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// Chapter 8: Quiche aux Provençale 
// Story: Fifteen Dinners 
// by Quill Scratch 
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This evening was a second chance, Rainbow decided. Maybe last time she had visited this house she had been less than the perfect guest she ought to have been—or maybe it was simply her bad luck, she’d never quite managed to figure out how the reaction had been quite so horrifyingly bad—but this time was a chance for Rainbow Dash to prove herself. She had promised Scootaloo that she would be there for her, through thin and thick, as somepony to keep her safe. If doing that meant making a good impression on the filly’s family, then so be it.
It didn’t mean that she had to like them, though in fairness Rainbow tended to have an irrationally strong dislike for anypony who branded her ‘lazy’ and ‘a slob’ before even meeting her. If anything, Rainbow figured, her reputation as the Element of Loyalty, one of the saviours of Equestria on countless occasions, should mean that nopony would consider her a lazy until at the very soonest their second or third meeting.
She didn’t like the house, that much was for certain. It was large and oppressive and old, built in a style that predated most of Ponyville. It was said to be one of the oldest buildings in town, although knowing how old Ponyville was made that claim much less impressive—Rainbow figured the house was built to look old, even then.
It was no place for a young pegasus to be growing up. It might have been okay if the fields around the back of the house were regularly filled with clouds and if Scootaloo were allowed to go out and practice gliding and falling whenever she was free, but Rainbow knew the kind of ponies who lived here. They were the kind who paid off the weather team to only bring clouds out over the field when it was in need of water, and to otherwise ‘leave the sky above the meadow clear and bright so as to ensure the view remained just as it should be’.
Ponies shouldn’t just be able to pay off the weather team—after all, she and the rest of the team leads had undergone so much training in the regulation needed to maintain a healthy ecosystem and keep the water flowing that it should be impossible for the wishes of a handful of ponies to influence it because they disliked the view of a single cloud in the sky. Farmers had a right to complain—they needed rain for their crops, and the right amount of light and shade—but the rich were a completely different story.
It was one of the things Rainbow hated most about her job, that her superiors always seemed to turn a blind eye when a large bag of bits was passed under the table.
She was hovering at the end of a long driveway, looking up at the house that stood proud and tall at the end. She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to be here, but frankly this wasn’t her choice to make; she’d made her choice months before when she promised Scootaloo she’d be there for her, and now she had to live with the consequences.
She took a deep breath and considered flying straight down the driveway, but decided better of it. For a start, she figured Scootaloo’s parents wouldn’t like a flashy entrance, especially after last time when they claimed she was a dangerous influence. And so instead she found herself landing, gently, and walking down the long drive one step at a time.
It was time to think, at least, and Celestia knew she needed it.
She had to make today’s impression count. Obviously she had to make it clear that Scootaloo was her first priority, that her sister’s safety and well-being were of utmost importance to her. But she also had to make sure she corrected the bad impression she had made before, even if it might have been a teensy bit right. She needed to convince these ponies that she was responsible and mature, but more importantly she needed to show them that she could be humble.
She hated to say it, but she figured she’d have to start with an apology.
Yes, if she apologised for her behaviour first that would show that she could be mature and humble. It was also the right thing to do: she had clearly upset and offended these ponies and, though she certainly didn’t mean to, she had to recognise that for Scootaloo’s sake. Besides, it wouldn’t damage her reputation to apologise, would it? If anything, it would serve to make her seem a little less self-serving, which was always one of the things she’d hoped her reputation could do without.
She looked left and right as she walked down the path, not quite able to look at the house ahead. She could see a similar house some way off in the distance, and she knew it was the home of Filthy Rich, whose daughter had been bullying Scootaloo for longer than Rainbow Dash had known the filly. It had taken all her willpower when she heard about that not to fly straight to Rich’s house, bash on the door and teach that kid a lesson. Violence, she knew, was not the right response to violence. She didn’t want to make things worse for Scootaloo.
She’d spoken with Cheerilee instead. See? She’d been mature and responsible, and she hadn’t even been trying to impress some stuck-up, rich ponies who think they’re better than everypony else just because they can buy a nice view while everypony else has to deal with a cloud blocking the sun over the town square.
She shook her head. Thinking those sorts of things wasn’t going to help. The only thing that could help her now would be actually being the kind of pony they expected to see as Scootaloo’s sister.
