• Published 3rd Aug 2012
  • 6,991 Views, 248 Comments

Weak wings and a useless unicorn. - Sugar Moon

Rarity wants nothing more than applejack but will she be generous enough to take in an orphan?

  • ...

Chapter six

“I need a half a cup of milk please, darling,” a demure unicorn called out in a breezy tone.

The kitchen at Carousel boutique was a flurry of activity, yet it seemed that every action was almost effortless. The floating mixing bowls and spoons were held almost lazily in a magical grasp as they leisurely made their way to the chef to be used at her discretion. A massive bag of flour yawned, spilling its contents into a big mixing bowl with a sleepy poomf.

“What in tarnation do ya' need milk for?” a loud orange earth pony questioned.

“For breakfast, of course,” Rarity said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Breakfast? It's 11 o'clock Rarity,” Applejack drawled.

“Yes, well, it’s a late breakfast. They're all the rage in Canterlot, I'll have you know.”

Deciding it was easier just to go along with her fanciness, Applejack sighed.

“So what are we making, anyroads?” she asked while retrieving the milk. “Muffins I suppose?”

Applejack set the carton on the counter beside Rarity.

“Well I am making crepes. You can help if you clean your filthy hooves, dear.”

“I already cleaned my hooves six times just to get all the dang paint off,” she said, slightly exasperated.

“Then one more time won't hurt now, will it?” An arched eyebrow and smug smile appeared on the unicorn's face. She knew she had won this argument.

“Fine,” she grumbled. “But we're making pancakes. Much better than your fancy food.” Applejack nodded, satisfied that the matter had been dealt with, and that she had gotten the better of the unicorn this time.

Instead of the quiet acceptance she had expected, a chiming laugh sounded through the air.

“Oh Applejack, you’re silly. Crepes are pancakes darling, just very thin ones,” Rarity said, holding a polite hoof to her mouth, trying to muffle a laugh. “Now chop chop. Let's get those hooves clean.”

Sighing yet again, Applejack headed to the sink to wash up.

Right then, miss fancy britches, Applejack thought mischievously. You win this round. But I ain't gonna roll over an’ give up. Lets see how you like it when things get messy. A sinister grin appeared in her muzzle at the thought.

At the other end of the kitchen sat three dishevelled fillies. Each one's stomach rumbled in anticipation of the food to come. Applejack and Rarity may not be quite as skilled at baking as Pinkie, but they all knew that when it came to a good meal, these two were tough to beat.

“Hey Scoots, do you think they're making apple turnovers?” the little earth filly said.

“As long as its food, I don't care.” She smirked. “Besides, Rarity can't be as bad a cook as Sweetie Belle.” Snickering raucously, the two fillies waited for the inevitable comeback by the unicorn. But there wasn't one.

Applebloom craned her neck to see her friend looking directly ahead with an odd look in her face. As if she had spotted a wild animal in the forest, and was afraid the slightest movement would frighten it away.

“Sweetie Belle, just what are you looking at?” Applebloom asked.

The filly in question was staring straight ahead at the two older mares.

“Just our sisters. They're funny together, don't you think?”

In front of them, their sisters were arguing as usual, but this time it seemed different. They were smiling. Applejack was saying something and gesticulating wildly with her hooves at the sink as Rarity calmly stared her down. The orange mare then turned back to the sink and began washing her hooves. All the while the smile never left Rarity's face.

“What are you driving at?” Applebloom's face scrunched up in confusion.

“Oh nothing. Just saying, you know?”

“No I don't. But what I do know is that I'm hungry.”

“You're always hungry.” Sweetie Belle shot back.

As they fell into a familiar argument, it became background noise to the only pegasus in the room. Instead, she focused on the scene in front of her.

What did she mean? she thought. They don't look funny. Well, Applejack’s just her normal country self. And Rarity? What is it Sweetie always calls her? Glamourous? Yeah, glamourous.

However, as she watched them, she began to notice small things. The way Rarity hovered a bit closer than normal to Applejack. How when she lightly touched the earth pony's hooves to correct her hoof washing, she blushed. Even Applejack seemed to blush at the contact. She had seen this sort of thing before at school. Rarity was acting kinda like how Twist acted around Featherweight. But that would be silly. Everypony knew that Twist had a massive cru...

Scootaloo's eyes contracted to pinpoints as she figured it out.

That's what Sweetie Belle was talking about. Rarity likes her.

At the thought, she slammed her hooves down on the table in realisation.


All activity stopped, and all eyes turned towards her.

“Dear, is something the matter?” Rarity inquired with concern in her eyes.

Realising that she had made a scene, Scootaloo chuckled nervously.

“Yes. No. Yes. Uh... that is, no, nothing’s the matter. I'm just excited that there's no school today and junk.” They all continued to stare at her before Rarity decided to speak.

“Okay then. If you are sure there is nothing wrong.” Scootaloo nodded. “Then I have only one question for you.”

Scootaloo glanced around sheepishly.

“Do you want chocolate sauce with your crepes?”

“Applebloom, wait up!”

Breakfast at Carousel Boutique had passed relatively calmly following Scootaloo's awkward outburst. Of course, on a day as good as today, they couldn't stay inside.

“It's hide and seek. Yer gonna have to find your own hiding spot Scoots. Mine’s too good to share this time,” came the laughing response.

Barrelling through the centre of Ponyville, Scootaloo frantically looked from side to side for a good spot to hide from Sweetie Belle.

Where can I hide? she bemoaned. Sugarcube Corner? No, too tempting. The market? No, too obvious. I'd be caught in seconds. The library? Ha, yeah, the library. Nopony would think to look for me there.

