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[RGRE] Brandywine Bordeaux - Nurse Braveheart
By AnalPlugAnonCreated: 2020-12-25 21:08:15
Expiry: Never
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>"Brandywine, I've put up with your fanciful notions for long enough."
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>You are Brandywine Bordeaux, and your secret has been found out.
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>Your mother, Burgundy Bordeaux, tosses your medical textbooks onto the dinner table with an angry and sloppy hoof.
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>"You want to become a nurse? Why in the world would you want that when you have our wonderful winery?"
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>She gestures out the open window at the Itailian hills your family owns, all smattered with green and purple grapes from your vineyard.
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>You can see ponies wandering the vineyard - some of them are local ponies employed by your family to gather grapes, and others are a few cousins who stubbornly do it themselves to "pick them properly", whatever THAT means.
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>"We've lived in these parts for hundreds of years. My mother made wine. My grandmother made wine. My great-grandmother made wine as well."
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>Your mother sits on her rump and taps her forehooves together with each listing of relatives.
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>"And my great-great-grandmother as well. It goes back more than ten generations, a noble line uninterrupted in the art of winery."
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>She peers at you, eyes darting all over your body.
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>It's as though she's seeing you for the first time.
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>"And you're going to throw all that away?"
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>She somehow manages to mix 'pleading', 'disdain', and 'disbelief' all into one disapproving hiss.
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>Your mother gets back to her hooves and marches over to you, a deep frown on her wrinkled face.
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>"Wine is in your blood, filly. Get rid of those damn books and go find your papa - he'll be out mashing grapes. Maybe a few hours of that will remind you of where you came from."
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>Your mother turns her back and begins to walk away, having decided that the discussion was over and that her meek daughter would fall in line again.
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>Just like she's been doing her entire life.
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>Until now.
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"No."
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>The word came out more quiet than you had intended, and it sounded quite breathy.
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>But it carried weight with it, and your utterance filled the corners of the room.
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>Your mother freezes in her tracks.
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>She stops walking so quickly and so suddenly that you hear her hooves clack on the stone floor of your dining room.
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>The room is silent, save for the pounding of your heart in your ears.
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>"...what did you say to me?"
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>You're surprised your mother can't hear your heart beating against your ribs as she slowly turns around to face you.
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>It's all you can hear; surely the sound is deafening to her as well.
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>She looks surprised as she turns around - you think you BOTH are.
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>You hadn't planned to say 'no'.
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>You hadn't planned to stand up to her.
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>You had hoped that your mother would somehow not discover your textbooks, and that you could slip away some vague and undetermined times in the future without confrontation.
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>You'd never verbalized your desire to do something other than wine-making, before.
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>You wanted more in life than some shack on a hill in Itaily.
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>You wanted to help ponies.
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>You wanted to make a difference!
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>You love your family and you love your rich history, but...
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>...you love your passion even more.
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"I said," you utter after you take a deep breath, voice cracking only a little bit, "No. I'm not going to work in the winery, mama. That's not what I want to do with my life."
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>Your mother stands there, unmoving.
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>Glaring.
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>Her face scrunching up into an unrecognizable monster's face as she grows angrier than you've ever seen her.
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>You're about to have a long discussion, and you get the feeling it's not going to end well for either of you.
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---
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>You are Brandywine Bordeaux, and things could have gone better.
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>You have only a few things with you: a saddlebag, the bits you've saved up over the years, and your medical textbooks; all tucked away in the saddlebag pockets.
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>It's now the evening, and you're wandering the streets of your former home.
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>Your mother made it clear to you: either you continued your family's work, or you...
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>Your eyes sting and your breath hitches at the remembrance.
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>The hurt still feels so fresh; despite all this, she was still your mama.
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>She gave you an ultimatum: stay with them, or leave and never darken their doorstep again.
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>You stood up to yourself for what felt like the first time ever, and you didn't give in.
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>If your younger brother were still alive, you think he'd be proud of you.
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>But he's not.
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>He got sick, and he passed away with his hooves cupped in your own.
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>You had never felt more powerless in your entire life, and you had desperately wanted to do something - ANYTHING - to help make him better.
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>But you couldn't.
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>You could only sit there and watch.
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>But maybe, now you can.
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>You know you want to help ponies, and you can't do that when you're stomping on grapes and taste-testing wine.
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>To make a long story short, she disowned you.
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>You're not a Bordeaux anymore, and the name "Brandywine" leaves a sour taste in your mouth.
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>Like a bad batch of wine that a street-peddler is trying to pass off as top-shelf.
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>You need a new name.
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>A name to match your new destiny.
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>The name of a pony who's going to learn how to help other ponies.
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>A nurse, or maybe a doctor.
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>You don't care, as long as you're doing something to make the world a better place; even if it's just for one pony.
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>This is your passion.
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>Your fire.
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>Your heart's desire!
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>They may have your blood and your name, but you'll always have your heart.
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>And you'll be damned if you're going to stop being brave just because you finished standing up to your old mare.
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>You need a new name.
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>Something that's you.
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>Something...
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"Hmmm..."
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>Heart...
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>Bravery...
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>Confidence...
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>Passion...
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"Braveheart," you announce, a powerful feeling blooming in your chest like an inflating balloon, "I am Braveheart!"
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>Your rump warms and glows, lighting up the dark alcove you're standing in.
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>You adjust the medical textbooks in your saddlebag so that you can crane your neck around easier.
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"O-Oh, my Celestia!"
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>Staining the cream-coloured fur of your rump like spilled red wine, a cutie mark.
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>It's a dark red cross-sign; burgundy in colour, if you had to place the shade of red.
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>A medical cross, specifically.
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>You feel any fleeting nervousness and uncertainty become smothered by your new confidence.
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>You're meant to be a nurse; destiny has decided your new identity.
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"Nurse Braveheart, huh?"
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>You like the sound of that.
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