Chapter One
The ground shook, nearby trash cans trembling with each quake, as a large cloud of dust formed just over the horizon. Small specks of color burst from the haze of pale brown as, one-by-one, mares of all different breeds ran down the dirt road, galloping with such great zeal. Thankfully the road ahead had been cleared of any citizens otherwise they’d be trampled to death.
And all because of one haughty pegasus.
Peeking his head around the trash cans that separated him from the road, the pegasus cautiously set a foot on the path, wings bent in case he had to fly his way home. Why hadn't he done so in the first place was questionable, but he didn't think about it all too much once a high pitched squeal pierced his eardrums.
“There he is!”
His heart practically lodged itself in his throat as, rushing toward him at great speeds, were the same horde of mares that had just passed by merely seconds before. It didn't take him long to take to the skies, expertly dodging the pegasi mares that lunged themselves at him.
“Get him!” one of the pegasi called. Of course, they were no match for the Best Young Flyer winner as he soared through the open sky easily and at a continuous pace. It wasn't that he was showing off his speed more so running for his life. Because if those mares caught him, he’d be a goner.
With the wings that brought him a win, the young pegasus easily escaped the horde of mares. Still, even with their excited shrieks drowning within the wind, he kept high above the clouds until he was absolutely sure no one was following him. After a while, pushing himself to descend, he flew toward the ground--more notably, a neat house with a white-picket fence.
Safely landing on the front porch, glancing all around to make sure no one was secretly watching him, he then pushed his way through the door, kicking it shut with a loud BANG. Something in the next room fell with an echoing bang, causing the poor pegasus to freeze in terror.
Did they sneak into the house?
“Oh, it’s you.” The familiar voice of his ‘brother’ deterred him his initial thought. Trotting out of the kitchen was a unicorn stallion, lavender-hued coat speckled with tiny, dark red spots. Upon closer inspection one could see that it were raspberry jam that dotted his once clean, prettied body.
“Hot Head?” his brother titled his head to one side when said pegasus didn’t respond.
“Huh? Oh, yeah, it’s me.”
“Is everything okay…?” The unicorn went on as he cocked an eyebrow.
“I’m fine, Lucky.”
“Are you sure?” Pausing momentarily, Lucky added, “How’d the interview go?”
Because of his newly claimed title as Best Young Flyer he won only two months back, Hot Head had been asked by numerous reporters, journalists, and other ponies of that sort for exclusive interviews. It was exciting at first to be put in the spotlight, recognizing your face on newspapers, billboards, television shows, and even t-shirts, but after a while it got tiring. And not just because fanmares were constantly chasing him down.
Ponies everywhere knew who he was, and asked flat out for an autograph or picture. There was almost no privacy for himself aside from the time he spent at home with Lucky and Amber. Other than that, Hot Head didn’t have an outlet for his social life outside their home. Basically, he was trapt.
Shaking himself of his predicament, Hot Head gave Lucky a forced smile. “It was great! I just love answering the same questions. Doesn’t take much time answering, and that means I get to leave early.”
“Uh-huh.” Lucky gave him a hard stare but did not press the issue, even though it was obvious Hot Head hated having been interviewed. Instead of bringing anything up that involved the pegasus’ still newly obtained fame, Lucky turned around and headed back into the kitchen.
Suppressing a sigh, Hot Head slowly walked past his brother who, as he guessed it, was cleaning up the raspberry jam that now covered the floor. He began his ascent up the stairs, head bent low, mind whirling and aching from today’s events. All he wanted to do was lay his head onto his soft, fluffy pillow and sleep.
As he made it to the second floor, the door closest to the stairs was his bedroom. Nudging the door open, he slipped inside, gently closing it behind him with the back of his right hoof. He crawled his way in his bed, too lazy to throw the covers over him, and buried his face into the pillow.
Sleep slowly began to wash over him until the soft ringing of the doorbell rang. He was too tired to fear that it may be one of his many fanmares, having stalked him quietly and finding out his residency. Even with the unknown guests at the door, he managed to peacefully close his eyes, gradually falling deeper and deeper into unconsciousness.
