//------------------------------// // Home // Story: Cold Light // by Scramblers and Shadows //------------------------------// - Home The dragonfire elemental had burned out when it transported Millie. The next thing Sweetie Belle remembered was the clipclop of hooves down the last of the stairs. She struggled to raise her head. Millie stood at the bottom. Her hair was matted, soaked in dark red. Even through her exhaustion, Sweetie Belle's eyes widened. “Are you okay?” “Huh?” Millie looked down at her coat. “Oh, yeah. There's a lot of blood in a pony, in't there? Even just the front half.” She brushed ineffectively at her chest and stared at the blood on the floor. “Tom got stabbed. I … hope he made it back.” Sweetie Belle stared at her. “Anyway, I wanna get back to the ship before the PTSD sets in. I guess that ansible there isn't working?” Millie kicked at the terminal. “Where's the backup?” “Antechamber, near the front, to the right.” Millie started towards the antechamber, and Sweetie Belle called her back: “Millie?” “Yeah?” “Find Scootaloo? Please. She … she fell.” “Sure thing, lass.” After that, Sweetie Belle passed out for a while. When she next woke, she was being put on a stretcher. There were others moving around, but she couldn't make them out. Orders passed back and forth. A daemon continued to whisper in her ear, but she ignored it. She asked the bearers about Scootaloo, but didn't get a response. She apologised, but she wasn't sure who to. Then she passed out again. A tiny windowless room with a bulb in the corner. Some bedding below her that didn't stop the deck from digging into her back. A few pewter flasks cloaked in the spiced and slightly rancid smell of zebra potions stood beside her head; a corresponding taste gumming together the hairs around her muzzle and clinging to the inside of her mouth. Her eyes watered. She lifted her leg (a strenuous task in itself) and looked as the cast around her cannon and pastern. The pain in her belly stopped from trying to move more. A daemon still whispered in her ears. She tried to call, but her voice didn't seam to work. Instead, she stared at the ceiling for a while. She was in the Mettlesome, she was sure of that. She could hear the chug of the engines. Occasionally, the bulkheads around her creaked unhealthily and shuddered Eventually the door at the far side opened. A minotaur came through – a medic, it seemed. And following him, Scootaloo. Sweetie Belle couldn't help smiling. “Hey,” she said. Scootaloo smiled back, but it was drawn and awkward. “Hi,” she offered flatly. The medic checked Sweetie Belle's dressing and made her drink some more of the potion. “Try not to move too much for the next twenty-four hours. In a week, everything should be back to normal.” Scootaloo avoided eye contact, so Sweetie Belle turned her attention back to the medic. “What happened?” she asked. “We left Tanelorn three hours ago,” he said, as if reciting from a dull fact sheet. “We're towing the qilin ship, so the trip'll take two or three days.” “Is Tom okay?” The medic looked at her blankly. “The diamond dog?” “I don't know,” he said. “Things are still a bit chaotic here. We have a lot of casualties, the ship's taken on a lot of damage, we have prisoners, and we're trying to organise all the captives we rescued.” Sweetie Belle felt foolish for asking. “Okay,” she said, ears pinned. With that, the medic headed out, closing the door behind him. This time Scootaloo did look at her. “I haven't seen him either,” she said at last. “Oh.” Silence. “What happened after the scrapwolf hit you?” Sweetie Belle asked. “I don't really remember much about it. They said I fell onto one of ledges. Two or three metres.” She smiled faintly, a ghost of her normal mischievous grin. “I got off easier than you, it looks like. No broken bones, anyway.” “Listen … what Blueberry said … I'm sorry.” Scootaloo's smile vanished. She looked away. “Yeah, I know.” She stepped towards the door. “There are things I should be doing. I'm going back to Equestria, so we can talk about it later” Sweetie Belle stared at the door after she'd gone. At once close and distant, the airship's superstructure groaned, then settled. Later, when she felt up to it, she called on Saffron, who manifested immediately. “You did well,” she said. “It doesn't feel that way,” murmured Sweetie Belle. “Ah, no. That's not too surprising.” “I really screwed up.” “You also saved the world.” “Millie did.” “You did quite a lot to help her.” Sweetie Belle closed her eyes. “And, for what it's worth, I've screwed up too.” She put her hoof against Sweetie Belle. They stayed like that for a while, until Saffron said. “Just call on me if you need me. Otherwise, I'll stay out of your