Cheerilee hadn’t been much help, of course—she’d already been told of the brat’s bullying, so many times. Rarity, Applejack, and even Big Macintosh had all come in to speak with her on the issue and she’d said the same thing to them that she’d said to Rainbow Dash: she’d see what she could do, but outside of school there was little she could do. And so, slowly, Diamond’s bullying had moved away from the playground, but it had never gone away.
Rainbow sighed as the shadow of the house fell across her eyes, the sun disappearing behind the tall, grey roof with its strange, twisted sculptures. She was nearly there now—the driveway widened and split into a rounded, open space, presumably for carriages to park in and drop off guests for parties. Rainbow wouldn’t know—the only party she’d ever been to like that was the Grand Galloping Gala, and that had taken place in the Royal Palace, which was very different and (dare she say it?) much more appealing.
She was growing impatient: her slow walk had picked up to a brisk trot, and Rainbow wasn’t entirely sure she was pleased with how soon she’d be arriving by the doors. Still, the servant had already seen her (who even had servants these days? As far as Rainbow was aware, even the Princesses had the bare minimum staff needed to run the castle, and most of them were there to work for the Guard these days) so she couldn’t slow down now. Plastering a fake smile on her face, she caught the stallion’s eye; he nodded, once, before staring back into the distance.
“Miss Rainbow Dash?” he asked, his voice gravelly and monotonous. Rainbow nodded, smile still in place. “You’re expected in the drawing room. I believe Miss Scootaloo will be fetching you herself.” His emotions showed for the first time as he uttered Scootaloo’s name, and Rainbow wanted to punch him for it. She’d never heard someone speak with such disdain for another pony, certainly not somepony they were meant to be serving. It was as if one of the night guard had rolled their eyes and said ‘Ugh, Luna,’ with a tone of disgust.
In a way, it was quite funny that the couple had shown any interest in Rainbow Dash at all. After all, none of them were really Scootaloo’s family: Rainbow was her sister by choice, and these two had simply picked her out of the foster care system.
She needed to stop thinking of what these two ponies had done as somehow bad for Scootaloo. She tried to imagine that she had grown up without parents, surrounded by constant change, never knowing which of the adults around you would be there the next month. What would it be like to be adopted? To finally have somepony in your life who you could call family, who you knew would be there a month down the line?
Rainbow frowned. If that was all adoption was, Scootaloo hadn’t needed it. She knew Rainbow would always be there for her… didn’t she?
“Rainbow Dash!”
She looked up to see Scootaloo bounding down the hallway, her eyes wide and gleaming. Rainbow couldn’t help but grin back at her sister.
“I’m so glad you came!” she added, grabbing hold of Rainbow’s forelegs and hugging as tightly as her little legs would allow. Rainbow nuzzled her head affectionately. “I thought you’d have been scared off by last time.”
“Me? Scared?” Rainbow huffed in indignation, her expression mockingly indignant. “I don’t get scared. And even if I did, it’s my job as your big sister to stick around whether I’m scared or not. It’s what sisters do.”
Scootaloo released Rainbow’s legs, still grinning widely.
“Come on,” she said, turning and trotting down the hallway, “I’ll show you to the drawing room.” Rainbow followed the little filly down the hall, almost having to trot herself to keep up with her. It was hard not to be just a little perked up by Scootaloo’s enthusiasm, no matter how much she wanted to keep on disliking the place.
A little way down the hall (and it just seemed to keep going and going, so much so that Rainbow could barely stand looking up at it, keeping her eyes on the carpet as she walked) Scootaloo pulled all of a sudden into a doorway. Behind the wide, tall doors was a grand room, filled with tapestries and old portraits. It seemed somehow bare, though perhaps it was all the space—the ceiling was too high to feel like a normal room, yet not as cavernously tall as the hallways in the palaces and castles Rainbow had seen, stuck in a kind of limbo between the homely and the inspiring that fell flat and awkward.
Down the centre of the room ran a long, oak table surrounded by high-backed chairs. Rainbow followed Scootaloo down the far side of the table, where she had been struggling to pull back a chair for her. Smiling, Rainbow gave her a hoof, reaching the top of the chair that the little filly couldn’t to make sure the heavy wood didn’t fall on top of her.
She pulled the chair next to her out, too, and Scootaloo sat on it with a grateful smile.