And then all of a sudden.
“Hot Head?”
It was Lucky’s muffled voice that broke him from his peace. Blinking away the semi-weariness, Hot Head bleakly looked at the closed door. Should he answer to his brother or…?
“Hot Head, can you please come here for a second?”
Despite his brother’s voice being muffled by the door, there was a sense of urgency that put him on edge. He was quick to remove himself from the comforts of his bed, open the door, and stare down at Lucky who was at the base of the stairs. The air was thick with unease for some odd reason, and he didn’t know why.
More so, there were two strange earth ponies--one mare and one stallion--in business suits that stood in the middle of the hall. Because of their attire, he thought of them to be more interviewers, and instinctively readied himself to rush back into his room and out the window if necessary.
“Hot Head,” Lucky cleared his throat. “This is Flashpoint and Candle Wick.”
Lucky paused after introducing them, causing Hot Head to wonder what exactly was going on. Who exactly where these ponies and why was Lucky acting so weird around them?
As if answering his prayers, Lucky took a deep breath before continuing.
“They’re your parents.”
This had to be some cruel joke. As many times Hot Head poked fun at Lucky, the latter must have finally gotten sick of the games and fired back. Even so, Hot Head wouldn’t dream of his brother stooping so low as to parade a couple of strangers into pretending that they were his parents.
The dead giveaway, for sure, was the fact that they were earth ponies and he a pegasus. There were accounts of mares delivering foals that weren’t the same breed as their mother or father--a prime example being the Cakes--but it was such a slim chance for that to happen.
Sure, the two sort of looked like him--the mares’ mane and tail color, the stallion’s eyes and coat color--but that could have been a coincidence, right? Or Lucky’s magic had gotten to the point where he was exceptionally good at altering the appearances of other ponies.
Chuckling softly at the sudden realization, Hot Head began to descend the stairs, ruffling Lucky’s mane when he came to a stop beside him.
“Good one, Lucky! You got me there for a second.”
“Uhm…” The unicorn looked away uncomfortably.
“You better watch your back from now on, brother.” Hot Head warned. Lucky continuously studied the wall beside him as if he couldn’t hear what the Hot Head was saying. More so, he couldn’t believe Hot Head wasn’t taking him seriously.
“Excuse me,” the mare--Candle Wick--piped up as the awkwardness continued. Both Hot Head and Lucky turned to look at her staring questionably at both of them. When she was sure she got their attention, she went on quickly, “Hot Head, sweetie, Mr. Star is not joshing you at all. I am your mother, you are my son.”
“And we have the papers to prove it!” Flashpoint added hotly. Reaching into the satchel equipped to his backside, the stallion pulled out an manilla envelope with the words ‘BIRTH CERTIFICATE’ written in neat writing on the front.
A cold realization reared into Hot Head. He hadn’t thought about the possibility of seeing his parents again. The last time he saw them--roughly 10-11 years ago--he was just a small colt then, having barely been able to fly. Their retreating backsides were the last imprint of both his mother and father, and he swore that they’d abandoned him for good.
But here they were, at their doorstep, holding up a copy of his birth certificate to prove that he was, indeed, their son.
“Miss Amber Lily comes home around 7:30, correct?” Candle Wick asked. When Lucky nodded in response, she hummed happily.
“That gives us plenty of time to catch up!” Wrapping an arm around his son’s shoulder, Flashpoint added coolly, “So, son, how’ve you been?”
Hot Head gawked. How had he been? Aside from being abandoned at a young age, forced to live in an orphanage with dozens of other leftover colts and fillies, watching each and every one of his friends get adopted whilst he were ignored, life hadn’t done him justice.
“Why don’t we chat over a cup of tea, hm?” His mother suggested. Turning to Lucky, she added, “I presume you have tea?”
“O-Of course!” Lucky transformed from being the awkward-stricken victim to being a gentlecolt, poised to make his guests feel at home even under such circumstances. He gestured both earth ponies to the living room, Flashpoint practically dragging the ever-reluctant Hot Head with him. Whilst husband and wife settled themselves against the plush sofa, Lucky whisked away into the kitchen to prepare cups of tea and some snacks.
