//------------------------------// // Prologue 1 - The Limits of Friendship // Story: Quantum Vault // by WishyWish //------------------------------// October 16, 2039 Canterlot Sunday “Prisoner eight four seven two,” a rough voice announced. “Breakfast.” With a dissonance not unlike hoofs on a chalkboard, a dingy metal plate slid under an open panel in a barred gate, which quickly snapped shut after disgorging its offering. The sound echoed through gray, empty corridors; adding its song to the many others that signaled the coming of sustenance for the inmates of the low security ward. A mint-coated mare, the sole resident of cell #8472 in block three, pressed her hooves to her ears and gritted her teeth, waiting for the wave of awful screeching to pass down another hall. When she opened her eyes again, her gaze fell upon the brownish, processed fruit and vegetable matter that served as every square meal for residents of the Canterlot dungeons. She poked at the heaping mound with her hoof and watched it bounce back again, as she was wont to do before begrudgingly bending her neck to the floor to feed. This time, something was different. There, resting at the edge of her plate, was a ragged looking fork. Her eyes wide with excitement, the minty mare examined the little object and determined it clean and just about strong enough to be employed for its intended purpose. Eating without a utensil was hardly uncommon throughout Equestria, but there was something about the lovely little implement – something that made her feel like a civilized pony again. Wasting no time, she concentrated; putting that slight amount of pressure and concentration into her horn that would be necessary to call the fork from its place, dip it into her food, and bring it to her waiting lips. Nothing happened. Curious, she repeated this most basic of unicorn activities three times before she remembered the truth. With a defeated sigh, she reached up to her forehead and ran her hoof along the ensorcelled, rubbery sleeve that was manacled there. Prepared specifically for inmates by magicks well beyond her abilities to countermand, the device was more than sufficient to rob her of her identity even more than confinement already had. A deep chuckle broke up her contemplation. Looking up, she came face-to-face with the palace guard who had served her meal. His burnished helmet tottered along with the reflexive jerking of his bemused head. He lingered there on the other side of the bars, dressing her down with a reproachful stare. “Not funny,” the mare frowned. Not bothering to reply, the guard bellowed out an echoing guffaw before trotting away. The minty prison-mare spared what little pride she had left by waiting for him to canter out of sight before she bent down to ‘enjoy’ her meal. Time passed. The morning meal complete, the mare slid her plate up against the bars for retrieval and set her mind to…nothing. There was nothing to do today. There had been nothing to do yesterday, or the day before that. Or the day before that. For two weeks now, life had been nothing but a cell with a hard slab bed, a sink, a mirror with a spider web crack in it, and a hole in the ground to do her business in. Sunlight mercifully streamed in every day from a window much too high to reach, carrying with it the sounds of construction ponies hard at work, repairing those parts of the city had been leveled. Rising up on her haunches, the mare placed her forelegs on the chipped sink and gazed into the dusty mirror. The pony who looked back wasn’t the one she had been used to seeing for so many years. This pony had dusky streaks in the frizzy split-ends that normally adorned her two-toned, sea-green mane; giving her unintentional punk rock/wild professor style a gothic tinge. She was afforded the luxury of public bathing with other mare inmates, but brushes and styling products were out of the question, and it was nearly impossible to exist in a state of cleanliness in the dungeons for very long. She ran her hoof along her cheeks and chin, touching them just to make sure the image in the mirror was really hers. The reflection repeated her every action; running the length of her smooth cheeks and connecting the dots between her freckles. Her sapphire eyes – eyes she had to admit she was vainly proud of – were hidden behind prominent gray bags that had bloated forth from her flesh due to lack of sleep. She squinted at her blurry face for a time, wishing the prison staff had at least had the decency to let her keep her glasses. It was the face of a thug. Not the face of a potential graduate of the Canterlot Academy of Sciences, class of 2039. Sighing, she primped herself as well as possible with her hooves and looked away, her eyes coming to rest on the undisturbed bed. It made her shudder. Since they had put her in this place, memories had become dreams…dreams she was afraid of. Less sleep meant less dreaming, but keeping herself awake at all hours by counting stars, scraping crude images into the walls, or playing with imaginary friends was becoming more difficult with each passing day. Nopony in the adjacent cells wanted to speak with her. She didn’t blame them. When the sun reached a certain point in the early morning sky, delicate hoofsteps could be heard echoing down the corridor. Right on schedule, the minty mare thought. When the hoofsteps ceased, she spoke without turning around, knowing who would be standing there. “Princess,” she stated dryly. “Cutie,” a familiar voice returned hesitantly. “I thought maybe you were still