All the Queen's Horses

by Bluespectre

Chapter One - Roots

ALL THE QUEEN’S HORSES

CHAPTER ONE

ROOTS

It was blazingly hot outside today, the sky a near perfect uninterrupted blue with a gentle breeze whisking up the fallen leaves the gardener had missed on his early morning rounds. Unusually the large dark oak double doors to the lobby stood open, allowing the distant happy sounds of children playing to ghost into the dark and austere mustiness of the ancient manor. Hooves crunching on the fine gravel of the long driveway announced the arrival of a dark blue pegasus in an even darker blue uniform tastefully trimmed in neat gold braid. His hooves clopped up the short flight of marble steps before stopping. The stallion reached up and pulled the brass lever beside the heavy doors while somewhere in the hidden depths of the old building the faint sound of a bell ringing cut through the near perfect silence.

A door opened, closing with a thunk and the metallic click of a latch. It was soon followed by the steady and measured hoof steps of a dark brown stallion in a black long tailed coat and tall white collar.

“Good morning Sebastian” the post stallion chirped, “Beautiful day today.”

The butler raised an eyebrow, “Indeed.”

Reaching back into his pannier, the post stallion took out a parcel and checked the address, “Here we go, just one to sign for today please.”

Sebastian’s horn glowed and a perfectly sharpened pencil floated out to endorse the chitty held out by the uniformed pegasus. There was a creak of a door opening and a tall pastel yellow mare emerged, her bottle green and white floor length dress swishing noisily as she trotted up beside the butler,

“Is it here?” she asked animatedly.

Sebastian floated the parcel over to her, “It is addressed for the attention of Lord Runcy, ma’am” he said in his typical deep sombre tone.

The mare clucked her tongue, “Well don’t worry about that, Seb, give it here and let’s have a look.” She turned away from the door, “And for heavens sake, come out from under the table Silver, you’ll get your coat all dirty!”

Sebastian huffed quietly under his breath. Dirt? Not in this house! He closed the front door with a bang and roughly pushed the large brightly polished bolt home, the postal worker already forgotten. Silver watched the black over-coated butler stalk away before returning her gaze back to the firmly closed door. It was nearly pitch black in the lobby now, the light from outside restricted to two narrow leaded light windows either side of the double doors that reflected off the black and white checked tiles of the floor. It didn’t help. From the wood panelled walls to the heavy gothic style banister and stairs, the whole house held an equally heavy and almost oppressive atmosphere that while too dark for many ponies tastes, to the little filly, it was home. Silver looked up at the ceiling; she’d helped with that. She could remember how Papa had lifted her up to help paint it when she was no higher than his knees, or so it seemed. She sighed; things had changed since then, and not necessarily for the better.

Her mother’s voice drifted in from the drawing room, “Silver? Where are you?”

“Coming mama”

Silver trotted into the tall ceilinged room where her mother would habitually sit beneath the tall arched windows and work on her needlepoint. It was, other than her playroom, the only room in the house that came close to allowing any significant amount of natural light in, and even that recent addition was made only after her mother had badgered papa into coming round to her point of view. After all, as she liked to point out, a lady’s needlepoint classes were an excellent way of finding out all the latest ‘valuable’ gossip and rumours that he might otherwise have missed. Father had reluctantly agreed and now, every Thursday afternoon, the house would be abuzz with ladies from all across Equestria chattering about this and that, discussing the latest fashions, gossiping about who was being ‘married off’ to whom, and all the while consuming gargantuan quantities of cake and tea. Silver liked Thursdays; watching the elegant ladies in their large colourful dresses as they sashayed through their home made her heart ache for one of her own some day. Mother didn’t want her looking ‘older’ than she was just yet of course, that wouldn’t be seemly, but she could still dream. What was even better though were the ‘secret treats’ Rinse would sneak to her from the kitchen. Mother didn’t approve of her having too many goodies, but the family maid would often slip her a small plate of sausage rolls, vol-au-vents and fairy cakes in between feeding the bottomless pits of mother’s guests.

Lady Spoon took a sip of her tea before placing the parcel on the table as the yellow mare fidgeted with her long green and white immaculately plaited mane, “Sit over there, Silver, there’s a good girl.” She watched the book excitedly as if the thing would leap off the table and attack her at any moment, “I can’t believe Lady Thatch finally sent it” she breathed, “After all this time…I never thought she would.” Lady Spoon chuckled, “I knew she wouldn’t be able to resist our marrow and sultana chutney!”

Silver Spoon smiled; that was another of mother’s myriad ‘interests’: making chutney. Personally she found the whole process extremely tedious, much preferring tasting the finished article, but mama relished it nonetheless. Father did too she suspected, as it kept his energetic wife occupied and out of his affairs.

“Look at me, I’m so excited my hooves are shaking!” Lady Spoon exclaimed, “Be a darling and open that for me would you?”
“Of course, mama” Silver said climbing down from her chair. Carefully she reached out and began unwrapping the parcel’s brown paper and cardboard packaging. Sebastian was right, whatever it was had most certainly been addressed to her father; the ornate hoofwriting clearly addressed it to ‘Lord Runcible Spoon, Spoon Manor, Ponyville’. It was probably official, as he usually insisted on being addressed as ‘Lord Runcy’ or simply ‘Runcy’. By comparison Silver Spoon’s mother, Lark Wing, was known in the royal court and to the rest of Equestrian high society as ‘Lady Spoon’ in honour of her ancestral lineage, and she preferred to keep it that way. Silver herself was usually introduced as ‘our foal’, or ‘dear little Silver’. By Celestia’s starched feathers, how she hated that! It was bad enough living in the constant shadow of ‘those who had gone before’, as father always intoned whenever he was in one of ‘those’ moods, without being spoken about as one would about a favourite pet. Silver Spoon felt like sighing aloud but kept her face neutral; mother did not approve of overt displays of ‘emotion’ - except her own.

