Not for nothing was Daring Do among the most famous explorers and adventurers in Equestria. In her life, she had faced off against curses, traps, corrupt colleagues, lions, tigers, bears, wanna-be gods, time travel, terrible poetry, librarians, cults, carnivals, cults at carnivals, clones, misguided government agents, and her husband’s bagpipe solos. This challenge, however, threatened her mettle far more than any other, pushed her beyond even her limits. “Aunt Ditzy’s coming! Aunt Ditzy’s coming!” Amethyst Star chanted, practically bouncing off the walls of the dark green hallway of the Do family home.
Daring sighed heavily. “Yes, Ammy, I know.”
The unicorn filly stopped, frowning. “Mom. Don’t call me Ammy. I outgrew that name when I was ten.”
“You’re still ten,” Daring said, raising an eyebrow.
Amethyst tucked one forehoof behind the other, bashful. “Only for another week…”
Her husband, Piper Tune, poked his head around the corner. “Daring? Where d’ye want me t’ put th’ Crystal Femur?”
“Attic,” Daring said firmly. “I don’t want anyone accidentally summoning pandimensional aliens. Again.”
Amethyst frowned. “You don’t sound excited, Mom. Aren’t you happy to see Aunt Ditzy and Dinky?”
Daring sighed, massaging her forehead with a hoof. “Ammy— Amethyst. I love my sister and her daughter dearly, but Ditzy Doo and dozens of… temperamental… artifacts just isn’t gonna work. Remember what happened when you decided to play with that china doll from the Prench Revolution?”
Amethyst sighed. “You never let me forget that. How was I supposed to know it was possessed?”
“I put a sign on it,” Daring said flatly.
“I didn’t—”
“Then I put it in a glass case, put two locks and some protective runes on it, surrounded it with velvet ropes, and put up another sign saying ‘Amethyst: Do Not Touch’.”
The young mare giggled sheepishly. “Okay, I guess that was kinda my bad,” she admitted.
Daring smirked. “Now, just think what could happen if your aunt were to get a little too close to the Yellow Idol or the Lone Hunter’s Horn. Remember, this is the mare who managed to drop my birthday present in the cake three years in a row.”
Amethyst frowned. “That’s not fair.”
Her mother sighed. “Treasure, life isn’t fair. The curses on these objects definitely aren’t fair either. This is all just to be on the safe side. If Ditzy or Dinky were to get hurt— or you, for that matter— I’d never forgive myself.”
Amethyst frowned. “What about dad?”
Daring’s serious expression cracked into a wry smile. “Your father and I can take care of ourselves, believe me. We’ve faced down more dangers than you’ve had hot breakfasts.”
“I know… but you have to worry, don’t you?” her daughter pressed. “I mean, you never know, do you?”
Daring looked mildly taken aback for a moment. Then, Piper poked his head around the corner. “Daring, can ye no’ help me move yon great stone wheel? It’s a bit too rolly t’ keep in hoof.”
Daring spun. “You tried to move the Tenochtitlan Calendar? That could cause an apocalypse if it’s mishandled!” She practically flew down the hall, leaving a fragile and extremely cursed vase wobbling on a stand. Amethyst grabbed the plinth, steadying it with a hoof, having long since learned that cursed artifacts tended to react badly to direct exposure to unicorn magic. The vase stabilized, and the filly let out a breath.
“And she says her sister is the clumsy one,” she muttered. “When was the last time Aunt Ditzy destroyed an entire temple?”
***
The train shot along the rails, rattling over the tracks. A young lilac unicorn pressed her face against the cool, smooth glass of the window, letting it softly bounce off again and again as the car shook. It wasn’t remotely comfortable, but she didn’t really care.
Her mother glanced at her over the top of her book. “You okay, muffin?”
The filly let out a grunt in response.
Ditzy Doo sighed and, dog-earring her page, set down the physics journal she had brought along. “What’s the matter, Dinky?”
“Nothing!” the unicorn replied, rather more waspishly than she had intended. She breathed out. “Nothing, mom. Really. It’s just getting to be really boring.”
The grey pegasus frowned in thought. “You could go to the dining car,” she suggested.
“Not hungry.”
“You could try to go to the engine.”
“Tried. They don’t want kids up there.”
“You could go see if there are any other foals on the train.”
“Already checked. You’re closer to my age than anypony else on the whole train.”
The pegasus paused, stymied. “Really?”
“Well, there’s a baby,” Dinky conceded. “But that doesn’t really count. Why does Aunt Daring have to live so far away?”
Ditzy shrugged. “Well, you know, it’s Aunt Daring. She does have a lot of enemies.”
“So she should live in a secluded mansion in the hills. Or a secret underground base. Not a brownstone in Vanhoover!”
