It was early morning in Ponyville, the warm, golden blanket of subtle, soft light that trickled through the trees, illuminated the windows, and gave the grass a slight tint of brown, produced, at distance, a beautiful sight: it looks as if Ponyville was a real-life El Dorado, the gold-like shimmer could be seen for miles around.

Scootaloo wasn't much of a morning Pegasus but she had no real choice. She slowly lifted her head, which always seemed heavier than normal in the morning. Her futile attempt to open her eyes was impaired by the bright display of light that shined on the floor, courtesy a tall window that sat in front of her bed.

The middle of a large room, almost circular in shape with a high. Imposing ceiling that seemed to be missing out on the spectacle of illumination that sat on the floor, it of course mimicked the composition of the window.

Tired, irritated, and cursing the day she chose to be punctual about her still new morning routine, the flightless filly finally managed to navigate slowly through her room, keeping her eyes only open enough to discern obstacles impeding her path to an artful door that seemed much further away than it literally was.

She slowly opened it and poked her head out to check on two doors to her right, they were both closed which signaled an “all clear” for her to slink to the washroom and ready herself for the day ahead; as she exited the shower and finished brushing her mane from its nappy, tattered look, brought on by sleep, to its still messy but familiar style, she heard small hoofsteps approach, she knew them well enough by now and it brought a slight smile to her face: unlike herself, this pony was much more pleasant in the morning.

Sweetie Belle slowly opened the door, having learned the hard way that simply barging in could lead to a scarring sight. Knowing this wasn't the case today, she slowly trotted in and proceeded to the shower.

“Morning Scootaloo!” She chirped, exerting a vigor and vibrance that Scootaloo covetly envied.

“Hey Sweetie Belle.” Scootaloo mumbled, her lack of any sort of energy left it nearly unintelligible.

“Still tired I see,” Sweetie Belle began with the same spurt of anticipatory happiness in her voice, not to the port where her infamous voice cracks came out to play, but still enthusiastic nonetheless.

“My sis said we've been very well behaved this week so we get some treats from Sugar Cube Corner!” she continued, pausing, anticipating a response from her feathered friend, receiving none, she continued:

“I was thinking, since she's busy this morning with that order that we could go to the club-house amd hang out.”

Again, no acknowledgement, curious she peered from behind the curtain to see that Scootaloo had left at some point, she shrugged and continued her morning regimen.

Scootaloo had already trudged downstairs, seated at the kitchen table awaiting her adoptive mother to come and make breakfast. After her restless night, spurred only by a rabid nightmare that took the cosolement and coddling from Sweetie Belle to calm her nerves and permit some sleep, she was worn out beyond words, much more than usual.

Scootaloo had grown very close to Sweetie Belle over the last year, prior to her life under Rarity, she had lived in various places throughout Ponyville following her escape from the boring and uninspiring orphanage when she was but a foal.

Her final residence before this was the Cutie Mark Crusaders clubhouse. Sweetie Belle found her only a few months ago after sneaking out late one night to go retrieve some fabric she had left behind. Celestia forbid Rarity found it was missing—as well as its purpose--”Cutie Mark Crusader Dry Cleaning” made the cheap establishments with the odd smelling, potentially hazardous fumes look like upper escalation establishments.

From that day on, Sweetie Belle would sneak out from her parents or the boutique depending on her predicament, and bring Scoots food, water, and extra blankets on colder evenings. Having enough of being alone and deprived, Scootaloo finally followed Sweetie Belle to the boutique and, after some reluctance by Sweetie (more out of fear of getting caught than the well being of her friend), they snuck inside and Scootaloo made house in the room that is now sanctioned as her own.

Still, her relationship with Rarity is less than stellar: while it isn't terrible per se, -Rarity has curbed all desire to “transform” the pegasus into some sort of pageant princess, being wise enough to never suggest or try it lest encourage Scootaloo to return to her sour conditions, their understanding of one another is still somewhat frayed, much due to Scootaloo instilling, in Rarity's mind, that her tomcolt persona to be her default state of mind and emotion, which it certainly is not, Sweetie Belle was the only pony who really knew this, having cradled her friend to sleep from fits of tears and bawling on several occasions.

