//------------------------------// // No hope, no love, no glory // Story: Happy Ending // by not plu //------------------------------// What this place is like is difficult to describe. Think of an old ponies’ home, but worse. It’s in this huge building, in the middle of bucking nowhere, with all the facilities and everything: from padded cells to butterfly gardens. Apparently Discord funded the place, but that’s just a rumour. I don’t see why he’d have any reason to. Seems like he’d rather just set them all free. After a cartload of security, Dinky and I sit in purgatory. She idly attempts to move a ball around a miniature maze with her magic. A TV in the corner shows an ad for wing-preening kits on low volume. It’s empty, sans us and a bored-looking receptionist. Standard waiting room fare. Finally, a far too chipper mare enters through an automatic door, levitating a clipboard. I nudge Dinky and we rise. She meets us halfway to where she entered. The whole thing feels rather dream-like, honestly. Like we’re floating through the sterile, hushed hallways. Just drifting past locked doors and muffled shouting. We finally arrive, and the nurse knocks softly on the door before pushing it open. A placard tells us that this is the visitation room. Like a prison, only... cozier. I take a deep breath. Out of one bubble and into another. We walk in. There’s no other way to say this: she looks awful. Her coat color has paled, and her disheveled mane looks like it’s falling out in places. She looks thin and weak. Without the metal band around her hoof, I’d assume she’s on... something. As I walk closer, Dinky hugging onto me, we make eye contact, and a shiver runs down my spine. That’s what gets me, every time. All the residents here have the same eyes. They’ve gone dead and grey and there’s nothing behind them. Just existence. And her eyes... it just makes it worse. I quickly glance down and nudge Dinky forward. She seems to be slightly afraid as well. I can understand why. “Hi, muffin.” She says softly as she stands. Dinky looks up at me and I nod. She cautiously walks over to her mother, and as soon as she’s close enough, Derpy unfurls her wings, and scoops her daughter up in a hug. My eyes don’t leave the straight edge where her wing ends. The hug finishes, and Derpy beckons me over. Dinky and her mother sit next to each other on the sofa, and I sit a safe distance away, across a coffee table from them, in my own chair. Of course, the conversation’s topic starts with Dinky. Least painful thing to talk about. It’s the normal questions. School, friends, magic. Stupid stuff. Derpy attempts to mention Dinky’s unicorn father, but I shoot her a look. It doesn’t even faze her. I think she just heard “father” and thought of Script. Rightfully. When Dinky mentions how much she likes art class, Derpy’s eyes light up. Well, as much as they’re able to, anyway. “Well that’s perfect! They just finished the redo of the art room, maybe we can go down there and you can draw me a picture!” Dinky nods enthusiastically, and we all head toward the door. Derpy lets Dinky go ahead of us, for obvious reasons. This is routine. All of this is a just a routine. If the bubbles pop, just blow more of them. As Dinky prances out into the hall, Derpy quickly yells out some directions to her. She turns around, smiles, and continues being a foal. We’ve only been walking for a few moments before she has the nerve to speak directly to me. “So, how have you been?” Her voice sounds light. And dead, in a way. “Fine.” “How’s your sister?” I look at her in surprise. No one has even mentioned my sister in a very long time. “Noi? Yeah, she’s good. Still living with our parents in Ponyville. She and Dinky seem to be friends, I guess.” “That’s good. Dinky sounds like she’s made plenty of friends.” “Yeah. She still goes to that afterschool program thing, with that mare... Amber something?” “Amethyst Star.” “Yeah.” “Speaking of friends, how are mine?” “Uh, fine, I guess?” “Like... Lyra, and Rain-” “Fine. Everyone’s doing just fine.” “Great. And the farm?” “Well it’s winter, but we’ve got enough stockpiled. We’re pushing for carrot juice right now. Y’know, to compete with the Apples.” “Sure. Well, that’s about everything I can ask about.” “Well, you know, I’m married, so there’s that.” She stops, prompting me to do so as well, and stares at the ground. I know I’ve hit a nerve, but I don’t really give a buck. “I’m sorry, I thought we were going to be having a civil conversation.” Gone is the lightness. “Yeah, but that doesn’t excuse you being in denial.” She meets my eyes with a glare. And now... I can’t exactly help myself. Once that bubble’s been popped, you can’t fix it. “I don’t even understand why you don’t like him. I love him, and you have to accept that. Just because you dumped your-” “Shh!” “Your stupid unplanned foal in my lap doesn’t mean you can control my life! I was already married when you ‘bestowed’ her unto us, so you knew and everything, right?” “I get that.” She continues walking, more briskly this time. I trail behind her slightly. “Look, just tell me why you don’t like him.” She stops again, and turns to stare at me. “I just don’t think he’s a good parent.” “He’s better parent than either of us.” I shouldn’t’ve said that. I... really messed up with that. That’s all I can say. “It’s not my fault you don’t want her!” She nearly shouts. Ahead of us, hooves screech to a stop against the tile, and we both turn toward the noise. “You... don’t want me?” The tiny lavender filly seems miles away.