way.” Time passed. The daemons continued to chastise her. Sweetie Belle slept occasionally. The pain on her leg and belly faded slowly. She didn't know what time it was, and didn't really care. Hooves and paws thumped at the corridor outside. Sometimes the medic came in. He was always alone. When someone knocked at the door, she spent a few moments expecting him to come through, then realised he never knocked. A voice from outside: “May I come in?” Tom's voice. For the first time since she'd woken up, Sweetie Belle smiled. “Sweetie Belle?” “Yes, it's me!” she said. “Come on.” The door opened, and Tom came in, inching along with the help of a metal cane. He closed the door behind him, then grinned at Sweetie Belle. “Oh, hey, injury buddies!” Sweetie Belle snorted. Her side flared up in pain, and she gave him an exaggerated glare. “Then you should know not to make me laugh!” Tom had made it to the wall beside her. He leaned back against it, changing hands with the cane. “I heard you made it out alive. Still, I didn't quite dare believe it until now …” “The medic didn't know anything about you.” “Oh, that't nice. Glad my contribution didn't go unnoticed.” For a while, they struggled not to laugh. It died down into a sort of companionable silence. Sweetie Belle gestured at Tom's bandages. “Sorry about that, though.” “Sorry? Why?” “It's kinda my fault all this happened.” Tom stared at her. “I don't think anybody blames you.” Sweetie Belle shrugged. “It's because of me that this happened. Because I did all the stupid stuff I did, because I gave in to her.” Silence. “I saw Scootaloo,” Tom said. “I asked her about you. She said you were alive, and … kinda left it at that.” “I'm not surprised.” Sweetie Belle snorted, then looked down. “That's my fault too. I betrayed her. Everything I did her, trying to get her back … it was all false. I … I've screwed up a lot, honestly. I know I don't deserve her. I'm just a lost filly, like I always was, and whenever I think I can do something, I just become arrogant, and make things worse, and …” She stopped, feeling the lump in her throat. The speech had come without warning, and now she'd admitted it to Tom, she wasn't sure how to continue. Tom, with some difficulty, moved over and sat down on the floor beside her. “Not exactly feeling the victory, then?” he said. “Not really, no.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “I haven't seen the whole picture, I know. And … I'm not really the go-to guy for emotional support.” “That makes me feel better.” “Yeah. Anyway. From what I've seen, you're incredibly capable. I mean, look at you. You led a battle to save the world. Whatever mistakes you've made, you done your best to fix them, and you've gone far beyond that.” She looked over at him. “But … even if that's true … I can't let myself believe it.” “Why?” “The daemons. They're still here. I can get carried away, and … and …” “Okay, so I don't have an easy solution for that one. But we'll be back I Equestria soon. And if you do get carried away? You've got me to keep you steady. And the hatchlings – I hope you haven't forgotten about them? And … perhaps … Scootaloo.” Sweetie Belle smiled faintly. “Yeah, sure she will.” “Just give it time.” By the time they had arrived at Ilmarinen, Sweetie Belle was able to stand. Putting too much weight on her bad hoof, or moving too fast, still made her wince, but it was enough. She'd taken to pacing back and forth across her cabin, feeling the need to move, but being unwilling to head back into the Mettlesome. At Ilmarinen, there was the meeting. Those who had just come back to the city, waiting for the news; and those returning from Blueberry's grasp. Tearful reunion, or its absence, which brought more tears. The pathos felt muffled, like music from a room at the far end of a cheap hotel. People came up to thank her. She was as friendly and humble as she could be. Some asked questions about Blueberry, which she invariably struggled to answer. She saw Scootaloo at a small ceremony later that day beside the Navy Offices, where they were both awarded medals. The conversation was short, civil. It was hard to know what else to do. Leaving the ceremony, she met up with Lucille and Gritstone, standing so close the Lucille's feathers almost brushed against Gritstone's coat. Gritstone seemed to have fresh layers of exhaustion etched into the lines of his face, and it took him a little more effort to stand. Still, he smiled when he saw her. “'Sweetie Belle,” he said. “I understand I have you to thank.” “Oh, uh, I guess I did a bit,” said Sweetie Belle. Lucille smiled. “I found him at last,” she said. “Only when we were halfway home.” She cocked her head. “I didn't see you at all, though.” “I had