Opposite Scootaloo sat her mother, who was knitting what looked like a rainbow of grayscale into a scarf—if she squinted, Rainbow thought she might have even seen a shade of beige in there, too. She didn’t look up from her knitting, even to acknowledge the sounds she must have heard as Rainbow less than carefully pulled her chair inwards, the hooves of the chair scraping across the floor.
They waited in an awkward semi-silence for some time, the clicking of knitting needles filling the room with repetitive, ceaseless noise. Rainbow glanced sideways to see Scootaloo fidgeting in her chair, clearly as uncomfortable as she was—she shot the filly a quick smile, and was relieved to get a nervous one in return.
She didn’t dare speak, though. She’d learned that lesson already.
The rush of air and creak of hinges as the doors opened were not, despite the build-up Rainbow had spent hoping, accompanied by a fanfare. Nevertheless, Ceasar’s entrance was somehow an affair that made Rainbow sit up straight and pay attention. It was one of those moments when the power balance in the room was unmistakable, and Rainbow knew it lay nowhere near her.
Ceasar seated himself at the head of the table, dismissing his servant with a nod of his head. He quickly wiped his monocle on a handkerchief before he turned and looked at Rainbow Dash.
“So, Miss Rainbow Dash,” he began, and any hope that Rainbow had left that she might somehow still have a chance at being in control of this evening were shattered by the confidence in his voice, the comfortable way with which he wielded the attention of the few ponies in the room. “I didn’t expect to see you back here again.”
It took Rainbow a fraction of a second to realise that that was a question, even though it wasn’t.
“Uh, yeah,” Rainbow began, almost wincing at how horribly unprepared and uncertain she sounded. “I, uh, wanted an opportunity to ap- formally apologise for my behaviour last time we met.” She was shaky and dazed. Scootaloo’s mother—Dainty, wasn’t it? Daisy, maybe—even looked up from her knitting for a few moments, just, it seemed, to blink at her. Rainbow swallowed and tried to compose herself under the judgemental eye of Ceasar.
“I behaved in a manner totally inappropriate for any sister of Scootaloo’s,” she said, bowing her head—partly to seem more humble, but mostly just so she didn’t have to look at Ceasar, whose stare was unnerving her. “I hope I can regain the trust and reputation I need to fill those shoes.”
Ceasar nodded once, briskly and efficiently, like everything he did.
“Very well,” he said. “We’ll see how that goes, shall we? Dainty, dearest, would you kindly pour the wine?”
Dainty put her knitting down on the table, reaching across for the wine bottle (already uncorked, of course, because that would have involved some kind of exertion) and pouring herself and her husband half a glass; Ceasar swirled the red liquid around, sniffing at it and eying the way it rolled around the edges critically. Rainbow looked at the empty wine glass by her place wistfully, but Dainty was already knitting again.
Without warning, the room became a bustle of noise and movement. Servants came in from every door, carrying platters and trays and plates and jugs, laying the table soundlessly with magic. Silver lids lifted from steaming plates of cabbages and soup and quiche, and Rainbow tried her best not to let her hunger dictate her movement. She watched out of the corner of her eye as Ceasar and Dainty sat up slowly and simply watched the plates arrive before them stoically; Scootaloo was doing the same beside her, only looking to Rainbow Dash for clues on how to behave, almost unaware that Rainbow had no idea what to do herself.
The servants vanished almost as quickly as they’d arrived, leaving behind a well-presented table of generous portions, piping hot and making Rainbow’s mouth water at even the slightest hint of their scent in the air. So slowly that it seemed he was deliberately extending the wait, revelling in their discomfort, Ceasar reached for his fork and raised it. Rainbow held her hoof back, restraining herself against her impulses, and waited for him to have taken his first mouthful, before reaching slowly for her cutlery herself and lifting it. She watched as Dainty picked up the napkin that sat beneath and laid it across her lap, gently and lightly, so she did the same and repressed a smile as she watched Scootaloo copy her.
Finally, as Dainty raised her fork to her lips, Rainbow allowed herself to press the prongs deep into the fleshy, soft quiche, sighing quietly to herself as the steam that rose from the little holes she had made reached her nose. She gently prized apart the two sections of the quiche, and raised the smaller segment to her muzzle, her lips closing around it with the relief of an athlete crossing the finish line of a particularly gruelling endurance race.
