//------------------------------// // Of Royalty, Ballads, and Nightmares // Story: Cutie Mark Catastrophes // by Wintergreen Diaries //------------------------------// Chapter 16: Of Royalty, Ballads, and Nightmares If there was any indicator to Celestia that her dearest sister upset, it would have to be sullen glare with which she were eyeing the syrup oozing around around her pancakes. Breakfast, equivocal to dinner for a mare who spent her nights in contemplation, study, and the occasional prank on the castle staff to break up the monotony of reading through a “revised” account of the last thousand years, was normally a time of great joy for the mare, but the fear of her wrathful descent into old Canterlotese kept even the most loyal servers at a distance; the aura of displeasure was palpable. Regal gaiety was exchanged for a worried frown as Luna poured some syrup over her pancakes, stared at them for a full minute in abject silence, and then poured some more on the already soggy, overflowing stack, as if taken by a bizarre compulsive twitch. Celestia waved away those still present in the room as Luna’s expression shifted from dire to an utter lack of comprehension, herself entirely confused by coming back to the gooey reality of syrup running off the table and onto her lap. “It would seem something has your attention quite taken, Luna,” Celestia began, hoping her tone was gentle enough to spare her ears. Fortunately, the sticky sweetness currently clinging to her chest fur was enough of a deterrent from her consternation that the mare simply responded with a sigh, shoving the ruined plate from herself before letting her head fall to the table with a squishy thud, her crown rolling the length of the table before dropping to the stonework floor with a reverberating clang. “Sister, this is most unusual for you. What has transpired that would tarnish your love for a morning meal? Discord didn’t step out of line, did he?” “No, my condition hath nothing to do with that jester,” Luna mumbled, looking up at Celestia’s sympathetic gaze with a sigh. “Somepony has... asked for permission to adopt Pipsqueak.” “That dear little colt who fancies himself a pirate? Why, this is wonderful news!” Celestia exclaimed, clapping her hooves and beaming widely. “After hearing you speak so highly of him on many an occasion, this is truly a cause for celebration!” Luna slowly lifted her head, narrowed her eyes in a royal glare, and silently let her face do all the communication that was necessary. Celestia noted the darkest of scowls with which she was being chastised and was about to make apology when a single drop of syrup dribbled down to her sister’s chin, slowly stretching before falling to the table with an audible plop. “How you ruled by thyself for a thousand years, and even more so that you continue to hold office, is a mystery for which I cannot fathom an answer,” Luna muttered, averting her eyes as Celestia had a fit of snickers most vexing. “Come now, Luna, do be patient,” Celestia urged, stifling her laughter and reverting to her usual tone as Luna stood to leave. “I do not wish to see my sister off to bed in a huff. Please, Luna, tell me your worries; they are mine as well.” “I suppose I can lay aside my indignation for such callous behavior...” Sitting with a sigh, Luna sniffed a little, got a snout full of syrup, sprayed the table with a most unregal sneeze, and sniffed again. “If I may speak quite plainly, I do not wish for Pipsqueak to be adopted.” Mirth was set aside as Celestia grew somber, ready to hear whatever it was that was troubling her sister. “For the time that I am with him, I can almost pretend that... he is my own. To him, I am not some lofty, unapproachable princess on par with a fabled deity, but simply a friend with whom he may speak freely, and I to him as well. I... do not wish to lose this, sister.” “I am surprised that you hold Pipsqueak in such low regard,” Celestia said, noting with agreement the flash of anger that lit the mare’s eyes. “What is this nonsense you speak?” Luna barked, not quite loud enough to be quantified a shout but definitely enough to convey her displeasure with such a callous remark as she leapt from her seat and marched around the table to wear Celestia sat calmly, bearing her reproach with patience. “Pipsqueak is, without contest, the most laudable colt I have met in times before and present! You would dare speak ill of my kinship with him?” “Do you believe he shares in your bond?” Celestia offered, her tone neither assuming nor pointed. “I would stake my life on it,” Luna snapped back, challenging Celestia where there was no need. “If you speak truly, then there is nothing to fear.” Somewhat startled by her words, Luna’s expression softened just enough to show she was listening as she extended the benefit of the doubt to her elder sibling. “Explain thyself. My patience wears thin.” Rising