Chapter Five
“Princess Twilight! It’s so nice to have you here!” squealed the nurse, spinning her chair around to face Twilight and Trixie. The ponies in the waiting room all seemed to come alive at the sight of the princess swaying into their (presumably) grim situations, a smile on her face and a wizard under one wing. The room itself, sterile white with mass-produced cushioned benches and unliving plants in soilless pots, seemed to rouse at the vivifying air of Twilight’s arrival. Trixie didn’t notice.
“You don’t have to call me ‘princess’, Nurse Redheart,” Twilight strode up to the desk, sweetly shaking her head at the mare, who beamed at the sound of her name escaping a princess’s lips. “Trixie and I are just here to see Scootaloo,” explained Twilight. “She’s a pegasus filly, and-”
“I know who she is, she came in early this morning,” Nurse Redheart kicked one hoof off the linoleum floor and her chair slid over to a short filing cabinet, several manila folders resting atop it. She pulled one from the pile and flipped through it, intermittently glancing up at Twilight, and said, “She came in at the start of my shift, in fact. Here it is--she’s in room three-fourteen.”
“Thank you,” said Twilight, the two mares smiling at each other as she turned toward the staircase. Ponyville, being primarily composed of earth ponies, didn’t have many of the magic generators that allowed Unicorn cities such amenities as elevators (something Trixie wouldn’t allow Twilight to forget), so even the relatively advanced Ponyville Hospital still only used staircases. Stepping toward the stairs in question, Twilight jerked to a stop, feeling her stallion’s hoof latched onto her foreleg. “Oh, and--Nurse Redheart?”
“Yes, Twilight?” she chirped, turning back toward the two.
“We need a physician to look at Trixie’s knees, please,” Twilight asked, trying to sound nonchalant. “A, um… a unicorn would be preferable,” said Twilight, her voice a little quieter. It wasn’t such a strange request, but it still made Twilight a little uncomfortable. It wasn’t like Trixie would ask; she always had to speak for him in situations like this.
“Of course, Twilight. Doctor Ametrine will be making his rounds on the third floor in…” Nurse Redheart leaned forward and squinted over at a hanging clock. “Twenty minutes. He’ll take a look at Trixie,” she said, not noticing Twilight’s bemusement at the response, or Trixie’s little scowl.
“Is he an Orthopedist? And isn’t there some paperwork that I- Trixie should fill out?”
“It’s fine, Twilight. If any forms need to be filled out, he’ll give them to you,” Redheart explained, trying to soothe the princess but with some condescension in her tone. Twilight had lived in Ponyville for nearly three years, and the earth ponies still treated her like a filly who had never left Canterlot. She couldn’t stand it when they did that, but she did a good job of hiding it. At least she could talk to Trixie about it.
“Oh, well… Alright, thank you,”Twilight smiled and walked toward the door to the staircase, Trixie in tow. It could’ve been worse, she thought, Nurse Redheart could have been offended when Twilight asked for a unicorn specifically. Trixie stepped forward to open the door for Twilight, and she gave him a quick nuzzle as she stepped through. Earth ponies, generally, didn’t seem to care that unicorns sometimes had a preference for other unicorns, so maybe it was silly of her to worry about how the nurse would react. Pegasus ponies, on the other hoof, were notoriously sensitive when it came to that sort of thing, and regarded unicorns as clannish and conniving at worst. Trixie, a well known subscriber to fringe theories and other unpopular beliefs, would often tell Twilight that pegasus ponies all suffered from a cultural inferiority complex which caused them to overcompensate in the face of the ‘superior’ Unicorn civilization.
“You’d think with the so-called cultural exchange of Ponyville, the rudiments of book keeping wouldn’t be so difficult for them to grasp,” Trixie said, in such a tone as to draw the ire of Twilight if she weren’t distracted in thought. After a quick trot two stories up the especially spacious staircase, the two unicorns glided through a set of double doors. They were greeted by the gleaming of Earth Ponies sat on benches and others laying. What were obviously long, dark periods of dormancy (awaiting verdicts darker still) had just been happily broken, if even for a moment, by the light of the Princess. Trixie was unmoved, and Twilight did her best to smile as they trotted past, looking over the sorry bunch.
Twilight wasn’t really sure how she felt about the fame that came with her wings, but seeing how some ponies transformed when they saw her was both fascinating and frightening. Trixie always enjoyed some celebrity among the ponies of the known world due to his various acts and antics (despite his numerous reprehensible actions); so for a long time after her coronation, whenever it came to situations like this, Twilight would try to emulate him and react the way he would--which mainly consisted of lock-stepping by whatever assemblage of Ponies stood about looking, and pointedly avoiding their gaze in the most noble display of austere Unicorn dignity. This resonated with Unicorns and most Pegasuses, and generally worked out well, for a time, because Twilight was--like her special somepony-- socially crippled and unable to gauge the effects of any given display in any meaningful capacity. It wasn’t until Applejack pointed out the conceit of such behavior did Twilight begin to, as she put it, be herself when it came to her new fame.
