Author's Note

Non-canon Warning: Scootaloo's parental situation in this is different than it is in canon. This chapter will completely contradict canon, not simply set up a possible direction it could go/have gone in.

The Seagull - Scootaloo I

She took the letter out again, though it was too dark to read. That made little difference, though; its words were seared into her mind, and reading them again would only anger her more.

It wasn't much, only a paragraph, but that paragraph had shattered her world, and its last sentence turned even the fragments to dust:

"Soon, you can come home."

Thirteen years of life, destroyed forever by five words.

They'd never expected this day to come, any of them: Griffonstone and the surrounding countryside were at war, just like the sky was blue or Rainbow Dash was awesome. There was a reason the security companies that made up the Golden Steel set up base there, it provided them with plenty of work and plenty of employees to do that work. Three out of every five Groverians worked with the Great Companies in one way or another, her mother said in one of her few letters, and those few who didn't probably worked with one of their customers. They provided what little stability was to be had in Griffonstone, along with those few organizations that had stayed in the area after the Fall of the Empire. They kept the peace and gave justice while the official central government stood fragmented, countless claimants to the imperial authority squabbling and warring amongst each other.

And suddenly, all that was supposed to be over.

Not immediately, there was a crime ring that needed to be found and stopped, but after that the anarchy, the chaos, the fighting, was supposed to just... stop. A new government was being formed, gradually tying the Empire back together, and the Great Companies were letting it take up its old posts, getting out of the markets and the courts and taking most of the fighting elsewhere. Griffonstone was being rebuilt, and the war and chaos and fighting that had destroyed it were just... stopping. The Groverians didn't want to fight anymore, or at least wanted to be able to do something other than fight. Peace was coming to a land that had seemed to forget it existed.

And peace meant a safe place to raise children.

She had no memories of Griffonstone, and only vague ones of Ironpeak, the stronghold of the Iron Teeth, one of the Great Companies and the employer of her mother. She remembered a red dining hall, a training yard sprinkled with snow, and a stony tunnel back to Griffonstone, but that was it. She could barely remember her mother's face, and her father was just a voice to her. They'd sent her away when she was a baby, wanting her to grow up away from the poverty and violence of Groveria.

But now they wanted her back, even if it meant tearing up her life in Homestria, in her real home, the place where she hung her heart. Holly and Lofty were her parental figures more than the vague faces and faint voices from her memories, her clubmates in the CMC were her friends, and Homestria was where she dreamt her future lying. There was nothing like that for her in Groveria; no connections, no friendships, no dreams. If it weren't for whatever scrap of daughterly love had survived her parents' absence, or her aunts' disapproval, she would probably run away before they could take her; if her life was going to be torn up, she would at least have it be done on her terms, not those of some people she hadn't seen for over a decade and who'd barely sent her ten letters in that time.

Sadly, she was their daughter, and some of the love she bore them had survived. She wouldn't be able to just run away from them, run from the would-be murderers of her life in Homestria; she owed them more than that, even if it was just an explanation before she fled.

She snorted, shoving the letter back in her jacket, as she remembered her aunts' reaction to her plans. Holiday had tried to stop her, convince her that she and her parents could talk things out; Lofty had said that running without at least explaining things to her parents would be rude, and lead them to try to chase her down more vigorously besides. In the end, they'd extracted a promise from her that she would at least try to talk to her parents before trying to run away, though that hadn't stopped them from keeping an eye on her; Holiday watched her like a hawk, Lofty like a teacher.

Idly, she wondered whether she was glad or disappointed that Lofty had been the one to discover her plans with Diamond Tiara; Holiday would have stopped her, and while she wasn't a chicken, Diamond's plan seemed to be crossing the line between brave and stupid. She couldn't abandon the others, though, not when they were so close to danger; she could only hope that Captain Armor would be merciful, and that Diamond would keep her mouth shut for once so that he wouldn't stop being that way.

Something moved in the corner of her eye. A quick turn revealed it to only be Zephyr, reassuring and infuriating her in equal measure. She was glad it wasn't an animal or attacker, but she would've preferred to see any other one of Diamond's minions. It wasn't just that he was incompetent, annoying, and lame, he also tried to make her endure more of his un-awesomeness, saying that they should bond as fellow fans of Rainbow Dash.

(A few days ago, she'd told him that she would as soon as he started acting worthy of her. His stunned reaction made his continual attempts to wheedle her into spending time with him almost worth it. Almost.)

"What is it, Zephyr?" she snorted as he shuffled closer.

"Just couldn't sleep, that's all," he replied, his voice the annoying, quieter, fake-humble one he'd adopted on their fool's errand. "I thought maybe walking a bit would help me relax."

