in all the stories her parents helped her read before bed, she felt just like one of the characters in one of her picture books, especially her favorite, Sunlight Goes to School!

She loved the book so much that she wouldn’t wear anything but a pink saddlebag with her cutie mark (a piece of parchment with a quill positioned diagonally over it) largely embroidered into the sides, just like how Sunlight had her cutie mark on her saddlebags.

She imagined herself in Sunlight’s place, remembering every detail of every image in the book, her favorite one was the picture of Sunlight standing in front of her bedroom mirror, looking at herself with her saddlebags on just like Script was right in that moment.

Her parents had to specially order the bags from a store in Canterlot, giving them to her as a gift congratulating her for her acceptance into the school.

A grin adorned her face as she picked up her toiletries bag, quickly headed out the door and made her way to the shared bathrooms to brush her teeth before she left for her first ever school class.

The bathrooms were slightly grimy. the tiled walls were marked and scuffed from years of use, the floor tiles were stained slightly yellow in patches. The smell was pleasant, like fresh lemon and the morning breeze, though the scent of the damp steam that clouded the ceiling was laced with shampoo and coat softener.

A couple of older fillies stood in front of the many water basins that lined the walls opposite of the showers, doing their makeup and chatting idly with each other

Script put her bag on the side of one of the basins, pulling out her toothbrush and toothpaste, squeezing the tube to make a small twist of the thick paste cover the head of the brush before starting to clean her teeth.

While she did so, she double checked her appearance in the mirror, running her brush through her mane once more and fixing her flowers.

Her fellow fillies went through their own morning routines, chatting away as they patted themselves down with layers upon layers of makeup, mixing and matching between each other’s extensive kits of expensive makeup.

She stared at them, her toothbrush left hanging from her mouth, forgotten as she observed the three fillies. Her chest tightened, they were only a few water basins away from each other, yet their worlds were so far apart.

“Ugh,” One of the fillies groaned, “I hate these stupid keys!” She said, slipping her blue-colored horn ring onto her forehead.

“Yeah, they’re like, so ugly!” Another filly agreed, donning her ring.

Script felt for her own key, quickly realizing a fact more important than the state of her mane.

She quickly packed up her toiletries and dashed out of the bathroom, forgetting her key is what caused her to get lost just one day before, and she wouldn’t let such an issue cause her more problems if she could help it.

‘No need rush, I know exactly where it is!’ She thought, calming herself a little, ‘It’s right on the…’ She didn’t finish her thought however as she glanced over at the desk where she’d last seen the white horn-band and finding it barren.

Panic rose in her chest, her body leaping into action as she started to frantically search for her key before she ran out of time and the teachers left for school without her.

She dove under her bed, squinting as she tried to make out any objects that looked like the ring in the tiny splash of light that managed to spill under the bedframe. She ran her hooves across the floor, thoroughly patting down the soft carpet to make sure she checked it properly.

Confident that the key was not under her bed, the flustered filly quickly slid out from underneath it.

It was at this point two very unfortunate things happened one after the other:

She bumped her head on the wooden bedframe, and as she gasped through her nose, she inhaled some carpet fluff. This, in turn, made her sneeze and jerk her head upwards, bumping her head in the same spot as she did the first time.

The combination of not one but two firm bumps to the back of her head was enough to make the young girl ball up in pain, tears streaming down her face as she rolled across the floor in agony.

In the midst of her tumbling, she caught sight of a white object sitting beneath her desk. It was her key, she’d finally found it! It had obviously rolled off and under the desk when she’d bumped it before breakfast.

She reached out and grabbed it with her hooves, her pain almost forgotten as she slid it over her horn for the first time, donning the only ‘uniform’ of the school for the first time in her life, a moment which she savoured as she carefully rose to her hooves and stared at herself in the mirror.

Her smiling face beamed back at her, the sparkling gold rim of the horn ring glistening in the morning light. She really looked like a student of the Academy!

As she studied her appearance, her eyes caught a glance of the wall clock She was late, again!

She quickly checked the ring was securely fastened to her horn, picked up her school bags and strapped them to herself as she sprinted out of her room and down the hallway to get to the dorm lobby.

By the time she’d finally arrived at the meeting point, the group had already long since left, she must have spent more time getting ready than she’d thought!

Luckily, she remembered clearly the way to get to class, running as fast as her tiny hooves could take her out the front door and down the steps, heading straight for the gates of her new school.

Year One -Term One - Week One: A New Start

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[CLOP] Year One - Term One - Week One: Recess

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