After turning left twice, right once, doubling back, turning right twice and asking for directions from a nurse, Twilight and Trixie came upon Scootaloo’s room. Trixie was getting awfully nervous about this time and Twilight, taking notice, nuzzled him reassuringly. She thought something of it when he didn’t calm down. They opened the door, opposite the window, and saw Rainbow Dash and Scootaloo in an embrace sitting on a couch in front of the window. They were silhouetted by the rising sun. Trixie was surprised. On the hospital bed was a stallion sized pony, completely covered and obscured by a white sheet. Trixie took two steps and stood there, his face like a slab of stone, while Twilight rushed up to Rainbow Dash and the crying filly in her arms. Twilight looked once at the bed, and then back at the pair.
“What’s happened?” Twilight muttered to Rainbow, whose own eyes were tender.
“Scootaloo’s Dad died last night,” Rainbow replied in a gravelly voice, and Scootaloo wailed at the words. Rainbow held her tighter.
Trixie was slowly stepping toward the corpse. Twilight looked down at the crying filly and frowned sadly, then looked back at her friend as if to ask, How?
“The Doctor said they found, um, they… He was drunk and passed out in the road,” Rainbow said, her voice a little quieter toward the end of the sentence. “And it was so rainy last night that a… this pony with a wagon couldn’t see him laying there and a wheel ran over his head.”
Trixie removed the shroud covering Night Gliders face and found a fleshy lump of purple and dark red, with a single eye staring back at him. He placed the shroud back over the corpse and exited the room.
“Hey Scootaloo,” Rainbow said to the filly, who raised her teary face from Rainbow’s chest. Scootaloo silently hiccuped What? And Rainbow continued, “How about you go and talk to Trixie for a little bit?” She nodded toward the closing door. “Have him take you to get some breakfast.”
After the filly walked out, Twilight and Rainbow exchanged fearful looks and the Princess sat down on the couch beside her friend.
Trixie and Scootaloo were sat in the modest cafeteria, on the same side of an upholstered booth--Earth Ponies were fond of upholstery and booths--and neither looked particularly animated, even given the circumstances. Scootaloo was pushing around some macaroni on her plate, and was pressed up against Trixie (who hadn’t gotten anything to eat). It had been quite some time since their last candid interaction, but Scootaloo seemed to act as familiar with him as ever--though a little less emotional than with Rainbow Dash. She had always seen herself as being similar to Trixie, in that they both led sort of unconventional lives. And hard lives. Trixie once taught her that it’s something to be proud of, to live in harsh places and suffer, because it made them stronger.
Trixie was himself still shaken, and this was evident in the fact that he’d still not emoted even minutely. Only that dumb look plastered on his face, as if he saw something over your shoulder and couldn’t quite understand it. Scootaloo didn’t seem to notice, and was herself at a loss for how to feel.
“Trixie…” Scootaloo began, dropping her fork on the plate and looking over at the Stallion. “I don’t…” She looked back down at her hooves. “I don’t know what’s going to happen. I’m scared. What if they send me up to one of those live-in academies in Cloudsdale? I can’t even fly-”
“I don’t think that’s going to happen, Scootaloo,” Trixie interrupted. “You’ve lived in Ponyville for five years, they’ll send you to the workhouse.” Scootaloo whined and tears started to well up in her eyes as she pressed harder against Trixie, who quickly realized his error. “I mean the orphanage, not wo-” Scootaloo started to cry and embraced him. Trixie grabbed his cloak with one hoof and wrapped it around the filly, looking around to see how many would catch him in the midst of sentimentality. “Listen, Scootaloo: no matter what happens, in the end it’s all up to you. If you don’t want something to happen, then don’t let it happen. It’s your life.”
Scootaloo raised head and looked at him with red, wet eyes. “What do you mean? How can I change any of this? It’s not like I can just…” She said, and shook her head before pressing her face back into Trixie’s chest.
“I know it might seem like… Scootaloo, let me tell you a story,” said Trixie and the filly once again raised her head and looked at him.
Trixie began his story, “You remember what I’ve told you about the ancient Unicorns, before Equestria was founded--before we even came to the continent; how we used to live in little villages in the scrubby desert hills of our old island. Well, back then, Unicorns couldn’t practice magic. Not like we do now, anyway. See, back then, Unicorns worshipped a god who was called Ulaam in oldest tongues, and casting a spell was essentially just asking Ulaam to do something for you, to intervene in the mundane world. He was the god of magic, and the only god Unicorns ever worshipped. He was an indifferent god, and most times cruel to those who got his attention, even with good intentions. For these reasons, Unicorns not in his priesthood only called him ‘God’.
