Hannah’s Story.

“What do you want?” A creature in my dreams snapped.

“I do not wish harm, Insect. But rather, to make you an offer.” A new voice emerged, more regal, but possessed the slight rasp of a snake.

“What could you offer ME? Death? Is that what fate you offered the one that fell?”

The vision became clearer as the next one who spoke came slowly into view. Showing a twinge of the mouth. “I guess that word of the ‘incident’ spreads quickly…”

The first raised her head, to assume a more dominant position. “It does, if your species is cursed with a hivemind.”

There was an eerie moment of silence. But the vision became clearer as time went on.

“Why am I not sending my children to attack you, Celestia? Why aren’t they tearing you limb from limb?”

‘Celestia’ then only chuckled and spread her wings. With her vibrant fiery hair blowing in an intangible wind. And her teeth showing through gaping holes of flesh on the face stripped bare of skin. “Because you know what has become of me. You know that my thirst for blood has been awakened. And I now long to see those that are enemies fall beneath me!”

She leaned into me, as I now took the position of the other voice.

“As do you, Chrysalis.”

Chrysalis leapt back, at least as much as she could. “Mother will hear of this!”

“And she should. For I am offering you and your people something more valuable than just an invasion.” Celestia said with a sly voice and a devilish grin.

Chrysalis paced around the taller figure, with a state of confusion and panic.

“What could you offer the changelings?”

“Peace, a home among the lands of Equestria, a direct say in the rulings of the land and millions of subjects to feed on.”

Chrysalis’ eyes widened. She stopped as if she was just hit by a horde of ravenous parasprites. “You’re bluffing! No princess has ever given that choice, and no ruler of Equestria in their right mind would give the changelings that much power!”

Celestia scowled. “Do you insult my offer? I could take it directly to the queen. What would she do if she knew you refused?”

Chrysalis’ eye twitched. Before smiling angrily. “What do you wish… In return… From… Me?”

“Clever girl.” Celestia hissed, before using levitation to lift something off of her back. Well, more like somePONY.

“What is this? A meal? Why this-” Chrysalis was then interrupted.

“No, he is not a meal! You will have plenty to suit your needs once the deal is done… THIS,” She then referred to the sleeping colt on the ground. “IS the deal!”

“What would you have me do with a small colt? Who is this? Would you have me raise this creature as my own? Even with the clear species gap?”

Celestia lashed out. “That is exactly what I intend YOU to do, Chrysalis. And not to your mother. Eternal peace between ponykind and changelings: If you raise this pony to be one of your own.”

Chrysalis sat down, staring at the pony once more. “You have lost your mind Celestia. What makes this one so special?”

“Nothing you should worry about. You should consider my bargain Chrysalis.”

She raised her hoof, addressing the sleeping pony again. “The salvation and freedom of your people, for the raising of a child. Deal, or no deal?”

There was a long pause as Chrysalis waited and thought. Before looking up at the princess. “You’ve changed… Celestia. But…” She smiled a toothy grin. “We would say… Changed for the better.”

Celestia laughed maniacally. To be joined gently with Chrysalis. “I accept, and I am sure that mother will agree. And we will organise a mass migration to the surface world. And this pony will be with us!”

Celestia smiled, and bowed graciously to the Changeling Princess.

"Then let a reign of peace be born in this land!" She announced triumphantly. "But now, I must go. A king waits for me in the crystal empire."

Chrysalis nodded, keeping her grin. Before levitating the pony in the blanket with her magic. But also, stopping for a moment to observe the strange features of the Alicorn.

"Princess," She asked, to have Celestia stop in her hoofsteps.

"Chrysalis. I would appreciate if you would address me as 'Queen'."

"Ok, my QUEEN. What is the name of this pony? Does he have one?"

The skinless Queen with fire for her hair turned. With her draconian gaze meeting once more with the changeling.

"He is called; 'Chronos'."

