Remember When

by Cheesey Microwave

Remember Our Encounter With Robbing Hood?

I write to you with astral ink and paper forged from the sky. How this is possible, I do not know. I simply attempt to conjure and this appears.

The forces that once controlled me now patrol the place I am banished within, making sure my every attempt to leave Is foiled. They seem to understand that they are the ones who belong here, not me, but they want company. Or perhaps they hate me. Or they need a pawn.

Why you ask for memories you never clarified, but I shall still oblige with one of my fondest. Before I begin the tale, however, I must say that I didn't remember the running away incident until you brought it to my attention.

Now, I had already earned my cutie mark, and my mane was starting to grow at an uncomfortably fast rate. This was the day after you somehow managed to cajole me into dying my periwinkle mane the color that almost completely and perfectly matched my coat, and to this very day I resent you for that, as the dye was permanent. Perhaps you would get a better sense of time from political happenings: Discord had officially decided to recognize us as allies but we weren't allowed a position of any power in his unnamed domain. We were, however, gaining in popularity rather quickly, with almost ten thousand loyal followers eager to serve us.

We were going out for a walk of no real importance other than escaping the foolishness that permeated every aspect of our lives. Discord's theatrical antics had become a bit of a bore to me, and one can only have their mane turned into cotton candy so many times before it simply loses its charm. Many of our male followers also decided that they might make suitable future kings and tried to court you. When that failed, they would turn to me.

The conversation we had consisted of one stallion in particular, a handsome pegasus with eyes like emeralds and hooves like clay. You said he seemed nice, I told you about the many romantic affairs that had been confirmed by numerous witnesses.

In fact, just as you were scolding me for being so pessimistic, a gangly colt wearing a hood as black as my night popped out and held a sword to each of our throats using his magic. I remember it quite vividly: the sword held to your throat had a blade of iron that had apparently been used before on a red-blooded creature, while my blade was made of some blue jewel and was immaculate. Both swords were held by purple magic.

He demanded that every bit in our saddlebags, manes, tails or wherever else we had them be taken out and given to him. You angrily asked him what he thought he was doing.

His speech was hilarious! "I am the Robbing Hood, defender of the poor! I shall steal from you lying scoundrels and give it to those who deserve it! I shall be known through the world for my heroism!" I suppose it wasn't the words themselves, but how he said it, that caused me to fall to the ground in laughter. The idea that such a scrawny colt with communist ideals would be a world renowned hero was ridiculous!

You rolled your eyes, threw the swords aside with your own magic and asked him what he thought he was doing. He repeated his little speech, but in a far weaker tone than his original cry.

I rose to my hooves and in the Royal Canterlot Voice, which you have never seemed to perfect, bellowed, "Thy communist doings shall not go unpunished, for the redistribution of wealth harms those who require the money most! Hast thou not any idea of the true percentage of the honest who are unable to find work? Nay, it is quite miniscule! Those poor you richly reward for being lazy shall never support themselves as long as they have fools like you around! I demand that your real name be told and your parents known so that they may see what a shame you've become and punish you accordingly!"

He fell to the ground and apologized immediately, begging us not to tell his parents, to never tell his parents. He claimed he needed money to make sure their home got built.

I demanded of him where they lived. What I planned on doing was renovating their home myself and giving the colt a couple of swats with a hickory switch. He gave us the address, and you recognized it immediately: the old graveyard.

He then told us about the awful flu that had been going around and that they were the first two victims. He couldn't afford a tombstone and the townsponies were too coldhearted to even pay a chiseler- or offer one for free- so that he could at least have their names carved in stone. Ever since then, he'd been building a cottage for the caskets to reside in. What money didn't go to the old and disabled ponies would be used for materials.

As it turned out, he was convinced that they could still be disappointed in him even if they were dead. He was very anxious to make sure we never spoke of the attempted robbery within one hundred meters of the caskets.

