Out of an Orange-coloured sky
Author's Note
1 This poem is an adaptation of Number one platoon, an Ulster Protestant song. To be clear, I do not condone anything that the UVF, RHC or any other Protestant Paramilitary group has done. But this song's original lyrics are pretty good.
Out of an Orange-coloured sky
Ponyville
It was an unusually warm day in November. The sky was blue, the trees were bare, and the ponies of Ponyville were enjoying their peace, as there was no knowing when it would be broken yet again.
The bell rang. Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle, and Apple Bloom left their classroom, amidst the flock of their fellow schoolfoals.
"Well butter mah butt an' call me toast, cuz' ahm' toasted!" exclaimed Apple Bloom, trotting alongside her fellow crusaders. "Any plans for tonaght, gals?"
"My parents are coming over," said Sweetie Belle.
Scootaloo didn't answer.
"Something on your mind, Scootaloo?" asked Sweetie.
"Ehh," answered the orange pegasus. "Not much. Just, ya know... the usual stuff."
Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom instantly knew what she was on about.
"Scoots, ah know it's hard for ya, but really, ah think you better let go of it," said Apple Bloom.
"I know..." said Scootaloo. "But I really want him to come back. I wanna see him."
Scootaloo had been melancholic for the last few days. She lived with her maternal uncle, who had mentioned Scootaloo's mother and father. Her mother was long gone, but her uncle had mentioned that Scootaloo's dad was or had been a guardspony. And she had never seen him, so she'd always assumed that like her mother, he had left this world forever.
"Scoots, lemme tell ya what mah sis' told me," said Applebloom, in an effort to cheer her friend up. "If ya win a lottery, why buy another ticket?"
"What lottery have I won?" asked Scootaloo, miserably.
"Good friends, an awesome sister-like mare," said Sweetie Belle. "I could go on for hours, but... I think you get the point."
"True," commented Scootaloo. "I'm sorry if I seem ungrateful."
"It's okay, Scoots," said Apple Bloom. "Ah know what it's like to not know your pa' and ma'. The hardest part for me was accepting that ah'll never meet 'em."
"Besides," said Sweetie Belle. "What if he's not who you expect him to be, huh?"
Scootaloo's eyes started watering.
"I'm sorry," said Sweetie Belle. "I didn't realize- hey! It's Friday evening, and my parents aren't arriving for another two hours. Why don't we all go enjoy ourselves?"
The three crusaders agreed to grab sandwiches and chocolate and drinks, and go out for an impromptu picnic, not too far from Fluttershy's house. That way there was somepony to watch over them in case something went wrong, and they could enjoy the view.
So barely half-an-hour later, the three friends joined at the foot of the hill on which Fluttershy's cottage sat. They were eating merrily, looking at the sunset like three defiant soldiers.
"So, I know we've been telling you to let go, Scootaloo," said Sweetie Belle, "But I've gotta ask... what would you do if you found him?"
"I dunno," answered Scootaloo. "Maybe I'll hug him. Or maybe I'll slap him across the face for leaving me."
"Fair enough," shrugged Apple Bloom. "I can't say what I'd do if I discovered my folks'd been out n' about for all this time."
Sweetie Belle didn't say anything. She didn't know what it was like to lose a parent, so she didn't really have the right to add anything on that subject.
"Yeah..." said Scootaloo, blandly looking at the sky. Her wings fluttered as she gazed at the blue sky. She wished that she could one day soar into the sky and jump from cloud to cloud. "They sure as hay don't know what it's like to be me," she thought, bitterly. "Sweetie Belle can use magic, and Apple Bloom can still kick... What can I do, eh?"
"Bottom line," said Sweetie Belle, "maybe one day you'll see him. Maybe you won't. But don't think about it. There's no use in pining for something you're not sure exists. Well, pining, in general, isn't a good idea altogether. You can still wait for it, but it doesn't mean you can't enjoy life while you're waiting for it is all."
"Yeah, I guess you're right," conceded Scootaloo. "Yeah! I mean, all this waiting, doesn't mean I can't enjoy myself!"
The three fillies just admired the sunset for the rest of the evening. After a while, Sweetie Belle had to go home, so the little group disbanded.
"Scootaloo, is that you?" asked Flamehoof, Scootaloo's uncle, as he heard the front door open and close.
"Yeah," answered Scootaloo, absent-mindedly walking into the kitchen.
Scootaloo looked exactly like her uncle, except for the wings: Flamehoof was an earth pony. They both shared the same orange coat and purple mane. In character, however, the two were as different as could be. She was brash, hot-headed and couldn't wait more than thirty seconds without groaning, whereas Flamehoof was timid, careful, and generally patient.
"How was school?" he asked.