"Don't strain yourself," she replied, rolling her eyes. "We have a lot of walking to do tomorrow, and I'm not carrying your pack because you're too tired."

"Don't worry," he said. "I know my limits." He shuffled a few steps forward, into a patch of starlight, and then paused, looking up at the sky. Scootaloo, meanwhile, continued her patrol, quick-stepping in an attempt to get as far away from the loser as fast as she could.

Sadly, she wasn't fast enough, Zephyr's voice catching her before she could slip away. Groaning, she turned back to him and snapped, "What is it, Breeze?"

"Have you heard the story of the Rainbow Dash, Scootaloo?" he asked.

"Of course," she replied, careful not to let her joy at talking about her idol distract her from who she was talking with. "Aunt Lofty told it to me, it was awesome. Rainbow's parents made a good choice naming her after her."

"Yes," he cleared his throat. "she does fit the legend well, doesn't she? Brave, loyal, determined, she's almost Rainbow Dash come again. But, I wonder, were the others?"

Scootaloo raised a brow. "What others?"

"Multicolored hair like her's isn't that rare," he replied. "and they don't need all six colors; according to some, the original Rainbow Dash only had the Cloudsdale three, red, gold, and blue. The odds of a girl with three or more hair colors aren't that bad, and the story's popular, so it would make sense for there to be more Rainbow Dashes than just her. But did those other Rainbow Dashes live up to their name? She soars; did they stall?"

"Does it matter?" she frowned. "She's awesome either way."

"What use is the story of Rainbow Dash if the others aren't awesome?" he asked. "What if they learn the story behind their name, try to live up to it, and fail? What good is a story if it's a lie?"

"It can pass the time," Scootaloo hesitantly answered, though she didn't think that was what Zephyr was looking for. "Give you something fun to do."

"But what if you want something more than that?" Zephyr pressed. "What if you want something more than just entertainment? What if you want instruction, inspiration? What if you want something to tell you how you should live outside of the story? What if you want a story with a hero who teaches you how to be a hero? If the story of Rainbow Dash doesn't teach you how to be Rainbow Dash, why bother telling it at all? All it'll do is lead you over a cliff, flapping your arms and trying to fly."

"Unless you know that it's just a story," Scootaloo retorted. "You can't believe everything you hear in stories, Zephyr, even you should know that."

"Do you think I don't?" he asked, voice quavering. "Do you think I don't know that stories are a lie? I stopped believing in them a long time ago, when I chased one off a cliff. I tried to be Fylakundu, a hero, until my mother showed me that I was chasing a myth, trying to be a lie. All I wanted to be was a lie. My hopes and dreams were all based on lies. I listened to the story of Fylakundu, and it almost destroyed me. What good is a story that does that to a child?"

He snorted. "You know the old saying, 'Stories don't tell children that dragons exist; stories tell them that dragons can be slain?' It's wrong. Stories don't tell children that dragons exist; they tell them that heroes and heroism exist. They tell them that anyone, if they're brave, true, and pure of heart, can be a hero. And they lie. Stories don't show you the path to becoming a hero; they show you what to do to get out of the real heroes' way."

Scootaloo took a step back, stunned by how bitter Zephyr sounded.

She was even more stunned when he continued, saying, "You know, I don't actually have a crush on Rainbow."

"What?" she gasped. "But you've been chasing after her for years! You bug her about going out with you whenever you run into her!"

"I don't have a crush on her," he replied. "I have a crush on the idea of her. She's a hero, Scootaloo, and I need a hero, someone to tell me what to..." He bit his tongue before he could finish the thought. "I don't chase her because I have a crush on her, Scootaloo; personally, she's more of a sister to me. But, more than that, she's someone who knows what she's doing, a hero, and I... I want that more than you could ever know. I bug her, as you so brilliantly put it, to try to provoke a reaction from her, whether that's telling me to go away, to darken her doorstep no more, or accepting my requests. I would be glad to receive either, at this point; if she were to tell me, in no uncertain terms, to leave her alone, I would cast myself away, however far she wished, and if she were to work with me..."

He shivered, before sighing, "Sadly, it looks like sister trained her well, and she neither breaks nor takes my heart. I can't trust that her rejections are total, and I dare not risk annoying her by sending myself away when she might still, in some capacity, want me around. I need her to make her choice and tell me what to do. And, of course," he darkly chuckled. "I'm too stupid and cowardly to tell her as much. Ironic, isn't it? I need to tell the hero what I need them to do, but I need them to ask before I can tell them, and they don't know that there's a question to ask at all."

"Wait a minute," Scootaloo frowned. "If you really think that, then why do you act like you're as awesome as her?"