The last of the wrapping fell away and Lady Spoon reached forward eagerly,

“Let me see, let me see!” She snatched the book from Silver’s outstretched hooves and read the title aloud, her eyes wide with anticipation, “’From the castle of…’ wait, what’s this? This isn’t right…” Lady Spoon abruptly tossed the book onto the coffee table and stared dramatically at her hooves as though they’d been infected, “This isn’t my needlepoint book! Blast that stupid goat!”

Silver remained quiet. It didn’t do to interrupt mama when she was in one of ‘those’ moods.

“Weeks, weeks, I’ve been waiting for the latest edition of that book, and what do I get? Disappointment, that’s what!” Lady Spoon threw her forelegs up in an expansive display of exasperation, “Gah! Why do I even bother? Why, why, why?! Do you know Silver? Do you?”

Silver Spoon shook her head, “I don’t mama.”

Lady Spoon leaned down and waved a beautifully manicured hoof at her daughter with a pitying look that made Silver cringe inside, “Of course you don’t darling, of course; don’t let mama trouble you with such trivial matters.” The yellow mare slumped back in her chair and stared up at the ceiling, “Oh, what am I to do? If that foul harlot gets her rotten hooves on it first, all my planning will be for nought! What in Equestria will I do then?”

Silver Spoon sat and waited patiently for her mother’s rant to run its course and eventually blow herself out. She could understand her frustration of course; her mother had spent the last few months planning to host the latest ‘soiree’ of the Equestrian elite to coincide with the release of the latest book by Café Faucet, the lauded author of the most popular needlepoint books in the land. Unfortunately, it would appear that all was not going according to plan. Silver Spoon fought the urge to yawn, and instead kept her lavender eyed gaze politely on her mother while she continue to berate innumerable mares, stallions, ‘goats’ and Celestia alone knew what else. Suddenly her ears twitched, swivelling to focus on a familiar sound coming from the hallway. It was coming nearer.

“Lark, have you seen my parcel? Sebastian informed me of it’s arrival.”

Silver looked round to look up into the chiselled features of her father. The tall stallion shared her silver-grey coat colouring, but where she got her white and pale grey striped mane and tail from had been the topic of much debate. Lord Runcy’s eyes alighted upon the remains of the paper on the coffee table and the discarded book. Sighing, he walked over to collect it,

“I see you troubled yourself to unwrap my parcel for me, dear” he said politely, “I take it, it was not to your liking?”

Lady Spoon huffed. “I don’t know why you keep reading that nonsense, Runcy” she said half lidding her eyes and staring at the book in disgust, “Such things are little more than fantasy stories and cheap one bit tat fit for young colts and certainly not a stallion of your standing.” She rolled her eyes, “I can’t imagine what mama would say! She would be spinning, spinning in her grave!”

Lord Runcy clucked his tongue, “I doubt that dear, the old darling was cremated wasn’t she?”

“Don’t be disgusting!” his wife snapped, “You know what I mean!” As quickly as Lady Spoon’s anger had appeared it vanished in an instant, replaced by a plaintive, wheedling voice that she always used when trying to get her own way or seek sympathy, “Oh, darling, you know how much I’ve been waiting for Café’s latest book. The girls are simply gushing about it! Why, Duchess Winter Fox has even sent off to Llamalia for bolts of gold cloth and rainbow silks.” She looked up at him from under her long lashes, “You know how important this is for us darling, can’t you do something to, you know…speed things up?” She reached up and began circling her hoof against her husband’s chest, “Please? For me?”

The grey stallion clucked his tongue again and placed the book in his overcoat pocket before putting the packaging in the low burning coal fire, “You know I can’t do that” he said patiently.

“But why not?” Lady Spoon whined, “It’s not as though I ask for much, is it? I don’t have servants swanning off to foreign climes to fetch expensive material, do I? And I don’t spend every bit of the family fortune on frivolous pursuits either. No, I work my hooves to the bone to bring the finest of Equestrian society to our house so we can keep that one step ahead of the game and-”

“-Lark, please!” Lord Runcy cut in, “Not in front of Silver!”

“Oh, tish tosh!” Lady Spoon announced with a dismissive wave of her hoof, “Silver’s a Spoon, not some common trash. She’ll need to be introduced to proper society sooner or later, and it would be better here where we can keep an eye on her and…’guide’ her.”

Lord Runcy harrumphed and opened the cherry wood box by the mantelpiece. Inside, the earth stallion had his long stemmed pipe already primed with his favourite black cherry tobacco. Silver adored the smell, but tried to keep away from the billowing smoke. Once that got on her coat even a bath never seemed to quite move it and her friend had even commented that she ‘smelled like an old stallion’ – the nerve!

