Sugarplum was, once again, on a train. She was a delivery pony, and she seemed to spend most of her time on trains. She delivered special cargo. Most of the time, she was happy to do her job. Today was not one of those days. Her heart was heavy and she felt a painful tightness in her chest.
She did not want to make this delivery. Not at all. For a brief time, she had considered refusing to do her job or even quitting, but that thought had passed. There was simply too much work to do.
She was alone in the train car with her charge, and for good reason. Every window was open, trying to let in a fresh breeze. Not that it did any good. The stench of sulfur filled the air, a foul miasma redolent of rotten eggs. It was slightly difficult to breathe. She looked at the basket containing the foal and sighed.
“You don’t deserve this,” she muttered, “nopony should be blamed for something they have no control over.” She lifted the blanket, checking on her charge.
His coat was a dingy unpleasant dirty looking yellow and his mane was the nauseating colour of pea soup. He also had something that very few foals had at his age, a cutie mark. His was a puffy green cloud. He was sound asleep, magically sedated, to prevent another accident. He was a newborn, only a few days old, and his life was already over.
Sugarplum was taking him to Blackenshire Asylum, a place for the magically dangerous, the criminally insane, and a home for unicorns that could not safely live in society.
She sighed again. “This isn’t right. No foal should have to grow up in that horrible place. It’s bad enough you lost your mother…” Her words died in her throat. She understood the danger, her mind could accept that part. But her heart suffered. She loved foals. Foals were her talent. Finding them homes. Making them happy. What she was doing right now went against everything that made her who she was.
She coughed, trying to clear the lump from her throat. She pulled out her bag and began to sort through her mail and other papers. She levitated several envelopes in the air, looking at them all in turn, and finally managed a weak smile. “Something from Fluttershy, “ she said, her voice thick with emotion, “I really hope it is good news. I could use it right about now.” She opened the envelope carefully and pulled out the paperwork. Her eyes skimmed over the paper. “Hmm,” she hmmed. “Climbing Ivy.” She stated to her self. “Excellent name. I think it will suit her.”
She heaved another sigh, this time one of relief. “I had some doubts there. Celestia was right. Fluttershy was the best chance I had.”
She hummed to herself as she sorted through the rest of her mail, reading more papers, letters, and forms. More requests, some denials, and one rejection letter from a couple that didn’t want the foal that had been delivered. “It happens,” she muttered, “sometimes the dream is better than reality. Foals take a lot of work. And some ponies aren’t made for hard work.” She paused and adjusted her glasses, feeling a slightly guilty twinge for being judgmental.
She lifted the blanket and looked at the sleeping unicorn foal. She lowered the blanket and stared out the window.
The countryside was beautiful. There were trees, rivers, and the occasional farm or orchard. The train would be stopping soon in some small no-name village to take on cargo and passengers, or to drop off cargo and passengers. The country setting would be a great place to raise a foal. Any foal, she reflected. Except the foal in the basket. He would never get a chance to run through green fields and sun dappled woods. It wasn’t safe for the foal in the basket to be around other ponies. Not after what had happened with his mother and the doctor.
Her gaze fell to a bit of tape on the side of the basket, with a name and a case number. “Brimstone,” she uttered, “I can’t decide if somepony calling you that was cruel or merely fitting due to your talent.” Her nose crinkled as she sniffed the air. “Or your curse, which is what I would say it is.”
She reflected for a while on talents. Not every talent was particularly useful. Some were mostly useless spot on the wall types. Some however, were dangerous or harmful. Like the ability to generate clouds of strangling gas. Lethal clouds of strangling gas. And to generate a sulfurous stench.
Her reflection was interrupted by the train whistle. She felt her self lurch forward slightly as the train began to slow. She considered for a moment getting off of the train to stretch her legs, but then reconsidered when she realised she had the entire car to herself. She could stretch her legs at any time. And there was no point in going outside for fresh air. She’d have to take the foal with her, she couldn’t leave him all by himself, and that would be the end of fresh air.
She thought about her own talent, her knack with foals. Of all types. Troublesome foals, damaged foals, foals who needed homes, sick foals, foals who had been abused and needed an adult they could trust, all of the foals that had entered the system, she had a knack to deal with all of them. She thought about her own foals, all five of them, at home with her husband. She wished for a moment that he was here right now, and felt a hot flush on her cheeks. Her talent for motherhood extended to all aspects, including making foals. And right now, she could use some comforting. Or a distraction. Maybe both. Her husband would know just what to say or do to make her feel better. She missed her family. Usually, it wasn’t this bad, but this case was troubling. She felt lost, alone, confused, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was going against her own talent, her own special gift. And it pained her terribly.