She savoured those flavours—Rainbow Dash, who could count the things she would slow down for on one hoof, had allowed herself to build up the patience to truly savour a mouthful of food. It was almost life-changing, not that Rainbow would let this one experience slow her down again in future.
“So, Scootaloo,” Dainty began, punctuating the silence with a disinterested tone, “how was school today?”
“Oh, school was great!” Scootaloo replied, eager and excited. “Today we started doing some really interesting parts of history, and Miss Cheerilee told us about all the mares and stallions Princess Celestia has married over the years—”
“Stallions, Scootaloo,” Ceasar corrected and something in his tone made the Rainbow’s blood freeze in her veins. “Princess Celestia has never been married to a mare. It is utter nonsense, isn’t it darling?”
“Oh, absolutely,” Dainty began. “I think Scootaloo is referring to the long line of assistants and close friends of the Princess who have been given as much time in the spotlight as her husbands have been. Is that what you meant, dear?”
“I, uh,” Scootaloo looked at Rainbow, flustered. Rainbow frowned, her eyes flitting between Ceasar and Dainty. “I mean, I’m pretty sure Miss Cheerilee said ‘wives’, but maybe I misheard?”
“Of course you misheard,” Ceasar said, his tone final. “Princess Celestia could not marry a mare. She’s the Princess; quite frankly, Scootaloo, if I didn’t know you hadn’t meant it I should send you to bed right now for even suggesting that she might be like that.”
“Like what?” Rainbow asked, not quite able to curse herself for interrupting. Her tone had remained curious and light, though, which she supposed was something. After all, she couldn’t afford to be antagonistic.
Ceasar appeared a little flustered. “Well… you know, the kind of mare who would… well, marry a mare.” Despite herself, Rainbow couldn’t help but notice the power shift (or had it ever really shifted? Dainty had always held herself high and kept her composure, not even deigning to look up for her husband’s entrance) as Ceasar grew less and less confident.
“What my husband means to say, Miss Dash,” Dainty said softly, as if she were explaining to a foal, though in her defence Rainbow had to admit that only a foal wouldn’t pick up on the insinuations, “is that Princess Celestia is not a fillyfooler.”
There was venom in that sweet, caring voice, a venom that was masked by an ignorance that Rainbow knew sat just beneath the surface. It was taking every fiber of her being not to rise to the challenge, and she could see Scootaloo squirming uncomfortably by her side.
“I don’t mean to say that it’s true,” Rainbow said, slowly, “but I remember being taught something similar in my schooldays. Did Miss Cheerilee talk to you about Lady Wind Whistler?” She had turned to face Scootaloo, now, who grinned in recognition.
“Yeah!” Scootaloo replied. “Lady Wind Whistler was the one who first wrote the dictionary, wasn’t she?” Rainbow nodded, smiling at the old stories she remembered from her foalhood.
“So, while I’m sure you’re right—” they weren’t “—I can vouch for other schools teaching the same thing in recent years.” Rainbow smiled nervously at the two earth ponies, who were staring at her with wide, fearful eyes. “So clearly this is something a lot of ponies are being taught.”
“Outrageous!” Ceasar slammed his hoof on the table, sending pieces of vegetable and drops of wine flying. “If foals are taught this nonsense, they’ll grow up believing it to be normal!” Dainty nodded along with him, giving weight to his words.
“Isn’t it?” Scootaloo asked, quietly. Rainbow’s breath caught in her throat.
This was rapidly degenerating into a disaster and Rainbow was desperate to get the whole evening back on track before she completely ruined her relationship with Ceasar and Dainty. Whether or not she appreciated their views, whether or not she thought they were thoroughly offensive, bigoted ponies, Rainbow knew that unless she could stay on their good side they weren’t going to allow her to see Scootaloo. There were very few things worth her pride, but one look at the little filly beside her told her that this one was.
“I think this is a conversation the two of you had best have with Scootaloo alone,” Rainbow said quickly, cutting off Ceasar as he opened his mouth. The stallion flashed an angry glare at her, so she continued. “Only I’m sure Scootaloo will have plenty of questions for you and I don’t think it’s my place to be a part of that discussion.”
“Are you not trying to convince us you’re worthy of being her sister?”
“The very fact that I need to shows that I am not yet so,” Rainbow said, tilting her head in an act of acceptance, though really she was trying to hide her face from Ceasar. She couldn’t bear to let him see the tells of anger in her expression.