asleep.” The minty mare rose up from her stoic slump and turned to meet her visitor. She lowered her forelegs to her knees, bowing reverently before the violet, winged coat of Twilight Sparkle, Equestria’s Princess of Friendship. Averting her eyes out of decorum, she began again. “You don’t have to keep calling me that, your majesty. It’s just an old nickname.” Twilight sniffed sharply through her muzzle. “And I told you before, in private I don’t like it when my students call me by my title. It…makes me uncomfortable.” “I’m not your student,” the minty mare replied. “I never really was.” The princess offered a difficult smile, “True, but it was almost the same thing. My first love has always been knowledge – being a princess just made it possible for me to found the academy of sciences eleven years ago. I may not be allowed to personally tutor any of the students…but I can’t just keep my hooves off all the time.” The prisoner looked away. Twilight tried again. “I don’t have to call you that, but I heard your friends using it and was flattered when you didn’t mind me doing the same. ‘Q’ and ‘T’, right? Quantum Trots. ‘Cutie’.” Twilight smiled, “It’s, well…it’s cute.” “I don’t have any friends anymore,” Quantum mumbled from her cell. “That’s not true,” Twilight explained, placing a hoof on the bars as if to console her prisoner from afar. “Hal and Tissy ask about you every day.” Quantum’s ear perked up at the mention of her classmates’ names. She dared to spare a glance for the princess, and there was an unmistakable ray of hope in her eyes. “…they do?” Twilight nodded vigorously. “Of course they do. They’re your friends. And friendship is magic.” Quantum’s ear drooped. She clopped uselessly around the cell for a time, stretching her oft-unused legs. “They could have died because of me. I know you’re not going to tell me, but I bet some ponies actually did die. Do they not know what I did? Do they know I was thrown down here without a trial or anything, until Princess Celestia and Princess Luna decide what to do with me?” “They do.” “Do they know I deserve it!?” Quantum shouted indignantly. Twilight paused for a long time. When she spoke again, her voice was soft and reassuring. “Part of the magic of friendship is forgiveness, Cutie. You’re sorry for what happened, aren’t you?” Quantum bowed her head low, unable to look her sovereign in the eye. “…yes ma’am.” Twilight smiled. “Then you can be forgiven. Here, I brought something for you.” Something slid through the food gate, skidding across the floor until it bumped up against Quantum’s hoof. She squinted down at it. Realizing what it was, she lifted her glasses up and rested them in their place over the bridge of her muzzle. Everything suddenly became clearer than it had been for weeks, though none of it became any more comfortable. She examined Twilight. “You look…exactly the same.” Twilight grinned merrily. “Princesses don’t age the same way most ponies do. Just look at Princess Celestia.” Quantum thought about it. At the last city festival she remembered her pseudo-mentor honoring her by introducing her to the legendary keepers of the Elements of Harmony, who were visiting from their home in Ponyville. She had only exchanged a few words with each, but it was enough to compare them with pictures Quantum had been seeing since her days looking at elementary school readers. The six of them, always together back then…except that Princess Twilight always looked the same, while the others had begun to show noticeable differences in age from the time the histories described their first encounter with the elements nearly three decades ago. Not long before Quantum was born. For a moment nostalgia took her, and Quantum sifted back through memories of her own life. Her time growing up on the road with her mother, her acceptance into an elevator school in Baltimare, and her lifelong desire to understand things in terms of something other than magic, despite being a unicorn. She was so proud of herself when she was accepted into C.A.S., and so excited to be able to bring her mother with her out of the slums and into the royal city. At the time, Quantum didn’t understand why her mother refused to follow her to Canterlot. Now it was all too clear. Her ears flattened again. “You’re wrong. I can’t be forgiven.” Twilight cocked her head to the side quizzically. “Why not?” Quantum turned away, clopping to the far end of the cell. “Because I’m sorry for what I did ma’am, but if the circumstances were exactly the same…I’d do it again.” “Cutie…” Twilight whispered, her eyes widening. “You’re…just overwhelmed, right now. You don’t really mean—” Quantum sniffed, but refused to let her ruler see it. “You should go, Princess Twilight. This is no place for somepony like you to waste your time and I’m not worthy to be in your presence. Thank you for your kindness…your heart is amazingly big, and I really do appreciate that. I’m…” she swallowed, “…I’m sorry…so sorry for everything, but I meant what I said. I would do it all over again. So, I belong here in this cell, for as long as anypony wants me to be here. I know I’ll never graduate and I know they’ll probably never even let me walk around outside again. I’m ready to accept that. You should be too.” Twilight tried a few more times to brighten the minty prisoner’s existence, but Quantum refused to speak again. The Princess of Friendship clopped away. She would return, but a thought occurred to her as she ascended the stairs. A thought she didn’t want to have. Maybe some transgressions really were unforgivable.