He sighed, then flashed her a wide, fake smile. "If you repeat something enough times," he said. "it becomes true, doesn't it? If I act like I'm worthy of Rainbow, maybe one day it'll stop being an act. Doing so doesn't hurt anyone aside from me, so why not? Vain, desperate hopes like this always work in the stories, after all. Maybe this time, they'll actually prove true. And if not," he shrugged. "so what if others hate me? I won't be worthy of their love, anyway. Why should I be angry at receiving my due?"

Scootaloo could only gape at his words, turning her world upside-down just like her parents' letter had. The person she'd thought was full of himself actually thought of himself as empty, the overbearing ego he showed the world only a mask over the abyss within. Her heart sank into her stomach; she, her clubmates, the rest of CHS, had all treated Zephyr like his ego was an overinflated balloon they needed to pop, their words of disappointment, anger, and scorn the pins they used to do so. But if what he said was true, and she very much believed it was, that ego was really paper-thin, and the heart behind it already red and raw. And they'd pierced it, with words sharper than any sword, and made it bleed.

"Thank you for listening, Scootaloo," Zephyr smiled, a soft, wan, true one this time. "It feels good to get that off my chest. One good turn deserves another, I'd say: do you think you could help me help you with your letter?"

She tensed, hand going to the pocket where the letter lay. "How did you know about that?" she hissed.

"I'm stupid, not blind," he chuckled. "I don't know what it says, don't worry, I only know that it exists and that it's troubling you. As for how I know that, I'm Fluttershy's sibling, I learned the art of observation from the master. "It's amazing," she told me once, "the things you learn just being quiet, watching, and listening," and she's right; I've managed to pick up a thing or two about our little party, and if I can do something it has to be good. So, do you think I can help you with it, or would I be able to do more good simply staying away?"

She was tempted to ask him if he knew anywhere she could lie low, somewhere she could hide and simply wait for her parents to stop trying to take her away.

Just like Zephyr was waiting for Rainbow Dash to tell him to go away.

She shook her head; Aunt Lofty was right, trying to run away from her problems wouldn't solve them. If she wanted them to stop, she needed to face them, stare them down.

"Fair enough," Zephyr shrugged. "Good luck with whatever it is. And don't worry, I won't tell anyone: I know how to keep a secret, believe it or not. Good night, Scootaloo, and have a safe rest of your watch."

"Wait," she blurted out as he turned to leave. "Do you-do you want to tell the others what-what you told me?"

"No," he shook his head. "And I'd prefer you not to, either. If they learn, they might try to help me, fix something broken beyond repair. We can't waste so much time. If they ask, clearly and definitively, I'll tell them, but until then I want it kept quiet. I don't want to distract them from what's important."

Wordlessly, stunned by the self-contempt in his words, Scootaloo nodded, and watched Zephyr return to his tent.

A crow cawed behind her, snapping her back to attention. Biting her lip, she returned to her watch, mind roiling as it thought over what Zephyr had said. He'd sounded so bitter, so scornful of himself, that she had no doubt that he'd spoken the truth, but that truth, the sheer self-hatred Zephyr had shown her-

She jumped as a hand grabbed her shoulder, whipping around to see a concerned-looking Silver Spoon. "Are you okay, Scootaloo?" she asked. "You were kinda staring into the middle distance for a bit there."

"I'm fine," she quickly replied, wiping her forehead. "Just-was just doing a bit of thinking."

"You sure?" Silver Spoon frowned. "You look like you saw a ghost."

"I won't be worthy of their love, anyway."

She looked thoughtfully at Zephyr's tent. "Maybe I did."

What passed for morning in the Midnightwood came and they pressed on again.

Their path sloped down, gradually revealing itself to be a gulley, one that led into a closed valley. Two other crevices ran out of it, one sloping up south-east, the other climbing almost directly due north. The valley itself was small, dominated by a small stand of stones in the center, fog haunting the corners.

"What is this?" Diamond murmured, walking cautiously over to the monument.

"A waystone, Miss Tiara," Zephyr replied. "The Nocturnes use them as markers along paths, letting travelers know how far it is until they reach their destination as well as whose lands they're passing through."

"Really?" Silver raised a brow. "How do you know that?"

"I'm a quarter Nocturne," he smiled back. "Our grandmother was one, from the Umber Caves. She used to visit me and my sister, when she was alive. She taught us a lot about our heritage, including about waystones."

"Can you read it?" Diamond jerked her head at the pillar. "A guide would be really helpful right about now, the signal's too unstable for me to use my phone's map."

"I don't know," Zephyr hesitated. "I-I don't remember all the runes, but I think I can try." He shuffled over to the waystone, brushed his hand against it-

-and jumped back as a harsh voice hissed from above, "Don't move."