The grey pegasus smiled. “Safety in numbers, muffin. If she and her family get into an “accident”, this way we’ll know about it. Remember, though, it’s Aunt A.K. in public.”
“Mom, I’ve known that for years.”
“Well, a reminder never hurts,” the pegasus said, raising an eyebrow. “You know Daring. I love her to pieces, but she can be a little touchy about her privacy.”
Dinky’s only response was to lay her head against the window once more, letting it judder and bounce off again and again. Ditzy’s warm smile faded like the sun going behind a cloud. Just as she was about to pick up her book again, Dinky turned her head to stare into her eyes. “Tell me a story about you and Aunt Daring.”
The cloud drifted away from the sun and Ditzy’s eyes sparkled. “Well,” she began, fluffing out her feathers to get more comfortable, “you know, when we were just fillies, we lived in lower Manehattan. Dad worked in the Museum of Natural History translating tablets into modern Equish.” She chuckled. “I guess that explains Daring, doesn’t it?”
Dinky smiled wanly. Her mother always opened her stories like that. “Well,” her mother continued, “Without Mom around, we tried to spend as much time as we could at the museum with Dad. Oh, we were absolute terrors, always running around and getting in the way, knocking into ancient pottery… We must’ve set history back about ten years!”
“Not a lot changed, then?”
Ditzy laughed. “No, not much. Daring still has a little trouble getting into the Manehattan Museum, even if she has donated over a dozen exhibits there. Anyway, it was an afternoon like most any other. Drizzly, wet, and no sort of fun to be outside in. So we, of course, stayed in at the museum. Now, we were about as old as you are. I was ten, and Daring was twelve. And I can tell you this, Dinky Doo, we got into just as much trouble then as you and your Crusaders do.”
Dinky settled back into her seat as her mother continued to speak, lost in the past.
Manehattan, 978 CE: The Manehattan Museum of Natural History was an old building. Some said that it had been around for longer than many of its exhibits. While this was not completely accurate, it must be said that on its opening day, both Celestia and Luna were present, and one of Starswirl the Bearded's lesser claims to fame was being the first pony to accidentally find himself locked inside the building overnight. There was discussion of opening a separate, smaller museum expressly for detailing the history of the MMoNH, or as locals affectionately called it, Monty.
With great age, however, comes great power in the form of respectability and influence. Not even the Cyclonian Institute of Canterlot nor the Prench art galleries could hope to compete with the prestige of Monty. Unfortunately, that tends not to mean much to young children, particularly not young children who have been stuck inside for…
“Five hours,” Daring groaned, slamming her face into a desk.
“It’s only been four and a half,” Ditzy corrected softly. “But, uh, it is getting a little boring.”
Their father, Parchment Scribe, inhaled deeply. He, too, had felt every one of those five— no, four and a half— hours slipping by. He loved his daughters dearly, but sometimes he wished his job paid enough for him to get a governess or something to keep them out of his work. Still, this was his situation, and he was going to make the best of it. “Why don’t you girls go pay a visit to the Moosopetamia exhibit?” he suggested. “Or the Minoan wing?”
“But dad,” Daring whined. “We’ve been there so many times! I’ve memorized most of the plaques by heart!”
“Sometimes I dream I’m trapped in the prehistory hall and the Smooze has come alive to swallow the world like a muffin,” Ditzy said quietly. “Or else I’m in the lost City of Platinum. Or being mummified. Sometimes I dream I’m in the mail room, and I like that dream the best.”
“You would,” Daring snorted. “How many times have you rearranged the spice cabinet now?”
“I just want to make stuff easier to find,” Ditzy returned. “Like on your side of the bedroom. Except opposite.”
“Girls,” Parchment said sternly, fixing them with a look. “No fighting.”
“Yes, dad.”
“Okay…”
He smiled. “Here.” He tossed them a bit each. “Go get something from one of the vending machines.”
“Thanks!” Ditzy said with a smile, fluttering off, her sister already out the door. Parchment sighed, but he was smiling too as he returned to his work.
***
“Where should we go?” Ditzy asked. “The Hall of Butterflies?”
Daring scoffed. “Please.”
Ditzy’s face fell. “I like butterflies,” she muttered sullenly.
Daring paid her no mind, instead examining a map on the wall intently. “Acacia… nah. Legends of the Lost, no… Dragons…” She hesitated. Ditzy didn’t breathe until her sister shook her head again. “Nah. Oh, hey, there’s a vending machine in Tribes of the Tenochtitlan!”
“No.”
Daring turned around, frowning. “Huh?”
“Not there. You said no butterflies, I say no Tenochtitlan Basin,” Ditzy said stubbornly, trying to mask her fear as best she could. That was one of the rooms that haunted her dreams. All the leering, bloody faces of gods and monsters that glared down at her from on high, the diorama of ritual sacrifice, the golden funeral masks of long dead emperors… it was enough to fuel nightmares for a week.
