It’s dark. And…I’m floating. Scootaloo opened her eyes and looked around. There were loose, pillar-like, small crystals about the size of her hoof hovering in place. The place she was in appeared to be space, as if she had grown tremendously, except there were no stars, and instead of planets, those same crystals were levitating in place, giving off a whitish-blue light. Closer inspection reveals a bright yellow alicorn, with a red mane. Her cutie mark was a closed eye with green mist swirling around it and what looked like a hoof bone behind it all. The yellow alicorn’s name was Still Born, a name she had given herself. She was tall, almost as tall as Princess Celestia, and she was floating next to the crystal nearest Scootaloo.
“Oh great, I’m here again,” Scootaloo groaned. “I guess that means I’m dead.”
“Very astute,” the alicorn said cheerfully.
“What does astute mean anyway? I wish Applebloom and Sweetie Belle were here.”
“How many times have you said that, I wonder?” Still Born chimes in.
“Probably a lot, thanks to you,” Scootaloo bit back.
“Would you prefer to stay dead? I could, you know, stop resurrecting you if that’s what you want,” Still Born mocks, but with no malicious intent.
“…No,” Scootaloo sighed.
“Well, then, it’s all good.”
Scootaloo glared at her. It was not all good, and she knew it. But what she said was, “Hey, you haven’t told me what’s up with you. How long have we been at this now? A hundred years or so? Spill the beans.”
“Hmm, alright, what do you want to know?” asked Still Born.
“Well, what’s your story? How’d you get here? How’d you die? I thought ponies had discovered enough healing magic to make sure stillborns don’t happen anymore.” Scootaloo was out of breath when she was finished with her questions. With a resigned look on her face, Still Born sat—as much as one could sit when she was floating—and her story began to unfold.
“A while ago—at least, as I view time—this was before Celestia or Luna began to rule—or were even born.”
“Whoa, really?” gasped Scootaloo, her face flushed with excitement, but turned a deeper shade of red when Still Born gave her a stern look.
“*ahem* as I was saying,” She started again. Scootaloo blushed even deeper, and Still Born held back a snicker.
“I am—was,” She corrected herself through gritted teeth, her good mood gone, “Part of the Canterlot Royal Family that ruled Equestria. I was going to be the eldest princess, child of the king and queen, sister to Celestia and Luna. My mother was expected to give birth to me one day.
However, as the day of my soon-to-be birth wore on, and my mother hadn’t gone into labor, it was believed—by doctors who knew nothing in that age—that I would be born the next day. With that in mind, my mother sent away the midwives who had been attending to her all day and retired to her bedchamber for the night. At about five-thirty seven in the morning, with the midwives gone and my father on a diplomatic trip to confirm Ponyville’s Royal Charter for self-governance, my mother went into labor. Tossing and turning in her bed, she bumped and smashed against the floor and walls—damaging the fetus in her attempts to get up. The bedchamber was seated high in the castle, and any servants or guards who would have normally walked the halls were asleep or walking different hallways, ignorantly forgetting to walk where they were most needed. My mother screamed for help, but none came. With no midwives, and no magic to ease the birthing process or heal her, the foal was born still, locked in an eternal sleep.
After I died, I became a spirit, thrown into this world between worlds, able to utilize my magic, wings and a wealth of other powers as well as all the knowledge my kind ever had. I at first couldn’t interact with the other world, the living one, so I started to look deep into the recesses of my mind, at the archives where the discoveries of my people were stored. After centuries of searching, and countless spells casted, I was able to interact with the world of the living, if not materialize myself directly in it. At first, I couldn’t do much other than lift a pot here, or open a door there, but I did my best to help other ponies with whatever I could.
I saw living ponies with a spark above their heads, the brighter the spark, the more sway that particular pony would have over events to come, sometimes even things as powerful as natural disasters. As time progressed, I could use my powers more frequently, but I still worked very rarely, only enough for coincidence to be blamed, so that any suspicion wouldn’t be raised. After all, I didn’t want to ponies to know; it might scare them to know they’re being assisted with a deceased deity. One day, I saw an orange pony trotting along to school; her spark was bright, brighter than any other pony.”