Her little wings flapped furiously as if to get her there that much sooner. Neatly dodging a few ponies and ducking under others, Scootaloo burst into the library, slamming the door behind her before jumping behind a stack of unsorted books, giggling sneakily.

Of course, all of this only perplexed the library's only awake occupant. Namely Spike.

Sliding down the nearest ladder as if it was a pole, he approached the hidden pony.

“Can I help you?” he said.

A noise that sounded very much like a frightened scream erupted from Scootaloo's lips. Of course, it wasn’t really a scream; a brave pony like Scootaloo isn't scared of anything. It was merely a reaction to the noise, a way of asserting dominance and scaring off intruders. Even if it did sound like a scaredy-pony crying for her mommy.

“Ahem. Quiet Spike, I'm hiding. If you keep being so loud Sweetie Belle is going to find me.” Spike rolled his eyes.

“Uh-huh, well, I'll try to keep it down. Twilight is trying to sleep.” He climbed back up the ladder to finish his chores.

A scratching noise of quill against parchment was the only noise in the library for quite some time. Our resident hide and seek champ was thrilled at her success... for the first five minutes, anyway. After that, time just seemed to drag on.

Come on. I know I'm the best at hiding, but this is getting ridiculous.

Gritting her teeth in frustration, she kicked the stack in front of her. It tottered slightly, and a precariously placed publication plummeted towards her, striking against her head and spilling open.

She rubbed her head tenderly and looked down at the book.

Picking it up, she called to Spike. “Hey Spike? What are all these books here anyway?”

Sliding down the ladder again, he went to Scootaloo.

“Oh. They're Twilight’s private collection from Canterlot. It's just mainly old books, journals and...” he saw the book in her hoof. “embarrassing photo albums, apparently.” Huffing, he held out his claw. “Can I have that please?”

Scootaloo shied away from the outstretched claw. “Aw, I just wanna look. I won’t laugh. Honest. Pinkie promise even.”

That seemed to placate the dragon.

“Fine, but I've got to sort them soon, so don't take too long.”

Spike walked to the rest of the stack in an attempt to remove the even more embarrassing ones while Scootaloo flicked through the photo album.

It seemed to be from just after Spike was hatched. Every photo showed him and Twilight in various stages of growing up. Twilight bottle-feeding him, Spike playing with blocks while Twilight took on a warm matronly appearance as she watched over him. One even had spike coughing fire, Twilight with a singed mane and soot-darkened face. Even to Scootaloo, it was adorable.

As she flipped through the pictures, she saw one that caught her eye. It was a picture of Spike wrapped up in swaddling. There he lay in Twilight’s hooves as she rocked him gently to sleep.

Scootaloo knew that Spike was special to Twilight. He was her number one assistant, and she was basically responsible for hatching him and raising him. It just didn't click to what that actually meant ‘til she saw that photo. She had never seen Twilight look so motherly.

And with the bluntness that only a filly has, a single question sprung forth.

“Is Twilight your mom?”

The room became eerily silent. She hadn't even realised she had said it out loud until she looked up towards Spike's hunched form.

A second. Then two. Nothing was said.

Then, in a voice so quiet that it was barely audible, Spike whispered, “yes.”

That did it. Spike’s composure cracked at that, but his voice hardened. “Yes. To me, at least.”

Scootaloo rushed over to his side to see him crying silently, her eyes willing him to continue.

And maybe because he was emotional, or because he was tired of hiding his secret thought, he did.

“She is my mom. She's not a dragon, and I'm not a pony, but that doesn't mean we're not a family. She didn't lay my egg, but she’s done so much more than that. She took care of me. She loves me. So yes, she is my mother.” He wiped his eyes.

“But you know she isn't right? I mean, she didn't lay you. For all you know, your real mom is out there. Twilight is just your guardian really.” Scootaloo said with all the ignorance and honesty of youth.

AND WHERE IS MY REAL MOM?” Anger was steeped into his words and Scootaloo flinched back. Breathing slowly to calm down he continued. “I tried to find her before. Back during the dragon migration. Sure, I said it was to meet other dragons but...” he sighed “secretly, I wanted to meet her. My biological mother. But I didn't, and when I returned home to Ponyville, that's when I realised it. A mother is somepony who loves you. Somepony who takes care of you. Twilight may not be my biological mom, but she is my mom. In all the ways that count. In here.” His little fist beat against his chest. “Do you understand?” he asked. “ It's not about blood or eggs. It’s about how we feel and how we are. I love Twilight because she loves me unconditionally. Like a son. I love my mom.”

Scootaloo just stood there. What Spike was saying was so heartfelt. Maybe he was right about it not mattering. Maybe it’s not about the blood, but about the bond shared.

“I think I get it Spike. She's your mom.”

Sniffing he wiped his nose with the back of his claw. “Yeah, she is.”

“Spike?” A voice gently called from above.

They both looked up to see Twilight above them, her eyes bloodshot with tears.

“Twilight!” Spike called out, a little fear lacing his words. “Umm... how long have you been awake?”

In answer, Twilight unsteadily trotted down the stairs, her hooves shaking so much that she almost collapsed under her own weight a few times.

Her eyes never left Spike’s though.

Moving straight past Scootaloo as if she was a ghost, she picked Spike up in a hug, and whispered one word that Scootaloo couldn't make out.

At that, Spike threw his arms around her as they both cried in their embrace.

Scootaloo slowly left the library. It seemed wrong to watch such a private affair. Whatever it was they were saying, it was between a mother and her son.