"Just put your, little hand in mine, there ain’t no mountain or hill we can’t climb-" My alarm blared, with my eyes still in the comfortable abyss of darkness.

Resisting opening my eyes, I took a blind stab with my finger in turning off the alarm.

I had no real grasp on the dream I had just then. Since my mind was only piecing together some fragments, leaving the rest as a blur in my subconsciousness.

"Teeth to the tongue and the Tip Of the liPS," I recited twice, just getting my voice in check before the day. Coughing twice to get rid of the flem that was there before. And then slapping myself a couple of times to properly wake myself up. I needed some tea.

I got into a dressing gown and made it down to my kitchen, while reminiscing over my dream and the night before. Patrick just turned up, no real questions asked. But in my opinion, it wasn't really like him to just walk out on a friend like that.

Speaking of Patrick, I couldn't hear much from him. I peered around to the living room again, whilst sipping some freshly made tea, wincing a little at its sudden heat, to see Patrick completely sprawled out on the sofa. With a couple of cushions lying about the place.

He wasn't snoring, and yet he seemed in a deep sleep. So in order to keep him peaceful and (from personal experiences with some rarer situations) SANE. I decided to leave him be to wake up on his own times. Besides, it's both of our birthdays today and tomorrow, he needs the rest more than I do.

He coughed a couple of times, but didn’t move much from his current position. I went upstairs again to get prepared for the day. I couldn't get that weird phrase out of my head; "The Queen must bring the King his armor, before he engages in battle." It was weirdly poetic, but poetically weird, I couldn't help but notice this.

I should have noticed the blood dribbling from Patrick’s mouth.

“Alrighty, shoppingshoppingshopping.” I thought to myself, waltzing through the city centre, trying to find a shop that took my interest.

I noticed a few odd glances at me as I went down the street, but nothing too bad. Despite making me wonder why they were.

I wasn’t usually the one to get presents for these sorts of occasions, but I felt I needed to get birthday presents for both Cordie and Patrick this year. It was their 25th birthday, so they deserved something special. But even then, I doubted that Patrick or Cordie would have the same… Budget as I would.

I went down to the bank, and opened up my wallet to pick out the card which I thought looked the wealthiest, whilst trying to remember the PINs for each of them.

I silently spoke to myself, while making sure no-one else was there to observe my secret stash of ‘goodies’.

“Lucy Grant; 1736
Tom Matthews; 8590
Reece Thompson; 5545
Luke Luck; 7777, ironic.
Dr. Marc Shmueli; 3463
Lesley Cowley; 5791
Patrick Taylor;

Whoops, how did that get in there?

Federico Marcelli: 4381. Bingo”

I popped Fred’s card in and punched in the PIN. And when no-one was looking; I managed to slip out a device from my jacket. And casually put it also into the machine, as if I was taking out that card. And the device worked its magic on the machine. And the regular PIN screen popped up. And after punching in ‘4381’, what would usually come up at this point is an alarm saying the card is stolen or corrupted or the police have been alerted. But the screen flickered for a moment, and the regular options for transactions flashed onto the screen.

I peered at the small camera on top of the vending machine. And knowing the device would usually disable it, I kept silent in case someone WAS watching. But finally, the thing I was looking for came up.

“Balance: £301,545,234.00”

I grinned, before hitting; ‘Withdraw all’. And as usual, a message flashed on screen.

“This machine does not have the sufficient funds for this transaction, would you like to receive a cash slip?”

‘yes’

A small piece of paper printed out. With the 9 digit number posted onto it and several other lardee daa things that I never pay attention to. All that mattered was I was going to make one shop assistant very happy with this money.

I took the device and the card out, and after giving it a quick polish with some oil and a cloth to remove fingerprints. Before tossing it into a dustbin.

“Sorry, Fred. The government will pay you back.” I muttered to myself, considering the amount of money that man had just lost thanks to me. But I don’t care about that sort of thing, all I cared about right now was a good shop I could spend the money on.