Her husband’s gift was herdology. The study of ponies and social groups. His cutie mark was a stack of books, an inkwell, and a quill. Not a very unique mark for a scholar, but he was successful as both a professor and a book writer. She made a mental note to send a copy of “Interspecies Ethics and the Gentle Approach” to Fluttershy.
The train had stopped. She heard the hubbub outside, the noise drifting in through the open windows. She also heard loud complaints about the terrible stench wafting from the train.
She sighed, feeling her heart break just a little more. Brimstone would never fit into society. He would never be accepted. Would never know love, his first kiss, attending school, finding his place in the world. No, he would never know these things. He was going to spend the rest of his life in slumber, numb to the world, safe from the world, and the world safe from him. Some called it mercy. Sugarplum couldn’t decide what it was. She gritted her teeth and muttered a wordless protest.
She heard the door open. A unicorn mare entered the car. She had a dull grey coat and a pale blue mane.
“Do you mind if I join you?” The mare asked. “The other cars are crowded.”
“I don’t mind if you don’t mind,” Sugarplum replied, “if the smell doesn’t bother you.”
“Oh,” the mare replied, “that’s coming from this car. Well, the whole train smells funny, you can’t get away from it, might as well sit in a comfortable not so crowded car.” She walked slowly down the aisle.
She sat in the seat across from Sugarplum. “My name is Glowbug.” She turned slightly in the seat, revealing her cutie mark. “Fireflies,” she said, pointing with her hoof, “I can fill the skies with thousands of fireflies.”
“Sugarplum,” Sugarplum replied, “motherhood. I’m a social worker.”
“Oh,” Glowbug stated, “I think I’ve heard about you. You’re the nice mare who delivers orphans by train. There was a story about you in the newspaper.”
Sugarplum dropped her gaze. She didn’t feel very proud about her profession right now. She worked very hard to control her inner turmoil. She realised that the last thing she wanted right now was the company of a stranger.
“And you’re making a delivery!” Glowbug exclaimed.
“Yes I am.” Sugarplum said flatly.
“You don’t seem happy about it.” Glowbug said, her face crinkling with concern, her ears pivoting forward.
There was a long awkward silence. Sugarplum looked away, looking for anything that would hold her attention, and she could feel Glowbug’s eyes gazing at her.
“Is there something wrong?” Glowbug inquired. “Maybe I can help?” Glowbug leaned forward. “I know how it feels not being able to talk to somepony,” she said softly, “I have a lot of trouble relating to other ponies. It is the worst feeling in the world to be lonesome or have a problem and not be able to talk to somepony about it or get help.”
Glowbug fell silent, contemplating, her eyes sad, wondering how to get Sugarplum to open up. She chewed on her lower lip for a moment. “I once had a terrible fight with my sister,” she said in injured tones, “I could have talked about it, sought help for it, the scuffle could have been avoided, but I chose to stay silent and suffer.” Glowbug closed her eyes. “It was a terrible mistake.”
“I really don’t want to do my job right now.” Sugarplum said, her voice raspy with emotion.
The silence decided upon them, solid, unyielding, uncomfortable. The train was picking up speed.
“I am about to do something terrible that goes against everything I believe in. Something I am not sure I can forgive myself of when this is all over.” Sugarplum swiped her foreleg over her eyes.
“Oh,” said Glowbug, “this is something you have to do?”
“That’s the worst part. I don’t know. I keep thinking that there has to be some other way.”
“Want to talk about it?” Glowbug asked.
“I’m not sure that I should.” Sugarplum replied.
“You sound conflicted,” Glowbug paused, “I have a knack for stating the obvious. I’m sorry.”
“It is OK.” Sugarplum sighed. “I have to take this foal to a place… Well, a terrible place. I’m not sure he belongs there. He deserves a loving home. A happy home. However, due to some circumstances outside of his control, cruel fate, call it what you will, he is never going to have any of those things. Or any kind of life at all.”
“I don’t understand.” Glowbug stated.
“Neither do I.” Sugarplum replied. “Nothing in life makes sense right now. Everything feels wrong.”
“So do not take him there, wherever it is that he is going. Take him someplace else. Find him a home. Isn’t that what you do? The paper said you have found homes for foals that are considered impossible to place. Why is this one any different?”
Sugarplum gazed at Glowbug, saying nothing. Glowbug began to look at Sugarplum intently.
“I’ll take him and give him a good home.” Glowbug said in a conspiratorial whisper.
Sugarplum’s mouth dropped open in shock. “No,” she replied, “you can’t.”
“Why not?” Glowbug asked. “You said he needed a home. I’m offering.”
“It, it, ugh,” Sugarplum stammered, struggling for words. “I don’t know how to talk about it.”