The smell of sulphur from her father’s match tickled Silver’s nose as he spoke,

“We need to talk about Silver Spoon’s education, Lark. I’ve spoken to Chester and he said that we can arrange for a home tutor to attend from Monday to Saturday, inclusive.” He took a puff on his pipe, “I think that should do the trick.”

Lady Spoon shook her head, “Runcy we’ve been over this before, I don’t want Silver becoming house bound. You know what that can do to a filly; she needs to be able to socialise, to make contacts with other foals and develop her conversational skills.” She peered sympathetically at her daughter, “Just look at the little angel, she hardly ever says a word.”

“Probably can’t get a blasted word in” Lord Runcy muttered, earning a scathing glare from his wife. He tossed his short oil black mane and nodded as though affirming some decision he’d already made, “I tell you, Lark, I don’t like the way she’s following that ‘Rich’ girl around lately. Spoons are leaders not followers, and certainly not lackeys to upstarts like them. Good goddesses, It’s like she’s a blasted tail on a dog – I don’t like it and I will not have that sort of behaviour brought to my door.”

“Our door, darling” Lady Spoon said in a dangerously low voice. Just as quickly she perked up, “Anyway, I don’t like it either, but what can I do? I can’t very well ban her from being friends with the Rich’s, or it could reflect poorly on the family and you know how influential Filthy is in the court.”

“I don’t give a damn about Filth and his damnable demon spawn, Lark. I don’t want any daughter of mine following that thing around at her beck and call. I’ve kept my council for too long on this and it’s time you took your daughter to task.” He clopped his hoof on the mantelpiece making Silver shudder.

“My daughter?” Lady Spoon asked curiously, “Don’t you mean, ours? Or have you forgotten how foals are made, dear?”

Lord Runcy took a step forward making Silver cringe back, “Don’t bait me, mare!” he growled, “You have no idea what’s going on out there in the real world. There’s no cosy little tea parties, no fancy bloody cakes and no damned needlepoint books by fancy pants authors for sex starved mares to froth at the mouth over!”

Silver closed her eyes as the storm of her fathers anger raged about her. She knew what was coming next…

“Look at this, look at it!” Runcy pointed to the large portrait of the elegant yet imposing white mare with the deep blue eyes and mane gazing casually out of the painting. “Why can’t she be more like her? Why can’t she be like the greatest of our line?”

Silver could almost mouth the words.

“Golden Spoon: a mare amongst mares. To every stallion she was a wife and to every mare a husband. She defied, defied the traitorous scum who had sold out our country and fought single hoofed against the black horde of Nightmare Moon’s abominations. Without her, our world would have fallen and our family line cut short nearly a thousand years ago.” Lord Runcy turned to his daughter, “It’s time you bucked your ideas up, girl and found some real friends!”

“Yes, papa” Silver replied, casting her eyes at the ground.

“And lift up your damned head, girl!” her father bellowed, “Don’t be a blasted coward all your life! Face me, look me in the eye and show some damned backbone! Do it! Now!”

Silver lifted her head and stared obediently into her father’s vibrant purple eyes, “Yes papa.”

Lord Runcy took a pull on his pipe and snorted the smoke out over her, “Damn it girl, I said show some backbone. Don’t you know what that means? Spoons are leaders not bloody followers!” He nodded his head, “Now answer me properly!”

“Yes, papa” Silver tried.

“Not good enough!” Lord Runcy shouted, “Again!”

“Yes, papa.”

The silver-grey stallion let out a loud neigh, “You’re not with your bossy little filly friend now girl” he roared, “Show me how Golden commanded and inspired her troops into battle. Shout out your defiance! Cut down your enemies without mercy! What do you say?”

The little filly took a deep breath, “YES, PAPA!”

Her father nodded his head slowly, “Passable.”

“Don’t be so hard on her, Runcy, she’s just a filly you know, and barely even that” Lady Spoon said quietly. “She just needs time to find her hooves in the world, that’s all.”

“Hmph!” Lord Runcy huffed, attracting a look of distaste from his wife, “She has her cutie mark already, the mark of the spoon family. Whether you like it or not, Lark, she is our future and I can tell you now that if our old friend Filth could use her to find a way to oust our family from court and place his arrogant little get above us, he would. Oh, yes, I can assure you of that, my dear!” he took a puff on his pipe, “If our daughter keeps up with this disgusting display of fawning it could result in the Spoon line playing second fiddle to…to Filth!” He growled low under his breath and swished his tail angrily.

Silver Spoon took a breath and looked to her mother who, rather surprisingly, gave her a rare sympathetic look,

“Silver darling, don’t you visit the Rich’s home from time to time to play with your little friend?”

Silver Spoon nodded, “Yes, mama.”

“Ha!” her father snorted, “Straight into the maw of the manticore!”

Lady Spoon rolled her eyes and continued, “Have you heard anything interesting whilst you’ve been there? I guess Diamond Tiara’s mother and father talk about all sorts of things, don’t they?”

Silver nodded. Her mother smiled and waved a hoof encouragingly. Unsure at first, the young filly scrunched up her face and adjusted her glasses, desperately trying to remember…yes! She turned to her father,

“Lord Rich said that he was meeting somepony called ‘Sir Pluck’ to ‘discuss a meeting of extreme gravitas’” she explained, “I didn’t hear much more, but Diamond Tiara said that her papa has had some strange looking ponies that aren’t ponies at the house recently.”