The unicorn In question finally made her way downstairs, greeted by the site of a half-asleep filly, her presence clearly sending a message: “You're late, I'm hungry, look at how sad I am because I am malnourished you spineless drama queen!”, both knew this was untrue in every sense but both seemed to receive and accept the same internal prompt and played their parts accordingly.

“I'm sorry to keep you waiting Scootaloo,” Rarity began as she made her way to the cupboards, “Let's just say you weren't the only one having a fitful sleep last night.” As expected, there was no response, this was normal for her and she had adjusted her insecure side to be contempt with this, but after the little dramatic performance of the preceding evening, she was fed up: time to get this filly to talk—it simply wasn't natural—nay—it was unhealthy! Before this though, she figured the filly had to have enough energy to at least string some words together both in mind and in practice, so she prepared  their meal first.

As Rarity was nearing completion of a simple array of eggs -kindly donated by Fluttershy, made possible only because of a lie that Rarity wanted to teach her sister how to care for an egg and the offspring--, hash-browns and apple juice, she could hear her younger sister make her way down as well, letting out a loud yawn as she did so.

Rarity turned and trotted into the kitchen, food on a platter hovering over her head in a light blue aura, to the sight of her upbeat, beaming sister who was happy as a dog to see her, contrasted to the still dull and downtrodden Scootaloo –something is obviously wrong here-- Sweetie Belle and Rarity had had a discussion following Scootaloo succumbing to sleep.

Rarity was tired of being just a provider, designated in the fillies head as a unrelatable authority figure that was to be respected but not understood. Sweetie imparted her experience with Scootaloo, her likes and dislikes and her means of conversation and comfort all of course was rather easy to achieve.

The one major barrier that Sweetie could not advise in, was breaking that shell, pushing past the protective layer of stunting and egoism. She wasn't Rainbow Dash or anyone else who needed to be impressed, if Scootaloo was going to live with her, they were going to talk shit out just like she does with Sweetie, or Fluttershy, or the other girls. The sister made an agreement, Sweetie Belle was not going to come to Scootaloo's aid following last night, she now had to choose: rely on Rarity and learn to trust her, or cry it out.

“So,” Rarity wasn't sure how to get the ball rolling, “what do you girls have planned for today? Any crusading?”

Both sisters waited, hoping the orange coat, purple maned pegasus would pipe up, but nothing but the clanking of silverware and ambient chewing.  

“Well for one,” Sweetie Belle began, pausing enough to invite Scootaloo's interjection at any point, “we were thinking of trying to get our cutie marks in directing. Isn't that right Scootaloo?”

Finally Scootaloo made some noise, not conversation as they'd hoped but it was a step, “mmhm” she mumbled,

Sweetie Belle shot a worried glance to her sister, she gave her a look that mentally indicated that she might was well shoot to kill at this point.

“Scootaloo, is something wrong?” Rarity stammered a bit, oddly finding herself intimidated by the conversation-impaired daughter of hers, “I know you had a bit of a scare last night....you know you can talk to me about anything.”

“I'm alright.” Mumbled Scoots, again in a borderline unintelligible spill of words.

Rarity pushed only slightly, “Sweet-heart, I know we're not the most—comparable of ponies, we had a bit of a tough start but I love you, and I know you at least appreciate what I'm doing here” She bit her tongue –fuck, way to sound condescending you bitch

“I—I want you to know that I am here to listen, I'm not going to talk about it to anypony else, we're a family Scootaloo, that means I show you just as much respect and integrity as you do me.”

No response, though Scoots had raised her head and was now looking at her, face unreadable, a fork in the road at this point, Rarity blindly charged in a random direction, hoping reward would be her destination,

“Look, I am here to listen to you, to help you out if you need it, to comfort you when you are sad, you don't need to affront to me Scootaloo, we all have out vulnerabilities and it is nothing to be ashamed of,” She paused some to preemptively assemble the next sentence, weighing her words carefully.