I should mention, If you are wondering, that the device does not work in shops. And even if it did, people would NOTICE. All it does is allow me to use a stolen credit card in bank machines without the cops noticing or the bank noticing. I made it in science one day and won the school prize. And if either the school or police knew what I do with it, we’re talking LIFE imprisonment here. And as much as organised criminals would probably pay me; they’re not getting their hands on that device!

At last I found a shop. One that matched Cordelia’s need for pretty things, Patrick’s strange fascination with Jewels and the right amount of spending I would expect! John Gowing Jewellers. Just inside the covered market, so it wasn’t much of a walk from the banks. But being an Oxfordian jewellers, it was a batman villain’s wet dream. A concentrated area of colour, reflections and gold.

There weren’t many people there, only a bored looking cashier and a woman with a hat so upper-class, it might as well have had a ginormous 1% on the top. Both of them tried to keep themselves from giving off a snide expression to me. But I could see through the cashier's mask of customer politeness, and the thick makeup of the upper-class woman.

It was easy to find Cordie’s present. Most of the stuff in the shop consisted of fine and high standards of watches and bracelets. A watch costing roughly £1,500, with a nice Gold finish and a glass back cover allowing you to see all the mechanics and gears that operated the clock. But for Patrick, there was nothing really that seemed… Him.

He already had some watches, and even though he kinda liked necklaces, the ones with simple chains and tribal pendants. The ones they had here just seemed; meh. So I decided to just buy the watch and find another shop nearby. Until I came to the checkout, where I noticed something behind a curtain. I only got a glimpse, but it took my interest.

“Madam, what’s that?” I asked the cashier, pointing to the curtain.

“Sorry, customer’s not allowed there- right this vay,” she slithered, voice dropping a tone as I silently passed £1,000 cash into her hand.

She led me into a small back room. Lit a bit more with a golden glow than the rest of the shop. "I don't understand why so many people want to see room," sighed the lady, with a accent I could definitely tell as a thick Russian.

The objects I caught sight of wasn't the room itself, but a small painting and a large cabinet. The painting depicted a glorious battle scene, with an army clashing under a brilliantly painted sky, let by a truly wonderful looking king. He was fully clad in battle armor, a golden chest piece and a platinum crown. While the stallion he rode on was something to behold. A fierce rear with a carbon black coat and a flowing black mane, wearing also a great armor, consisting of black horseshoes, a head piece and a black necklace, with a great green diamond placed in the middle. The style of the painting seemed almost Van Gogh, but not echoing his style in the way the people looked, as I could see the people and horses clearly. Yet had his brilliant flare in the backgrounds and colour, with vibrant brush strokes detailing patterns that weren’t there, giving a special kind of depth that could only be seen from standing back. Patrick called it; ‘Distantism’.

The cabinet caused my eyes to widen. The positioning of the cabinet gave a clear detail that the object inside had some form of relevance to the painting. Any normal person would expect there to be some kind of weapon in there; which would be a good reason why it would need to be back here. Or have it be the platinum crown or golden armor of the king, that would fit the style of it being a jewelry store. Or going even further to just have something of the king’s armory or jewelry. But these objects in the cabinet were none of those things.

These objects were all on the king’s horse.

All the objects were there. The black horseshoes, the chestpiece, the spiked; crown-like helmet and of course, the necklace.

They all seemed in top condition, black and haunting yet shiny like a mirror, as if they were polished religiously. Although the only thing missing was the large green diamond in the centre of the necklace. Leaving a large eight-pointed pyramid going in, with complex patterns and embossing on the surface of the groove. Looking absolutely gorgeous and noir, yet I needed to know some things.

“You vant to know, little girl?” barked the woman viciously, with definite spite in her voice. “Ven I guess, just ask Russian encyclopedia! Knows everything!” She took a deep breath and calmed down a bit.

"Ve armor is from a horse, archeologists found it In a mass grave of bodies. The armor is intact, if the steed itself, the diamond and the people who vere meant to ride it vere missing. Ve armor is a rare metal, seemingly thousands of years old."

