Damn it all. · 12:08am
You know how I said I was working on a one-shot fic? I suck.
There are times that I really hate my one-track mind. All I wanted to do was write a small fic unrelated to humans or sex or anything of the sort. Unfortunately, Between writing The Alchemist's Heart, naughty vectors, my massive issues paying attention to anything for any extended period of time, and things going on in my home-life, the full head of steam that I had has dissipated. Even more shamefully, before today, I hadn't even thought about the project since the fifth of may.
Instead of leaving you in the dark about a fic that could have been, here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to give you all what I got, so you might get an idea of what it was about.
The inside of Master’s abode is all I’ve ever known. Whenever I ask about the outside world, she tells me that she would get in trouble if anypony ever found out about me, and that I would be taken from her. I don’t want that, because if I’m taken away from Master, I cannot be useful. Helping my Master is my purpose in life.
Even though I know she just wants what is best for me, it hurts knowing that I cannot meet other ponies or feel the breeze. Down in the basement, where I sleep and retreat to when Master has guests or business, there are no windows. The only time I see the outdoors is when I help her clean and with her work. While making myself useful to Master is a reward in and of itself, every glimpse of glimpse Ponyville I get through the window is one I treasure.
I sometimes lose myself in the play of passing foals, and Master scolds me, but I know she isn’t angry. She cares for me very deeply and would never get angry. My Master trained me, provides me food, and even clothing! Whenever I help her with her work, I know I’m making her proud; why else would she have been so happy when I got my cutie mark from helping her?
My Master loves me, and as long as she does, I am happy. It doesn’t matter if I’m a secret, or if I’m her one shame. As long as Master needs me and wants me, I will be there for her. She is my master, and I am her Ribbon.
.-~ Sweetie Belle ~-.
“Today was a great day,” Sweetie Belle giggles to herself, trotting through Ponyville. How could it not be a great day? Sure, any day spent with her friends is automatically a good day, but how often do a trio of fillies win a raffle for front-row seats to the premiere of the first-ever Daring Doo movie? It’s probably one of the most exciting thing to ever happen this summer!
“... and all I have to do is get Rarity’s approval!” she squeals excitedly. The particulars of the event itself are already sorted out, to boot; Rainbow Dash already volunteered to personally chaperon the Cutie Mark Crusaders, so all that’s really left is to go home, get in Rarity’s good graces, and hope she’ll say yes. After all, the older mare is so busy these days with her new filly dress-line. The stress alone might be enough to make her say no.
Passing Sugarcube Corner, the filly pauses to wonder what she could do to please Rarity. Months ago she might have thought it a good idea to offer her help cleaning around the shop, but there were still times that she had nightmares of her sister’s accompanying freak-out. It wouldn’t do to anger the mare in her attempts to please her.
“Maybe she needs a model?” she thinks aloud, not particularly sure about the idea. Remembering her own attempts at producing clothing an involuntary shudder runs up the filly’s spine. At least if she’s just modeling, all she’d have to do is stand there and be measured, right? There’s absolutely no way Rarity could be ashamed of her if she modeled for her! Sweetie Belle trots on, smiling at the thought of making her sister happy and seeing the Daring Doo movie.
Coming up on Carousel Boutique, Sweetie Belle almost trots right through the front door without a thought. Only the sudden memory of Rarity’s warnings halts her. Her sister always insists that Sweetie check whether or not she’s with a customer before entering, and to enter through the back if there is a customer.
She quickly pulls her hoof away from the door handle at the thought of somehow embarrassing Rarity in front of a customer. If that somehow happens, there’s no way Rarity will let her go to the movie. Instead, she backs away from the door and moves over to the window. Normally, she wouldn’t peer through a pony’s windows, but it’s the only way to really know if Rarity is with a customer.
Peering through the window, Sweetie Belle is surprised to see her sister fussing over a unicorn filly in a blue pinafore dress; she couldn’t possibly be much older than Scootaloo, Apple Bloom, or herself! Unlike any other fillies Sweetie had seen, the one inside the boutique is even more radiant-white than Rarity. Her mane—white as the winter’s first snow—is the real eye-catch however. It’s styled very much like Rarity’s own mane.
The way the filly’s violet eyes peer out from beneath her mane, looking expectantly at Rarity, catches Sweetie Belle off guard. The problem isn’t that she’s surprised that there’s a filly out there who likes dresses as much as her sister. It’s just... she’s seen that same worshipping expression every time Scootaloo sees Rainbow Dash. Why does she look like she loves Rarity so much? She’s certain, she’s never seen her before in her life, so why does she look so familiar?
Tearing herself away from the window, the younger sister stalks off around the back of the boutique. What is it about that filly that irks her so? Pulling open the back door, she fights the urge to stomp up the stairs. It isn’t until she reaches her bedroom door that she understands what she’s feeling. As loathe as she is to admit it, she’s jealous of the filly downstairs with Rarity.
.-~ Ribbon ~-.
“Please stop fidgeting so much,” Master says disapprovingly. “You know I can hardly do my work if you wiggle about like an excitable foal.”
Pulling my attention away from the window, I give my Master an apologetic look. “There were ponies passing by the window,” I answer, bowing my head. “I’m sorry Master.”