slowly, Celestia forsook her currently flawless white coat and drew Luna into a snug, sticky embrace. “It would seem to me, Luna, that you fear being forgotten by one you hold dear to your heart.” It was subtle, but Celestia knew she’d hit her mark as once tense shoulders slumped in sullen acceptance of having to hear what she didn’t wish to speak. “I have watched the two of you, Luna. Being part of a family will not diminish that colt’s love for you in the slightest.” “Art... thou certain?” “There is no doubt within my heart, dear sister,” Celestia affirmed in complete confidence, a smile slowly growing as her embrace was returned. “If you may recall, I was not cast aside when Twilight Sparkle was wed. If anything, my archives of her discoveries merely grew at a much faster rate.” Where once laughter was cause for wrath, Celestia’s recollection and subsequent reminisce brought comfort to Luna. “Oh, and do make sure that the family that wishes to provide a home for your disciple is of character, would you?” “Like you even need to remind me of such obvious matters?” Luna replied in mock indignation. “You act, Celestia, as if I haven’t already begun to set up the proving grounds.” “I do hope it’s nothing too worrisome?” Celestia giggled, donning a mischievous smile mirrored by her sister. “Oh, not to worry,” Luna chortled, idly brushing some of the sweetness from her coat and bringing her hoof to her lips. “The infirmary has already been alerted to be quite prepared come this afternoon, and it’s been quite some time since the dungeon has been used. I’m sure any half-truths and other such nonsense will be hastily rectified.” Her explanation was so matter-of-fact that Celestia had to take a moment or two to process the statement before royal obligation and the public eye bid her make inquiry on whatever ill-fated couple had dare extend a helping hoof to a colt most sacred. “Are you serious? Because I cannot tell at the moment.” “Nay, sister, tis a joke!” Luna quipped, laughing at her own cleverness. “I must say, this sarcasm thing of which so many ponies seem to enjoy can be immensely fun. However, I digress. I am in need of a bath, so I’ll bid you good morning.” “Sleep well, little sister. I shall see you this afternoon.” Luna nodded and cantered off towards the banquet hall doors, though as she flung them open and gave the attendees the informed them that they need not fear for their lives, she counteracted the statement as she again struck a tone that led Celestia to wonder just how much truth was laced within her jesting. “Thank you again for your kindness, sister. Oh, and before I forget to ask, might you know where I may find some leeches? I seem to recall they have a most peculiar ability to deter lies from even the most heinous of ponies, and I simply cannot abide the thought of a proper interrogation without them!” “Uh... no, Luna, we do not keep leeches here at the castle.” “What a pity...” Luna pouted, conjuring frightful looks from those nearby before whipping her head up and cantering away, her cheery tones slowly fading out of Celestia’s earshot as she made for her room. “Oh well! I may yet find some other parasite that will suffice... You there! Tell me, do you know where I may purchase mosquitos in bulk? No? Well, thou art of little help...” It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling for Sweetie Belle to wake up wondering why her eyelids had been replaced with ten-inch thick steel doors with no lever, button, or magic to lift their gargantuan weight. After an evening spent pondering her beloved’s disappearance and a night restlessly tossing about, unable to evade thinking about the same, the filly felt little desire to fight her body’s fatigue at first, but as she offered her silent abode a feeble groan in protest to the results of a sleepless night, a longing began to well within her chest, slowly muscling its way through the crowds of scattered thought attempting to form a whole but too busy admiring their fractured form to bother finding a partner. At first, her worry over Spike’s rather abrupt and unprecedented exit had manifested itself as frustration, leading her to do the unthinkable and try her parent’s intelligence with meaningful, heartfelt anxiety wrapped in a pita of freshly tossed ranting, but this proved to be expecting too much, as they were unable to even get past the bread barrier, so to speak. It wasn’t that they weren’t learned in many valuable life lessons or that they didn’t wish to help Sweetie Belle, but that they had a tendency to be easily distracted, pursuing whatever thought each sentence seemed to spark regardless of whether it had any relevance to the topic at hoof - fear that she’d somehow done something to jeopardize her relationship with Spike, namely. The resulting depression led to moping, which led to whining and further sullen vocalization, but as much as the