Requiem For A Once Future Queen

by The Seer

Rating: teen
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Sad, Pinkie Pie, Crossover
Length: 2241

Pinkie has been dropped off in a strange house full of frightening creatures. Worse still, they are talking about her like she's imaginary. But surely they're lying, she can't be imaginary, can she?

Pinkie has been dropped off in a strange house full of frightening creatures.
Worse still, they are talking about her like she's imaginary.
But Pinkie knows they're lying. She can't be imaginary, can she?

A crossover with Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends.
Winner of the Crossover contest in the Quills and Sofas Speedwriting Group

Published 2020-01-06 23:20:01 UTC
Last updated 2020-01-06 23:20:01 UTC

Their Eyes and Mine

“Okay, so what? She didn’t know who you or your child were at all?”

“No, neither of us. She just…”

“It will be easier if we have a complete picture.”

“Well... she just started screaming.”

“Is that why you brought her?”

“No. We just can’t afford to keep her around and… well this is the place you bring imaginary friends isn’t it? Why, is the screaming not normal?”

“No. It’s not.”

Kind eyes, that’s what Pinkie Pie was focusing on because she had precious little else. They all stood like Spike, tall and on two legs. They were hairless, aside from their manes. They all towered over her, and their touch was too cold. But they had kind eyes, that’s what she held onto.

One moment, Pinkie had been going to sleep. She and her friends had just gotten back from the Gala. It was a night that had been good, then awful, but then good again. When she woke up she was sat near creatures she didn’t know, and then she started screaming. Because they were terrifying. Then they must have brought her here.

There was one near her now, actually. A smaller one, she reminded Pinkie of Granny Pie. She was old, wrinkly. She smiled tenderly as she made Pinkie tea. She hadn’t said much, but Pinkie was grateful for that. It seemed like she understood.

The door opened behind her, and rather than hoofsteps she heard several dull thuds. Into her vision hopped an enormous, towering rabbit in a smart suit. In normal circumstances, Pinkie Pie would have laughed. As it stood, the creature terrified her. She cowered in her seat, desperately trying to move further away from him. But when he looked at her, she saw he also had kind eyes, and she tried to calm down.

“Well,” he began. He had an austere way of speaking, a little like Princess Luna, “Would you like to tell us your name?”

And it was ridiculous.

She wanted to laugh so much, but her throat tightened. The way they talked to her like it was she who was the strange one. But then, she hadn’t seen a single other pony here. Maybe she was the strange one after all.

“Hi! My name’s Pinkie Pie,” she chirped with an altogether too wide smile. She needed to be friendly; she didn’t want to forget her manners.

“Okay Miss Pinkie Pie,” he replied gently, “Janette told us you had quite a scare, we just want to ask if everything was okay.”

“Who… who’s Janette?” Pinkie asked, feeling small and frustrated.

The small one looked like she wanted to interject, but she met the rabbit’s eyes and they seemed to share something. It wasn’t weird to Pinkie; she and her friends did it all the time. ‘Talking without speaking’, that was what Applejack called it. She wondered where they all were.

“Okay, you don’t know who Janette is, that’s okay. Do you know who Charlotte is?”

Pinkie cocked her head to the side, these names were strange. They sounded like random words someone had just invented one day. At least Pinkie Pie was pink, and loved pie!

“I’ll take that as a no, then?” he asked, not unkindly. She nodded absentmindedly. She wanted to go home.

“Why don’t you tell us about yourself dearie,” the old woman said, and Pinkie decided she liked her the bestest. Her voice was as kind as her eyes.

“Well,” Pinkie began, and bit her lip. It almost felt like a trap, like they were interrogating her.

“Why don’t I start? I’m Mr Herriman,” the rabbit offered. It was ever so silly, for a bunny to have that name. “I tend to the day-to-day running of the foster home.”

And it felt long, though it was only a few seconds, but Pinkie cracked. Even if this was some kind of trick she didn’t know where she was or who any of them were. Maybe they could help though.

“My name’s Pinkie Pie,” she replied quietly, “I make ponies laugh and I like to bake and plan parties.”

“Oh that’s wonderful dear!” the older one cried out excitedly, “We love parties here! I’m sure you’ll fit in wonderfully!”

“What?” she gasped, starting to cry. “I don’t want to live here. I want to go home.”

“Well, not every imaginary friend can-”

“What do you mean?” Pinkie shouted, wracked by heaving, frantic sobs, “I’m not imaginary I’m here! You can see me! I know what imaginary friends are! I used to have them on the farm where I grew up! I want to go back home to my friends in Ponyville!”

Pinkie had been threatened so many times in her young life. But this, it was so much worse. There was nothing worse than the looks of horror and sadness on their faces.

They had sat her on a chair outside the office and asked her to wait. The older one had given her some milk and cookies, but Pinkie didn’t feel much like eating them. The one that had brought her to this place was in there now. She knew they were talking about her because she had left the chair and was peering through the keyhole. Her mum and dad had always told her it was impolite to snoop, but Pinkie thought she could make an exception this once.

“Mrs Cartwright—”

“Oh just Janette, please,” she replied, and the rabbit looked uncomfortable for a very brief moment.

“Indeed. Janette, does your daughter have a vivid imagination?”

“Well, I never really thought so? She’s never had any imaginary friends and I thought that was what made a kid imaginative.”

“Not exactly,” the older one that Pinkie liked replied.

“Well, she’s just copied what she’s seen on the TV so she can’t be too imaginative, right?”

“I don’t think that’s the right way of considering it. Let’s start from the beginning, does she come up with stories, games?”

“Oh yeah, all the time. She’s always drawing these pictures from these adventure games she comes up with… so I suppose she’s not got too bad an imagination?”