“Griffins” Lord Runcy said with a look of distaste, “Damned freaks of nature, the lot of them.”

“Dear, please, don’t talk like that in front of Silver” Lady Spoon protested.

“Hah!” The tall stallion pointed his pipe at his wife, “And there’s half the problem right there! Silver Spoon should have been home schooled like I insisted right from day one, but no, you and mother had to brow beat me into agreeing to send her to that dump of a school to slum it out with the offspring of society’s chaff. It’s no bloody wonder she’s like this! Look at her! No damned backbone whatsoever!”

Silver’s mother raised an eyebrow, “She’s only a child, dear.”

“And she’ll remain a child because of your endless damned mollycoddling!” Lord Runcy slammed his hoof down on the mantelpiece, adding yet another dent to his favourite ‘ranting spot’ as Silver now saw it. With a sigh, she quietly slipped out of the room while her parents continued to argue. They’d be doing this long into the night and had no doubt already forgotten she simply wasn’t there any more. It was always like this: father would come home from the royal court, unhappy about ‘something’ that had happened there, and vent his displeasure on everypony in the household. Usually mother acted as a counterbalance to his moods, working her own earth pony magic to bring him back down to earth with her calm and reason. It always amazed Silver how mama could simply ‘switch’ from her usual excitable and energetic self to this serene, calming entity that effortlessly drained her father’s temper until, eventually, he was back to his normal self.

Whatever that was.

Silver sighed and trotted into the kitchen for a drink. It was hot outside today, but as always, it was even hotter inside. Unfortunately during the winter the opposite was true. The old manor, the ancestral home of the spoon family, had been built by father’s heroine, Lady Golden Spoon. To say that he worshipped her would be an understatement: he adored her! Sometimes Silver wondered if he wouldn’t have married her if she just walked in the door right then! Somepony did walk in – it was Rinse.

“How’s my favourite young lady today?” the unicorn maid chirped.

Silver tried a smile which faded almost as quickly as it appeared.

Rinse nodded and smiled sadly, “They’re arguing again aren’t they?”

Silver took a breath but said nothing. Rinse knew, they all knew. It was like commenting on how wet rain was.

“Thirsty?” Rinse asked.

The young filly look up at her with her large purple eyes. It was all Rinse needed to see; to Silver the cheerful maid always seemed to know just what to do to put a little sunshine in her heart, be it treats, drinks, or simply a shoulder to cry on.

“Right then! We’ve got something new today which Crisps bought from the market.” The pale blue mare waggled her eyebrows comically making Silver giggle. Opening the cold box, Rinse produced a pitcher of bright orange juice and poured a measure into a tall glass before passing it to the young filly. “Have a guess what it is” she said happily.

Silver was so parched she could have gladly gulped down it all down in on go, but then, that wasn’t ‘ladylike’, was it? She sighed and tried to push the intrusive thoughts of propriety to one side and took an investigative sniff of the drink: it smelled…delicious! There was a fruity hint to it, quite sharp really, but also a note of something else. She took a sip, and then a mouthful. “It’s wonderful!” she said in amazement, “What is it?”

Rinse beamed happily and poured herself a smaller glass, “Orange and carrot, believe it or not.” She lifted a hoof at the filly’s expression, “I know, I know, I thought the same, but honestly, I think the taste speaks for itself.” She raised an eyebrow, “And it’s good for you too.”

Silver Spoon groaned as the bitter-sweet flavour of the cooling beverage sent tingles through her body, making her ears quiver. How could a drink taste so good?! Suddenly her ears pricked up as the outside door to the kitchen opened.

“Gawd strewth, they’re bloody well at it again, Rin-” The charcoal coated stallion froze in mid sentence, “Oh, hello Miss. Pardon my Llamalian.”

Silver shook her head and smiled. She liked Crisps, he was a pleasant, if a little rough around the edges young stallion whom father had employed as a grounds keeper, gamekeeper, handy-pony and what Crisps himself referred to as a ‘dogsbody’ who did just about anything else that needed doing around the manor. Without him, and their rather diminished army of staff, the manor would be in real trouble.

“Not at school today, Miss?” Crisps asked placing his wide brimmed black hat on the table.

Silver shook her head.

“Not feeling too well today, eh?”

Silver nodded.

“Well, don’t worry miss, Miss, I’ve got some potatoes and leeks fresh from the garden that our Rinse here will work her magic on for you.” Crisps leaned in conspiratorially while winking at the maid, “Don’t tell anyone, but I think she’s secretly an alicorn.”

“An alicorn?” Silver breathed, “But…”

Crisps nodded slowly, “Yeah, but she got into a fight with an evil witch who magicked her wings away…’Poof’! Just like that!”

Silver Spoon’s mouth hung open in surprise, “No!”

“Uh-huh,” Crisps said closing his eyes and held his hoof to his chest, “Would I ever tell fibs, Miss?”

“Yes!” Silver squeaked, “You’re teasing me, aren’t you?”

Crisps laughed, “Well, maybe a little.” He reached over and bopped her on the nose, “But I’m not about the leek and potato. It’s soup and crusty rolls tonight.”

“I love leek and potato soup!” Silver cried happily and clopped her fore hooves together in delight, “Can we have cheese too? Please, Rinse, I love cheese!”

