Chapter VII
Beige sat. It was all she could manage. Her stomach was tied in knots, and she couldn’t get her eyes to focus on anything. She feared to move one step, knowing that she would end up breaking something by her mere presence.
Beige had never been to Canterlot. She’d had no need to go. Now she sat in a vast waiting room, the arched ceiling making her feel minuscule. Marble pillars, golden molding, fantastic tapestries, colorful glass windows, the cavernous room was everything she might have expected from Canterlot Castle.
Twilight paced back and forth, her hooves quiet on the carpeted floor. She had a lock of her mane in her mouth that she chewed on incessantly, but that didn’t stop her mumbling. Beige wanted to calm her down, but couldn’t bring herself to try. She herself was bundle of jittery nerves and knocking knees. She tried to hold it off by thinking of Pipette, currently enjoying a couple nights at “Uncle” Whooves’ house. Even that proved difficult, as her mind kept wandering to worse and worse things.
She was hungry. Hungry for muffins. She’d wanted one ever since they’d boarded the train in Ponyville. Why? Where did this… obsession come from? It wasn’t just a craving anymore, it was a need. A need to not only eat them, but to bake them, to share them, to decorate her house with them, to get a cupcake-themed doormat and maybe have her name officially changed. It was all so… so stupid and delectable and horrible. Horrible more than anything, because Beige couldn’t shake the sense that something was playing with her mind. She felt like a marionette being pulled around by an invisible puppeteer.
Muffins. Muffins, muffins, muffins. She hated muffins, even as a squeaky voice in the back of her head gleefully declared her love for them.
She wrapped her legs about herself and shivered. Would Pipette even recognize her when she got back?
The great double doors opened, bringing them both to a pause. A middle-aged unicorn mare, her mane in a bun and glasses perched on her muzzle, stepped out. “Twilight? Miss Hooves? The princess will see you now.”
Beige blinked; Miss Hooves? Was that supposed to be her? She was certain Twilight had said the right name.
“Thank you, Raven.” Twilight pressed a hoof to her chest and extended it outwards as she exhaled slowly. She repeated this a couple more times, and by the end of the third the tension in her posture had gone out a little. “Are you ready, Beige?”
“Is anypony ever ready to meet a princess?” she replied, her voice sounding frail in her ears. Even so, she slipped off her seat and walked her zig-zagging way to Twilight’s side. She reminded herself, over and over again, that the princess would have the answer to all her problems. After all, she was Celestia. There was nothing she couldn’t do.
Beige repeated that idea to herself. She tried so hard to believe it.
As they approached the door together, Twilight whispered, “Don’t worry. Celestia’s the nicest pony ever.”
Then why had she been pacing so much?
The throne room seemed to stretch on forever, illuminated by pale chandeliers of silver and prismatic light shining through stained glass windows. Beige paused just past the door, her mouth agape as she took in the colossal, empty room. It all felt so… big. Was it really okay for her to be here? She swiftly checked her hooves, momentarily fearing she might dirty this remarkable place. A silly notion, considering how far they’d travelled while indoors – truly, the castle was huge.
Twilight came to a stop a few steps away, just noticing her lack of a partner. She looked back, eyebrows raised in concern. “Beige?”
Ears folded back, Beige followed. Her legs shook, which only served to slow her progress. Twilight waited patiently, and when they were side by side she even set a leg over her shoulder for guidance. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”
They walked on, Beige mostly managing to keep her weight off of Twilight. Every now and then her balance would try to send her careening in a random direction, but Twilight kept her firmly on track regardless. Even so, Beige imagined she looked like a stumbling fool. A pony like her didn’t deserve to be in the presence of—
“Welcome back, Twilight Sparkle. It is always good to see you.”
Beige’s throat constricted. She fell to her haunches. Neither of her eyes were aimed right, and she didn’t bother forcing them. Good goddess, that voice was beautiful.
“Princess Celestia.” Twilight took a bow. “Thank you for agreeing to see us on such short notice.”
Bow. Beige should bow. Fear gripped her, but she tried to bring her chin towards the ground. She got only halfway before the world twisted and she landed on her face. She didn’t even grunt; she just lay there, feeling like trash.
