Of Hooves and History

Reconciliation and Wing Tests

I took a folding chair from the kitchen storage room and was led by two guards to wing of the castle I hadn't been down before. It looked just as grand as any other hallway, but along one side were cells lined up. Some were larger than others and looked more like luxury hotel suites (without kitchens or a full bathroom), while others were smaller and only had the bare essentials inside, with no gold accents or even furnishings.

We arrived at a cell at the end of the hall, barely five by nine feet in size, with a hoof biometric scanner beside the inch-thick bars. Inside Sprout sat hunched over on the bed, peering at a scrap of paper on the ground.

"We will be back at half past the hour," the guards reminded me, before continuing with their patrol shift.

"So, we've ended up together, yet separated," I began, unfolding the chair and sitting down. "Sprout Cloverleaf and Aiden Walter Dixon."

"Yeah, that's only occurred 'cause you put me here," he retorted. "FOR SIXTY DAYS!"

I sighed. This was likely going to be a long talk, but I had to shorten it. "Perhaps that will give you some time to reflect on your decisions and misdeeds. We all have choices, and several influences behind said choices. I might not know much about you, but if my friends are to be believed, your fellow sheriff overlooked several red flags, and your mom nourished the foundation of your ideals, which played a significant role into where you are now. The blame game will never work. If anything, this room serves as an aid in your introspection."

"Your mouth doesn't have to be so fancy-schmancy," Sprout remarked.

"Only if yours would be polite," I replied, cocking my head slightly. "Now, let's look at your records. You were raised up with a fixated mindset, and seized an opportunity and tried so hard to make yourself look like the strong, fearless leader and hero the world needed via manipulative groupthink of toxic ideas, only aided by peer pressure of fulfilling a role you clearly were not well-trained for. And when it failed, you practically committed attempted murder. Brushing aside the sentimental value of somepony's home, destroying a building with its inhabitants still inside is no trivial matter. Ponies could have died. Could you live life after seeing another pony's body mutilated and stained with their own blood from bricks and debris via your own doing?"

I expected him to yell, but instead his lips were quivering like water in a shaken cup. "Why... I..."

Noting his tears spilling on the floor, I raised my voice firmly yet slightly. "Turn and look at me in the face!"

Anxiously, Sprout lifted his head and casted an anguished gaze through the bars. The moment his eyes met mine, I softened my complexion and voice.

"Had you come face to face with me within a day of escaping from the prison cart, what would you have said to me? What would you have done to me?"

"I... I d-d-don't know wh-what I'd say," he sobbed. "Maybe I could have found out..."

"That I wasn't some big evil monster that Equestria needed to annihilate?" I finished with a warm smile.

"Perhaps. I just wanted to prove I was worthy, and your presence provided me with the perfect scapegoat for ponies to rally and unite around me."

"Our minds are stronger and more fragile at the same time," I replied compassionately. "And sometimes, they need a little help. If you're searching for a path towards achieving worthiness, start with making amends with yourself. Work on that fear and ego and take back control of them. Seriously, please don't lose hope in yourself. In these ensuing eight weeks, you got a chance to fix yourself and be a good friend to Sunny and Hitch, just as you were as a little colt, playing imaginary adventures together with them."