//------------------------------// // Recollect // Story: Gilded Sister // by Kind of Brony //------------------------------// Hope the tense-shifts aren't too confusing. Chapter's meant to cover a lot of time will probably be written this way. Things… aren’t as bad as I feared. As a matter of fact, they’re pretty good. It’s been months since my visit to the hospital and saying my first words, and there have been a lot of changes. The first, admittedly, was kind of hard to swallow, and that was Blueblood and I being put in separate rooms as soon as we got home. I had feared that perhaps whatever was wrong with me was putting my brother at risk; that maybe I had some contagious disease, but my parents never stopped visiting me or holding me, so I began to second-guess that conclusion. Later, I started to notice two other changes in my life, and those were that nobody used magic around me anymore, and I hardly ever had headaches. The connection hadn’t been made until one day when Blueblood came barging into my room, spotted me in my crib, and actually levitated me through the air to himself so that he could squeeze me in a hug. I returned the embrace, ignoring the pain, and mumbled his name. When I felt tears on my shoulder and heard what must have been an attempt at my own I squeezed him tighter. I didn’t realize how much I missed him until he was in my hooves again. Mom and Dad barged in soon after and had to pry Blueblood off of me, but neither one of us made it easy on the adults as we clung to each other. It wasn’t until my brother’s horn lit up right next to mine that I released my hold with a cry, clinging to my throbbing skull. After that, Dad scooped up a wide-eyed Blueblood and made a hasty retreat while Mom began rocking me back and forth. Though short, the whole ordeal was exhausting, and I fell asleep. It was later that night, after I had woken up with nothing to do but stare at the ceiling that I pondered the day’s events and began to figure things out. Though I didn’t know what it was at the time, I realized that the force unicorns used to perform their impossible feats must have been the source of my suffering, and the pieces began to come together. I was able to learn more of my situation later thanks to another change in my routine life. Having spoken a full sentence, even if it was mostly regurgitating something I had heard said to me and Blueblood countless times before, marked me as a prodigy in the eyes of my parents. I had wanted to avoid such an outcome as I’m hardly deserving of such a title, but I cannot argue the benefits it has afforded me. Practically from the moment we returned, there has been an adult trying to get me to repeat their words, and with damage already done from my spur of the moment speech, I’ve obliged them. While this has gotten me more than a few strange looks from some of the house’s staff, there have been others who have gladly jumped on the bandwagon. Most diligent of all my impromptu teachers, though, has been my mother. She actually goes through the effort to hold up the objects she’s naming and mimes the verbs she’s teaching me. Thanks to her, my vocabulary has practically exploded overnight and I find myself practicing with every free moment to try and remember even a fraction of what she’s crammed into my noggin. It was during one of her lessons that I learned the name of a unicorn's power. The pink mare was as enthusiastic as ever as she got me to say new words, releasing a thrilled squee whenever she succeeded. It was with eagerness that she searched the room for another object to name, her eyes landing on the pillow in my crib before attempting to float it over to us. As soon as her horn began to glow, I winced ever so slightly, and she froze. The light gone from her horn, she was cradling me and apologizing before the pillow even hit the bed. “M’okay, Mommy,” I told her, rubbing my temple. “I’m so sorry, Pure, I forgot. Mommy won’t do it again,” she said in response, placing me back onto the play mat. She tilted my head back to get a look at me. “Maybe we should take a break from practice, hmm? Do you want to look at one of your picture books?” “M’okay,” I reaffirmed, “Keep learning.” My determined face was apparently more comical than I would have liked, because Mom burst into giggles, hoof rising to her lips. “Okay, okay, what should you learn next, my little scholar?” Though I could tell the question was more to herself than to me, I couldn’t help but ask, “What’s that?” “What’s what, sweetie?” she said, looking around the room. Scrunching up my face, I thought hard on how to get across what I meant. “What’s… that? What’s light?” As I poked my own horn and then pointed at hers, her eyes lit up in recognition before a small frown pulled at her lips. “That’s… The light is Mommy’s magic, sweetie.” “Magic?” I tried the word, rolling it around my mouth. “What’s… magic?” “Oh, it’s very… complicated.” She was obviously struggling, so I tried to help. “Magic makes stuff fly?” “It can,” she answered after a moment. “Blueblood do magic more than fly.” “Yes… Your brother does more with magic than make stuff fly. Magic can do very much, sweetie.” I tilted my head at that. “Magic hurts ponies?” “What? No! Magic should not hurt ponies!” “But… magic hurt me?” Her entire body sagged at that. “Yes, magic does hurt you…” That was all I needed to prove my hypothesis true, but it didn’t make me feel better. So I was different, wrong, and a burden. Even though I had thought as much up until then, the confirmation still hurt, but I tried to grab hold of what optimism I could. I was alive, and hoped it would remain that way for the foreseeable future. Maybe it wasn’t even that bad a condition to have? I didn’t know everything, but decided for the time not to push the subject; my vocabulary wasn’t nearly expansive enough to delve into that conversation, and it seemed the topic wasn’t one Mom was comfortable with discussing with her baby. So, when she tried to change the subject with a new word, I didn’t fight it. I would come to