“And that pony was me, right?” beamed Scootaloo.
The yellow alicorn smiled, a deep smile that Scootaloo with warmth.
“Indeed it was. I predicted that many great things would follow in your wake.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t know if I would call it ‘great’, considering my track record,” Scootaloo said bitterly.
“Hmm, well, perhaps not, but I doubt that at your age anything great would happen. Most ponies only start to affect the world after they’ve matured. At your age, I would guess that whatever makes you able to manipulate events may draw events to you in turn.”
“Alright, I guess that makes sense. Kinda deep, though. But why do you even want me? What do you want me to do?” asked Scootaloo.
“Well, in this world, I am not truly at rest. I know of a spell, one that should help me pass on, but it is locked in the Canterlot Royal Archives, and it’s not the most…approved of…” Still Born trailed off at these words.
“You mean Black Magic?” burst out Scootaloo.
“No! At least, I don’t think it is. The Canterlot Royal Archives have been magically shielded since time immemorial, but I doubt Princess Celestia would have that sort of thing in there.” Still Born half pouted, putting her hoof up to her chin in thought. Overall, it looked rather childish, coming from her.
“Ha, you look like a little filly with that face,” Laughed Scootaloo, falling—well, rolling over on all fours.
“Hmph!” Still Born pouted even further, which really didn’t help her image in the slightest.
Scootaloo eventually stopped laughing, but only because she had started to wheeze.
“Gahahaha *cough* hahaha, ow, ok, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, but you just looked so cute,” Scootaloo gasped as she fought to catch her breath.
“Yes…well,” Still Born said, looking slightly mollified. “Now that I’ve explained the situation to you again, shall we start the preparations?”
Scootaloo righted herself, eager to get back home and hopefully fix all this.
“Yes Ma’am!”
“All right then, hold still. I’ll send you back out there. Here goes,” Still Born said, lowering her horn, which was bright red with a magical aura, to Scootaloos’ forehead. A sudden flash of light, and all Scootaloo saw was darkness.
Ladders, Shingles, Bravery Juice and Old Mares
A breeze floated through Cloudsdale, rippling and arcing up and down as new gusts of wind pushed it. After a while, the breeze floated down, down, down to Ponyville, straight at its center—the market center. Once down there, and with no thermal draft to push it, it simply meandered wherever some passing pony would push it, and there were a lot of passing ponies in the market at high noon. Guided around, this way and that by unknowing ponies, the gust eventually blew over away from the market center and into an alley. With a small pop! A bright orange appeared on top of a dumpster. And not just an orange, an orange Pegasus. And not just an orange Pegasus, an orange Pegasus foal. And not just an orange Pegasus foal, an orange Pegasus filly foal. Yeah, it was an orange Pegasus filly foal. The filly also had a deep purple mane and tail, which was being used desperately to not fall off from her precarious perch on the dumpster. A few seconds of this, and Scootaloo found herself falling off the dumpster and onto the ground with a soft thump. Scootaloo picked herself up, muttering under her breath.
“A dumpster. It’s always a dumpster. What’s so great about dumpsters? Just once, why can’t I be teleported back at the clubhouse?”
Morosely, Scootaloo wandered about for a few minutes, before discovering that the market center was close by. With a determined air, or as determined as one can look when covered with dirt and garbage, she set off, not for the market, but along one of the roads leading into the residential district. While walking, she saw an acquaintance: Ruby Pinch, standing outside her house, holding a ladder propped against it steady. Closer inspection yielded Berry Punch standing at the top of the ladder, shuddering slightly, a hammer in one hoof and a bunch of nails in the other. She appeared to be fixing a loose shingle.
“Hey, Ruby,” Scootaloo called out. “What’re you doing?”
“Oh, hi, Scootaloo,” Ruby said, turning slightly, so as to both look at Scootaloo and hold the ladder steady. “I’m holding the ladder while my mommy fixes the roof.”
Scootaloo first looked up at Berry Punch, then down again to Ruby. “Why doesn’t she just hire a carpenter pony?”