"It was good," answered Scootaloo, sitting at the table. "How was your day?"
"Just the usual," said Flamehoof. "We got a few sales, and the boss was happy with me."
"That's good."
Flamehoof started cutting some carrots for the stew he was making. "Something on your mind?" he asked, noticing his niece's expression.
"What do you mean?"
"You look troubled," remarked Flamehoof.
"Oh," said Scootaloo. "It's nothing." She looked down at the floor, trying to hide her eyes.
The uncle looked up from his carrots, took his apron off, and put it down next to the stove. "You can tell me, you know," he said, concerned.
Scootaloo sighed, shook her head, and looked at her uncle. "Can you tell me about my dad?" she asked.
"Oh." Flamehoof hadn't been expecting that. He stayed idle for a few seconds, blinking and wondering what to say, before sitting down next to his niece. "Fastwing, he... he was a good pony. Well, I say 'was', but I don't know for sure. Your mom loved him with all her heart, and he loved her with all his heart. And they both loved you."
"He was a guard, wasn't he?" asked Scootaloo.
"That's right," answered Flamehoof. "He was a brave pony, always ready to fight for what he believed in. And he would have sold his soul to Tirek if it was to save you and your mom. And when he left you with me, I could tell that he knew he was going to regret it. And I'm sure that, every day that goes by, he thinks of you."
"Thanks, uncle Flame," said Scootaloo, her voice shaking as tears formed in her eyes.
"That's okay," said Flamehoof, taking his niece onto his lap and hugging her. "Just remember that whatever happens, I'll always be here for you."
"Thank you," sobbed Scootaloo. "You're the best... Uncle Flame."
A few days had gone by, and the subject of Scootaloo's father had fallen to the back of the little filly's mind. But without warning, the subject came rushing back into her mind.
"Good morning class!" said Miss Cheerilee, as the foals took their seats in the class.
"Good morning, Miss Cheerilee!" the foals responded in unison.
"Alright," said the teacher, smiling her trademark smile. "Today's lesson is going to be a little special," she announced.
"How special?" retorted Apple Bloom, being her usual sassy self.
"Today," said Cheerilee, "we will be talking about remembrance day. Can somepony tell me what remembrance day is?"
Several foals raised their hooves, including Scootaloo.
"Yes, Scootaloo?"
"Remembrance day is the day that we set aside to commemorate those who have fallen for Equestria," said Scootaloo, as if she'd swallowed a history book.
"Very good!" said the teacher. "And do you know the date of remembrance day?"
"November eleventh," answered Scootaloo.
"And do you know why that day was chosen in particular?"
"I'm not sure," answered Scootaloo. "I think it's the anniversary of a surrender, or, erm..."
"You're partly right," said Cheerilee. "The eleventh day of the eleventh month marks the armistice between Northern and Southern Equestria, marking the end of the Secession War."
"So what's the difference between an Armi-thing and a surrender?" asked Sweetie Belle.
"A surrender is when one side gives up the fighting," explained Cheerilee. "An armistice is when both sides stop fighting, in order to agree on a way to find long-lasting peace. The Secession War was one of the bloodiest one that we have ever known. Many ponies on both sides suffered massive losses. This year marks the armistice's hundredth anniversary."
"Were there any wars after that?" asked another pupil.
"Indeed there were," answered the teacher, solemnly. "There were many. But the whole point of remembrance day, as Scootaloo so brilliantly said, is to remember the ponies who have fought in our armies, as well as the ones who do."
At these last words, Scootaloo instantly thought of her father, yet again, and her heart sank. The whole rest of the day seemed to blur into some sort of vague, uninteresting and futile mass of time, during which Scootaloo buried her muzzle into her forelegs, not wanting to learn anything. When the bell finally rang, however, the filly ran out of the class, and went looking for the one and only pony that she really looked up to: Rainbow Dash.
Rainbow Dash was peacefully snoozing on a cloud, some ten feet above the ground, a huge smile on her face. She was having a dream about flying over the Celestial Sea, looping above the clouds. She could almost see herself riding these winds, rolling, nose-diving, and pulling up at the last second, her hooves barely stroking the surface of the water. And, riding next to her, was somepony else. Was it a mare or a stallion? She didn't know. They were just flying together, soaring above their troubles, flapping tirelessly. She almost made out the face of her wingpony, when a voice woke her up.
"Rainbow Dash?" asked Scootaloo, timidly.
The blue mare woke up with a start. She rolled over on her cloud, and peeked her head over the edge to see who had just disturbed her. It was her number one fan, Scootaloo.
"Well if it isn't Scootaloo!" said Rainbow Dash, getting up, stretching her wings, and jumping off her cloud to greet her fan. "How are ya, kiddo?" But she then noticed that Scootaloo looked sad. "What's up?"