Rinse clucked her tongue, “It’s not good for you, Miss Silver, you know that. Madam said that-”

“-I know…” Silver moaned, “’Cheese gives you breeze’” Mother always said that, and even to this day she had no idea what that even meant! Certainly she didn’t have exactly the best constitution in the world and would often find herself taken with summer colds or fevers, but surely a little cheese wouldn’t hurt, would it?

“Why can’t she have cheese?” Crisps asked.

Rinse shot him an angry look, but Silver answered for her, “I get sick. Mama says I have to ‘watch my diet’.”

Crisps shared a look with Rinse who pulled a seat up to the table and lay a hoof on Silver’s, “I know it’s hard, Miss, especially when your friends are outside playing, but you’ll be better in a day or so. The doctor said so didn’t she?”

Silver nodded.

Rinse patted her hoof, “Well that’s good news then! Tell you what, I’ll have a word with the Madam and we’ll have Crisps take us around the estate in the summer carriage. How’s that sound?”

“I’d like that!” Silver grinned, “Can Diamond Tiara come too?”

“Diamond Tiara?” Crisps asked, “She’ll be at school still won’t she?”

Silver shook her head with a grin, “She’s right behind you.”
“Wha...!” Crisps jumped in surprise, sending the pastel pink pony in the doorway into giggles.

“Miss Cheerilee sent me round with your homework, Silv. Are you feeling better?” the filly asked.

Silver smiled, a sad expression ghosting across her gentle features, “A little…but all the better you’re here Di!” The silver coated filly gave a surprisingly nimble pirouette, “Ta da!”

“You’ve been practising!” Diamond Tiara laughed. She motioned towards her mane, “I’ve had my hair done too. What do you think?” The young filly waggled her eyebrows and struck a pose, emphasising her purple and white striped mane.

“It’s beautiful!” Silver said clopping her fore hooves, “Hey, do you want to try this new juice? It’s wonderful!” She waved a hoof towards Rinse who nodded and poured the two girls out a glass each.

Diamond Tiara took hers without a word and stared into the glass. “It smells funny” she said wrinkling her nose.

“It’s carrot and orange.” Rinse offered.

The pink filly’s blue eyes flashed. “Nopony asked your opinion!” she snapped.

For a moment Silver Spoon lifted a hoof to protest but relented, hanging her head and muttering something under her breath.

“What was that?” Diamond asked suddenly.

“I…” Silver cleared her throat, “I said, I…”

“Oh, never mind!” the pink filly sniffed, “Come on, let’s go to your playroom and try the new ballet moves! Mister Point’s shown me how to stand on the tip of one hoof!”

“Sure…” Silver said quietly, and suddenly lifted her head, “Sure! Let’s go!”

The two trotted out of the room, with Diamond Tiara leading the way. Closing the back door, Crisps shook his head, “Girls eh?”

“Yeah…” Rinse replied letting out a breath, and stared helplessly at the table top, “Girls.”

Crisps walked across and put a foreleg over her shoulder, “Come on now, don’t let that little monster upset you. She’s not like our Silver Spoon, so we can be grateful for that, eh?”

“I know” the maid replied sadly, “But I don’t like her acting like that.”

“Who? Diamond Tiara?” Rinse asked.

Rinse shook her head, “No, I mean Silver.”

Crisps frowned, “Silver?”

Rinse nodded, “The way she follows her around like that, you know, agreeing with her all the time.”

“Huh!” Crisps snorted, “His Lordship doesn’t like it either, I can tell you that for a fact. Why do you think he’s arranging for home tutoring?”

“I don’t think shutting her away will make things better, Crisps” Rinse reasoned.

The handy-pony shrugged, “I know, but what can we do? She’s not our daughter.” He cleared his throat suddenly, “I mean, y’know, that…oh, forget it!” He stomped over to the larder and grabbed a bread roll and a piece of cheese, “All I can say is that I hope to the goddesses that Silver grows out of it.” He took a mouthful of the bread, “I don’t think you give her enough credit.”

“Oh, for goodness sake, don’t talk with your mouthful Crisps, you’re getting crumbs all over the floor!” Rinse cried, “I’ve just mopped too!” She hurried over to the cupboard and brought out a dustpan and brush, “It’s like dealing with a fully grown foal.”

“Takes one to know one” Crisps joked and clambered into the wooden chair by the wood burning stove, “But I’ll say it again: young Silver will go a long way some day. You mark my words.”

Flicking the last of the crumbs into the bin, Rinse walked over to the crumb covered stallion and draped her forelegs over his shoulders, “I hope you’re right.”

Crisps looked up and kissed her muzzle, “I am, you’ll see.”

********************

“That’s it!” the pink filly squeaked, clopping her hooves together, “You’ve…” she covered her muzzle in her fore hooves as Silver tripped and landed in a heap on the floor, “Silv! Are you alright?” Di hurried over to her friend and reached down to help her up.

Silver closed her eyes and winced, “I think so…” She looked up and gave her friend a smile, “I think I need a little more practice though.”

Diamond Tiara chuckled, “You’ll get there. I can’t exactly do it every time myself you know!” She gave her friend an appraising look and adjusted her mane, “Maybe if you didn’t have your glasses on, you’d be able to balance better.”

Silver shook her head, “If I did that I wouldn’t be able to see to find them again!”