“Mommy says all the carpenter ponies are dumb and don’t know what they’re doing.” Ruby responded brightly.
“Okay, but why is Berry doing it? Isn’t your mom afraid of heights?”
“Oh, yeah, she is, but after having some of her special berry juice, Mommy said she would fix the roof. Good thing too, it was starting to leak when it rained,” Ruby laughed.
Scootaloo would have responded by telling Ruby there were other ponies who could do the job for Berry, but at this point a voice moaned through the two fillies’ conversation, accompanied by the ladder shuddering quite visibly.
“Rubyyyyyyyy,” Berry Punch whined. “Go get some of mommy’s bravery juice, okayyyyy?”
“Oh, sure thing, mommy! But will you be okay while I’m gone?” Ruby asked, worry in her eyes.
“Uhhh, I’ll be fine, sweetie,” Berry said, right before the ladder shook when Ruby took her hooves off it. “Oh…maybe not. I’m coming down now.”
“Well, I’d love to stay and chat, but I have, uh, something to do. Catch you later okay Ruby?” Scootaloo said to Ruby as she retreated into ‘Mommy’s Special Fridge’. To Scootaloo’s left, Berry began her slow and shaky descent from the ladder, punctuated by Berry stopping every two rungs and making what sounded like a dull squeak each time. Sighing a little, Scootaloo continued on her way, her hooves directing to her destination with minds of their own. She stopped walking ten minutes later, having arrived at the Ponyville library. She reached up to knock, stopped, started again, and stopped again.
Should I really start here, again? Thought Scootaloo. How many times have I started it like this? How many times has it ended like this? I don’t even want to think about the one time Twilight thought she had a spell that would fix everything. Scootaloo shuddered as she remembered that awful time Twilight thought the answer lay in teleporting Scootaloo into a pocket dimension. Still Born had almost not been able to bring her back then. But it didn’t hurt to try. No, wait, it did. It was awful. So why did I do it twice? Scootaloo thought to herself, but got no answer, other than a small part of her brain telling her it was fun. But she pushed that thought aside. There was no way that was fun. Okay, maybe a little.
Sighing to herself, Scootaloo decided to go to Twilight’s house tomorrow. Turning around, she prepared to break out into a brisk trot, hoping to be gone before Twilight noticed she was there. Fate, however, had different plans.
“Hi, Scootaloo!” a certain lavender mare called out as she cantered over to where Scootaloo was. It seemed as though Twilight was coming from the market. Sure enough, the unicorn’s saddlebags were loaded down with food, mostly fruits and vegetables. Oddly enough, there was a lone loaf of bread sticking out of the assorted foodstuffs, which was odd, because Scootaloo was sure Twilight had a strange phobia of bread. Something about getting lost in a bakery as a filly. Scootaloo shook her head and sighed once more. I gotta stop sighing, Scootaloo thought. I sound like an old mare. Actually, aren’t I an old mare? I am a hundred years old after all. Oh no, I’m old! I’m too young to be old! Walking up to Twilight, Scootaloo prepared herself for the usual dose of mothering Twilight was wont to give.
“Scootaloo, are you alright? How was your day? I saw Applebloom and Sweetie Belle, but they said they hadn’t seen you anywhere. I asked Rainbow Dash if you were with her, but she hadn’t seen you either and I getting worried, and oh, oh, I’m just so glad you’re safe!” Twilight wrapped Scootaloo in a very awkward hug. Wincing, Scootaloo broke off the hug.
“Twilight, I’m fine. I was, uh, with Zecora harvesting herbs in the Everfree. Nothing to worry about, really.” Scootaloo plastered her very best winning smile on her face, which, coupled with her bad lie, just made her look all the more guilty.
“Oh, well, don’t wander around looking for Zecora’s hut by yourself! Next time, get Rainbow or one of us to lead you there. It’s dangerous to go out alone!” To Twilight this was something that was very important, but to Scootaloo, eh. She had heard this speech for decades. It was no big deal, just annoying. Groaning internally, Scootaloo tried to look apologetic and feel it at the same time. After all, Twilight was just trying to help. She shouldn’t feel ungrateful for the sentiment. But it was grating getting into trouble for something she actually hadn’t done for once.
