Once upon a time…
Wait, wait, wait. Hold up.
Don’t you hate it when a writer starts off with those four words? I always did. I always think of a fairy tale when I read those words. I never was a fairy tale filly growing up, with handsome princes and beautiful princesses and happily-ever-afters. I preferred stories of action, with swords and fighting.
Although, the occasional handsome knight in shining armor did catch my interest. I was a young mare, after all. We have needs.
I’m not going to bore you with every detail of my foalhood, as so many biographies and autobiographies do. I do believe I would put myself to sleep by doing that. I was a rough and tumble filly. I came home with more cuts, scrapes and bloody noses than I can count.
No, I’ll start with my teenage years.
“Agate, I hope for your sake you aren’t still in that bed!” Mother called sharply from downstairs.
It was the fifth time Sunflower Field had called for me to arise. Currently, my head was still tucked underneath its pillow, sheets—or rather, the lack thereof—pulled up and over the pillow.
“I’m up!” I lazily called out. It was Monday once again. A day I had come to detest once I’d reached the age of thirteen, the age which my mother felt was when young mares such as myself should begin pulling their weight around the house. While Topaz, now eleven, still had the freedom to sleep in until seven-thirty, eighteen year old me was forced to wake each morning at six and at five-thirty on laundry days. Which was Monday.
My eldest sister, Gypsy Rose, had moved out of the house two years before. At the age of twenty-one she married a pegasus by the name of Wind Shift and settled down in Fillydelphia, Shift’s hometown. Now at twenty-three, she was expecting their first foal.
I have to admit, I was quite joyful the day Gypsy left. She always criticized me about not being ladylike enough and not being a proper mare. And she was almost as bad as Sterling when it came to my wanting to be a royal guard.
I got along much better with my second eldest sister, Penelope. We were more alike. She also didn’t understand my wanting to be a royal guard; however unlike Sterling and Gypsy, she supported me.
At nineteen she moved to Manehatten to attend university. In her latest letter, she said she met a “charming stallion by the name of Anvil”. I deduced they would be married within the year. Penny was always the romantic between the four of us. In fact, it was she who introduced Gypsy and Shift to each other.
Since both of my older sisters were out of the house, it was I who did most the house keeping chores such as dusting, mopping, sweeping and, now that I was out of school, laundry whilst Mother did the cooking, tending her vegetable garden and mending sheets, pillow cases and other sewing projects.
We also did candle making and occasionally we joined our neighbors in making soap.
Finally deciding that rising from my slumber myself would be better than be dragged from it by an enraged earth pony mare, I removed the pillow from my head and slowly rose to my hooves. I quickly combed through my orange mane, pulling my mane up into a loose bun to keep it from hanging in my face as I went through that day’s work. I worked the comb through my burnt amber and orange tail and ran a slicker brush over any crazy hairs throughout my burnt amber coat. Finally, I fixed a bandana over my head to better keep my mane under control.
I meandered down the stairs and trotted into the kitchen. At the kitchen table sat Sterling while Mother fixed him a plate of fruits and a cup of coffee.
“I see you’ve finally decided to grace us with your presence,” my father said without looking up from the morning paper. Ignoring him, I went to my mother and gave her my usual greeting of a hug and kiss on her cheek.
“Good morning, Mother,” I smiled.
“Good morning, sweetie” Sunflower smiled up at me. It had been obvious from the time I was a filly that I would be taller than Mother and my older sisters. While I wasn’t any where near as large as my father, I had certainly inherited his larger bone structure, making me a solidly built mare. Though we refused to acknowledge we had any similarities, by just looking at me one could clearly see I was the daughter of Sterling Silver. We shared the same eyes and the fiery spark which burned within.
Sterling would always leave the house at six in the morning for the army base five miles away. Every other day I would wait in my room until he left to keep from making contact with him and I would keep as far away as possible when he arrived home in the evenings.
But since I got up before the crack of dawn on Mondays, seeing him was non-negotiable. And after last Monday, I didn’t feel like seeing him ever again.
The first time I’d spoken my thoughts of going into the military was when I was fifteen. Sterling had immediately struck down the thought and forbade me to speak of it. After all, the military was stallion’s work.