You offered him a place to stay and rather rudely gave him my bedroom to sleep in, insisting that we would gladly sleep in the same room. "It'll be like a sleepover for us," you said. "After all, Luna has nothing to hide."

What, might I ask, does me having nothing to hide do with the fact that he's allowed to sleep in my room? I was no and still am not a clean freak, but he was caked with mud! And when I suggested that he take your room since it was always warmer, you insisted that my room would be better suited for him. Very generous of you, my dear sister. Very generous.

As it turned out, I did have something to hide, and he immediately discovered it: your birthday present. Two expertly crafted dolls made of wood, one in the likeness of our mother, the other made to duplicate our father. He asked who they were and ruined the surprise!

He had no way of knowing he shouldn't have been in my closet, especially since you told him that he could take one of MY jackets if he was cold(what's mine is yours and what's yours is yours, eh?).

After you fell asleep, which didn't take long, I discovered that you had become a wickedly loud snorer. Forgetting our guest, I went into my room for some earplugs. What I found was a fort made of pillows and stuffed animals. Inside of the sizable building was a squeaky clean "Robbing Hood", free of his black hood. He was barking orders at some stray cats and owls that had made their way into my room.

I took some of the creatures as my own and declared war on his pitiful property. Of course, he had used almost all of the pillows, so my fort was actually quite weak compared to his, even with the aid of blankets and pins. However, my animals were far better trained than his, and I easily won the war. My powerful voice inspired all but the laziest of my army, an overweight cat that was twenty years old and coming close to his final days. I allowed him to take a nap on my back.

The owls of his army became confused immediately and all but two flew out the open window, much to the leader's despair. I couldn't help but laugh at his misfortune, especially once I saw Mitzy Pipzy(my Siamese/Bengal cat, remember? The one with a blue and a green eye?) chase the rest of his nocturnal fowls away.

My cats, however, were restless and eventually left along with his. Within twenty minutes, we no longer had an army; simply two generals ready to destroy each other. I charged with a gallant blade made of paper. His weapon of choice was an umbrella, ready for action. He fought bravely, but in the end it was I who eventually won.

His last words were, "You'll never know my name, foul queen!"

I stood over him, his own weapon at his throat. "Why would I need to know of such things? Yea, that knowledge would only be used to honor you, for to die a named criminal is greater than to be an unknown vagrant." I administered the final blow as his mind finished processing my words.

After a very amusing death, he got up and told me his real name: Dusty Roads. Born to be a traveler, he was desperate to see new places and ponies but also needed to honor his parents. His illogical solution was to become a thief. Though I tried to talk him out of it, he told me about some truly rotten ponies who deserved to have every little bit stolen away that he had successfully robbed. When I applauded him on that, he took it as proof that I approved and called me "a fellow communist".

To this very day, I'm fairly sure he still has that scar. Or maybe he's dead. Hopefully from the scar.

After some time had passed and the moon was high in the sky, he thanked me for my hospitality and jumped out the window. He left some wooden box behind. However, during that time I learned he had the reputation of being quite the trickster, so I snuck it into your room(where you were happily sawing logs), crossed "Luna" out on the label, wrote Celestia in its place and set it next to you, hoping that in the morning you'd be too fazed to notice the obvious write-over.

You were. I don't know when you woke up exactly or when you opened it, but I do know the exact time the surprise popped out by your horrified screech. A giant pie bearing the face of a gremlin had popped out and hit you in the face, getting cream all over. It was also explosive, so your room was coated in a sticky yellowish substance that wasn't easy to get off.

The best part was that at the bottom of the pie tin was a slip of paper that said, "Thanks for offering your sister's stuff, Celestia!"

Love, Luna

Celestia's face turned cherry red.

Well, I certainly can't let her best me in embarrassing moments. She put the letter down and tried to think of something to write.

That was interrupted by Rosemary calling desperately for help.

Celestia galloped out of the bathroom to find a servant trying to pull the elderly mare back inside the castle. She was hanging precariously out a window, her forelegs wrapped around a giant naked hawk the size of a foal.