“How about a chain?” Diamond Tiara suggested, “Mother has one on hers for when she’s reading.”

“Ew!” Silver sneered, “I don’t want to look like an old mare!”

“Hey! My mothers not an old mare!” the pink filly snapped, “Anyway, you’d fit right in with your ‘old’ house.”

Silver blinked and sat down on her haunches, staring around at the room. It was one of the brightest in the manor and still somehow managed to look as dull and old as the rest of it. She closed her eyes and sniffed back a tear; Di was right, this place seemed to suck the light, the life and even the very joy from you as surely as sponge soaks up water. Was she an old mare? Even at this age she wore the same hairstyle her mother had, and even her spectacles were…old fashioned...

A foreleg appeared around her neck, closely followed by a gentle hug,

“I’m sorry, Silv, I shouldn’t have said that, that was mean.”

Silver Spoon sniffed back a tear and gave an ironic chuckle, “It was true though. I am an old mare… an old filly mare.”

“A silly mare!” Di teased, and gave her friend a poke under the ribs making her squeak in surprised, “Your family just live in a fusty old house, that’s all.”

“Fusty?” Silver asked, “What’s that mean?”

Di shrugged, “Heck if I know!”

Silver frowned, “Your mama would blow a fuse if she heard you saying things like that!”

“Heck?” Di snorted loudly, “And who’s going to tell her?” She raised an eyebrow, “I know a much better one than that! I heard old Tall Favour talking by the water mill and wrote it down so I wouldn’t forget.” She produced a piece of paper from her silk pannier and hoofed it to Silver, “Here.”

Silver lifted the paper in her hooves and unfolded it, “’Tell him to go buck himself’?” The little filly frowned in concentration and then suddenly blushed a deep scarlet. The paper fluttered to the floor, “D…Di! I…You…You can’t say that!”

“I didn’t” Diamond Tiara said with a smirk, “You did though.”

“That’s not fair!” Silver squeaked, “You tricked me!”

The pink filly fell about laughing, kicking her hind legs and holding onto her sides, “Oh, Silver, your face was a picture!” She shook her head and tried to get her mirth under control. With a shake of her head, Diamond Tiara wiped the tears from her eyes and raised an eyebrow at her friend, “Imagine the fun we could have with it.” She tapped the piece of paper, “And I know just the fillies too.”

“Di…that’s mean” Silver said quietly.

Diamond Tiara sat up, her face suddenly taking on the same severe cast she tended to show around others, “It’s what?”

“I…I said…” Silver’s voice drifted off.

“Oh, don’t be so serious all the time” Di groaned, “It’ll put years on you.” She stuck her tongue out at her friends scowl, “Come on, it’ll be fun. Those three have it coming anyway.”

“If you say so…” Silver muttered.

“I do say so” Diamond Tiara said haughtily, “’Precious pests’, I call them. They think they’re so special - so much better than everypony else at school. Have you seen Scootaloo’s grades? She’s as thick as custard! And don’t get me started on that farmers piglet, Apple Boom, she smells like a pig pen.”

“Apple Bloom.”

“Huh?” Di blinked, focussing on her friend, “What did you say?”

“Her name’s Apple Bloom, not…Boom…” Silver mumbled.

Diamond Tiara clucked her tongue, “Whatever!” She gave Silver a bop on the nose, “And stop mumbling, will you? I can’t understand a word you’re saying!”

Silver nodded before scratching her chin in thought, “What about Sweetie Belle? She seems nice.”

“Nice? Pfff!” Di snorted, “Mother says she’s the daughter of a ‘champagne socialist’ and we shouldn’t go near her in case we catch it off her.”

“What’s a champagne socialist?” Silver asked, genuinely perplexed.

Di shrugged, “I don’t know, but it sound nasty!” She walked over to the music box and wound it up, “Ready to try again?”

“Sure!”

Downstairs Lord Runcy leaned back in his chair, folding the newspaper back up with a yawn. Those damned foreigners were causing trouble again, always hovering around the Princess like moths to a flame. It was a pity she didn’t incinerate the woolly barbarians. Huh! Llama’s! They must have thought they had the right to speak to Celestia like an equal just because they had a few miles of sand and rock they laughingly called an ‘empire’. The bloody nerve of them! It was astounding that they had the sheer gall to keep pushing for trade deals with the princess when all they had to offer was dusty rags and the sort of tat he would have thrown in the bin given half a chance. Golden Spoon would have known how to deal with vermin like that, and a thousand years ago she had shown her quality by leading the Celestian forces to victory over the horde of scum that traitorous bitch ‘Nightmare Moon’ had scraped together. Now ‘Luna’ was back and acting as if everything was hunky dory, just as it had been before she betrayed them all and plunged their beautiful homeland into anarchy. He shook his head; Golden would be spinning in her grave! And yes, she had been buried, with full military honours, not turned into ash like ponies seemed to like these days. Bloody proles, they had no respect for history or tradition. He sat down in his chair and lifted his latest book into his lap; now this was what they should be teaching in school, not the blithering drivel Silver Spoon was ‘learning’ with the rest of those imbeciles. He sighed; he’d relented again, hadn’t he? Lark had worked her feminine charms on him once more and he’d folded like a deck of bloody cards. He just hoped he wouldn’t-

There was a loud thump from upstairs, followed by a rumble of hooves.