“Sorry, Twilight, I just really wanted my cutie mark. I’ll do better next time.” Scootaloo looked up with puppy dog eyes. There, that should do the trick. Twilight’s a sucker for these.
“Oh, uh, well, just don’t do it again,” Twilight finished rather lamely. “Well, I should be getting home now, I just wanted to—hey! Are you shivering? How thoughtless of me! Why don’t you stay the night here?” Ignoring Scootaloo’s half-baked objections, Twilight opened the door and ushered Scootaloo into the library.
“But my parents, they’ll be worried for me,” Scootaloo blurted out, running out of ideas.
“Oh, don’t you worry, I’ve thought of that. Spike!” Twilight called. “Are you still up?” A low groan floats down the stairs.
“Ugh, I am now,” A very sleepy-looking Spike said as he poked his head over the second floor railing. “What do you want?”
“I need you to write a letter asking if Scootaloo can stay the night,” Announced Twilight in her best lecture voice. “And after that, I’ll need you to prepare the guest bedroom.”
“We have a guest bedroom?”
“Of course we do, it’s on the fourth floor.” Twilight looked at him as if he were crazy.
“Twilight, we don’t have a fourth floor. I’m not even sure if we have a third floor!”
“Oh silly, fine. I’ll sort out the guest room, for now just contact Scootaloo parents, ok?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah…” Is Spike’s only answer.
“That dragon can be so silly at times,” Explained Twilight, a goofy grin on her face. “Come on, let’s have some tea while we wait for him to get back. Oh, wait, no, you don’t like tea, do you? My mistake. I’ll get you some hot chocolate. Be right back.”
“Oh, ok, I’ll just take a seat here then.” Scootaloo examined each cushion to determine which one was the cushiest, and finding her prize, she happily pounced down on it. After looking up from her seat, she saw it was directly across from Twilight’s preferred cushion. Did she put this cushion here on purpose? Nah.
“Hey, Twilight!” Called Spike. “I got Scootaloo’s parent’s letter. They say it’s alright, and they tell Scootaloo to stay safe.”
Scootaloo laughed internally as she pondered the irony of that last sentiment.
“Ohhh, good, good!” Said Twilight, bounding around the corner with two mugs wrapped in her magical grip, a glow of power around the mugs and her horn. “And I’ll show you upstairs.” Grumbling that she had to got to sleep already, Scootaloo reluctantly got up and followed Twilight up one, two, and then three flights of stairs. Soon, they were standing right outside of the guest bedroom. Scootaloo was aghast at the fact that she had never explored these extra floors of Twilight’s house. Perhaps there was some spell in here to fix this never-ending loop. All she had to do was wait until—
“Hey! Are you ready to have some fun!?” Twilight nudged Scootaloo, shaking her train of thought.
Oh yeah, thought Scootaloo. I still have to deal with Twilight. Sighing, Scootaloo prepared herself for another couple of hours under Twilight’s watchful gaze. Before long, however, the older mare’s eyes began to droop.
“Uh, uhm, Scootaloo, I think I’m going to bed,” Twilight mumbled, shuffling off to her room downstairs. “I left the room settled, so you can just hop in bed anytime now. It wouldn’t do to have your parents yell at me because you were up too late.” Twilight shambled out of the room before sticking her head back in one more time, a look of great urgency painted on her face. “Oh, yeah, bathroom’s down the hall, second on your left.”
“Thanks Twilight,” said a perplexed Scootaloo. Waiting until the last sound of Twilight’s hoofsteps receded down the stairs, Scootaloo looked around the room for something to kill time with. After all, Twilight wouldn’t fall asleep automatically, and Scootaloo didn’t want to risk sleep herself. Spotting a book on the shelf (Honestly, what else was there?) and noticing Daring Do on the cover, she picked it up and began to read. And now, thought Scootaloo, we play the waiting game.