Daring understood immediately. And in the timeless tradition of older sisters across all reality, she smirked. She leaned in close to Ditzy’s ear, eyes glistening. “What’s wrong? Too chicken?”
Ditzy’s face went red. “I’m not a chicken,” she replied, avoiding Daring’s eyes. “C’mon, let’s go to the armory.”
“What’s that?” Daring asked, holding a hoof to her ear. “I couldn’t quite understand. I don’t speak ‘cluck-cluck.’”
“Daring!”
“Buck! Bu-bu-bucaw!”
“I’m going to the armory. You can come with me—”
“Bawk, bawk, bawk!” Daring interrupted, scratching at the ground.
“Or— or you can go to the Tenochtitlan room by yourself—”
“Bawk, bawk, bawk!”
Ditzy reddened further. “Or you can stay here and pretend to be a chicken—”
“Bawk-a-doodle-doo!”
“Which you aren’t very good at—”
“Buck-buckaw!”
“Ugh! Fine, I’ll go to the Tenochtitlan room with you!”
“No, you won’t.”
“Yes I—”
“Because you’re going to go in by yourself.”
Ditzy stared, jaw loose. Daring smirked. “I am not!” the grey filly exclaimed, stamping her hoof for emphasis. “There’s no way that you can make me go in alone, not ever.”
“I’ll give you my dessert for a week.”
The grey filly snorted contemptuously.
“I’ll give you my old dolls.”
“You mean the ones whose heads you ripped off?”
Daring chewed at her lower lip. “I’ll… I’ll clean my side of the room,” she offered.
Ditzy stopped. She thought. Her hoof traced a little circle on the ground.
***
“So I have to go through, find the vending machine, buy us each a treat, and come back,” Ditzy said, staring down the Tribes of the Tenochtitlan exhibit.
“Yep,” Daring said with a nod. “Get me something salty. Not pretzels. Maybe chips.”
“You could go first and look at the options,” Ditzy pointed out.
“Could. But I won’t. That’s part of the deal.”
Ditzy scrunched up her nose. “...Why?”
Daring frowned. “Uh… ‘cause I said so.”
The grey filly rolled her mismatched eyes. “Fine. Hope you’ve got a dusting cloth, Daring, because I’m not letting you out of your promise until your half of the room shines like the top of the Clydesdale Building.”
Daring grimaced for a split second, but it turned into a grin. “We’ll see…”
Ditzy glared at her sister, then turned tail and stormed into the exhibit hall.
Tribes of the Tenochtitlan Basin wasn’t altogether an unpleasant room on the surface. Sure, it wasn’t very well lit. Sure, the arching ceiling could appear a little oppressive. Sure, there were the occasional depictions of rituals that Ditzy would’ve preferred remain in obscurity, but she could look at the other walls. The trouble was, she knew they were there. Daring wasn’t joking when she said she knew most of the plaques by heart, and Ditzy had always been better at remembering stuff than her sister. The whole room was steeped in history and blood. Even the exhibit on hot cocoa wasn’t safe when you remembered all the terrible things it could symbolize to the Asstec civilization. One minute, a nice hot drink flowing down your throat, the next minute, nice hot blood flowing down your barrel. It did terrible things to a filly’s appetite for seasonal beverages, no matter how many mini-marshmallows got thrown in.
And then there were the masks. Golden relics and moldings in bas-relief sprang to life in glorious, terrible technicolor under Ditzy’s eyes, showering down blood and organs, staring at her as if to say “You’re next.”
She’d tried to explain to Daring, but her older sister had just laughed and said, “Better get up on the altar then. Chop-chop!” Daring was not nearly as funny as she thought she was. Ditzy considered Daring for a moment longer as she trotted along. Anything was a better proposition than thinking about—
Ah, yes. There it came again, all rushing back. Trying to avoid thinking about it was like trying not to think about pink elephants (Matching Statues, circa 1300 Ante Regle, central Whindia). Any psychologist worth their salt (Engraved Plaque, 2065 Ante Regle, Timbucktoo, Gazellate Empire) would find a very interesting connection between the filly’s thoughts on the Tenochtitlan Basin and her sister, but Ditzy neither knew nor cared about that. Right now, she just had to focus on the task at hand and finish up before her fear got the better of her. When the grey pegasus got frightened, she became much more accident-prone, and at the best of times she was still something of a bull in a china shop (Cartoon, 127 Celestial Era, South Cowribbean).
Well. She would just have to keep her wits, that was all. Ditzy lifted her snout into the air and fluffed out her chest, trotting forward with as much grace and poise as any ten-year-old filly could muster. She strode forth down the hall, not even turning a hair at the bloody images that graced the walls.
Then, a loud thump echoed down the hall from behind the filly and she screamed, bolting away.
***
“And then?” Dinky asked, leaning forward in her seat.