filly seemed to be fearless when it came to exercising her sway over her coltfriend, she couldn’t bring herself to talk to him. How could she? Even though she hadn’t the slightest idea what had caused Spike to walk away, she just somehow knew that something was off, and while the thought of being yelled at made her cringe, the knowledge that she had hurt him was even worse. Tears were shed upon her pillow the previous evening, a suppressed song she didn’t wish for anypony to hear, but on that morning, as her determination was dragged nervous and quaking to the stage before a host of possibilities and doubt, her heart stood right beside her resolute desire to fix whatever she’d broken. Softly, she began to sing. What have I done? What should I do? Scattered thoughts, here and there, they’re all wrapped around you If I reach out my hoof, will it only be to rend a gentle heart, wrapped in scales? No, I’ll make amends~ Somehow~ “Somehow...” Peeling back the blankets, she cantered wearily over to the shower, switching on the flow of water and stepping in. As water coursed over her coat and through her mane, she cracked open her eyes as a gentle nudge within whispered a few words of comfort to a shaky start, and a smile ever so brief flashed across her muzzle before she continued her morning routine, but with song. Why do I love you, Spike? I’d like to tell why I adore every belch and every blunder that’d put a colt six feet under leaves me breathless, wanting more~ It’s ok that you’re no scholar a sweeter dunce I’ll never find~ my big words confound you, at times the small ones barely get through but I mean it when I say that I don’t mind~ I know you’d cross the deepest valley, climb to the the highest peak; hay, you ate my cooking! and even though you started puking I’d still hold you if of bile you reeked~ “Hehe, he really did smell...” the filly chuckled to herself, shaking her head as the fond memory brought with it a warmth not gleaned from the the moisture that drenched her head to hoof. With her hooves tapping to the rhythm in her soul, Sweetie Belle switched off the water and toweled off, humming to herself as words sprang to her mind of their own accord. It wasn’t uncommon for the Nightingale of Ponyville to play the lark, so her mother and father weren’t surprised that the sound of singing reached them before their daughter. Short and cute and covered in scales, from the top of your head to the tip of your tail, like the gleaming mail of a dashing knight to sweep me off my hooves and hold me through the night~ It’s a little silly, but I love your ego it fills me with pride as you put on a show talking fast, acting rash, marching to your own drum inside that hide I know I’ll find a heart- softer than gum! Leaping the last few steps and twirling once, Sweetie Belle paused as a thought most curious struck her unawares. “Huh, I wonder what dragon flavored gum would taste like?” she mused allowed, seemingly garnering her parents’ interest as all three of them adopted looks of serious contemplation before the filly shrugged and continued her song while her parents attempted to figure out why Sweetie Belle was even thinking about such a thing. “Oh well! I’ll find out someday. Until then...” Stepping in time with her dulcet sonnet of blunder wonder, the filly shifted tempo and continued to sing. Though sometimes he seems dauntless, know for sure he’s not faultless; I haven’t lost my mind, no, this love is far from blind! some would say I’m obsessed, but know this! I’m not one to make a list, but for your pleasures, I insist! Peace of mind, I think you’ll find, isn’t so far away~ You’ve farted fire and scorched my mane, watched sexy fillies entertain when I’m standing right there? where’s your brain? do you want me to take up the cane? beat the sh- what’s that stain? “No, really, what is this?” Sweetie Belle paused, staring with confusion at the tablecloth wondering what her mother could possibly mistaken as palatable that would stain the fabric such a disgruntling shade of blue. “Mom, I think you should take some lessons or something from Applejack. Shoot, what I was I singing about? I lost my train of thought...” While Magnum and Garden Wishes both exchanged looks of utter lack of comprehension, Sweetie Belle thoughtfully munched on an apple waiting for the lyrics to brew, but quickly lost patience with having a melody bursting from within and not doing anything with it, so she just took the tangent and ran with it after downing the rest of her light meal. It seems I’ve lost my train So clearly, I must be a little insane! Well, that’s ok! Let chaos reign! We’ll blame Discord for the stain! And Spike and I will- “Spike! Geez, how could I forget?” the filly interjected, shaking her head sadly. “I wonder how I got so scatterbrained. Is it just because I’m stressed? Or hungry? Or being driven mad by all the stuff swirling around in my head