“I am not here to judge you, I am here to care for you, love you and support you. If my sister can do it than I a am more than capable of it myself, you just have to—trust me.”  She cursed herself for the hesitation, however to her satisfaction, her target didn't seem to notice, letting out a brief half-assed smile before shuffling her food a bit, finally speaking semi-audibly, the usual raspiness signifying her comfort despite how minute,

“Well—I---” Scootaloo sighed,  “No, it's pretty stupid, I'm okay Rarity.”

Rarity mentally deflated, yet physically, she walked behind Scootaloo and wrapped her into a hug, her chin resting lightly on the fillys' rough mane.

“I'm not here to judge you Scootaloo,”  A hint of desperation, again, unnoticed by Scootaloo who was now steady, craning hear head up slightly just to see Rarity smiling down at her, a sudden warmth and happiness previously only achieved at the gentle words and embrace of Sweetie Belle washed through her, affirming in her mind: “She is safe, she loves me—I love her too—I can talk.”

Rarity let go slowly, returning to her seat and her food as Scootaloo began to open up, victory was hers.

“It was really dark and cold,” the feathered filly recalled as if telling a story, head up now, looking directly at Rarity, a bit of tremor seen in her hooves, her pupils tracing from her mother to her food at times but she was comfortable and confident.

“I remember being afraid, I wasn't sure of what but I knew it wasn't good whatever it was,” Sweetie Belle quietly excused herself from the table, having finished eating and heard this tale only hours ago, she was going to find something else to do and let her sister take control.

“--All of the sudden the clubhouse somehow broke loose from the tree and it was flying high in the are, these weird noises,” she shivered at the last word, remembering the terror it brought to her subconscious being, “they were mean, and close, like when a bee flies by your ear, it was—scary.”

Mentally assessing whether to confirm her absolute trust and familial love for Rarity, she made her decision and chose to continue, “they were likes ghosts, they started laughing at me, calling me names and circling around the clubhouse.  I couldn't move, I don't know why but I was stuck-- I couldn't talk or yell, I opened my mouth—I know I said something” A lump formed in her throat and a tear shed at the recollection, fear of the moment again rearing its ugly head.

Sensing this Rarity pulled Scootaloo into her lap and held her close, her trembling was almost startling, she knew this was the real Scootaloo, she had done it, now she just needed to not fuck this up, first impressions are everything. She slowly stroked the fillys mane with one hoof and held her in the other.  

“--But I couldn't, it was awful, then, it just stopped, the air stopped moving, the voices went away and I could move my head to look around, I did, and when I turned back to look at the door, Rainbow Dash was there, I felt happy, I thought she was going to rescue me, but she wasn't smiling, she was angry, her ears were flat. She didn't say anything, I still couldn't talk—or if I did she ignored me.  She just righted me with her forehoof and bucked me into a wall. She didn't say anything she just kept hitting me and I kept screaming at her to stop—but I didn't scream--”

She was having trouble continuing, the fear finally boiling over, the emotions that claimed her dream state were now reprising their dominance in the real world, tears streaming down her face, she stuttered now as she began to choke up, but again, a part of her knew she was safe, that she was loved. Rarity wasn't going to let her go and she liked that, and while it wasn't enough to stop the crying, it pushed her enough to tell this hellish nightmare to the end.

Rarity now had borh hooves slowly swaying the filly to comfort her as much as she could,  “she kept hitting me and kicking me, I could see blood, it hurt so bad, I couldn't do anything about it though, I just kept telling myself I was going to die, my idol was going to kill me and honestly, the pain was so bad I—i....I w-wanted her to.”

There was a pause as she let out a few heaves and sniffles, then resumed, a bit more relaxed now as she sank into Rarity's chest and embraced her protector, “She threw me out of the club-house, I started falling and it was all cold again, II couldn't move again either I was just falling—I felt sick, like when they drop you really fast on those roller coasters, but that feeling in my stomach wouldn't go away. I was falling into the Everfree, I could see all sorts of monsters, but I couldn't hear them, I couldn't hear anything, it was silent, I kept falling, I still had that sick feeling, then I hit the ground and that's when I woke up and screamed. I heard this weird noise for a few seconds, it was loud too--”

Stopping to see if she was missing anything she pulled back just enough to look at Rarity who still held her. New tears formed in her eyes but they weren’t a product of the sadness, anguish, betrayal, and fright of before, they were tears of joy and relief she hadn't fealt in as long as she could remember, she pulled her hooves from her side and turned the hug to Rarity.