Hearing that, my Master frowns at me. “You know I don’t like being called that, Ribbon,” she groans. It’s always the same thing; I call her Master, and she asks me not to. How can I not though? She clothes me, and feeds me, and gives me purpose in a world that won’t accept me for what I am! “Oh, don’t be like that. Come here.”
Listening to Master, I lope across the floor toward her. Like she does every time this happens, she leans down and nuzzles my cheek. Her expression changes when she straightens back up, however. It’s one I’ve seen time and time again. That sudden panic and worry—it’s time for me to return to my room in the basement.
“I’m sorry, darling, but you have to go now.” She flicks her attention toward the rug in the center of the room and—sweeping it aside with her magic—nudges me toward the trapdoor concealed beneath. “You know the routine, of course. I want you to continue chapter nine of your mathematics textbook, and answer the questions on pages one forty-three through one forty-eight. I’ll be down with your dinner at nine, so be ready to answer questions on the Neighpoleonic War after you eat,” Master commands in a hushed voice. “Now, give me a kiss.”
When she once again lowers her head to my level, I give the mare a kiss on the cheek. It’s an order I happily follow every time. Master is so kind and generous, and all she asks is that I be diligent in my studies, behave, and show her the affection she deserves. Without another word, I listen to my Master and make my way down the stairs revealed beneath the trapdoor.
The room below is nothing fanciful, but Master’s decorative tastes are clearly represented down here. My bed is lush and oh so plush, and the nearby desk on which I do my schoolwork is made of the most beautiful Zebrican blackwood. The matching bookshelf is packed full of textbooks and age-appropriate novels. There is even a restroom just off to the right of the stairs. Everything about the room my Master has given me is so generous.
Taking my arithmetic textbook down from a shelf, I settle in front of the blackwood desk. For many minutes I pore over the theory and problems, but it is not until many more pass that I recognize that I’m not processing it one bit. My thoughts keep drifting away from the numbers to the world outside Master’s windows.
Even though I know my Master only wants the best for me, this one face keeps appearing whenever I get the chance to look outside. This one filly, often part of a larger group of fillies, often passes by the windows when I am permitted to be upstairs. She looks so happy out there playing with her friends. I can’t help but wonder what it’s like to play. If I had the opportunity, I would ask her what it’s like to cavort and bask in the sunlight, without a care for being proper.
Sometimes, I just want to be normal—to be able to live a normal life with my Master, free of judgement or scorn. Would she be happier if she didn’t have to be ashamed of me? She’d have to be, no longer having to stress over hiding me, teaching me, and dealing with her work. Maybe if I could prove she has no reason to be ashamed, that would make her happy.
Smiling, I allow my focus to return to the mathematics before me, this time withdrawing from my desk an inkwell, parchment, and the abacus Master gave me on my fifth birthday. While it might be nice to plan a surprise that can make her happy in the long term, even if I might get in trouble for it, I can’t be neglecting my homework, or else she’ll be cross with me in the short term.
“Rarity,” Sweetie asks softly, nosing aside her Brussels sprouts in an attempt to stall at eating them. “I was wondering... Me and the other Crusaders—”
Rarity frowns at her, before tutting at her young sister. “The other Crusaders and I, darling,” she corrects, levitating a cup of tea to her lips. “Appearances are everything in first impressions; you wouldn’t want to make somepony important think you’re just some country bumpkin.”
“The other Crusaders and I won a raffle for tickets to the Daring Do movie today,” she continues, taking on a pleading voice. Doing her best to give her sister the puppy-dog eyes, Sweetie adds, “I was hoping you’d give me permission to go see the movie.”
Rarity looks across the table at her sister, furrowing her brow before dipping a biscuit in her tea. “Sweetie Belle, you know that movie has a parental warning,” she says disapprovingly. “You know I’m too busy to be able to attend such boisterous films, and I refuse to let you go unattended.”
An excited look crosses Sweetie Belle’s face, thinking that she must have a chance. “That’s just it Rarity! We wouldn’t be unattended!” she squeals at such a pitch that her voice cracks. “Rainbow Dash volunteered to chaperon us!”
Again the older mare frowns, muttering “Oh, Rainbow Dash, of course you’d give my little sister hopes like that.” Eying her sister’s plate, Rarity offers, “Oh alright—”
“Yes!” Sweetie shouts, causing her sister to cringe.
“—but on two conditions!” Rarity finishes. “First, I want you to promise me that you aren’t going to have any nightmares from this movie. Need I remind you about your Batmare nightmares?” Sweetie only shakes her head before nosing her Brussels sprouts around her plate once more. “Second, I want you to stop playing with your food and finish your greens.”
The elation that fills Sweetie’s chest is worth having to eat the dreaded sprouts.
And that's where the story died... with Sweetie Belle eating her Brussels sprouts.
A bit about the story: I originally wanted to write a short story about an androgynous[intersex?] foal, Rarity's bastard son, whom was kept secret out of her shame of having a foal in her mid teens. Story would have gone that Ribbon, named by delirious Rarity for the way his umbilical met the placenta reminded her of a cute little Ribbon, would seek a bit of freedom, only to be discovered by Sweetie Belle. Basically a lot of shit would have gone down because of misunderstandings arising from his insistence on calling his mother 'Master', stemming from one instance where she called herself the 'master of her domain'. It would have concluded with him, Rarity, and his new family learning to cope.
Really sorry about this, guys. At least I can focus on the Alchemist's Heart exclusively now.