Her mother smiled back gently. “And then the train pulled into the station and all the passengers had to get off,” she said. True to her word, the wheels began to screech against the tracks as the massive engine pulled to a stop.
“I’ll finish up that story later,” Ditzy said, rising from her seat to grab the luggage down from the brass rack where it had been stowed.
“Okay…” Dinky groaned, sliding down from her seat. Ditzy smiled and ruffled her daughter’s mane.
“C’mon. Let’s go see what my sister’s been up to since we last saw her.”
***
The Vanhoover train station, while by no means the most bustling stop on the line, was considerably more busy than Ponyville Station. “Stick close, muffin,” Ditzy said, pulling her suitcase behind her. “I don’t want either of us to get lost.”
“Yes, mom,” the lilac unicorn said dutifully. “Where's Auntie Yearling? I can't see her anywhere.”
Ditzy craned her neck to see over the heads of the crowd. “Me, neither,” she admitted. “You stay here, Dinky. I'll see if I can spot her from the air.”
“Mom, no,” Dinky started, but it was too late. The filly let out a frustrated huff as she watched her mother flap up, up, up into the rafters. She levitated all their suitcases together into the rough shape of an armchair and sat back. She had learned from experience exactly where this was going to end up.
Ditzy cast her eye over the crowd below, searching for a flash of mustard-yellow fur or a mulberry-colored cloak. But she could see neither hide nor hair of her elder sister. A frown wrinkled the postmare’s nose. Maybe Daring wasn't here yet? She fluttered higher. She could see the whole station from this height, ponies jostling around with suitcases and bags under the rich yellow lights and deep, exquisitely carved maple walls. Still no sign of her sister or any other family members.
“Excuse me.”
Ditzy spun around in surprise. A bored-looking thestral security guard frowned back at her. “Ma’am, I need you to return to the ground, please. There's no flying inside.”
“Oh!” Ditzy blushed. “I’m very sorry. I just need to find my sister. She was meant to come and pick me up.”
“Well, you’ll need to find her on ground-level, ma’am.”
“Of course,” Ditzy said, fluttering backwards under the flat gaze of the official. “Sorry to trouble you…”
She noticed his eyes go wide just a fraction of a second too late. Before she could stop herself, she bumped right into the chandelier. “Oops!” she gasped as it shook and swung, attracting the attention of the crowd below.
“Ma’am, get out of the air,” the security guard said, increasingly vexed.
“Ow!” Ditzy tried to move, but her tail was caught in the chandelier. “I can't! I’m stuck!”
The thestral heaved a sigh. “Alright, ma’am, just wait for a moment, we’ll get you loose…”
“No, no, I don't want to be a bother!” Ditzy gasped. “I can get myself out easily enough, just--” she tugged, shaking the crystal structure again.
“Ma’am, please--”
“Here, I’ll just trim off the hairs that are stuck. Have you got scissors?”
“No, ma’am. Please don't--”
“I guess I'll just have to rip them out, then.” Ditzy screwed up her face in concentration, watching the chandelier swing towards her, away, towards, away… and she dove forwards on the downswing, sending up the crystal ornament once more. She was sent free and sprawling straight into the security guard.
A large, tan earth pony in a kilt pushed open the station doors and took in the scene. The chandelier was rocking on its chain, creaking ominously. Everypony was utterly still, staring at it in horror. The stallion, however, looked beyond the swinging chandelier to see a swarm of aerial officials attempting to subdue a frantically apologizing grey pegasus.
Piper sighed and waved a colossal hoof. “Ey! Ditzy! Doon ‘ere!”
The mare paused and turned around. Two guards suddenly collided in midair as she lit up. “Piper! There you are, I was looking all over for you.” She zipped back down to the ground while the guards were still confused. “Come and help us with our luggage!” she called.
The security guards looked at one another, nonplussed. On the one hoof, they should probably try to arrest her for causing a disturbance. On the other hoof, through nopony’s fault but their own, they had suffered nine mid-air collisions, a pulled wing, and a pair of black eyes. She was leaving anyway, they decided. Let her be the city’s problem, rather than their own. Nevertheless, they gave her a watchful eye and a wide berth as she, her filly, and the kilted stallion picked up a set of luggage and departed. There was a general sigh of relief as the three exited the station; the clumsy mare had gone, and could no longer inconvenience anypony there. How wrong they were.
Author's Note
I'm sure I'll get some flack for marrying off Daring Do to some random guy. Rest assured, they do have a backstory together, which will be covered later. That, however, is another story, in all senses of the phrase.
It may also ease your minds to know that Piper isn't technically an OC. I've borrowed him from another property. Whoever guesses who he is first will win a hurrah!
Also, Ometecuhtli/Omecihuatl is the Aztec god/goddess of duality, and is credited with creating the world.