“I'm safe now.” She wormed up so that her chin rested on Rarity's shoulder, not quite standing as that would put pressure on Rarity's back hooves and would hurt, but enough.

“I love you mom.”

That word, “Mom”. Rarity had never heard that before, not just from Scootaloo of course but ever, she had always framed what her reaction would be when her own baby, a product of procreation with one of the most dashing gentlecolts Equestria had ever witnessed, would be, but even the mist fanciful imagination couldn't correlate to the violent wash of happiness, pride, and appreciation that she was consumed with now, she had gone from “Rarity” to “Mom”, she had finally scaled the grand and harrowing ascent of obscurity and resentment.

All she could muster lest she look spastic was a simple “I love you too Scootaloo” before pulling the filly into another hug, this one had a strong aura of genuine, pure, and honest love, an undertow of understanding, compassion, and trust; tears matted the coats of both ponies as the sheer greatness that was this moment was realized and expressed.

After awhile the two released and silently went about finishing their food, smiling throughout, much to the surprise and joy of Sweetie Belle who had missed out on most of the dramatic production, taking preference in freshening up a little more and brainstorming on how to best attain their “directors” cutie marks.

“How's it going” Sweetie Belle sheepishly asked, subconsciously assure it all worked out but sill cautious on the surface.

“Well Scootaloo,” Rarity glanced over at the filly who was helping herself to seconds of food, her stomach apparently now hungry again,  “What do you think?”

Scoots couldn't help from wearing a grin that if any larger could explode and lay waste to her face, despite that, she was slightly spent from the little episode and merely looked over to her unicorn friend with a face that indicated things had gone very well. After a few more minutes of eating, Rarity receded to the kitchen to clean up while Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle contemplated on how they were going to try—in vein of course-- to force the natural spontaneous event of acquiring a cutie mark, to occur at their terms.

“Maybe we could get a giant camera,” Scootaloo's usual pumped up vigor was on full display, her raspy, aggressive voice and demeanor were back in action as she stretched out her fore-hooves to emphasize her intentions, “and I could do some awesome action scenes with my scooter!” She bounced up and down as if she were on a bed, very anticipatory of what she assumed would be instant kingdom-wide acclaim, the lofty patrons of Canterlot would all know of her bad-assery in the most spectacular and well, amazing way fathomable by ponykind.

Sweetie Belle was excited that she was excited, but as per usual in the crusader's planning sessions, her desire for a fluffy, soft, and painless part in their adventures was left open for consideration—or not.

“Well that's cool and all Scoots but what do I get to do?” She squeaked, almost whining some.

“Well – we're gonna need a camera-mare aren't we?” A cocky grin still on Scootaloo's face, courtesy of her imagined glamor still playing a vivid scene in her head.  “It's safe, and—you'll be famous too!”

Sweetie Belle liked this idea bit what mentally thirsty, she still failed to see how they would both get their directors cutie marks, and, arguably, Scootaloo's cutie mark would probably be much cooler, besides, she didn't want to sit behind a camera all day, she was a fashionista dammit and she was going to employ her self-recognized skills somehow!

“Maybe I could design you a costume!  Ooh! And maybe I could style your mane too!” It was her turn to be bouncy and excited.

Scootaloo's smile however flattened some, she accepted Rarity as her mother, and Sweetie Belle as her—aunt? That's kinda weird but she seemed contempt with that was well so long as Sweetie didn't try to assume authority over her. She chuckled slightly at the thought of “Auntie Sweetie Belle” attempting to to control Scootaloo, she was clearly much stronger than Sweetie Belle ever would be, if anything, Sweetie Belle would be desperately requesting her uncles presence as Scootaloo overpowered her in some comical fashion.