like green slop in a great big cauldron stirred with a barbed wire fork covered in glitter and toffee? Hmmm...” “Sweetie Belle, that was some fancy word sayin’ right there,” Magnum encouraged, not having understood a word of the rapid-fire rhyming. “We’re so proud of you! But, could you possibly... sing it again? I didn’t quite understand... any of it,” Garden Wishes seconded, prompting an immediate implied facehoof and a sigh. While Spike was still on the forefront of her mind, the filly couldn’t help but diverging down the rabbit trail as it was presented. Thank you mother, thank you father, one question of many has been answered I no longer need to wonder why my head sometimes gets filled with sky I could find a mirror so you’d see~ what it is you’ve done to me! Straw hats are for working types- ponies who fix houses, gates, and pipes not a sports-loving couch potatoe who favor a few balls over a hoe- Oh, and mom? You wear jeans! thanks for the loony genes- my sis and I have those in spades my tongue spouts nonsense parades! I guess this is just who I’ll have to be~ so thank you, Spike, for loving me~ Now please excuse me, parents mine, This song grows long, so I shall depart so long, and thanks for this; the intelligence of a fish. All this singing made me have to pee~ On that note, Spike, please wait for me~ Making good on her word, Sweetie Belle excused herself to use the little filly’s room amidst much humming, leaving her parents to try and decipher such lofty, eloquent, and unfairly cryptic messages. “I’ll tell you what, Wishes; that little girl of ours sure can sing,” Magnum asserted, beaming with pride and still coming up short in the understanding department. “She’s every bit as sweet as her name, too! Payin’ me such compliments, tellin’ me I’m as smart as a fish... They’re cunning little critters, doncha know. I’ve tried catchin’ ‘em, and they're pretty dang sharp. Dodged my hoof every time.” “I know! It’s strange that she didn’t thank you for her singing, though,” Garden Wishes mused, continuing to wipe down the dishes. “She certainly didn’t get any of that from my side of the family.” “Get any of what?” Sweetie Belle asked, trotting out into the kitchen. “Go on, Magnum, show her that your voice isn’t just for shoutin’ at the games!” Wishes encouraged, stopping her work and giving her hubby a pleading smile. “Oh, all right. Just a little somethin’ somethin’, I guess,” Magnum chuckled, adjusting his straw hat and sliding out onto his hooves. Without warning or any kind of precedent, Sweetie Belle was shown a side of her father she’d never known, and it made her wonder if her mother were secretly involved in some kind of rogue necromancy cult attempting to resurrect vampiric jelly beans, because hearing her father drop into professional sounding opera-style singing that shook the windows without the slightest provocation struck her as every bit as ridiculous. The showcase of unused potential was short, and while Sweetie Belle glanced down at the ground where the shattered image of her parental perceptions lay fragmented, Magnum gave a hearty laugh as he gave the shell shocked filly a pat on the back. “Don’t let your talents go to waste, Sweetie Belle. While there’s nothing I love more than a good game, save my family, I don’t want you to end up regretting what could have been like I do.” A healthy injection of perspective gave Sweetie Belle a newfound appreciation for her parent’s seemingly overbearing ways in regard to her singing, and made her feel downright awful they’d caught the sour end of Rarity for it, so agreeing was the least she could do. “Don’t worry, dad,” she murmured, giving her father a much-deserved embrace. “I won’t stop singing, even when it’s hard.” Backed by her parents’ love, the filly stepped outside with her mind set and her heart pounding out the percussion to the melody coursing within. While she continued to sing, many a pony inclined their ear to the beauteous acapella filling the streets, but the only audience she desired was that of her special somepony, and she held the last note as she neared the door to the library, whereupon a familiar foal voice piped up from the other side. “Mommy, Sweebelle makin’ musics!” Dawn declared, racing over and immediately seeking to join the fun by tapping on the door to her own rhythm. Chuckling as she raised a hoof, Sweetie Belle startled herself as she knocked thrice in quick succession, her eagerness to bridge whatever rift had been hewn, likely by her own hooves, leading her knocks to come out much more forceful than she meant. “Too hard, Sweebelle! Softa, like this!” Dawn corrected, tapping a gentle rhythm for a few seconds before a snort of suppressed laughter led to a colossal sneeze from inhaled dust, and while Sweetie Belle didn’t wish to offend the sometimes temperamental filly, she could help but laugh as Dawn opened the door and peered out