“Oh, dear.” The concern in that glorious voice made her want to melt into the floor and never be seen again. “Is your friend all right?”
Beige couldn’t see Twilight through her tightly closed eyes, but she could imagine the hesitant look on her face. Or perhaps it was dismay at Beige’s clumsiness? That would be appropriate. Beige certainly felt mortified.
“No.” Twilight helped her up. Beige refused to open her eyes. She didn’t want to see the amusement in Celestia’s gaze. “Princess, let me introduce you to Beige Beaker of Ponyville.”
“Beige? But I thought her name was—”
Twilight must have silenced her with a gesture. “It’s Beige Beaker. She is a chemist, and her husband was named Chip. She has a young foal, a unicorn named Pipette too young even for magic kindergarten. She has… something to ask you.”
“Of course. I would be delighted to answer your friend’s question.”
A long pause. Oh no, they were waiting on her, weren’t they? Beige whimpered, body swaying as her balance underwent another small shift. She tried opening her mouth, but only managed to release a bit of air.
“It’s okay,” Twilight whispered. “Take your time.”
She swallowed, but still her throat was dry. Even so, she managed to get her words out. “P-Princess Cel-lestia. It is an h-honor to meet you. I… I… um…”
When she failed to continue, Celestia’s lovely caress of a voice reached her ears. “Won’t you open your eyes, Miss Beaker? I promise, you won’t go blind from looking at me.”
How playful her tone was. Beige was even tempted to believe it, and somehow the blanket pressing on her mind seemed to lift. Not completely, and not enough to stop the vibrations in her knees, but enough to at least let her focus. Gradually, dreading what may come of it, she allowed her eyes to open. She considered turning her head, but no, that seemed disrespectful. So instead she kept her face aimed towards that serendipitous voice and focused on her right eye.
With painstaking slowness, it moved towards the throne. Thus did she behold Celestia a little at a time: the golden throne fit only for royalty, the impossibly glorious mane in its multihued beauty, the pearly coat with the faintest touch of pink. Last but most certainly not least, a gentle, kind face that spoke of patience, wisdom and truth. Beige stared upon the face of goodness and, despite her cynicism of the stories, imaged her heart weighed a little less.
Celestia’s smile turned playful, and Beige thought she might giggle. “There, I’m not so ugly, now am I?”
The high was choked out of Beige by her heart stuffing her throat. “I… I-I didn’t mean to imply—”
Her stammering apology ended at Celestia’s light, bubbling laughter. “I was only teasing, Miss Beaker! You remind me of Twilight; so easy to toy with.”
“Hey!” Twilight’s scowl disappeared in an instant as she stammered, “I don’t… I’m not that easy to…” She huffed at Celestia’s giggle, sitting and crossing her hooves. “Alright, alright.” Her cocked smile defied her tone.
And, to Beige’s surprise, she smiled too. She kept the one eye focused upon Celestia and tried to relax. Now that the talking had begun, it proved much easier.
Celestia’s gentle gaze settled upon her, and she instinctively straightened. “Now, my dear student tells me you have a request of a personal nature. Twilight isn’t one to ask my assistance in such things, so I imagine it must be of great importance. Tell me, Miss Beaker, what is it you seek?”
Beige opened her mouth to respond, but found no words. Not from embarrassment or fear or uncertainty, but from the simple fact that she had no answer. She looked to Twilight, who had crouched low and stared at the carpet as if it might protect her. Her eye twitched and she stared at her hooves, but even so she gestured to Beige. “J-just… um… do a simple magic scan.”
Celestia glanced at her, lips pursed in a thoughtful expression, then refocused on Beige. “Very well, then.”
Beige tensed as that ivory horn began to shine dimly. Her heart rate had only just started to pick up when the aura winked out and the princess sucked in a sharp breath. She couldn’t have done more than a brief touch, but already her expression turned hard as stone. She remained silent for some time, and Beige squirmed under those burning eyes.
“Twilight.” The name cut the air like steel. “You promised.”
Twilight waved her hooves wildly. “I didn’t tell her anything, I swear!”
The princess’s eyes narrowed. Beige didn’t understand just what Twilight had risked to bring her here, but the sight of those eyes forced her to speak out before her sense of self-preservation could get in the way. “She’s telling the truth. I don’t know what’s going on.”