No way in hell was Sweetie Belle going to touch her fucking awesome mane, and using Rarity's flare for extravagance and—foo-foo frilly shit as a prelude to whatever horror Sweetie Belle would bring forth, she internally rejected it with all the vulgarity her vocabulary permitted, and externally pushed to change her aunt's course,

“You're a great singer!” Scootaloo remembered several times hearing Sweetie Belle's angelic voice, while she was in no way disciplined in the art and form of music, as a listener, she could tell “good” from “crap”. To her chagrin though, like the rest of the crusader trio, including herself, Sweetie Belle wanted nothing to do with her natural talent:

“No I'm not Scootaloo,” she blushed some at the complement. “And besides, I've always had the desire to really show my stuff!” Her radiant smile returned.

Scootaloo, not wanting to crush her spirits but nor wanting to continue about this for now, hoping changing the subject would derail her momentum,

“Well, we're not really going to be able to do just one thing, especially when it's just us two—have you heard from Applebloom?”  Sweetie Belle nodded, she had not, nobody had really.

It had been a good two weeks since Applebloom and the Apple family “disappeared” or at least, that's what the remaining crusaders and curious townsfolk were told, in reality, they were inside the homestead at Sweet Apple Acres. Granny Smith had passed away shortly before they entered reclusion everypony assumed they were grieving and out of respect, didn't bother them.

Rarity was one of the many ponies in the dark on this whole issue. The other four mares denied knowing anything, and they honestly did not, she found it odd as they all did, and at this particular point saw the concern and confusion in the two crusaders eyes and trotted over to them.

“Now don't you worry girls, I'm sure they're just not in the mood to come out right now, death is a very difficult thing to deal with and some ponies handle it worse than others.” She flashed a though on whether or not she should have phrased it that way but was satisfied, “I'm sure between Scootaloo's energy, and your—skills-- you'll get your film-making cutie marks for sure!”

While she was saying this, she had opened the door and motioned the fillies outside, best get them more willing to leave and go crusading than to have them in a place where they'd want to barrage her with questions and wild but well-intentioned speculation.

“Yeah!” Both of the fillies bounced up in down, re-energized by their sister/mother's words of encouragement.

Pleased she was getting somewhere, she continued, “now girls, I have quite the order today, I know I promised you treats but it will have to be later this evening”

A collective groan could be heard from the fillies below.

“--but,” she emphasized, “I promised so It will be done! Plus, this gives you girls plenty of time to get your movie ready!” She looked at them with a cheesy, toothy grin to try to shroud her slight fear of what trouble they were going to surely get into with a camera, and knowing them it would be a real camera, they may be somewhat thick when it comes to seeing their true talents glaring right under their muzzles, but they knew when they were being talked down to, and they didn't tolerate it.

“Oh, okay sis.” Sweetie Belle groaned, her grin returned though as she turned to her niece, “Come on Scootaloo! Let's go to the club-house and make a plan!” she raised a hoof as if declaring “land ho!” after a long and worn voyage at sea.

Rarity flinched somewhat at the idea of the two going to the club-house, the last thing a grieving family needed was trouble, and a sizable mess to accompany it.

“Now girls, I don't think that's too bright of an idea, remember what we talked about when we all met with Twilight?”

“Yes.” they both answered, ears flattening.

“You understand that it maybe not such a nice thing to disturb the Apple Family right now right?”

Scootaloo was desperate, “We won't bother them Ra—mom we promise!”

Not wanting to dig a whole of whining, pleading, and questions, Rarity budged, only a little, the last thing she wanted was to be responsible for anything awful, especially now that she was responsible for two of the three crusaders who were known to cause destruction and discontent wherever they went in their fruitless adventures.

“You will go the club-house, get your paper and crayons, and find somewhere else to conspire okay?”

The two, ears still lowered were happy with what they could get, both knowing Rarity was equal if not superior in her ability to be stubborn as fuck.

“Oh alright” Scootaloo groaned dejectively.

“Splendid!” Rarity finished excitedly more for her own sake than theirs, “If you two keep your word and stay out of trouble than I will see you both late at Sugar Cube corner!”

The fillies, reminded of their promised confections were happy again, seemingly contempt with the slight change in course, “YAY!”

Rarity flattened her ears to curb as much sound as possible, no use:  “CUTIE MARK CRUSADER FILMMAKERS! YAY!”  And with that, Sweetie Belle hopped into a red wagon attached to Scootaloo's scooter, Scootaloo then hopped onto the locomotion of her namesake and they sped off, destination: destructive adventure!