She counted her breaths: one, heavy and tired, unable to take with it the tension she so desired to lose; two, forceful now, blown out through rounded lips, a desperate push away; three, wide-lipped and quiet, tongue rolling up to touch her teeth, a sigh; four doesn’t come, lips held shut, one just held lightly between her teeth. This was taking longer than it should, but Rainbow would not, could not look up.
“Very well,” Ceasar said: four, another sigh, now able to take with it the tension in her shoulders. “Scootaloo, we’ll explain this some other time. Now, did you learn anything else today?”
“Not really,” Scootaloo said, her voice catching a little though she managed to just hide it. “We had a big test this morning, so we didn’t get to learn very much.”
“And how did the test go?” Dainty asked, her sickly sweet tone unnerving Rainbow all the more. She was more frightening than Ceasar, for at least the intimidating stallion behaved in a way that Rainbow could justify her dislike through—Dainty’s outward kindness and generally quiet demeanour made it seem as if she cared.
Which she did. Rainbow took a deep breath and let it out as Scootaloo described the test (apparently Miss Cheerilee had tried something new and it had caught the whole class by surprise), trying to remind herself that no matter how horrific these ponies may behave, how disturbing their attitudes were, they still cared about Scootaloo. If anything, her last visit had shown her that—they weren’t the kinds of ponies who would live detatched from their daughter, seeing raising her as little more than a task to be done, even though Rainbow had really, really wanted to see them like that.
“It sounds like it was a very difficult test,” Dainty said, the change in speaking voice bringing Rainbow out of her reverie. “I’m sure you’ve done your best. Did you get all your homework done before dinner?”
Rainbow glanced at Scootaloo who was fidgeting on her chair, her lips twitching in a nervous grimace. Dainty sighed, her expression disappointed. Ceasar had turned completely to his dinner by now, ignoring the conversation at hand—Rainbow was less sure that he cared for Scootaloo’s wellbeing.
“Scootaloo, I know you were excited to have Miss Dash visit us, but you do really need to make sure you get your work done. You’ve been falling behind in class for a while now, and I know you’ve been trying really hard to catch up but if you want to do that you’ll have to work hard. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mom,” Scootaloo replied, looking down at her lap in guilt. Rainbow could hear the discomfort with which she said “Mom,” and tried to imagine how hard it would be to learn to call somepony you’d barely known for a month by such an intimate title. But something else was worrying Rainbow Dash, and she felt the need to question it.
“Scoots is having trouble with school?” She could feel Scootaloo almost shrinking beside her in shame. Dainty looked her straight in the eye.
“Yes,” she said, simply. “She’s been struggling for a few months now, and her grades have been slipping.”
“Do you think getting a tutor might help?” Rainbow asked. Ceasar looked up, now paying Rainbow his full attention. “I only ask because I struggled in school when I was Scootaloo’s age, and I always remember wishing my Dad would get me a tutor or someone who could help me.”
“Tutors are expensive,” Ceasar said, his tone final. Dainty shot him a look, but his eyes remained focused on Rainbow Dash. “Let Scootaloo put in the work that she needs to do first and see if she can improve without the extra cost.”
“I know tutors are usually expensive,” Rainbow said, “but I’m… very good friends with Twilight Sparkle, Princess Celestia’s private student. I have no doubt in my mind that she’d be willing to tutor Scootaloo. For, uh, for free,” she added. Ceasar frowned at that, clearly weighing the benefits and the costs.
“What does Scootaloo think?” Dainty suggested. Scootaloo cleared her throat quietly, and seemed to have almost curled up on herself.
“I, uhm…” she began, her gaze flitting between the three adults at the table. Dainty and Rainbow gave her encouraging smiles, while Ceasar looked on expectantly, his expression firm. “Well, I really like Twilight. She’s super-smart but never makes anypony feel bad for not knowing something. She can be a bit… scary, at times”—Rainbow chuckled under her breath and Dainty shot her a disapproving look; she coughed and murmured an apology—”but I think she would be fun. And she’d be a great tutor: if Twilight can’t work out why I’m struggling in school, nopony can.”
“She’s right,” Rainbow added. “Twilight’s the smartest pony I’ve met, the Princesses excepted of course, and she’s really enthusiastic about learning and teaching. She’d be great for Scootaloo, I know it.”