to stay in my cabin,” said Sweetie Belle. She offered up him still-bandaged pastern as evidence. “Well, listen,” said Lucille. “We've decided something. I had a talk with Millie. We all know things are different now. With the daemons, Amaranth is unsustainable. Things need to change. And that won't happen unless Aquileona and Equestria agree to a proper treaty.” She fluffed her feathers. “So I'm going to become a politician!” Sweetie Belle stared at her. “I, uh, don't really know what that entails.” “Minister Flavian is the one holding everything back. I'm going to present Gregor to the chamber. Tell everyone that the government's been sending in privateers – and that those privateers were also helping a bunch of ponies, and that they nearly caused the end of the world. Flavian will lose his allies – the neutralists and most of the revanchists. The electorate will be pissed. A collapse of the coalition and a new government is in sight.” Gritstone shrugged. “I don't really understand it either,” he told Sweetie Belle. “But as I understand it, it means Aquileona will be much more willing to compromise with Equestria to sort out the problems. Lucille's going to try and get elected to help it along.” Lucille leaned her head to rest against Gritstone's and grinned. “And you're coming to live in Susa with me.” Gritstone rolled his eyes. “Yeah, looks that way.” Sweetie Belle bounced forward and hugged them together. “That's great! What about your ships?” “I'm selling to Dulcet to Cerise,” said Lucille. “With that salvage map she should have no problem paying for it. Anyway – that's what I meant to offer. We're taking it back to Omphalos. You're free to come along. Sweetie Belle accepted, smiling. She found Scootaloo near the entrance to the office, leaning against the wall and smoking. “Hey,” Sweetie Belle said, trotting over. She relayed Lucille's offer. “Are you coming back to Equestria?” “Yeah,” said Scootaloo. “I said I would, didn't I?” Sweetie Belle looked at her. “Yeah.” This acceptance, cloaked in an awkward distance seemed so much worse than that time they'd first met, than the refusal back then, threaded through with all of Scootaloo's passion. There seemed to be nothing more to say, so she pulled back. That left one more thing. She slipped into to office to give Proper Order a quick warning, then cantered out to the docking tower. There, looking out across the desert, still littered with wreckage, she sent out a spell to summon the hatchlings. Two days into a week-long journey across Amaranth, back home. Sweetie Belle had finished her course of potions, her injuries reduced to a minor twinge that would fade in time. The crew, for the most part, treated her with respect sometimes shading into a sort of awe. Daemon whispers said she should bask in it; she did her best to ignore them. To occupy herself she watched the hatchlings flying alongside the Dulcet in sequence. She talked to Tom – he'd left his research group behind and planned to write a monograph and popular science book about aelewyrms. They made up a plan about how they could both look after the hatchlings. She let Saffron use her horn to draw humminglizards, balloon trees, sights of Tanelorn, as they discussed the past in Amaranth and the future with Discord. She watched the desert. And she found herself humming – experimenting with melodies, imagining chord progressions to accompany them. How to get across that immensity of desert, they sky torn in two, the scale of history hidden away or reduced to fragments of an incomprehensible and unsolvable puzzle? At last, she began to sing – bits of lyrics as they came to her. She realised it was the first time she'd done this since she came to Amaranth. How much was in there? An album's worth, at least. A daemons told her about she could make herself famous like that. “Yeah, sure,” she told it. The image wouldn't fade, though. She was standing by a window near the bow, looking out, singing softly, when she noticed. Scootaloo had come up to stand beside her. She fell silent. “Hey.” “Hey.” Outside, the aelewyrms flew in a ling, sinuous waves running down their length and wings beating in sequence. “Look,” said Scootaloo after a moment. “What you did … it was a really shitty thing.” “Yeah, I know,” whispered Sweetie Belle. “And it's not like I can just forgive. I mean, I want to … but even now when I think about it, it hurts.” Sweetie Belle closed her eyes and nodded. “I just need to get that out in the open first. But … the thing is … I've also seen you be incredibly awesome. I mean … seriously, I knew you were awesome, but everything you've done here. My point is … ugh, I don't know how to compare those.” “Me neither.” “And you and me … I don't know if