"Celestia, Celestia, I found a phoenix! You have to help me bring it in!" Rosemary winced and pulled harder, as did the grey and somewhat miffed servant keeping her from falling to the ground.

Celestia's magic made quick work of the whole fiasco, putting the phoenix in a cage and pulling the crazy old mare back inside the castle. As the princess started to scold her former nanny, the mare simply shook her head and kept talking about "ashes to ashes".

Celestia glanced over at the cage. A hideously ugly bird void of almost all its feathers, rather resembling that of a deformed and plucked chicken ready for the slaughter(as she had seen many times before during visits to Diamond Dog territory) stood in the cage, wall-eyed and barely standing. The expression on its face could only be described as that of a complete idiot's.

"That isn't even a phoenix," the mighty princess shouted, "it's some game bird that managed to get away! Phoenixes are beautiful and elegant!"

"Ashes to ashes, my queen! The phoenix starts out as ashes in the egg and becomes a glorious bird! When it becomes ashes once more, it cannot keep its old feathers!" Rosemary rushed to the bird's side and began to stroke it. "Call it Philomena, after my great aunt!"

The pony princess rolled her eyes and turned back to the bathroom. Rosemary tried to follow her, but the servant took her foreleg in his and pulled her downstairs.

"My queen?" Celestia stopped for a moment to ponder Rosemary's words. "I'm a princess. She knows that. Or does she?"

"Probably not," a white soldier replied. The stallion was standing right by the large doors that led to the Royal Game Hall, a magnificent room that was currently being used by a group of old ponies playing chess. "By the way, Your Royal Highness, you're getting the brand new carpet absolutely soaked."

"So?"

"Well, it's the one you were screaming at a filly for getting a drop of her water on."

Celestia's face, once again, turned red. "Send her my apologies, would you?"

The guard nodded and glanced in the direction of the bird cage. "Ew... what's that... thing?"

"Some bird Rosemary caught," she grumbled. "She thinks it's a phoenix."

"Poor Rosemary. I hope it'll be quick."

Celestia glanced over to the stallion. "What will be quick?"

"Her death. Rosemary's an old, old pony, you know."

"Of course she is, but... death? She can't be that old, can she?"

He hung his head. "Your Highness, she was my nanny, too. I'm very close to her. I know what's going on with her, physically and mentally. Do you think I'm not affected by the idea of her passing away soon?"

The princess' jaw hung agape as she tried to respond. "B-but... she never... t-told...?"

"Well, with Luna becoming corrupted and all, do you think she'd want to worry her precious Ce- I-I mean, Celestia?"

"She told you my nickname?!" the royal pony thundered.

"Maybe..."

Celestia was fuming, but the inner bomb was defused as the harsh reality finally revealed itself: Her subjects would not stop committing crimes. Her loved ones would not stop dying. Everything would continue, simply without Luna being there. Celestia was subject to all the same tragedies, the difference being that there was no sweet little sister to help her through them. She had only herself...

...and the letters.

Celestia anxiously galloped to her writing room, which was now clean thanks to the new and energetic housekeeper. Pulling out a piece of paper, she began to write at a furious speed, detailing what she knew of Rosemary's impending doom.

She looked over it when she was done and crumpled it into a little ball. The hoofwriting was childish, the descriptions poor, and it was hardly fifty words in total. She had no real information whatsoever.

A memory. Think of a memory! Celestia pulled out a new piece, enchanted it, and began to think.

After a few minutes of hard thinking, she laid her head on the desk. She was trying to remember something cute and funny.

Ten minutes passed before Celestia decided that closing her eyes for just a little bit wouldn't hurt.

---

"Your Royal Highness, I believe it is time for you to raise the sun." May Flower, a rare look of concern on her face, gently placed a hoof on Celestia's shoulder. "Your Majesty, are you feeling well? Do you need to be carried?"

Author's Note:

Comments

[ponies_forever]

Good story so far