Now, there was a Unicorn colt named Israch, or Yisrach, who was the scion of an affluent family of farmers and merchants. This was back when all Unicorns had names like mine, mind you. He had a mother, a father, and ten sisters. They all lived happily on their ancestral farmland. But one day after Israch’s fifteenth birthday, a violent wind came from the sea and wiped out all the crops, and killed all their servants and animals. This didn’t sit well with Israch, who was an angry young colt and had always considered himself to be very brave--so he left his weeping family and ascended the mountain called Qorgoth, which was near to his home, and thought to commune with Ulaam and have him undo the storm’s damage. But he was afraid to see the face of God, and faltered.
Then, Israch and his family travelled to the nearby village of Qorgothun, and lived there while they rebuilt their estate with their ancestors’ saved wealth. Israch became happy again, because he’d made many friends while they lived in Qorgothun. But, one year and one day after the storm wiped out their farm, a warband descended on the village and razed it to the ground, killing Israch’s father and all of his friends and… killing his mother and sisters as well. Israch, however, being young and strong, was spared. The leader of the warband, who’s face Israch never forgot, took him as a slave and sold him to a violent farmer of lesser birth and prosperity than Israch’s father, and who lived in jealousy of Israch’s father. Israch, in addition to humiliating labor in the fields, suffered beatings at the hooves of the farmer every day. Two months later, while tending the farmer’s sheep on the side of another mountain, this one called Wsroth, Israch ascended the summit and thought again to commune with Ulaam--but again he felt fear at the prospect at seeing the face of God, and again faltered.
After two years and one day of laboring in the fields, the farmer died, and Israch stole away into the desert. Now, this wasn’t like the deserts you hear about in stories from Saddle Arabia. It was barren and hot, yes; but the sun never shone. The sand was as black as the most fertile soil, but no plants could take root, and animals were hateful to it. The heat wasn’t dry like in other deserts, no, it was as humid as the deepest swamps and marshlands, but with no water or rain to give you succor. Nopony would willingly subject themselves to wandering this desert, which had no name, save only the holiest priests of Ulaam. Because… for all its horrors and agonies, this desert was a very holy place for Unicorns.
After three years and one day of wandering the desert, Israch was beset upon by three starving lions, who stalked him up the summit of another great mountain of the dead island, and this mountain was called Dagemnon. At the peak of the mountain, and surrounded on all sides by the hungry lions, Israch peered up at the stars of the night sky, and thought to call upon God, but was again afraid and faltered. Then, though the sky was clear, there was a thunderclap so loud and frightful it drove Israch and the lions into unconsciousness. Then, after three days, Israch awoke to find himself in shackles and again in the possession of the warlord who had slain his family and friends, clothed in the furs of the three lions. Israch was so emotional at the sight, his anger so great, he commanded Ulaam to destroy the warlord in the tongue of the heavens, and the warlord burst into flames and died screaming. Israch was so incensed and amazed that he again used Ulaam’s name, this time to destroy all the warlord’s soldiers. And, right then, a tempest exactly like that which had destroyed Israch’s ancestral farm descended on the encampment, and wiped out the warband--leaving only Israch unscathed. In the midst of the storm, Israch began to swear and curse and rage against the heavens for the suffering he had endured, and finally he demanded Ulaam tell him why it was only then he had the power to stop it all.
Then the sky cracked open, and Israch saw the face of God--and Ulaam said to Israch, ‘What thy hoof has wrought is thine.’ Then the storm ended, and Israch saw the desolation that had befallen those who had wronged him, and he knew the heart of Ulaam.
Israch went on to become a great magus, and the first archmage; and one day after his four-hundredth birthday, a son was born to him named Ulaamun Lisrach--which means ‘the heart of Ulaam, son of Israch’. Ulaamun went on to become a magus himself, and the first king of the Unicorns.”
Scootaloo’s eyes were dry, but it was still easy enough to see where the tears had run down her face. Trixie did his best to discern whether or not she understood the meaning of the story, but decided to err on the side of caution and tell her straight out, “The moral of the story is that you have to fight back, Scootaloo. When things just keep getting worse, the Earth Ponies see it as a sign that they should give up and try something else--but that’s when you have to fight harder. And when things seem to be at their worst, and you’re at your lowest, that’s when you have to fight harder than ever before. Israch always had the power to stop his own suffering, but he was too afraid to fight back, so things only got worse for him until he did. You have to fight to get your own way, or things will just get worse for you.”