with hooves folded across her chest and a furrowed brow. “That’s notta good song, Sweebelle.” “While music can take many different forms, I’m afraid I must side with my daughter in this,” came a light-hearted voice from the foal’s father as he approached beside Twilight. “Your most recent piece, ‘Dust in the Schnoz,’ just can’t compare with your earlier work.” “Cerulean, I don’t think she was trying to sing,” Twilight explained, taking it upon herself to state the obvious. “Hmmm, yes, it was lacking in vision,” Cerulean replied in a thoughtful tone, craning his neck as Dawn took her usual place atop his head. “Now then, artistic integrity aside, how are you this morning, Sweetie Belle?” “I’ll be a lot better in a few minutes!” the filly quipped, practically bursting with anticipation. “I have something really important that I need to tell Spike, and... and, um... what’s with that face?” Twilight chuckled nervously for a few seconds before falling silent, wondering why Derpy couldn’t have been tasked with the delivery of the enigmatic letter she retrieved with her magic. “Spike’s not here right now, but he said to give this to you before he left,” Twilight explained, having exerted all her self-control to refrain from ripping the letter open and perusing the contents herself, and while Spike hadn’t appeared upset when he had made the request, the mare couldn’t help but worry as she floated the envelope over to the filly’s waiting hooves. A letter? I know Spike writes them all the time, but I don’t think he’s ever written one for me before... Sweetie Belle felt a pang of anticipation, a part of her hoping that it was something super mushy and romantic for her to squeal about and show off to her friends, but she knew that wasn’t the case. Whatever is in this letter, Spike, it won’t change how I feel. You can be as mad as you want, or sad, or anything else, but I’ll... I’ll keep chasing after you. Just like you did for me... She opened the envelope, slowly unfolded the parchment within, and began to read. Hah! The crew all called me “crazy.” I’ve heard the whispers, talk ‘bout goin’ daft fer buildin’ a pool on me vessel, but where are they now, eh? Cuddlin’ with the coral an’ dinin’ with the denizens o’ the mighty seas! Pipsqueak closed the door to his captain’s quarters with a hearty slam and grinned as he beheld his pride and joy, a monument to his prowess as terror of the high seas. A pool, once nothing more than an empty hole dominating more of his cabin than he cared to remember was now filled to the brim with glistening doubloons, shimmering as brightly as the day they were “liberated” from some other pony and forming a sort of path akin to shifting sands, leading to his desk. Turning briefly and feeling the exhaustion in his limbs from another day bellowing orders, racing about the deck, and leading the assault on many a craft, the dashing stallion began to remove his garb as a sultry voice caused his ear to twitch and his body to tremble with anticipation. “Oh, my captain has returned! It was ever so lonely without you...” “Aye, lass, every second away is a second I’ve dallied too long,” the fearsome rogue chuckled, his tone soft as he slowly turned to the mare taking her rightful place at the top of loot pile. “Scootaloo, I may sail these seas till the day I die, but I’ll never find any treasure greater than your smile.” “Purloined a silver tongue on your latest escapades?” she laughed, tossing a few locks of the magenta mane spilling down around her shoulders with tempting nonchalance. “I would hear more of this. Come to me, my captain...” Slowly extending a hoof in lurid invitation, the faintest hint of a blush tinged the temptress’ cheeks as Pipsqueak slowly began walking over. Standing at the precipice, the stallion took a moment to relish the beauty with which he was witness before leaping with all his might, sailing with ease over half the expanse before landing in utter confusion amidst the coins. “What ‘n blazes... since when is gold soft?” Pipsqueak muttered, buried up to his waist and pondering why exactly it was that treasure suddenly had the consistency of cotton. “Lass, are ye... Scootaloo?” A pang of fear sent a shiver down the once dauntless captain’s spine as he looked up to find the room empty, and eerily darker than he remembered. “Scootaloo? Ye have poor taste in... in... p-pranks...” One by one, the candles that lit the magnificent chandelier blew out, allowing the cold tentacles of darkness to reach out, grasping towards the pony, no longer a stallion but simply a colt - a colt of little stature, having no cutie mark, and utterly defenseless to do anything but flounder amidst a sea of gold that no longer brought any measure of accomplishment or pride. “Scootaloo? Scootaloo, come back! I need you! Scootaloo!” Trembling, the colt craned his neck, looking up at the chandelier with just a few wicks still