//------------------------------// // Father's Pride // Story: Born On A Rock Farm // by Aragon //------------------------------// Only a few ponies in Equestria got to know Inkie Pie well enough to think about her relationship with her father. And between them, only the ones who already were part of the Pie family ever understood how it worked, and how it marked Inkie forever. Igneous Rock was a peculiar stallion. He never talked unless you talked with him first, he never smiled unless he was with his family, and he never cared about abstract or non-practical things. Born a farmer, raised a farmer, and always a farmer, Igneous loved his three daughters as a father, but he never gave them any respect. They had to earn it from the stallion himself. Blinkie Pie was a natural farmer. Her ability to work the rocks was at least as good as her father’s, maybe even better. She understood early that her little sister could not work, and as a result, she worked twice as hard. The day she finally managed to do it, the day she showed that she could manage the entire farm on her own, was the day she earned Igneous’ respect. Pinkie Pie wasn’t a natural farmer, but she could do much more. The day she discovered who she was, she became a hurricane of energy, of good feelings, of happiness. When she noticed that her sister had to live with a burden that nopony could lift from her shoulders, she made sure to make her smile, to make her dance, to make her happy, to be happy for her. The day she finally left home to become a full mare by herself, the day she noticed that she did not belong in the farm but out in the wilderness, the day she left them to live a life that nopony else in the family would understand, was the day she earned Igneous’ respect. But Inkie Pie was not a farmer nor a hurricane of energy. Inkie Pie was a weak filly that could barely walk. She could not make her family’s lives better. She was a useless pony, a ghost. She was incomplete, but she refused to let her disability dominate her. Instead, she embraced it, and suffered it at its fullest. Inkie Pie tried to be as honest with herself, as authentic, as possible. That never earned Igneous’ respect. Because even though Igneous Rock loved his daughter with all of his heart, he was proud enough to recognize Inkie’s pride and understand it. He never made her life easier than Blinkie’s or Pinkie’s. Both her sisters had worked hard to become who they were, and that had turned them into adults for Igneous. They had done something more than just living. That was not the case with Inkie. She was trying, but it was not enough. The fact that one morning, without explaining to anypony why he was doing so, he brought Inkie Pie to the city and into the music store, would remain always as a mystery. What did Igneous see in his daughter to recognize the gift of music in her, nopony ever knew. But he did, and that’s what mattered to Inkie Pie. “She’s healthy,” Igneous explained to the clerk when he looked at Inkie and her bandaged legs uneasily. “But, her hooves…” “I see.” The owner of the store was an old stallion with white hair and grey eyes, that took Inkie by the shoulders and put her in front of a display of countless instruments. He explained to her how they worked, he showed her the way they were played and the way they sounded, and then he let her choose. “Take whatever you want, and bring it home,” Igneous told her. “It will be yours and yours alone.” And Inkie looked back at her father and saw the way he was looking at her, and then she looked back at the instruments. She understood what Igneous was telling her. She did not belong on the farm. She was not a rock farmer, and she would never be. She was weak, her hooves were fragile, she could not endure the pain as she thought. Something less practical, something less respectful than physical work—something abstract and harmless, like music, which her father had never understood or tried to—would fit her better. Inkie felt Igneous’ pride, the way he wanted his daughter to be worthy of something better, the way he wanted her to live a life in which she would not be useless. The way he wanted to protect her but still understood that she had to grow as a pony, to be free, to be by herself. Her disability, her illness, her weakness forced her to take a different lifestyle. There, in front of a thousand different instruments, gentle and delicate as her own hooves, she felt the urge to rebel one last time against everypony’s will. And, after looking at Igneous’ eyes for what felt like years, she turned back and pointed a particular instrument to the old pony that owned the store. A black guitar with metal strings. It was too heavy, and she couldn’t carry it without feeling even more pain than usual in her hooves. The strings were too hard, too thin, and could cut her easily if she wasn’t careful enough while playing it. The instrument required a strength and energy that Inkie did not have. She chose the only thing in that store that she knew would hurt her. She didn’t listen to the old pony’s advice and just looked at her father. Inkie chose to keep doing that to herself. To keep suffering, to keep being broken. She had to give up farm work, but she would not give up pain, because it was already part of her. Igneous saw his weak, lonely child rebelling against him. He offered her a helping hoof and she refused it, choosing instead to do things her own way, even when that way was obviously wrong. And he smiled, bought the guitar, and watched as Inkie walked back home while bleeding from her tiny hooves, the black instrument hanging from her back. And that day, Inkie Pie finally earned Igneous’ respect and became an adult.