“Such a quaint home for one so young,” Candle Wick sighed as she seated herself beside her husband. Hot Head had eyed both of them suspiciously from the opposite side of the room.
“The furniture could be more lavish, and the curtains have seen better days…” Flashpoint murmured thoughtfully.
“Flash, dear, she doesn’t have a high paying job.”
“She’s a nurse, for Celestia’s sake! The least one could do is make sure their house more presentable!”
“Flash.”
Were they...talking about Amber Lily? How’d they even know she was a nurse? More importantly, was his father actually badmouthing Amber? Anger boiled in the pit of his stomach, but Hot Head did everything in his willpower to contain his frustration. As much as he wanted to lunge at his father, he wouldn’t; he had to be civilized. That and Amber would kill him if he was fighting in the house.
Speaking of which, Amber had opened up a savings account and, using the money she received at the hospital during her first year and a half, moved the three of them from a small, dingy apartment to their current home. To them, it was a huge upgrade as, not only did the boys have their own rooms and Amber, who had previously slept on the couch, now had her own room, but they had a full, working kitchen. Their old apartment’s kitchen was less than desirable, with the occasional rat making its appearance every now and then.
Her hard work was to be commended and yet his father had the audacity to criticize her because of the curtain’s condition.
“So, Hot Head!” Candle Wick turned to her son with intense forest green eyes. “Aside from making a name for yourself, what have you been doing?”
He stared at her silently in return. As much as they wanted to have a conversation with him, he was less than enthusiastic.
“We heard you won the title of Best Young Flyer. Such an accomplishment for one so young,” Flashpoint added. “I’m proud of you, son.”
“Oh yes! Sorry we couldn’t be there for you, we were--”
“You couldn’t be there because you didn’t want to be there!” Hot Head’s growl interrupted his mother. In a fit of rage, his wings burst open, the feathers splayed in all directions. “Is that why you came back to find me? Because I’m worthy now? Was I just a deadweight to either of you when I was born?”
“That is most certainly not true!” his father shot back. “I can’t believe you’d even think that.”
“Oh, boo-hoo, did I hurt your feelings? Well, you hurt mine a long time ago!” Leaning back in his seat, his wings tucked against his sides now, Hot Head lowered his head, his voice barely a whisper now.
“I waited patiently for the two of you to return. Instead of playing with the other colts and fillies on the playground, I sat by the door, hoping you two would come in and reclaim me.”
He did not look up from studying the floor. The hushed silence, in a strange way, was solace in such a time of distress. There was still a small part of him that wanted to be with them, but another part of him was defiant, constantly reminding him that they abandoned him all those years ago.
“Hot Head,” his mother’s soft voice caught him from his inner thoughts. He weakly looked up to her gentle smile. “I know we haven’t been the best parents in the world. In fact, we’re probably the worst. That being said, we’d love to make it up to you.
“This Sunday night, The Whooves are playing at Canterlot. We have tickets to go, and were wondering if you’d like to come along?”
At her offer, Hot Head perked up. The Whooves were famous for their music, and their concerts were, as stated by previous attendees, phenomenal. That being said, obtaining a ticket--let alone three, for that matter--was extremely hard.
Whether or not he wanted to admit it, Hot Head couldn’t help but not pass up such an opportunity. Even the side of him that constantly pointed out that his parents had done him wrong was agreeing, and that meant he had to go.
“I-I guess,” he mumbled. His mother looked absolutely delighted.
The tension in the room seemed to die down after a while. Lucky came back in with a tray full of tea and small biscuits. As he served the two guests, both grateful for his hospitality, he turned to Hot Head, worry etching his strong, handsome features.
“Everything okay?” he asked as he sat collectively beside Hot Head. The pegasus nodded. Not at all convinced, Lucky patted his brother’s shoulder before turning his gaze to the merry couple across from them. Both Candle Wick and Flashpoint were murmuring about something. They’d steal quick glances at their son once and a while but wouldn’t address him.