lit. Three... “Scootaloo, where’d you go?” Two... “Scootaloo, you’ve gotta come back! I’m... I’m...” One... “...I’m scared.” A deep rumble akin to taking a cannonball to the starboard rocked the cabin as the last light blew out, and the colt could do little but cry out in desperation as some unseen force began to suck him down along with the gold that filled his open mouth. He managed but one more cry that escaped not as the bellow of a leader, but a whimper of a terrified child as his view went black. It was easy for the lines between reality and fabrication to be somewhat blurry for Pipsqueak, a condition made worse by a foe only two ponies knew that he struggled with, one being Rumble and the other being Luna. Completely ensnared in his blankets, disoriented from waking in somewhere other than his room at the clinic for the first time a very long while, and still gripped by gut-wrenching terror from the most lucid nightmare he’d ever had, Pipsqueak fought madly with the covers that threatened to plunge him into darkness for a few horrifying seconds before finally breaking free and falling to the floor with a painful thud. Not paying the throbbing in his side any heed, he ran purely on adrenaline and muscle memory, but the spare bedroom at Gale’s house was nothing like his room, and as he bolted to where the door should have been, he rammed himself into a bookshelf and was half buried by a dozen or so heavy tomes. Woken by the commotion, Cloudburn climbed out of bed and made towards the spare bedroom where the noise had come from, shaking her head and laughing silently as she tried to imagine just what kind of mischief one colt could possibly be getting into this early in the morning, but what awaited her inside wasn’t what she had expected at all. “Sheesh, I know pirates are rambunctious, but- Pipsqueak! Are you ok?” Mirth fled in an instant upon opening the door and finding the colt sobbing quietly, still mostly covered by hardback volumes. Cloudburn wasted no time in rushing over, hastily swiping away the books and gathering the shaken colt into a firm embrace, wincing a little as she sought to block out the world and its worries by providing shelter over the colt with her mangled wings. She couldn’t imagine what had set the colt off, but what she could feel was the colt’s heart pounding within his chest as rapid breaths made her fear hyperventilation would soon ensue. What do I do? I wanted so badly to be a parent, but now that I have somepony who needs my help, I can’t do anything but sit here... The hay, why am I sitting here worrying about my own fears? Thrusting aside her inhibitions, Cloudburn laid aside her lack of knowledge and simply followed the gentle tug within her chest, leading her not to spout off trite words of shallow comfort, but simply squeeze a little tighter, rocking gently as Pipsqueak scrambled to get a hold of himself. I can’t... can’t let her see me like this, not an awesome mare like Cloudburn! I don’t want her to think I’m weak, or lame, or... or... Hearing the words within his own mind ripped at his self-worth like shards of glass, born of a shattered persona, and Pipsqueak couldn’t stop a muffled sob from slipping out as helplessness and worthlessness threatened to overpower him. And yet, as he continued to shed tear despite every effort to dam the waterworks, when he did finally peel his face away and dare to look up at a mare who couldn’t possibly be feeling anything other than scorn, he found ever assumption proved false as he was wrapped in the swaddled in the cloths of comfort. There was no sneer, no disapproving frown, just kindness in the smile of a mare who wanted nothing more than to make everything better. “You’re safe, Pipsqueak. I won’t let anything hurt you.” Not entirely convinced, Pipsqueak didn’t respond, and after a short while Cloudburn tried again. “So... what happened? Did you attack the shelf?” “Not on purpose...” he mumbled, rubbing his forehead and wincing as his hoof made connection to a good sized lump. “That must have been a pretty solid headbutt, champ. I’d say you get bonus experience for style,” Cloudburn mused aloud, garnering a short laugh from the colt whose forehead had definitely leveled up. “I don’t know why you picked a fight with such a ferocious monster, but he sure did a number on you. That thing’s gonna need ice. Can you stand?” ...I don’t want to stand. “I-I think so...” I don’t want to move. I want to stay here. I want to hide. Cloudburn eased her grip only to feel Pipsqueak press closer, saying nothing with words but desperately crying out with his actions. Knowing it was important to rest and lick one’s wounds after an arduous fight, Cloudburn laid aside her role as medic and continued to hold the colt for another few minutes as the shaking subsided and slowly the strength to hide behind a comforting veil of swag returned. “Ye can be sure this be one scuffle