Those eyes settled on her, and Beige abruptly wished she’d never come here. If eyes could harm, she suspected Celestia’s would be turning her into a puddle of melted pony goo right about now. But Twilight had taken a clear risk, and though she shrank down to the floor and let her eyes roll away from Celestia, Beige forced the explanation out of her clenched throat. “I c-came to Twilight because I was d-desperate. B-because I think I’m cursed. She cast the same spell and t-tried to make me give up. I can’t give up. I can’t! Twilight didn’t want to bring me here, b-but, but—”
“Enough.”
“But—!”
A gold-clad hoof slammed to the floor, the sound echoing through the empty throne room. “Enough.”
She bowed her head and squeezed her eyes closed. Whatever will she might have had left abandoned her, and so she trembled on the floor with hooves over her face. The princess wouldn’t help her. Had denied her offhoof! Her last, greatest hope ripped away before she’d even had a chance to explain. Why had she even dared to try? It had been foolish of her to think that the great and wise Celestia would indulge such a pathetic excuse of a pony.
“Twilight.” Celestia’s voice regained is soft tone. “How bad?”
“I’ve only known one pony who has had it worse.”
“…I see.”
Maybe she should just slink away now. Celestia had probably already forgotten she existed. Perhaps she could crawl over to one of those windows and… and jump. Would they even notice? When her balance went haywire and her wings failed, would anypony try to slow her descent? Or would they watch her plummet? Beige could see it in her mind’s eye, the inescapable fall, the slow awareness of her coming death, and the ponies below watching. Would they watch? Maybe she wasn’t even worth that much.
Just a worthless smear on the pavement, observed only so long as was required to wash the scum away.
She yelped as something touched her shoulder, and Beige jerked her head up. Through one burning, blurry eye she beheld Celestia, standing before her with a hoof on her shoulder.
“Forgive me, Miss Beaker,” the Princess said. “I was startled and reacted poorly. I did not mean to frighten you so.”
Beige barely managed to lift her leg to wipe the tears from her eyes. Once her vision cleared, she saw a smile on that regal face and a gaze that begged for understanding. Beige bowed her head once more. “I-I’m sorry to have bothered you with my…” She almost said ‘petty concerns,’ but could not bring herself to belittle her problems so, not out loud. She shifted her head to look at the window. Just a few quick steps. Maybe she should apologize for breaking the glass first.
“Tell me your story.”
She blinked, then looked to Celestia once more. “What?”
Celestia sat back, her smile diminishing to something less warm and more melancholy. “I have an idea of what is affecting you, Miss Beaker, but I cannot know the how. I understand if it is difficult, but please, explain what is happening. I will listen.”
Though fragile and anxious, hope returned to Beige’s heart, and so she spoke. She told everything she knew, from her crash to her firing, from the heartbreak of knowing she’d never fly again to the sleepless night spent sobbing over her lost husband. Celestia asked few questions, mostly listening intently. Her sad expression only grew more so as the story went on. She almost broke down once or twice, but she held it in. Maybe because she’d already explained it once. Maybe because she was running out of tears.
By the time she concluded her story, Celestia appeared grim. Her brow furrowed, her eyes peered at something beyond Beige’s awareness, and her wings had set into a half-opened, tense position. She looked to Beige as somepony preparing for a terrible battle. She remained like this for some time. Beige fidgeted and waited, not sure if she was meant to say anything more.
After some time, Twilight appeared with a glass of water. Beige couldn’t be certain when she had gone to get it, but her throat proved grateful for her gift. She’d not realized how dry it had become until that moment.
Abruptly, a shiver of motion ran through Celestia, as if she’d been struck by electricity. Beige watched with a cocked head as the tremor seemed to move from the Princess’s flanks to her muzzle and back. As soon as it passed, she turned her attention fully upon Beige, her sorrowful frown returning. “That is… quite the story, Miss Beaker. It may not be the worst I have heard from a pony facing your condition, but it is indeed one to be remembered.” She turned her face away. “I fear it will not be.”
Beige rose, her ears perking as a wave of ice washed over her. “W-what does that mean? Is everypony going to forget who I am?” The chill intensified as another thought struck her. “W-will even I forget?”
