Twilight’s sense of smell was buffeted by the aroma of Spike’s baked goods, the scent even stronger in the kitchen where she now stood. Spike was quietly using the time while the oven finished heating his cookies to wash the dishes he had used. Twilight smiled, for more than once, she had needed to either remind him to do so, or to simply clean it up herself. Twilight didn’t mind – she herself was a dreadful cook, and she sometimes became so involved with her studies that she would forget to eat if Spike hadn’t used the kitchen to fashion scents and flavors to remind her.
Her eyes scanned around said kitchen, looking for Scootaloo, but to little avail. She wasn’t next to Spike, helping him to dry the dishes. She wasn’t sitting at the table, eagerly awaiting the results of Spike’s session. She also wasn’t sitting in the corner, wearing whatever angry or frightened expression Twilight expected her to wear. The only entrance to the room was the one behind Twilight – had she been so absorbed in the letter that Scootaloo had left?
“Spike?” She asked the dragon, who was too occupied scrubbing the creases between the handle and head of spatula to look behind him and acknowledge her. “Is she still here?”
Spike’s claw pointed to the right, flecks of suds dripping to the floor as he pointed to the aforementioned table. “Yup,” he said shortly.
Twilight looked again at the table, seeing no trace of anypony on it or in the chairs that lined three of its four sides. Remembering that she was looking for a pony shorter than herself, she knelt down. Tangled within the labyrinthine mess of table and chair legs, she saw a small, orange figure close to the wall that the table stood against. Scootaloo’s purple tail wrapped itself around her impeccably still body, her head facing the wall and resting upon her forelegs. Twilight couldn’t help but think of times when Winona would sleep beneath the family table while the Apple family enjoyed a meal together.
“Scootaloo?” Twilight addressed the young Pegasus, gaining naught but a flinch at the sound of her name for a reply. Evidently, Scootaloo still didn’t want to speak with her. Twilight turned her head to look at Spike while still kneeling. “Has she said anything?” She whispered to the dragon, who had stopped washing the dishes to see how Scootaloo would react. Spike shook his head.
“No. She hasn’t moved or made a sound since I’ve been in here,” he told her. “I thought I’d get something when I announced I’d be making some cookies, but… nope. Nothing.” He looked slightly disappointed that the same treats the other Crusaders had cheered for at the very notion of elicited no reaction from Scootaloo.
“I don’t know that she’s ever had your cookies before, Spike,” Twilight said louder, certainly loud enough for Scootaloo to hear. “I’m sure if she had, she’d be over the moon about-”
“Can you cut that out?” Requested a shaky voice from beneath the table. Twilight immediately turned to look at the source again, and saw that Scootaloo hadn’t moved. “I don’t like when other ponies talk about me like I don’t exist when I’m in the same room with them.” Twilight decided to rearrange her hopes about how she wanted Scootaloo to react to her – she would much rather Scootaloo look at her first before speaking to her with such a cold and almost eerie sentiment.
“Scootaloo…” Twilight spoke quietly to her, garnering another twitch. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”
“I’m doing just fine,” Scootaloo answered, her current position of hiding under a table curled in a ball dictating otherwise.
From the oven, a series of high-pitched beeps sounded, indicating that the payload of chocolate chips and dough had been baked to perfection. Despite his general resistance to fire, Spike donned a pair of oven mitts specially made for him by Rarity, and opened the oven door. A blast of heat pulsed from the opening, and with that, the aroma of the confections had doubled. As Spike set the cookie sheet onto the countertop with a gentle clink, Twilight also heard a gentle growl come from what she was certain was the stomach of a little winged pony.
“Are you hungry?” Twilight asked innocuously.
“No,” was Scootaloo’s unamused reply. Her stomach growled again as Spike fanned the cookies to both rapidly cool them down and to disperse the intoxicating aroma throughout the rest of the kitchen.
“You might not be, but your stomach sounds like it is,” Twilight said playfully, desperate to lighten the mood. It didn’t work.
“I wish you wouldn’t talk to me like I’m some stupid little filly,” Scootaloo told her, her voice carrying the same cold quality it did before.