“It’s not normal for an imaginary friend to wake up screaming, Janette. To not know who their creator is. To talk about growing up on a farm.”

“Why does she… not know?”

“You’re right that the most imaginative children tend to come up with something all of their own. When a child copies something they saw on the television they tend to make what is effectively a living toy, devoid of true personality. We have a whole room full of them and they’re happy enough. Tend to get adopted during Christmas. Then we see them back in a few years,” the old woman explained.

“We don’t think your daughter did that. It’s very rare but sometimes a child with an imagination like your daughter’s won’t want to invent something of her own. She didn’t copy what she saw on her television, she replicated it perfectly.”

“So… she thinks that she’s really…” Janette didn’t get an answer, the old woman and rabbit just looked at each other uncomfortably.

“Oh Jesus,” Janette muttered, “Is there anything I can do to help? I mean I don’t want it to seem like we’re abandoning her, you know I’m a big supporter of animal rights and whatnot. Doesn’t feel right leaving her here if she’s suffering.”

“She’s not an animal. She’ll be okay,” the old woman replied,. “It just so happens we have another one like her from a few months back. It’s very rare, as I said, but it does happen. I think they might be able to help one another.”

Pinkie didn’t want to hear the rest of their conversation. She leapt from her chair and ran because she was afraid. She didn’t like the things they said about her. The way they acted like she wasn’t real, like some half-formed dream. She tore down a corridor, barely thinking aside from the need to get away from that awful conversation. She kept trotting, almost on autopilot, until she smacked into something.

When she regained her senses and looked up, it was another one of those things. Tall and lean, with a red mane. It stared down at Pinkie for a moment until some flicker of recognition seemed to occur.

“Did you get loose?” it asked, and Pinkie was too scared to focus on anything other than its kind eyes.

“Come on,” it said as it picked her up effortlessly. “Let’s get you back home.”

And for a moment Pinkie’s heart leapt. Just the mention of the word gave her hope. And though she didn’t think the creature wanted to be cruel, it was all she could think when she didn’t take Pinkie home. Instead, she took Pinkie to a door. Then she set her down and opened it.

Inside was a vast room, and it was the most terrifying thing Pinkie had ever seen. Inside were tens of ponies, all her friends. Applejacks and Raritys and Twilights and Fluttershys and Dashies and even other Pinkies. They all chatted inanely and it horrified her.

“Hey... are you okay there?” the one that brought her to the room asked, but Pinkie barely registered it. She was busy staring in terror at the Twilight that walked up to her, and the stupid vacous smile on her face.

“Hi, I’m Twilight Sparkle! I’m the most magical unicorn in all of Equestria! I want to be your friend!” It was a cheap imitation of the bright, friendly librarian Pinkie knew. Her voice was overly sweet, off in timbre. Her eyes were the worst. There was no thought behind them, no semblance of Twilight’s genius. They were doll’s eyes.

Pinkie Pie screamed.

Twilight lay quiety. She didn’t do much of anything else these days. The room was enormous, and the bed was a bunk bed. Like a child’s bed. She knew all of the rest of the creatures here had to share rooms, but they’d been kind to her. They’d let her have her own room from the first day she’d arrived. This was good. She didn’t want to talk to any of the others. Not yet.

The door softly clicked open, and the older one walked in. Twilight hadn’t bothered to learn their names. It sometimes made her feel guilty, but she often didn’t have the strength to care. The woman walked up to Twilight’s bed and the unicorn cringed. She covered herself with her legs and felt pathetic for cowering, even if she couldn’t help it.

“It’s okay sweetheart,” the older one reassured, and placed a plate down on the bedside table. It was a modest salad, but it included everything she’d said were her favourites. She was grateful for that at least. The woman stroked Twilight’s mane gently. Twilight had learned a few weeks back that they had ponies in this world too, but they were nothing like the ones she knew. She wondered if they treated her like one of them. Like an animal.

“We have someone who’s going to be moving in with you. I think you might know her.”

Twilight looked to the door, and it was like a sucker punch. Pinkie Pie was huddled, teary and shaking. The younger one, with the red hair, was carrying her and looked close to tears herself. Twilight usually didn’t like it when someone was sad but right now she couldn’t care less.

“Pinkie Pie?”

“Twilight?”

They set Pinkie down and the two of them embraced one another, crying openly. Neither realised or even cared when the others left the room. That didn’t matter now.

“Twilight I… there’s a room and they have… and they look like…” Pinkie sobbed, and Twilight held her closer. She had found this room herself a long time ago. When she was still suspicious and would break out to try to work out their evil plot. The truth had been, as it turned out, much worse than she’d ever dared considering back then.

“It’s okay Pinkie, I’m here now,” Twilight soothed.

“What are we gonna do Twilight?” Pinkie sobbed. “We don’t know where the others are or where the Elements are. They were saying awful things. Like we’re just imaginary! I don’t know what they want with us! When did you get here, I saw you just last night after the gala?!”

Twilight let Pinkie babble, realising they mustn’t have told her. But this was a good thing. Twilight wished she’d been able to hear it from a friend instead of these strange creatures in their strange office.

There’d be time to tell her later, of course. Tell her about how none of it was real. How all their friends were an elaborate fiction for the entertainment of their children. There’d be time to tell Pinkie how they were both just the unfortunate construct of the mind of an overly-imaginative child. But it could wait.

And as she held her friend, Twilight wondered whether it made her a bad friend to feel relief. She wasn’t alone now, after all. She finally had someone she loved back with her again. But it was a parasitic relief, it fed off Pinkie’s sense of joy, it sucked the lifeblood from it. It disgusted Twilight. Still, as she looked at the massive room around them, Twilight found it difficult to care about such things.

And that disgusted her most of all.