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.