I can’t well be proud o’ tellin’ the tale,” Pipsqueak muttered, pulling away and sniffling. “Laid out by a dusty bookcase... I’d be the laughin’ stock o’ buccaneer’s far an’ near.” “Hate to agree with you, but I don’t think you can even claim a moral victory here,” Cloudburn teased in a soft tone, perking up as the colt stood, wiping his nose on the back of a hoof and taking a deep breath before turning back around. “I hate t’ trouble ye, but about that ice ye mentioned...” “There’ll be ice, aye, but right now it’s breakfast time! So, get your swashbuckling tuckus over to the table and prepare to stow some serious grub, because I’ll be more than a little peeved if you’re not waddling when you leave here today!” “Oh ho, ye think ye can satisfy me appetite, eh?” Pipsqueak snapped back, wiping the last of the dribble from his nose as his vigor succinctly dethroned depression with all the subtlety of several hundred kegs of the finest dynamite doubloons could theoretically buy. “Aye, I’ll take that challenge, and three more!” With the necessary safeguards in place, the colt seated himself and gratefully accepted a sack of ice with which to soothe the throbbing in his head, and while Cloudburn busied herself preparing the meal, Pipsqueak couldn’t help but reflect on his dream. He’d had plenty of them, and nightmares the same, but if he closed his eyes, he could still remember each and every moment with frightening clarity. Perhaps even more worrisome was the gnawing doubt in the back of his mind that whispered it was more than just an unfortunate randomization of an active imagination. No, as he fell deeper into introspection, he became convinced that there was some meaning behind everything. He just had no idea what. “I sincerely hope you’re not strategizing on an empty stomach. That’s just plain poor planning,” Cloudburn cautioned, sliding a plate stacked high with crepes over to the colt. “Get to it. I have a lot more batter left, and I don’t like waste.” “Ye can be a tad pushy, Cloudburn, but I’ll oblige ye,” Pipsqueak chuckled, taking a deep draft of the tantalizing vapors and letting them out in an anticipatory sigh. She was really nice to me. She deserves a little more than that. While she hadn’t seemed bothered by his usual banter, Pipsqueak wouldn’t have been able to leave in good conscience that morning without thanking her properly. “Um... thanks, Miss Cloudburn.” That just... “You can... drop the ‘miss.’ Cloudburn is fine. Really, I should be thanking you.” Thank you, Pipsqueak, for making my day. I guess... I did something right after all. Much like the colt staring back in honest confusion, Cloudburn didn’t much like the idea of displaying any signs of weakness, but a single tear of joy slipped out, trailing down her muzzle and landing with a sizzle as Pipsqueak swallowed his mouthful and voiced his puzzlement. “Lass, it’s a bit strange t’ be thankin’ the blackguard that wrecked your house.” “Trust me; that’s a small price to pay,” she laughed, returning with another batch as Pipsqueak cleared his plate and eagerly set about demolishing seconds. And thirds. And most of the way through fourths before he ran the white flag, gently massaging his more than satisfied gut. Cloudburn saw him to the door, wishing she had some excuse to make him stay but knowing that even if all went well, she wouldn’t be able to keep him around the house all the time. “Hey, come back and visit sometime, all right?” she called out after him as he began to trot towards town. “I’ll make sure all the furniture is on its best behavior.” “They’ll be in fer a sound drubbin’ if they cross the line again, mark me words,” Pipsqueak chuckled, sweeping out his hoof and bringing it low in an exaggerated bow. “Thank ye fer yer hospitality, Cloudburn. On me honor, I’ll return again. Ye can be sure o’ that. Fer now, I hear the winds o’ whimsy callin’ me name.” Turning away, the colt adopted a carefree trot until the mare's house drifted from sight, at which point he slowly pressed for speed until he was tearing through town at a full gallop. As calming as Cloudburn's words had been, he couldn't shake the cloud of foreboding that loomed over his head, and he didn't stop to catch his breath until he was well outside of town, forging a path through wild grass that stood taller than himself. More shaken by the dream and the notion of losing Scootaloo than he had imagined, a lone colt sank to his haunches and quietly shed his strength and few more tears, wrapped not in the hooves of another, but only the scratchy fronds of the fox tails. He told himself it was better that way, that nopony could see him like that and nopony ever should. After all, who could ever love a fraidycat? "Nopony..." he answered quietly to himself, covering his face in shame even as the tears continued to roll. "Nopony would... ever like the real me. Especially not... not..." Scootaloo...