Silver? Oh, Goddesses, no…

Lord Runcy jumped out of his chair and raced for the stairs, leaping them three at time. Clearing the banister at the top of the landing he careered around the corner and charged for where he could hear excited voices emanating from an open door: it was Silver’s playroom. With a loud neigh he flung himself around the doorframe and found his daughter slumped in the forelegs of the maid.

“What the blistering buggering hell’s going on here!” he bellowed, “Silver?” Lord Runcy dropped to his haunches and reached for his daughter, “Silver? It’s alright now, papa’s here.” He turned to the maid, “What’s happened? Tell me!”

Rinse balked, “I…I don’t know, my Lord, I heard a bang and-”

“-darling? What’s…Silver!” Lady Spoon ran up to the trio and threw her forelegs around her daughter, “Oh, my baby! What’s wrong, tell mama!”

Lord Runcy turned to face Sebastian who was standing in the door, “Well don’t just stand there, stallion, get the bloody doctor!”

“Very good, Sir” the butler intoned, and vanished back down the corridor.

Silver blinked, staring up at the ceiling and watched a moth wandering about on the chandelier. She was like that moth: trapped in a magnificent prison, and utterly directionless. She smiled and closed her eyes; she was so...tired.

Lark shook her, “Don’t fall asleep, darling, please! Oh, Goddesses! Sweet Celestia, don’t let her fall asleep!”

“Stop bloody panicking, mare!” Lord Runcy snapped, “Rinse, bring that water over here. Get a cloth and keep wiping her down. Whatever you do, don’t let her fall asleep.”

“Where are you going? You can’t leave now!” Lark shrieked.

But Lord Runcy was already out of the door and heading for his study. It was here he kept all his mementoes: the small bits and pieces passed down from father to son, mother to daughter, and so on through the Spoon line from their earliest days. Some of it was little more than interesting odds and ends like coins from other countries, fangs and claws from some unidentifiable creature, or similar curios. Looking at this peculiar assemblage of oddments it was hard to imagine sometimes that the bulk of the Spoon fortune had been made in the years following the war when Equestria was rebuilding and quarrying and logging was at its height. Thanks to Golden Spoon’s efforts in the war their family had been granted the very best limestone, granite and marble quarrying land in the country, not to mention some prime forestry ripe for logging. Since then their fortunes had dwindled, their gold foolishly squandered away by later descendants who had no head for business or innovation. Now, the Spoons’ were up against the wall; the Rich’s were on the rise and the old world was changing at a frightening pace, but there was still money to be made, oh yes, and the Spoon family, as diminished as they were from their once lofty heights, would soon be on the rise once more, and rise they would. Runcy rummaged through the cupboards and drawers searching for what he knew was there. Goddesses, he’d only seen it the other day, and… There! With a nicker he snatched up the bottle and dropped it into his pocket before bolting for the door. Silver was the only heir to their name and to the estate, there was no way in hell he would allow any harm to come to her. He charged up the stairs and reached the bedroom, throwing himself onto the floor beside his daughter.

“Oh goddesses, Runcy, she’s burning up…” Lark looked like she was ready to pass out herself, but was holding up despite her desperation. Meanwhile Rinse was wiping Silver Spoon’s forehead, but no sooner had the water dampened her fur it was evaporating away.

Lord Runcy leaned down, taking the bottle from his pocket, “Come on little one, come on.” He lifted her up and opened her mouth, dropping one of the crystal from the bottle onto her tongue. The silver-grey stallion took his daughter to his chest and hung on as she suddenly spasmed.

Lark looked on in horror, “D…Darling?”

Runcy ignored her, instead singing a quiet lullaby to the little foal in his forelegs. Rocking her back and forth, the stallion closed his eyes and prayed he hadn’t been too late… Please, Celestia, don’t let him be too late…

“Papa?” The large round purple eyes looked up at her father, full of curiosity, “Why are you crying?”

Runcy squeezed his eyes shut and pushed his muzzle into his daughter’s mane, fighting back the wracking sobs that threatened to drown him in a raging torrent of emotion. He shook his head and squeezed her, “Oh Silver, my little girl…”

“Papa? You’re squashing me.”

“Oh!” Lord Runcy suddenly laughed and let his daughter go, taking the cloth from Rinse and wiping his own face, “Good grief, look at my face! I’m all wet!”

Silver smiled and tried to stand but staggered slightly before being caught by her mother. Gently, Lark lifted the weak filly onto her father’s back and they carefully carried her to her bedroom. Behind them, the quiet sound of small hooves disappeared down the stairs and out the kitchen, completely unheard.

********************

Night time in the manor was an especially dark affair, despite the lamps that the staff lit before bedtime. The oil lamps were a hang over from more austere days and indicative of the reticence Silver Spoon’s ancestors held towards investing in magical versions that gave off a brighter, clearer light. Instead, the oil lamps served only to emphasise the age old buildings interior and its oppressive aura. Like the rest of her family Silver was used to it, but it didn’t help when she saw how other ponies like Diamond Tiara lived. Her friend’s house was on a different level altogether, showcasing the bright, airy architecture of the ‘nouveau riche’ as father called them. Naturally she knew what that meant - it had been hammered into her on an almost daily basis. The Spoons’ were old money, the Richs’ new, and ‘never the twain shall meet’ apparently. Silver groaned and rolled over on her bed; she’d heard the same old rhetoric over and over and over again for years! Who cared if Filthy Rich was ‘new money’? Money was money, wasn’t it? Good grief, she didn’t even get an allowance! So much for the ‘age’ of money, she’d like to see at least some of it in her purse!