“Well I think it’s a wonderful idea,” Dainty said, smiling at her scowling husband. “When might you be able to check with her that this arrangement is alright?”
“I’ll see her tonight,” Rainbow said, smiling wistfully at the thought of the night at the library the two had planned. Dainty’s raised eyebrow made her shove the thought from her mind. “We’re, uh, having a sleepover in the library,” she explained, trying to make her tone meek and embarrassed to hide the lie. She doubted there would be very much sleeping going on.
“If you could ask her then, we would be most grateful,” Dainty said, her smile of thanks and glowing eyes shaking Rainbow—how could somepony who was so normal, so nice have such horrific ideas?
“Now wait just a minute,” Ceasar said, his tone bordering on furious. “I don’t believe I’ve had a chance to have my say yet—”
“Dear, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” Dainty said firmly. “If it’s free and both Scootaloo and Miss Dash believe it will help her then there’s no reason not to at least try it. She’s been struggling for a while, now, and hasn’t improved as much as we’d hoped. It seems only sensible to try this alternative. Besides, it will make Scootaloo happy, won’t it darling?”
Scootaloo nodded enthusiastically; she may have been facing Ceasar, but Rainbow was convinced that she was pulling her best puppy-dog eyes—she and her friends were almost too good at using that expression. Ceasar sighed, rubbing his forehead with one hoof, his eyes squeezed tight shut, almost as if her were suffering from a headache.
“Oh, very well,” he said. Scootaloo turned to beam at Rainbow Dash in victory and Rainbow couldn’t help but smile back. Dainty caught her eye and winked, her wry smile leaving Rainbow Dash with no doubt as to who was in control in that relationship and who was frustrated that they weren’t.
“I’ll ask Twilight this evening,” Rainbow said with a smile. “I’m sure she’ll say yes, but I’ll let you know tomorrow?”
“That would be wonderful.” Dainty lay down her knife and fork across her empty plate, and Rainbow suddenly realised just how little she’d eaten compared to the others. Not wanting to keep them waiting, she tucked into her food, careful to eat fast enough to catch up with Scootaloo but not so fast that she would forsake her table manners. She didn’t get to really savour the rest of the quiche, though.
Soon the room was full of servants again as plates and platters were swapped out and replaced with individual slices of chocolate cake—Rainbow smiled as she recognised Pinkie’s signature style in the frosting and was pleased to know that Scootaloo was at least being fed proper desserts in this new home.
Even Ceasar smiled as he put the first mouthful of cake between his lips, his eyes closed in satisfaction. It was quiet for the longest time while everypony just enjoyed the taste. Soon enough, though, the clinking sound of Scootaloo’s fork being laid down captured all their attention.
“Say, Miss Rainbow Dash,” Dainty began, looking thoughtful, “since we were speaking of Scootaloo being tutored, I was wondering if you still planned on teaching her to fly.”
“Uh, yeah,” Rainbow answered, licking her lips. “I was, uh, going to.”
“Oh for crying out loud,” Ceasar said, shaking his head. “Stop getting her hopes up. You’re never going to find time to teach her; you’ve been promising for almost a year now. Don’t give me that look—” he fixed Rainbow with an icy stare, cutting her off before she could finish drawing a breath in to defend herself “—I’ve seen how much you laze around each day, dozing on those clouds. You could have freed up time to teach her a long time ago.”
Rainbow froze. The dinner had been going well, hadn’t it? Where did this come from? Had she done something wrong?
“I thought…” she began, her voice weak and her thoughts unformed. What did she say to that? All the fight in her had gone the instant Ceasar cut her off, taking with it her will and her defence. After all, she did spend a lot of time napping. “But… I…”
“My husband may be being a tad harsh on you, Miss Dash,” Dainty added quietly. “But he does raise a valid question. Just what has been stopping you from teaching Scootaloo?”
Scootaloo was looking up at her with wide, hurt eyes and Rainbow’s breath simply stopped: she couldn’t breathe. Everything was wrong, everything she had worked so very hard for was falling right before her eyes and now there was nothing she could do.
“I just… I wanted her to be happy…” Quiet mutterings, too afraid to say the truth. No—she had to be brave. She was Rainbow Dash. She looked Ceasar right in the eye, unflinching (though she really, really wanted to). “May I speak with you? I-in private?”