it'll work. But y'know what? After all we've been through in Amaranth, I'm willing to try.” Sweetie Belle stared at her. “You mean … you love me?” Scootaloo recoiled and stuck her tongue out for a moment. “Don't use that word. But … yeah, okay. I think I do.” They looked at one another in silence, until Scootaloo leaned in towards her. The warm touch of coat. “But some ground rules,” she continued, more softly. “We don't own each other, alright? I have my own life. I want to spend at least some time here. A few months away, a few months back home. If you can't handle that, the deal's off.” “I think I can handle that.” “Good.” Scootaloo grinned at her, muzzle a few inches away. “So me and you. You wanna?” Sweetie Belle just kissed her. So I suppose I've been a bit cheeky, leaving in all those misleading comments. But, hey, if you're reading this in the Canterlot Archives – or wherever else it gets to – you know the world didn't end. And what I said is as much a record as anything else in these pages. If you want the complete account: After we talked to Millie, I kept the narratator running. I downloaded the whole file into her head, plus the narratator program itself, when she got picked up, then filled the end out from her memories. It's traditional round here to publish your adventures (have you read those Daring Do books?), so that's what I'm doing. With Sweetie Belle and Millie's permission, of course. When we got back, Sweetie Belle got her head cleared of the daemon influence. Some sort of harmony spell – I'm still studying it – which serves as a perfect counter, emphasising all those qualities that the daemons stifle. Then there were the celebrations, followed by some interminable hugging. Sweetie Belle has even more medals now. I got to see her big sister, and all her friends. Apparently this saving the world gig is becoming a family tradition. Then the work started. With some help from Discord, I got out of Sweetie Belle's head so she could finally get some private time with Scootaloo. A month or so after we got back, Aquileona had a snap election. Now we do indeed have Minister Lucille, who's working on a proper treaty with Equestria. The privateers were recalled. Quite a lot of officials went on trial. And the two superpowers are working together on a solution to “the Amaranth problem” – getting rid of the daemons, fixing up some sort of framework that'll stop any more dangerous incidents popping up, but still letting the place retain as much sovereignty as possible. When it comes to the daemons and ancient technology, of course, I'm the go-to girl. I'm working with some of this world's primary thaumic specialists. Twilight Sparkle, Starlight Glimmer, Trixie Lulamoon, Sunburst. They're all a lot quicker than I would have expected from barbarians. I don't want to get soppy here, but it's hard to ask for a better group of students and co-workers. Even if there are ego-clashes every other day. I keep in contact with Millie. She's actually pretty helpful – one of our network of salvors who keeps us updated on salvaged technology. At the same time, I know she loves Amaranth as a frontier – and she's helping us end that. Even ruins can be dreams, and to tidy them away is to destroy them. I don't know what she'll do when she's lost her wild space. What else? The aelewyrms. Sweetie Belle has three, Tom has the other two. But whoever's busy often gives their share to the other to look after . Tom has become whatever passes for a celebrity in the small world of academia based on his studies. At the time of writing, Bounce has just passed ten metres from mandibles to tail, and its siblings are rapidly catching up. Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo. They're still together. They, too, have an arrangement. Right now, the plan is that four or five months of the year, Scootaloo will be in Amaranth, helping get the place under control. Both seem reasonably satisfied with that – it gives Sweetie Belle time to work on her music, or look after the aelewyrms. And, if I may take the risk of psychologising, Scootaloo at last seems to have a sense of purpose. I don't know if they'll work out in the long run. But who can ever be certain about the future? The signs look promising, as that's enough. That leaves me. I can't honestly say what's happening between me and Discord. We talk sometimes. We're not lovers. When I became corporeal again, I faced a choice. Qilin or not? But … Even if I came back, even if I came back pregnant like that, there wouldn't be enough genetic diversity to sustain the race. The qilin are extinct, and that's that. So I became a pony instead. A unicorn to be precise. I'm not a qilin. But I am pregnant. This should be interesting.