Silver yawned and stretched her legs out; Di had worn her out today. The latest ballet moves had been surprisingly taxing, but she’d still managed to pull one of them off perfectly. Well, after falling flat on her face several times of course, but Di had just helped her up with that familiar smile of hers. The last one, the ‘grande pirouette’ hadn’t quite gone as well as it could have. She remembered the music, standing lowering her stance, and launching herself with one hind leg and… that was it. Next thing she knew her father was holding her and she had a horrible taste in her mouth like tin…or something. She wasn’t sure. He’d seemed very upset and she’d felt so tired too, but then the doctor had come and spoken to her father. She yawned again and lay back on the pillow, kicking the covers off herself - she was roasting! Papa had banned her from opening the window so now she was stuck in the stuffy room with just her toys for company. Mister Pyjamas, the pale blue alicorn, was just the thing for a night like this and she snuggled into him, kissing him goodnight. She sighed; she couldn’t even remember saying goodbye to Di, but she must have done…mustn’t she?

“Goodnight, Mister Pyjamas.”

Downstairs Lord Runcy leaned against the door frame, smoking his pipe. He’d had too much of the damned thing lately and had resorted to locking the tobacco in a chest and giving Lark the key to stop him overindulging. But what else could he do? Goddesses, it wasn’t like he was a hardened drinker, was it? He gritted his teeth and resisted the urge to buck something as hard as he could. Damn it all…damn, damn, DAMN! The door opened and Doctor Sartorius nodded his thanks to Lady Spoon, backing out of the room with a tip of his hat.

The door clicked behind him.

“Doctor? Walk with me a while.” Runcy headed out into the cool night air, the doctor walking alongside him. The evening was as beautiful as it ever had been; the stars twinkled in the eternal darkness of space, the moon pure and clear, bathing the land in its ethereal luminescence. He took a breath, “Tell me the truth.”

The tan coated stallion nodded, pushing back his hat and glanced up at him, “She’s stable, for now.” He shook his head sadly, “We know very little about the condition as you know, but at least we can make her comfortable.”

“I don’t want her comfortable Doctor, I want her well.” Lord Runcy snorted, his breath curling away in the night air, “I don’t want to hear excuses, I don’t want meaningless bloody platitudes either. Just tell me what I have to do to make this right.”

Doctor Sartorius stopped and turned to face the older stallion, “You know already what the answer is, Lord Runcy, you held it in your hooves today - some of it anyway.”

“But it wasn’t enough!” Runcy hissed, keeping his voice low, “I only have a tiny amount left and once that’s gone, Silver could…”

The Doctor nodded, “I know, but I’m sorry Runcy, I just don’t have an answer for you.” He paused, “What about the princesses? If you petitioned them, they may be able to help.”

Runcy shook his head, “I’ve already tried. Whatever is wrong with her, even alicorn magic couldn’t help. Both Celestia and Luna did what they could, but...” He sighed, “Even they didn’t know what to do.” He stared up at the stars high above and took a deep cleansing breath, “I need more.”

The Doctor shook his head, “I don’t where you’d find any. It’s a miracle you had those.”

Runcy patted the bottle in his pocket, “A miracle…” He smiled sadly, “The only miracle I want is my daughter’s health.”

Doctor Sartorius nodded, “I’ll do what I can, but…” He closed his eyes and placed a hoof on Lord Runcy’s shoulder, “I’m sorry. I wish I could do more.”

Runcy stood and stared into the distance, watching the stars glint and sparkle like pure white fireflies as the carriage taking the doctor home rattled off up the driveway. He took out his pipe and tapped it against his hoof, knocking the old tobacco out onto the ground. Why had this happened? Dear goddesses, after everything their ancestors had done for Equestria, after all the bloodshed, hard work and devotion to their country and princesses, this was how it was to end? He and Lark hadn’t been able to have any more children after Silver, and they’d nearly lost her during childbirth. Soon after, Silver’s ‘condition’ began to rear its ugly head in the form of fainting, dizziness, lack of energy and general lethargy. Initially the doctors had put it down to her age: ‘she’ll grow out of it’ they’d said, ‘it’s just one of those things children get’ others had told him. That was until she’d passed out and was unconscious for three days last summer. That was when the useless imbeciles had finally realised she had something wrong with her. Goddesses help them, there wasn’t even a name for what it was, only a generalised ‘assessment’ which had come up with only one conclusion…

His daughter was dying.

Lord Runcy stomped a hoof and reared, roaring out a bellowing neigh that echoed around the grounds. It wasn’t going to happen, not so long as he drew breath and there was even the barest shred of hope. He wouldn’t let his daughter die…NEVER!

Runcy flicked the bottle up out of his pocket and held it up to the moon, the white light making the few remaining crystals shimmer as if alive. So long as there was hope, he would do what he could to find more. Where there was one, there had to be others, there had to be! The faded and browning parchment label, written in his ancestor’s hoof writing, was still faintly visible:

‘Wendigo Tears’

Comments

[CanterlotGuardian]

I really need to read that previous story. This one's really good.