I had not spoken of it for two years, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t constantly on my mind. Father didn’t know, but I’d taken to sparring with the neighborhood colts and now I could best the most of them in competition. We never did any serious damage to each other in order to keep it a secret and I kept them from telling my parents by threatening them. They never went against my wishes; I truly believe they thought I would kill them if they did tell.
Last Monday I got up a little earlier so that I could talk with Sterling once more about my joining the military. Let’s just say it didn’t go over well at all and Father ended having to buy a new kitchen table that day. I’ll leave how it broke to your imagination.
I prepared myself a bowl of my favorite fruits and flowers and went to sit across from Sterling, who raised his eyes from the newspaper to look at me. I held his gaze, refusing to back down. Mother sat down between us and glanced back and forth.
“Today isn’t going to start off the same way it did last Monday,” she said sharply, glaring at me and then her husband.
“Yes, Mother,” I responded, taking a bite of strawberry without taking my eyes off Sterling. Finally he returned his gaze back to his paper, grunting gruftly. I let go of the breath I didn’t know I was holding back.
Eventually Sterling finished his coffee and rose, carrying his cup and plate to the sink and setting them in the soapy water. He walked back to the kitchen table and kissed my mother goodbye (completely ignoring me, I should add) before trotting to the foyer, where he would put on his hat and coat. I heard the door open and close and I watched though the front window as he began jogging down the road in the direction of Fort Tacoma.
Mother must have noticed me looking as she said, “He does love you, Aggie,”
“Does he really, Mother?”
“He does. It’s just that the two of you have such stubbornness. He’s not used to ponies going against him. And certainly doesn’t understand your want to join the military. You must remember, he grew up in a time that military mares were unheard of,” she said.
“But hundreds of years ago, military mares were accepted,” I said.
“I know, dear. But when your great-great-great-grandfather was a foal, military mares were dwindling. For some reason ponies came to the belief that mares were mostly meant for jobs of homemaking and foal bearing, along with being nurses and other non-military jobs,” she grabbed my hoof with hers and held it.
“Aggie, I’m proud of you for wanting to join the military,” she smiled her soft smile. “It takes a brave stallion to put his life on the line for others. Mares have been called the weaker sex for a long time, ever since the military mare went extinct. I suppose we’ve let that stereotype get to our heads and so we think we can’t do what a stallion can. But you, my dear, you have gone against that. Ponies won’t understand. I didn’t for a long while. Sadly, I don’t think your father ever will,” Mother let go of my hoof and stood up.
“Don’t let anypony stand in your way, Agate. You are a brave, intelligent, outgoing, beautiful young mare. Don’t forget that.”
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After setting mine and my parent’s bedclothes to soak and cleaning the windows, I woke Topaz up and took her to school. After arriving back home, I scrubbed and rinsed bedclothes, dumping the dirty water out and filling the tub again with fresh water for Topaz’s bedclothes. While those soaked, I dusted and swept and after scrubbing and rinsing the bedclothes, once again dumping the dirty water and replacing it with new, I mopped the wooden floors.
I had taken over the laundry and mopping after Penelope moved out. I had gotten to doing them so well it took less than three hours to do all my chores, leaving my afternoons free to do what I wanted.
Some days I stayed in my room, reading old military and war books that I kept hidden in a trunk beneath my bed (the odd romance novel was tucked there as well). Other days I spent the afternoon out with close friends or sparring with the neighborhood colts before meeting Topaz at the school house at three-thirty pm and walking home with her.
Dinner that night was just as tense as breakfast. Mother and Topaz happily talked about Topaz’s day at school. My father ate quietly, his usual stoic expression upon his face.
I simply ate as quickly as possible in order to get back to the safe haven of my room.
Finished with my meal, I rose from the table and carried my plate, utensils and water glass to the sink to wash.
Even though it was only seven in the evening, I said good night to my mother and sister and made my way upstairs to the bathroom. After bathing and brushing my teeth, I went to my room.
Another day in Sterling Silver’s house complete, I grabbed one of my books and climbed into bed. After a few hours reading, I eventually fell asleep.