Twilight was taken aback by how sharply Scootaloo had seen through her ploy. She looked back at Spike, silently pleading for assistance, who met her gaze with a confused shrug. He then gestured his claws forward, urging Twilight to keep the conversation going before the room fell silent for too long. Twilight thought for a moment, and –
“You ARE a little filly, Scootaloo,” Twilight said, doing her best to sound sincere and calming. “And I don’t think you’re stupid.”
Scootaloo snorted at her, and finally turned to face the princess. Her purple eyes were surrounded by a mix of red and white, swollen and shimmering from her recent tearful episode. “Really?” She glowered. “Isn’t that what the letter said? That I’m a colossal screw up, a featherbrained flightless failure?”
Twilight felt her own purple eyes beginning to water at the sheer ferocity of the statement. “What? No! W-why would you think something like that?”
Scootaloo turned away again, leaving Twilight with a glimpse of the little wings folding back to Scootaloo’s sides having flared in a moment of passion. “It doesn’t even matter…” Scootaloo replied dejectedly, exhaling deeply as she nestled her head back onto her forelegs.
This time, it was Twilight who grew passionate. “It does too matter! You’re not a screw up, and you certainly aren’t a failure!” She exclaimed, Scootaloo scoffing in reply. “As a matter of fact, the letter said that Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and you especially, have been mistreated and harassed for a long time by a couple of bullies.”
Scootaloo was quiet for a moment. “Where are they? Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle, I mean,” she said, dismissing the point about Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon.
“They both left-”
“-Figures-”
“-Because I forced them to,” Twilight continued resolutely. “They both wanted nothing more than to stay and make sure you were okay, and they wouldn’t leave until I promised to make sure you were.”
“I bet,” Scootaloo replied sarcastically. “They were sick and tired of hanging out with a loser like me.”
“You don’t get great friends like Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Rainbow Dash by being a loser, Scootaloo,” Twilight said kindly. “They all care about you so, so much because they know how awesome you are.” She spoke with such genuine concern, such strength of belief, that Scootaloo turned to face her once again, a fresh stream of moisture streaming down her cheeks.
“T-They don’t care,” she spoke with as much conviction as she could muster as her emotions threatened to derail her words. “Not Apple Bloom, not Sweetie Belle, and not – not Rainbow Dash.”
“But they do,” Twilight assured her, smiling at the forlorn Pegasus under her furniture.
“No, they don’t!” Scootaloo cried, “Especially not Sweetie Belle or Apple Bloom, not with how I’ve been treating them,” she sniffed, another tear leaking from her eyes.
“Did you want to talk about it?” Twilight asked with concern, unsure of exactly what Scootaloo meant about her friends.
“We are talking about it,” Scootaloo pointed out, wiping her face as dry as she could before burying her muzzle again.
“I meant out here,” Twilight said softly, sweeping behind her with her hoof. “It’d be a lot easier for both of us, I think.”
“I’m fine right here,” Scootaloo stated, her little stomach growling once again at the smell of the warm fragrance from the cookies. As if on cue, Spike handed Twilight a plate with five particularly chip-laden cookies that he had cooled from earlier, the chocolate in them now melted into a wondrously gooey pattern.
“…We’ve got cookies?” Twilight suggested to the Pegasus with just a hint of desperation present in her voice. Scootaloo looked at the princess’s goofy smile, then to the plate of heavenly confections, and then back to the princess. “Please?”
“…Okay,” Scootaloo conceded, slowly rising from her warmed patch of under-the-table real estate, and began to sidle through the wooden legs to the open kitchen where her late lunch awaited.
Twilight’s eyes grew incredibly wide as she bore witness to Scootaloo massacring the baked goods before her. One of Spike’s cookies hovered in front of her open mouth, unmoving in its translucent purple envelope. Scootaloo, on the other hand, was a blur of motion, her mouth smacking loudly as she devoured the baked goods ravenously. Twilight was grateful that the recipe Spike used kept the cookies soft and chewy, or there would have been a flurry of crumbs bursting from the filly’s feasting.
“Sooo….” Spike asked slowly, his claw holding a treat with only a single bit taken before he became distracted at the tornado in front of him.
“Do you like them?”
Scootaloo nodded her head up and down aggressively. “Ith delithouth!” She exclaimed, expelling a fleck of chocolate goop as she did so.