learn everything I needed to know about my condition eventually; it was something parents couldn’t keep from their sick children no matter how much they wanted to. “Hey there, sweetie, there’s somepony here to see you,” my mother calls, pulling me from my memories. Turning from the tea party I was having with some stuffed animals, something I shamefully admit to doing sometimes when alone, I see my mom standing by the door with a big grin on her face. A second later, I see a little white muzzle peek around the corner between her legs before a pristine blur tackles me to the floor. “Blueblood!” I shout in surprise, hugging the giggling foal back. The colt lays a sloppy kiss on my cheek, blowing bubbles and tickling me, before hopping to his hooves and darting back a few paces. Climbing less gracefully to my own hooves, I can’t stop grinning when I realize what my brother is playing at. That he’s more agile than me, that he can use magic in ways that I can hardly fathom, that doing so would be a literal pain. None of that matters as I scrape a hoof across the ground and charge. I am going to wrangle me a little pony today. Ornate watched with a soft smile as her foals ran around the room without a care in the world. Blueblood’s surges had started settling down recently and she felt it was safe for them to spend some time together. Celestia knew her little colt needed it. Ever since the incident nearly three months ago, Blueblood had been suffering bouts of depression where he would cry for hours and refuse any care or comfort. It broke both parents’ hearts to see the colt so inconsolable, especially when the reason for it was both obvious and undoable. There was no doubt that little Blueblood missed his sister terribly, but they just couldn’t afford to let him near her while his magic was so volatile. Now though, the two frolicked about the room as if they didn’t have a care in the world. Pureblood tripped, landing hard on her chin, and Ornate made to move to her side before seeing Blueblood skid to a stop and whirl around as his sister tried to pick herself up. His horn sparked, the little filly fell once again with a wince, and the light immediately extinguished itself. An intense feeling of pride washed over Ornate Garden as she watched her son march over and nudge his sister into a seated position. Pure for her part, looked like she could use the break as she had flushed cheeks and was panting slightly. Perhaps Ornate was focusing too much on the little filly’s learning and not enough on letting her get fresh air and exercise. Thinking about it, Ornate had been treating her daughter like she was made of glass ever since the hospital. Blueblood had been taken out to her gardens to play plenty of times by his father when he wasn’t throwing a tantrum for his missing sibling. Perhaps Pure would enjoy the sun, too? “How are they doing?” a deep voice whispered beside her, causing the mare to jump slightly. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!” reprimanded Ornate as she swatted her husband on the shoulder. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he apologized with a chuckle, stepping closer to look into the room. What he saw warmed his heart. His son, staring at his winded sister in concern, looked around the room a moment before spotting one of her books with a grin. Dashing over to it, the colt was back at his sister’s side in an instant to plop the book down and babble as he pointed at it. He wanted Pureblood to look through the book with him. “They’re so precious together,” Ornate said, pride swelling even more at little Blueblood’s actions. She knew from personal experience how much the colt disliked books, often tossing them aside whenever presented with them to play with his toys instead. Yet here he was, offering to do something he hated just to make his sister happy and let her catch her breath. At that moment, Ornate knew her son would grow up to be a fine stallion. “Yes, they are precious,” said Blueblood the 16th, leaning in to kiss his wife on the cheek. To his surprise however, the mare pulled away. “Don’t think I’m not still mad at you. You fired one of our oldest maids without consulting me.” Blueblood’s face became stern. “I’m not going to apologize for that. Daisy may have worked here for nearly six years, but that does not make her exempt from punishment.” “But she was so good with little Blueblood; she was his favorite nanny.” Ornate argued back. “I stand by my decision,” Blueblood said, jaw set. Ornate sighed and shook her head, gaze returning to her children. She was upset about losing such a valuable helper, sure, but she was more upset that her husband refused to tell her why he had fired Daisy Care. She already knew, of course. It was hard not to hear the whispers, but the fact that Blueblood thought she couldn’t handle the truth irked her. And it wasn’t like she wasn’t upset about it too; had she heard Daisy badmouth her daughter, saying she was weird, unnatural, or anything other than the beautiful little angel she was, she’d be hard-pressed not to fire her as well. She might have even slugged her had her deprecation gone any further, but that didn’t change the fact that her husband shouldn’t have gone behind her back like she was a naive filly who needed sheltering. Besides, if they fired every worker who thought Pureblood strange, they’d have to replace a third of the staff. Ornate’s father always taught her that retaliation to insults was as good as proving those insults right to the attacker and that it was always better to let those fools see for themselves how wrong they were. That’s what Ornate was going to do. If she sent them away now, those maids and butlers would leave thinking they were right about the youngest daughter of the Platinum line, but if they stayed, it was only a matter of time before they fell in love with the precious little filly like she had. Watching Pureblood enthusiastically point at pictures from her book and enunciate the words for her brother to try, she felt it wouldn’t take long.