“Mr. Star,” Candle Wick called to Lucky after said stallion had begun pouring himself some tea. “Thank you kindly for making us feel welcomed. You’re truly a gentlecolt!”
“Heh. Thanks.”
“Mmm. Do you know when Miss Amber Lily gets home from the hospital? It’s urgent that we speak to her.”
“Oh. Soon.” The clock hung up on the wall read 6:20. Amber wasn’t due home until another ten or so minutes. Just as Lucky had took a sip of his scalding hot tea, the door burst open, and a shrill voice sang from the entryway.
“Mama’s ho-o-ome~” Throwing down her specially designed satchel made by a certain dragon-pony hybrid, a pretty earth pony mare trotted past the living room, ready to make her way into the kitchen, when somepony caught her eye. Turning her head to the right, she stared questioningly at the two strangers that sat on her couch.
“Oh, hey. I didn’t realize we had guests.”
“You must be Amber Lily, yes?” Candle Wick asked.
“Who’s askin’?”
Candle Wick laughed. “Sorry dear. I guess I forgot to introduce myself.” Followed by her husband, the two got down from the sofa and made their way toward Amber Lily where either promptly shook the confused mare’s hoof in greeting.
“My name is Candle Wick, and this is my husband Flashpoint. We’re Hot Head’s parents.”
“His parents?” Amber echoed. Her eyes narrowed in disgust at the two, and just as she was about to open her mouth, Lucky jumped from his spot beside Hot Head and hurried to her side, instinctively covering her mouth with his hoof.
“Welcome home, Amber! Did you have a good day? Haha, that’s great! Now, I made some tea and-- OW.” Recoiling away from Amber, Lucky examined his arm, realizing that the sharp pain was because she bit him.
“YOU’RE Hot Head’s parents? We have a lot to discuss, Mr. and Mrs. I-Hate-My-Son!” Stomping past the two, she grabbed a very alarmed Hot Head and pulled him to his feet. As she tried to pull him away, he stood his ground, the defiance he had before now reemerging.
“Lil’, please. Cut them some slack.”
“Excuse me? Are you being forreal? They LEFT you!”
“And now they’re back--”
“That’s nice and all, but may I remind you that they didn’t want you for most of your life?”
“The past is the past!” Shrugging off her grip on him, Hot Head stood in between his parents, his pale blue eyes raging as if a storm were brewing through them. He said nothing as he turned around and literally flew upstairs. Everypony downstairs heard a loud bang! to which both parents and Amber Lily looked at one another dangerously.
“Why are you here? You’re messing my evening up,” Amber huffed.
“We’re here because we want our son back,” Flashpoint began boldly. Nosing through the satchel he brought with him, he pulled out a binder filled with papers. Sliding the thick binder toward Amber, he added, “Try as you will, when we go to court, we will win him back.”
“Court?” Amber froze. She had never been to court before. The thought alone sent a shiver running down her spine.
“Yes, court,” Candle Wick came into the conversation with a more friendlier tone than her husband. “You have done a fine job of raising him, Ms. Lily. But I think it’s best we take him back.”
“I-I-I don’t understand…” She was distraught.
“In due time you will accept it, Ms. Lily. In the meantime we must take our leave. Candle?” Motioning to his wife, Flashpoint escorted her to the door, leaving Amber to stare bleakly at the ground. As they neared the door, Flashpoint turned around and called upstairs, “We’ll see you Sunday night, Hot Head! Bye!”
“Bye sweetie!” Candle Wick called after her husband. With that, the two left, the door softly clicking close after them.
It was that exact moment Amber realized she was losing her son.
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Oh, so they only come out of the woodwork now, when Hot Head has become famous. Typical.
That's why I hate so-called "parents" like this. Be they real human ones, or ponies.
They don't deserve him, and i hope that Amber keeps custody of her son. She's been more of a mother to him than his biological one ever has.
I hope they lose, majorly, then crawl back into the swamp that they slithered out of!
I also hope that all of his friends and his real family will be there for him.
Nice chapter. I can't wait to read how the next chapter goes. I'll be here waiting to read it.
Wow. Interesting so far! Heading to the next chapter!