“No,” Ceasar said, cutting her off again. “You may not. You have disappointed me, lead my daughter on and discouraged her from seeing a real flight instructor for almost a year when she really needs one.”
Rainbow could feel the anger building, the finality in Ceasar’s tone lighting the kindling the stallion had unknowingly been laying for a month. Ceasar had already made up his mind, and nothing Rainbow could say would change it. His stubbornness, his hatred of ponies guilty of nothing more than loving—
“You think I like it?” Rainbow asked, her voice quiet but beneath it she was seething with rage. Dainty sat up a little; Ceasar blinked. “You think I like seeing the disappointment in her eyes when I have to come up with some excuse or other to keep delaying? Because each time I do that it breaks my heart.” Rainbow shook her head. She was shaking now, with pent-up anger and tension and a year of heartbreak. Her voice was rising; she couldn’t control it. Soon enough, she would be shouting. “I have no choice in the matter, just like I have no choice in loving Twilight, just like Cheerilee has no choice in teaching about Celestia’s wives.” She spat the word out. Dainty’s eyes were wide, with what looked like fear etched across her face. Ceasar was silently fuming.
Scootaloo looked puzzled.
“Why?” she asked, quietly, and Rainbow felt the gold grasp of fear on her shoulders. The other two adults in the room faded, and all that mattered was Scootaloo, and keeping Scootaloo safe and happy.
“Please, Scoots,” she asked—no, begged. “Not now. Another time.”
“No,” Scootaloo said firmly. Rainbow could see the tears welling up in the corners of her eyes, her lips set in a determined line. “I want to know, now. You owe me that much.”
“Scoots, I…” Rainbow closed her eyes tight, hoping the tears she could feel would vanish if she did so. “Please, just wait until we’ve all calmed down and everything is less ten—”
“Now listen here, Dash,” Ceasar said, his voice loud and angry. “First you lie to my daughter, then you say it’s all been for her benefit while not even explaining it to me, and then to top it all off you want to make her wait longer for an explanation? It’s always the same with your kind; the whole lot of them, liars and good-for-nothing scroungers who think only of themselves and never—”
“You think I want to be the one to tell her she’ll never fly‽” Rainbow shouted, snapping at Ceasar, the words sharp and bitter on her tongue. The room fell into a deathly silence; three sets of eyes stared at her, unblinking, as Rainbow Dash watched her carefully-constructed world shatter, the layers upon layers of lies and distractions crafted to keep Scootaloo happy and to stop her from having to face the truth before she was ready vanishing in an instant, and Rainbow fell with nothing left to lean on.
She was completely aware of herself, of how exposed she had left herself and how hateful the eyes looking at her were. She half-expected it from Dainty and Ceasar, sure that the two of them would hate her regardless of her motives for her “unnatural ways” but Scootaloo… 
She didn’t expect Scootaloo to understand, not immediately, but the look of hurt on her face had turned to anger, to disgust. Her eyes widened; surely… surely Scootaloo would understand?
“Get out.”
Never in her life had Rainbow been more frightened of a whisper, more hurt by words so quiet she could have mistaken them for a breeze. She swallowed, her tongue darting around her dry lips.
She wanted to respond, to apologise, but the fires in the eyes that watched her were still burning bright and Rainbow Dash knew that there was nothing she could do to fix this, not now, not yet. She couldn’t make this right until those fires and died down, and until the fire in her had died down, too.
She rose, inclining her head, and walked to the door, leaving the room.
“Miss Dash?” She pushed past the servant at the door, shrugging his leg off of her as he tried to stop her, pushing onwards until she was out of the hallway, out of the doors and into the air, pushing herself as fast as she could go because she needed to get away, she needed to be as far away from there as possible and oh sweet Celestia what had she done?
She was in Twilight’s hooves before she even realised it, barrelling through the Library window and right into her marefriend. She was sobbing and crying and everything was wrong and why hadn’t she listened
“Hush, hush, I’m here.” Twilight’s voice was comforting, even if Rainbow was sure that she didn’t deserve comfort any more. “I’ve got you, it’s fine. It’s okay.”
“No, Twi,” she said, her voice uneven and cracking. “It’s not okay.”
Not quite sure what to say to that, Twilight sat and ran her hooves through Rainbow’s mane, whispering comfortingly in her ear and holding her marefriend close until, slowly but surely, she sobbed herself to sleep.