“YES! Three for three, Crusader approved!” Spike cried, pumping his fist as he did so. Twilight cracked a smile, watching Spike gulp his cookie down in celebration, and looked back at Scootaloo, chocolate smears lining the Pegasus’ mouth. Scootaloo noticed her, and immediately blushed, looking down at the now empty china dish that she had cleaned spectacularly.
“You seemed famished,” Twilight said good-naturedly, trying not to embarrass the filly further. “Would you like something to drink?”
“No,” Scootaloo shook her head resolutely.
“Are you sure?” Twilight asked, turning to the refrigerator and stepping towards it. “Nothing goes better with homemade cookies than a cold glass of milk,” she tempted. Twilight could practically hear the air generated from Scootaloo’s motions as she shook her head even more.
“Oh no, your highness… I-I couldn’t! Milk is so expensive, and I-”
Twilight raised her eyebrow to herself, already using her magic to pour the milk she retrieved from the fridge into three separate glasses.
“Expensive? That’s hardly something you should be concerned about,” Twilight told Scootaloo, setting one of the glasses down in front of her. It had already begun to sweat, and the extra sheen gave it an utterly refreshing appearance that Twilight could tell Scootaloo was giving her best effort to resist.
Scootaloo’s protest quieted in volume now that Twilight had joined her again at the table. “I just… I wouldn’t want to impose,” she whispered to the seat of the chair.
“Impose nothing!” Spike insisted, “We’re offering it to you, you aren’t imposing at all.”
Scootaloo murmured inaudibly.
“Spike’s right,” Twilight added as Spike drank his entire glass in one fell swoop. “I appreciate you trying to be gracious, but it’s really not a big deal.”
Scootaloo’s front hooves sat firmly planted in her chair, not budging an inch.
“It would make me feel better if you did,” Twilight said. Much to her surprise, Scootaloo moved - raising her head to glare at the princess.
“Fine!” She shot. “But only because you’re a princess, and I HAVE to do what you say anyways,” Scootaloo said angrily. The orange pony gripped the glass between her hooves and raised it to her mouth, sucking down its contents. Although she appeared upset, Twilight could see her lips curl upward as the liquid cooled her parched throat. Scootaloo set the empty glass down forcefully, glaring at the princess.
“Happy?” She asked sarcastically.
Twilight was rather shocked by the caustic response and had to think before answering. Honestly, no. She wasn’t happy by the bitter reactions Scootaloo was extolling. However, she knew from one of the many Foal Psychology books she read that it would take more than a bribery of food to get Scootaloo to want to speak with her.
“Scootaloo, I’m a princess… not a tyrant,” Twilight explained after inhaling deeply. “And right now, I’m not Princess Twilight. I’m just plain old Twilight Sparkle, alright? Your friendly egghead librarian,” she added, hoping that ribbing on herself would cause Scootaloo to see that she was trying as hard as she could to be as approachable as possible.
“So… I don’t have to do what you tell me, then?” Scootaloo inquired suspiciously.
Twilight shook her head.
“So I don’t have to stay here?”
“No,” Twilight gambled. “If you want to leave, you’re more than welcome to,” she informed Scootaloo calmly.
“Really?”
“It’s entirely up to you,” The lavender Alicorn said simply.
Scootaloo stared at Twilight, analyzing her, determined to discover what she was playing at. Twilight could see the little gears in her head turning underneath her unkempt mane. Scootaloo’s eyes narrowed, and then-
“Then I’m leaving.”
With that, Scootaloo hopped from the chair, and with a noticeably forced pep in her step, waltzed past Twilight, and through the entryway of the kitchen. Twilight cursed silently under her breath, making a point to reread the section on reverse psychology from that book before the day was through. Spike wasn’t helping the situation, and was waving his claws frantically at her.
“What are we gonna do, Twilight? You promised Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom that you would help!”
“I know, Spike!” Twilight hissed. “I just wasn’t expecting – wait, you heard that?”
“Duh!” Spike replied. A staccato ding cut through the air as the front door to the library opened.
“Then that means that she – Scootaloo, wait!” Twilight cried, leaping from her seat towards the main chamber of the library. From the opening of the kitchen, she saw Scootaloo looking back at her from the front door, the door resting upon her small frame, and light awash over her.