“Give the foal to me,” Glowbug said in soothing tones, “and all this worry will be over. Nopony would ever need to know.”
Sugarplum was tempted for a moment, and she felt horrible for even allowing the temptation to enter her mind.
“No!” She exclaimed harshly. “No, it can’t be done, no matter how much I want to personally.”
“Why not?” Glowbug asked.
“Because,” Sugarplum replied, “it wouldn’t be safe for you, or for any other pony around you. Because he’s expected at the place I am delivering him. Because there is paperwork involved and my career would be at stake. Because I am going to have to sacrifice one foal’s life and compromise my own ideals just so I can keep doing my job, so I can help other foals, and there is no other way around it.” Sugarplum began to weep, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I hate my self.”
“Why wouldn’t it be safe?” Glowbug said in gentle comforting tones. “I don’t understand. What harm could a foal do?”
“Seconds after he was born he conjured a cloud of lethal strangling gas. He poisoned the doctor and his own mother. Several of the nurses almost died.” Sugarplum clamped a foreleg over her mouth, in shock that she had let that slip. She knew that she shouldn’t have done that.
Glowbug looked sad. Her ears drooped, her eyes closed, and her head hung low. “That’s tragic,” she said, “but it was an accident. What is to be done with him?”
Sugarplum said nothing.
“Blackenshire?” Glowbug asked.
Sugarplum nodded.
“He doesn’t belong there!” Glowbug spat. “He’s a foal!”
“I know!” Sugarplum said, sobbing.
“So give him to me, nopony needs to know. You can say he was foalnapped. It was an accident, probably due to the shock of being born. Maybe with time it can be controlled, harnessed, repressed. It doesn’t have to end this way!”
Sugarplum looked up at Glowbug, her face clouding over in sorrow. “We both know that what you are saying is a bad idea. Other ponies could be in danger. What if there was another accident? Unicorn foals have random magic surges. What if he poisoned you?”
Glowbug opened her eyes wide and shook her mane out of her face, her ears flared back against her head. “So what?” She said. “So what if he does. Worth the risk. What if he doesn’t? What if this is a one time fluke? What if there is about to be a horrible mistake made because of a one time event? Give him to me. Give him a chance. Neither one of us knows what might happen, but his life shouldn’t be thrown away because of what might be. Or might not be.”
For a moment, Sugarplum felt temptation again. Her heart ached. Her chest felt tight and constricted. What if his magical outburst was a one time event? What if he could be trained to hold it in, to control it? Sugarplum closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
“No.” She exhaled. “No. This would be wrong. I would love for him to have a future, but not at the possible expense of somepony else losing theirs. It isn’t going to be easy but it must be done. The risk of losing just one life is one life too many. As horrible as it might seem, he must go and spend his life in slumber at Blackenshire.”
There was a painful silence. Glowbug ceased to look sad, and anger clouded her features. The air took on the scent of ozone, it mingled with the scent of sulfur. A crackling static filled the car.
“So that is your decision.” Glowbug stated flatly. “I admire your dedication to your job, but you must understand, I AM TAKING THE FOAL.” Glowbug’s voice elevated to painful tones. Her horn glowed, glittering blue magic formed a nimbus.
Sugarplum shrank back in her seat, terrified.
Painful blue light erupted from Glowbug, her features distorted and shimmered. Blue flames rippled from her coat. Her pelt bubbled and blistered and began to melt like wax.
And with a bright flash, Sugarplum had a very angry Princess Luna sitting in the seat in front of her.
“Your sister signed the order…” Sugarplum whimpered. “You can’t take the foal. He’s dangerous. Other ponies might get hurt. Be reasonable!”
“I WILL NOT ALLOW MY SISTER TO CONDEMN HIM TO ISOLATION FOR A MISTAKE! NO PONY DESERVES THAT, TO BE SEPARATED FROM THE HERD. DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH PAIN THAT CAUSES? EVEN IN SLUMBER, HE WILL FEEL IT! AND I WILL FEEL IT AS WELL, WHEN I DELIVER HIS DREAMS TO HIM! I WILL NOT ALLOW THIS TO HAPPEN! MY SISTER WILL JUST HAVE TO UNDERSTAND!”
Luna took a deep breath and began to compose herself. She levitated the basket over to the seat next to her.
“I… apologise.” Luna offered. “But you must understand my position. I understand yours. Allow me to explain. I will keep him safe. With me. I will keep watch. I will keep him away from other ponies until such a time that I feel that it is safe. I will train him. Keep his magic in check. He cannot hurt me, so even if he gasses me by accident, it will only be a momentary discomfort. A moment of discomfort is a meagre price to pay to prevent him from experiencing a lifetime of torment. My sister will understand. I will speak to her. I will smooth this over. We will talk. And all will be well.”