"I just wanted to talk to you about something," said Scootaloo, looking somber.
"Of course," said Rainbow Dash. "What's the matter?"
"It's... You'll never leave me, will you?" asked Scootaloo, her eyes shimmering with tears.
"What d'ya mean?" frowned Rainbow Dash. But then, she realized what Scootaloo was talking about. "Oh, Scootaloo... is this about your father?"
Scootaloo burst into tears. "Yes..."
The mare put her wing around her fan's shoulder. "It's okay," she said. "I'll never leave ya. No matter what happens."
"Promise?"
Rainbow Dash smiled down at Scootaloo. "I promise."
Scootaloo was in her room. Open in front of her was a book that she'd borrowed from Princess Twilight: 'Equestria's Finest Poems'.
On the first book, a foreword from Princess Celestia was written:
"Set in the floor of Canterlot Castle's atrium, there is an inscription, dedicated to its architects: 'If you seek their monument, look around.' I think that it may well apply to our Finest. For we sleep soundly in our beds, because rough mares and stallions stand on our borders, ready to kill to preserve our freedom. They are soldiers, sailors and airponies. As such they live, and as such they have died."
The book was full of poems, written by serviceponies, about the horrors of war... and about why they were ready to live through these horrors. They were ready to die for the green fields, the snowy mountains, the plentiful fields, and the free ponies. It was so beautiful and sad at the same time. And in the end, it brought solace to Scootaloo. Her father was hundreds of miles away, fighting instead of being with her. Yet... in the end, her father was fighting for her. And she realized that instead of longing for his return, maybe she should be worth fighting for. Maybe she should live, love and laugh too, so her father's sacrifice would not be in vain.
One poem in particular caught her eye.
Lower House of Parliament, Remembrance Day
"The Prime Minister may speak," said the Speaker of the House.
"Knock 'em dead, Whinny," said the minister of health, as Whinnston Chestnut rose from his seat, donned his glasses, and looked at his notes.
"Thank you, Mister Speaker," said Whinnston. He cleared his throat, and continued. "A hundred years ago today, Mister Speaker, the ceasefire and armistice was declared, putting an official end to the Secession war, which brought four years of great turmoil, that shook the lives of many ponies who fought on the front lines, and their loved ones, who went through some agonizing years."
"Hear, hear!" went the entire House.
"So, on this day of fond remembrance, I would like to thank all of the mares and stallions who have lost their lives in the field. And we must not forget the crises that came up until very recently, such as the Storm King's invasion. After the King himself had been defeated, our guards, sailors, and airponies played an instrumental role in the liberation of several of the invader's surviving strongpoints. The fact that we were able to swiftly respond to the invasion, albeit a little late, and free the rest of Equestria speaks volumes about how our troops are prepared and always ready for action. And we must bear in mind the ongoing work of our ponies in the badlands and with the hippogriffes, who will, I am sure, help us in our future struggles against the forces of evil."
"Hear, hear!" repeated the House, loudly.
"But this begs the question, Mister Speaker: with all that our troops give us, what do they expect in return? The answer is that they ask for very little... So, on our hundredth remembrance day, I am delighted to announce, after discussing it with Her Highness, Princess Celestia, the creation of a new medal, which commemorates the Great War: the Centenary Medal, which will be borne by all serviceponies who have served for the past year."
"Hear, hear!"
"Finally, I would like to personally thank every member of our hooved forces. Every pony who practices one of the most noble jobs in existence. The job of standing up for the ones who cannot stand up for themselves. Those who stand on our borders, insuring that no real harm will ever come to us. Never has so much been owed to so few."
The house roared, "Hear hear!" one last time as the Prime Minister regained his seat.
"Darling," said Rarity. "These poppies are so chic! When I was a filly, I never wanted to take it off..." She was wearing a poppy on her newest hat, as she walked around the town with Fluttershy.
"I know," said Fluttershy, who had put hers in her mane. "I always buy one for each one of my critters."
"Gosh!" exclaimed Rarity. "Do they like them?"
"Oh, um... Not really, but they do hold it just to make me happy. They're nice..."
Rainbow Dash appeared, zooming towards them holding an empty tray. Applejack was following, her saddlebag bulging with golden coins.
"Did you sell them all?" asked Rarity. "I'm impressed!"
"Yep!" said Rainbow Dash, extremely proud of herself. "We're going to give the bits in now!"
"Nothin' better than charity, am I right?" asked Applejack. "Didn't know sellin' poppies could be that physical!"
"Well you'd better hurry," said Rarity. "You wouldn't want to miss Mayor Mare's address at eleven, would you?"
"Yeah, catch ya later!" said Applejack, before running off behind Rainbow Dash.