Celestia didn’t look at her, instead turning her eyes to her student. “Twilight, I apologize. I understand now why you brought her here. You have done no harm, and I should not have doubted you.”
“It’s alright, Princess,” Twilight replied, her own eyes on the floor. “I knew you wouldn’t approve… at first.”
“Princess Celestia?” Beige waited until she turned to her once more. “Please. If there is anything you can do, please help me. I don’t want to lose who I am.”
“I understand, my little pony.” Celestia opened her mouth, but for a time no sound escaped her. She closed it once more and licked her lips. Her jaw tensed and her brow furrowed as if she were struggling with herself, but at last she spoke. “But I fear I cannot help you.”
The words crashed upon Beige’s head. She wobbled, almost fell on her side. She felt as if there was no floor at all, and she was falling through a void. Her heart throbbed, her breath hitched. “W-what do you mean?”
Yet again, Celestia turned her face away. Closing her eyes, she whispered, “There is no pony, no griffon or minotaur or zebra, no creature that walks upon this world that can undo what is being done.”
“B-but… but you’re a princess. An alicorn!” Beige stepped closer, her heart thumping against her chest and her world spinning. “You can do so much. Anything! With you… You were supposed to be able to help me.”
“I am so very sorry, but I cannot.”
“No! You can! You—” The world, already shifting wildly through her swirling eyes, lurched in an entirely new direction. Beige made no attempt to adjust for the sudden shift in balance, letting herself fall hard on her shoulder.
“Beige!”
Twilight moved to help, but Beige shoved her away and crawled on her belly. “You have to help me! I can’t be like this! I can’t support my Pipette as a retarded cripple!” She grasped one of those slender, pale legs in a tight hold and pressed her wet cheek to it. “Please. I’ll do anything! My name is Beige Beaker, and I don’t want to die like this! If you can’t help me, if you can’t fix one pathetic, wretched, desperate pony, what good are you?”
Celestia’s soft voice could barely be heard over her sobs. “I understand your fears. I do. But if I could not save my own sister from this, how could I ever hope to save you?”
Sister? Beige choked down her tears and looked upon Celestia’s gloomy countenance. “P-Princess Luna?”
The Princess knelt down, her wings engulfing Beige in a tight hug that took her breath away. “I cannot help you, Miss Beaker. The only advice I can give is for you to go home and be with your daughter. There is no telling what this curse will do to you next, and you will want to be with her as long as possible.”
That was it, then. Beige had exhausted her last hope. She leaned against the Princess, eyes wide and mind numb. She had nothing left to offer, not even tears. Ponies would call her Derpy from now on. Chip would never come back. She’d spend the rest of her life delivering mail to ponies with less than half the education she couldn’t even remember. And every few minutes she’d stumble and fall, and everypony would point and laugh.
It all seemed so wretchedly pointless. It shouldn’t be pointless.
Closing her eyes, Beige dared to ask the last question on her mind. “Can you at least tell me why?” She pulled away and turned her head, looking the Princess directly in the eye. “Please. If I’m not going to remember anything anyway, tell me what’s happening to me. Can’t I know that much before I… disappear?”
Celestia bit her lip. “I…”
After a prolonged pause, Twilight approached. With a concerned gaze, she said, “I think she deserves that much. Don’t you?”
A lengthy look at Twilight, then Celestia focused on Beige, who sighed and closed her eyes. She just felt so… tired.
“Yes. Yes, I believe she does.”
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DUN DUN DUNNNNNN
i think im going to favorite this this is just to good not to
So, wait, if this is the same thing that messed with Luna, couldn't Beige also be fixed by a rainbow to the face?
And now it's back to 'Background Pony'. These just feel eerily similar.
Every new chapter makes you feel more sorry for Beige
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See also Red Shirts, though in that case it is the writers. That's probably Luna's explanation though.
Gonna be painful if this supposition turns out correct.
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Actually, it would be really interesting if this suffering only happened during a retcon.
It wasn't until fanon was accepted as canon (and included into an episode) that changes started to ripple through the timeline. Then it wouldn't be the writers or the fans but the revision of "accepted" history that caused the painful character rewrite.