Sugarplum nodded, still terrified, and in no position to disagree. She cleared her throat and licked her lips.
“There is one thing I must know, one thing I have to know, I need an answer, otherwise, I will not allow you to take him, I don’t care what you might do to me. Lock me in a cell, if you must, but I will not let you take him if I do not like your answer.”
Luna glared angrily, her patience wearing thin. “What?” She asked.
Sugarplum cleared her throat several times, swallowed, and raised her eyes in defiance at Luna. “Will you love him? Or is he to be an experiment? A study in magic? A means to an end? You wont try to use him to hurt your sister again will you?”
For a moment, Sugarplum thought she was about to be turned into an ash pile. Luna glared at her, her eyes flashed white, becoming pupil-less. A terrible heat radiated from the furious Princess. The air crackled ominously.
And then Luna changed. Her features softened, her anger melting away. She looked down at the basket.
“I will never hurt my sister ever again…” she stated, “nor would I use another to do so. I know what it means to have a gift that nopony appreciates. I know what it means to be alone. To be isolated. To want so badly to have somepony appreciate what you do. I could never subject him to those things. I know how badly they hurt. It is difficult to be loved when you are almost unreachable, isolated for whatever reason. And I know that very well. I promise you, this foal will grow up knowing that he is loved. That he is appreciated. And that his talent, as terrible as it might be, as dangerous as it could be, is valued and held as an asset. Equestria has enemies, and I would be remiss in my duties as a Princess if I did not explore every avenue for our protection. My sister will understand this in time.”
There was a loud thump on the roof of the train, which nearly caused Sugarplum to jump out of her skin. Luna smiled. There was another even louder thump.
“Time for me to go,” Luna announced, “sorry for the trouble. I was hoping to secure him through gentler means, but you take your job very seriously, and that is commendable. I do believe I would have been somewhat disappointed with you had you just given him over.”
A door opened behind Sugarplum. She heard heavy hoofsteps and the clank of metal. There was a sudden chill in the air that caused her to shiver.
“Ah, Mare Imbrium! Mare Frigoris! I’ve been expecting you!”
“Do you have the foal my Mistress?” Imbrium inquired. “I see you had to reveal yourself.”
Sugarplum turned and saw two lunar pegasi. Large. Shaggy. Bat-like. Mares. She shivered again, either from cold or from fear. She couldn’t tell.
“Do not be afraid.” The second one said. “And sorry for the cold. It can’t be helped. I project it constantly.”
Imbrium snorted. “Mistress is in the habit of finding magical misfits and making them useful.”
Frigoris shoved her way past the Princess and to the basket on the seat. She pinched the blanket with the grasping digit on the central knuckle of her bat-like wing, lifting it.
“Frigoris!” Luna scolded, annoyed at being shoved aside. “Manners!”
“Yeah yeah, I hear ya. Don’t care.”
Frigoris examined the foal. “He’s stinky.” She lifted the blanket a little more. “And handsome! Well, the idiot solar ponies probably will not think so, but they cannot help that they are as stupid as a box of rocks. All those cheerful pastels make me want to vomit. Blow chunks. Spew. Hurl. Chunder. Hurl chowder.” She paused. “He really is stinky. Almost as bad as Imbrium’s fish farts after sushi.”
Imbrium whinnied indignantly. Luna sighed. “So hard to find good help.” She muttered.
Frigoris turned and invaded Sugarplum’s personal space, her nose inches away from the obnoxiously purple unicorn with the motherly cutie mark. “Hey,” she asked, “think you could find a little bundle of joy for me? Stallions are too much trouble. And they keep calling me frigid. As if.” She guffawed at her own joke.
“Perish the thought.” Imbrium snarked.
“What, I’d make a good mother! I bet my breastmilk would be like a milkshake. A foal would be lucky to have me as a mom!”
Luna rolled her eyes. “Sugarplum, I am really very sorry. But it is time for us to go. I hope you are well. Go home. Be with your family. Heal from this. Your values are still intact, or so I hope. I will shield you from my sister if need be. I am sure she can be made to understand.” Luna levitated the basket, drawing it close. Her horn flashed, there was a silver glow, and then she was gone, along with the two lunar pegasi.
Sugarplum was alone. The car was empty. Her delivery interrupted. She sat there for a few moments in silence, trying to take in everything that had just happened. Finally, she gazed down at her own cutie mark.
“You did this, didn’t you? I think you did. I don’t know how you did it, but I just know that you had something to do with it, didn’t you?” She took a deep breath. “I’m glad you found Brimstone a home.” She said in a choked whisper.
Sugarplum began to smile a bit as she felt better about doing her job.