Scootaloo sat there silent for a little while longer, with that inquisitive look she always wore when Trixie told her stories like this, and Trixie thought that even if she didn’t understand, at least she stopped crying for a little while. Then, her eyes livened up and she asked, “Why did the Unicorns stop worshipping that god?” and this surprised Trixie, who was silent himself for a few seconds.
“He died,” Trixie answered, and turned his head to see Twilight walking up to them with a smile.
“Hey, Scootaloo,” She began, stepping around to the filly’s side of the booth. “You’re going to be staying with Rainbow Dash until I can get in touch with Mayor Mare and get this all settled out. She’s waiting outside for you.”
Scootaloo looked up and, while not as happy Twilight would have thought, smiled and thanked her and hugged either unicorn before sidling out from the booth’s squeaky seat and running out of the cafeteria, toward the main entrance. Then Twilight, pushing Scootaloo’s plate toward the opposite end of the table, pressed up against Trixie and nuzzled him. “You know, the book of episteme says you shouldn’t tell non-unicorns those stories,” She said to him, just slightly serious.
“I know what it says,” replied Trixie.
“You didn’t tell her the name of the desert, did you?” asked Twilight.
“Of course not,” said Trixie.
“Good… What did you have to eat?” asked Twilight, looking around for whatever pony was meant to come take the plate.
“I wasn’t hungry,” replied Trixie, his voice still not as vivacious as it normally was, and Twilight looked at him.
“Trixie… When was the last time you ate?” she asked.
Trixie looked away, trying to disguise it as a sudden interest in the ceiling. “Breakfast yesterday.”
“Oh, Trixie-” Twilight began, in that tone between worry and exasperation that she would sometimes use. “Don’t you have a headache?”
Trixie’s eyes shifted to the floor, and he said, “Yes.” Twilight sighed and wrapped a hoof around his arm, but before she could speak he continued, “You have to order up at the counter there, they don’t come to the table-” just then, a mare who had been conversing with another pony behind the counter ever since Twilight entered the cafeteria walked up to the table.
“Hello, Princess, would you and your wizard like anything from our menu?”
After ordering, Trixie and Twilight spent only a few minutes waiting for their meals to arrive. Most of this time was spent with Twilight tenderly chastising Trixie for not taking better care of himself, punctuating it with an assurance that she loves him. Then, their food was carried to them, with Twilight having ordered an assortment of sweet flowers and pistils, and Trixie an Equestrianized version of a bitter flower sandwich on flatbread (gluten-free, of course) with dipping sauce, which had erstwhile been very popular in Prance. Twilight thanked the waitress, and they began eating.
“So, what’s going to happen with Scootaloo?” Trixie asked, dipping his sandwich.
“Well, she doesn’t have a mother--as you know--and any extended family she has lives too far away for Ponyville’s government to award any custodial rights. Besides, I’m not sure it would be best to send Scootaloo away from her friends… And, because of… Well, you know, her… disability.” Replied Twilight, watching Trixie get annoyed at several flowers falling into his dipping sauce. “Rainbow and I were talking, and she wants to be Scootaloo’s legal guardian… But I’m not sure that would be best either. I mean, of all the choices we have right now, it might be the best option--but not ultimately.”
“I understand, Twilight. I know what you mean,” Trixie reassured, and Twilight kissed his cheek before eating a spoonful of chopped pistils. They sat there quietly for a while, eating and occasionally pressing up together.
“I had no idea Scootaloo’s father drank,” said Twilight, breaking the contented silence, and Trixie tensed up, dropping his sandwich into the dip.
“Maybe it was his first time,” said Trixie, stupidly, and Twilight looked at him puzzled. She used her magic to fish the sandwich out and levitate it back onto his plate.
“I don’t think so, Trixie,” said Twilight, returning to her food. A few moments later, she asked, “You don’t think he ever… abused her, do you?” and Trixie tensed up again, freezing in the middle of taking a bite.
“Well, um, even if he did, it’s over now. And it might be best if we didn’t bring this up anymore--for Scootaloo’s sake, I mean. What with her being so emotionally… vulnerable,” Trixie said as smoothly as he could, before taking an especially large bite of his sandwich.
“You’re right, Trixie, it’s probably for the best… For now, at least,” said Twilight, to Trixie’s relief. “Are you excited for the fair, tomorrow?”
“Yes,” he answered.
“So am I,” replied Twilight, smiling. “After we finish eating, we’ll go see about your knees-”
“I’ve changed my mind about that, Twilight,” said Trixie, and Twilight became bemused.
“Why?” she asked cautiously.
“I won’t hurt my knees anymore, Twilight,” ceded Trixie, quietly, and Twilight put down her spoon and hugged him.
They finished eating and walked home.