Pinkie Pie appeared, skipping along the cobblestone path. She had taken the tradition of wearing a poppy to a hole new level. She'd laced her mane and tail with loads of them, making her look more red than pink. "Hi!" she shouted, skidding to a halt in front of her friends.
"Well you look..." started Rarity.
"Supportive?" asked Pinkie Pie. "Commemorative?"
"Yes, that's it."
"Have you seen Twilight?" asked Fluttershy.
"She's already at the town hall," squeaked Pinkie Pie. "She's going to deliver a speech of her own!"
"Well, we wouldn't want to miss that," said Rarity. "Let's go, girls."
"Let's."
A few days later
The bell rang. The foals all filed into the classroom, and sat down at their desks. Cheerilee took her place in front of the blackboard, greeted her students, and started giving her lesson. Today was an arithmetic lesson, more specifically about multiplying and dividing. All of this was extremely boring to Scootaloo, who preferred literally anything else but maths. But she followed the lesson anyway, conceding that the skills Miss Cheerilee was teaching might one day be useful. After all, division was about sharing, and friendship had a lot of just that.
"Hello," said someone.
Everypony turned their heads to the right, and saw that somepony new had entered the classroom. It was a stallion. He was wearing the Royal Guards' uniform: the iconic golden armour that had the magical property of turning a pony's coat monochrome. If said pony was a pegasus or an earth pony, the plates would turn them white. If a unicorn, they'd be turned gray. That one was wearing his blue-crested galea, under which one could see his baby-blue eyes.
"Can I help you?" asked the teacher.
"Yes," answered the guardspony, looking tense and apprehensive. "I'm looking for someone." He swept the classroom with his eyes, and they fell upon Scootaloo.
Scootaloo looked back at the guardspony. For a second, she though that she was about to be arrested for high treason. But she saw the guard's uneasy expression turn into a smile. "Scootaloo?" he asked.
For a few seconds, Scootaloo didn't answer. She simply looked at the newly arrived stallion, wondering who he could possibly be. But soon enough, she realized who he was. "D-dad?" she asked, her voice quivering.
The guardspony took his galea off, threw it to the side, and opened his forelegs towards Scootaloo. "Come here, my girl."
There wasn't a dry eye in the classroom as Scootaloo jumped away from her desk, and ran into the hooves of her long-lost father. She jumped onto him, and they shared a long, loving embrace. Rivers of tears were coming out of both's eyes as they shared their passionate hug.
"I missed you so much, dad..." croaked the filly, her wings flapping.
"I missed you too, kiddo..."
Miss Cheerilee, Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and every single foal in the classroom were crying in happiness for Scootaloo and her father. It was so beautiful to see.
"I'm guessing that after all this time, you might have some questions," said Fastwing, as he and his daughter walked down the road towards the town.
"Yeah," answered Scootaloo. "How did you find me?"
"Rainbow Dash told me," explained Fastwing. "She came to my barracks in San Palomino. She told me that one of her fans was my daughter. And she said that you missed me. So I decided to come back." Fastwing was a stallion of very few words.
"I'm so happy to finally see you," said Scootaloo. "I missed you so much.. but why did you only just come back?"
"I don't know how it's going to seem if I put it this way," said Fastwing. "But I stayed away for so long because I was scared. I always wanted to write to you, but I never found the courage. I couldn't, ever since your mom... ever since she..."
"It's okay, dad," smiled the filly. "I'll always love you. As long as you'll always love me."
"It's not okay, Scootaloo," retorted the stallion. "I should have written to you. I should have let you know that I was there, and that I dearly missed you."
"That was then," said Scootaloo, sternly. "Now is now. Why don't we enjoy ourselves?"
That day, Warrant Officer Fastwing gave in his resignation letter at the Canterlot barracks. He wanted to spend more time with his daughter, to make up for all the years they had spent apart. After a few years, Scootaloo's wings had finally grown enough to let her fly. And, at long last, she took her first flight with her father. When she finally reached adulthood, Scootaloo found herself enlisting with the EUP guard. And, when she finished her service, she wrote a poem, dedicated to the ponies who had served, who did serve, and who were to serve.
As I can, I'll remember
It was mid-november.
As I canter down the road,
I'll remember the year.
There was Twi, there was Dad,
Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash,
Cheering me on,
As joined the guard.
And the stallion said to me,
"Foal I hope you will see,
And remember this day,
All the things you've been taught.
For it'll be now or then,
But we'll fight once again,
For the things that our Ancestors fought."
So I swore like the rest,
To the badge on my breast,
That just like my dad,
I would fight for my land.
With my hoof held high,
I took that vow,
When I joined the EUP guard.1
Dedicated to all those who serve.