“What do you want now?” Scootaloo asked, her annoyed tone lashing at Twilight.
Although Twilight was less reluctant to cite passages from the book, she remembered that young ponies would often get intimidated and fearful if they were approached so soon after an outburst, feeling “chased”, as the author put it.
“I made a promise, Scootaloo,” Twilight explained, standing still in the threshold. “A promise to Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle, to help you.”
Scootaloo merely rolled her eyes. “So what?” she snarled.
“So, you wouldn’t want your best friends to have been lied to, would you?” Twilight answered, hoping that Scootaloo would put her friend’s feelings in front of her anger.
It was to little avail. “Maybe that’s your fault for making a promise that you couldn’t keep!” Scootaloo shouted, not caring that ponies passing through the open door of the library might hear.
Twilight voicelessly remarked to herself that Scootaloo’s training to be like Rainbow Dash was working for at least one aspect of the young Pegasus – they were both as stubborn as mules.
“Maybe it would be a good thing,” Scootaloo continued. “Princess Twilight Sparkle, the liar. Not as perfect at everything as everyone thinks she is,”
Twilight heard Spike gasp behind her at the insult. Twilight had to admit she had a difficult time believing that Scootaloo could conjure such a hurtful statement herself. Did Scootaloo truly hate her that much?
“Is that – is that what this is about?” Twilight asked shakily. “You want to make a liar out of me? You want to prove that I’m not perfect? Scootaloo, I’m not perfect – nopony is!” Twilight’s deep purple eyes welled up, much to her surprise. She was supposed to be strong and inspiring as a princess. She wasn’t supposed to start crying when someone said something mean to her. What kind of example was that going to set for Scootaloo? And then Twilight realized that maybe, just maybe, that was the perfect example.
“Wait… I didn’t mean… Look, I just meant-” Scootaloo babbled. Twilight looked at her, embarrassed that a fully grown pony – an Alicorn no less! – was tearing up at the words of a filly. Scootaloo looked back, a look of apprehension and mingled fear upon her face. “I-I just meant that I didn’t need any help, that’s all!”
Twilight wiped her eyes with her hoof, and stared back at Scootaloo with an almost piercing look, as though she could see straight through her. With a clarity that surprised even herself, she spoke.
“Your friends care for you so much, Scootaloo. All three of you strive so hard to be so independent and to grow up so fast... Neither Apple Bloom nor Sweetie Belle would have asked me for help if they didn’t have any other choice. You can’t think it was easy for them to ask a princess of all ponies to help their best friend? Please… let me help you.”
Scootaloo’s ears folded, her eyes once again tearing up. The autumn air from the open door breezed through the library, blowing the letter detailing Scootaloo’s situation, but Twilight didn’t care. All she focused on, with every fiber of her being was the choice that Scootaloo would be making in the next couple of seconds.
“Don’t do it for me. You don’t even have to do it for yourself! If you do it at all, for any reason at all… do it for your friends,” Twilight finished, her voice having lost the clarity in the waves of emotion that tumbled over her.
Scootaloo sat in silence, only moving and making a sound when sobs rocked her body. Twilight tried one last time.
“Scootaloo?” The young Pegasus looked at the princess woefully, eyes swollen and red.
“Your friends miss you.”
Scootaloo knelt on the ground, her will to stand abandoning her. “I…”
Twilight blinked slowly and listened.
“I miss them, too,” Scootaloo choked. “I miss them so, so much, and I’ve been so – so horrible, and I’ve been such a letdown and an awful friend, and I… I need help.”
Like the ragdoll Smarty Pants had done years before, Scootaloo floated limply through the air, surrounded by a gentle pink glow. She came to a stop upon a soft, warm, gentle, and comforting surface. As her hooves hung limply from her sides, Scootaloo felt the downy touch of feathers against them.
Twilight carefully walked up the stairs, the back of her neck dampened with tears from the small pony resting on her back. The handle of the door to her bedroom turned in a pink haze, Twilight and Scootaloo passing through. Scootaloo stifled another tearful gasp into Twilight’s shoulders.
“It’s going to be alright, Scootaloo… I promise.”