Rarity made a mental note to check on them, she trusted them, but....their antics were about as sporadic as all the other mishaps in Equestria; better safe than sorry.

The clubhouse was in the same state they had left it in during the last meeting there nearly half a month ago, to the unicorn and pegasus who entered ever so quietly, it seemed like a lifetime, every reminder of their last escapade seeming almost nostalgic, however, Sweetie Belle wasn't there to dawdle, her sister put her hoof down and she had to obey it lest she deal with the consequences, and while Scootaloo would normally be an antagonist in this situation, she was mindful as well, reminding herself they came here to get their things and then leave without a trace.

It was rather early in the morning still, when Scootaloo slept here she was almost never awake at this hour so the darkness that enveloped the small tree house was slightly displacing, regardless they collected some crayons, paper, and their crusader capes which somehow were in near-mint condition, despite the countless instances which should have destroyed them. They quietly mused about their friend as they made their way out of the clearing where the club-house resided and back into town.

“You think we'll see Applebloom anytime soon Scootaloo?” Sweetie Belle asked, slightly worried as she shot a glance towards the farm through the trees,

“I sure hope so...” Scootaloo trailed off, not sure how to continue, she sure did miss the filly, considerably more than she expected, they argued constantly, but they were still friends, and they were still Cutie Mark Crusaders, and while Sweetie Belle was Scootaloo's first friend, and yes they played and created trouble before they became acquainted with the farm filly at Diamond Tiara's Tercentenarya, they still couldn't fully adjust to going about their schemes, let alone school without her.

“You think maybe we should check on her?” Scootaloo suggested, she had no real intent on doing it—or at least, if she was the only one.

“No!” Sweetie Belle panicked, almost yelled. She stopped and looked around, sweating some, when she assured herself nopony else had heard, she firmly continued, “No Scootaloo.”

Scootaloo stopped, that sounded almost like a command, “Why'd you say it like that?” Scootaloo glared at her.

“What do you mean 'why'?” Sweetie protested, “You know what Rarity said this morning and Twilight said a few days ago 'leave them alone girls, give them time to sort out their affairs'--whatever that means. We're not going over there.”

“Don't talk to me like that” Scootaloo growled, somewhat stutters, she was shocked that she found herself somewhat uncomfortable talking that way to Sweetie Belle, at any time before now she wouldn't have thought twice, but something odd came into her mind. Could she actually punish me? She is my aunt... Scootaloo dismissed that thought, Come on Scootaloo, what would she do? You could take her easily! You're way too strong for her, she tried to pin you down she'd be sent flying all the way to Cloudsdale! Her thoughts were interrupted upon her noticing Sweetie Belle hadn't said anything after, she looked sad, her ears flat and head hung low.

“I'm sorry Scootaloo,” she mumbled weakly as she barely looked at her, “I didn't mean to be all bossy, I just don't want to get in trouble...” her voice trailed off, like Scootaloo she understood very well that while Sweetie may have an authoritative title and have slight advancement in age to back it up, when it came down to it, there was no way she could ever control Scootaloo, outside of hurting her, and that simply wasn't an option. Sweetie was soon met with a comforting hoof around here

“No, I'm sorry Sweetie Belle, I shouldn't have been so rude, I knew you weren't trying to be bossy or mean...” Scootaloo found it difficult to converse as well and with that affirmation they continued silently into town, all the while a pair of binoculars had been following their trip as soon as they entered the vicinity of Sweet Apple Acres: Big Macintosh lowered them slowly, content that the fillies were gone and out of earshot.

“They gone Big Mac” quipped Apple Jack in a slightly off tone from her usual charismatic voice.

“Eeeyup” replied Big Mac heavily, he chuckled some as he put the binoculars into an empty apple basket beside him.

“M'kay, I'ma thinkin' it's about time to get our little filly up and movin'” A sinister smile crept onto AppleJack's face, her eyes filled with hate.

“Eeeyup” The stallion agreed, with an equally troubling grin. Next Chapter: Domestic Opression Estimated time remaining: 6 Hours, 47 Minutes