I looked between the woman and the armor rapidly for a moment. And said exactly as I thought: "Then this belongs in a museum! Not a jewellery shop."

The woman scoffed loudly with a grumpy expression on her face. "Ve tried to give to museum! But they not accept armor, they say; 'not enough data for historic accuracy, metal too shiny, armor not complete, anatomy not match horse!' And other bullshit."

She then turned to the painting and raised her hand, "So we pay small money for jewellery and painting, when no one buy, we move back here! Any more question, little girl?"

I stopped and looked at the armor. I was looking at potential historical evidence. And quite gorgeous looking evidence too! The crown and horseshoes were some of the most beautiful craftsmanship I had seen in my life, with fine, intricate details carved into every surface. From fine obsidian carvings of vine work structures, complex patterns and the shading of different colours reflecting off the surface giving it a glow like no other metal. And that would be enough even without the perfectly carved diamonds perfectly fitted into its body.

This was art, and even more; ancient art. It belonged in a museum, it deserved to be seen, but... There was something I kept thinking, no matter how I tried to suppress the idea, it just sprang back up! I couldn't buy this, it would be a waste of money and it's use! But I couldn't help it... Because...

I just felt... Compelled to buy it for Patrick.

"How much was it bought for?"

"25 million. But it not for-"

I then cut in. "I'll give you 50 million!"

The woman stood baffled, but keeping an angry scowl on her face. "No, it not for sale."

"100 million." I offered, dropping my tone slightly to show my point. This only angered the woman more.

"You test my patient madam. It not for sale!"

I was not giving up, I was feeling generous and had a stupid amount of money.

"200 million," I tried again. But yet again, having no response from the Russian woman.

I was at my last resort, so I swallowed hard and pulled out the slip that I got in from the bank.

"I will take it for £300 million. Cash up front."

The woman's eyes widened she seemed surprised at the same time happy. She paused, but she couldn't believe it.

"You... Have cash?"

I nodded while waving the slip.

She stared blankly. Looking nowhere, as if receiving massive shock. Like how Espurr looked in Pokémon X and Y. She couldn't tell if it was her authority to sell this product or to receive the money. Before I could realise the mistake, she came to the same conclusion I would.

"I will consult manager," she finally said slowly. Taking out a phone and dialling a number. "Hello manager... Yes a little girl down in room. She wished to Buy black armor... I tell Her this, but she offer price! She ask to pay £300 million." She put back the phone away from her ear as if someone was shouting on the other line. She hung up the phone and then turned to me immediately.

"We accept the offer, you make very generous donation!" She barked, with the forced smile upon her face.

"Thank you," I replied sternly, trying to hide the joy behind my expression. "Oh, and a watch."
I handed the woman the watch I picked up in the shop. "The rest of the check should cover the rest of the costs."

The woman bowed graciously, probably due to the high price of my offer and that she might be getting a promotion. But she still seemed to be eyeing something on my head.

"Next time you plan to make generous bit, take that thing off head. It make people not take you seriously."

My attention was then given to my head, as my hands rushed up to greet the intruder to my hairstyle. As when I took my hands down, I found the crown, that I had gotten yesterday, in them.

'What in the world?' I said to myself. Staring blankly at the black crown.

I was confused but slightly entranced. The amount of friction it would had to remain on my head all though last night and today was staggering. I would think that it would take super glue for this sort of thing, but I seemed to remove it easily enough.

Perhaps the chitin had an interesting chemical reaction with my hair? But with such a weak bond that it could be easily removed...

Or maybe I was looking too far into the fact that a novelty (but expensive) crown was just on my head.

Probably the latter.

"You like hag?"

I paid little attention and misheard the last thing the Russian woman said, bitterly and more bashfully saying; "I beg your pardon?"

The Russian woman raised her hands in defense before repeating. "No mean given, little girl! My English is no good. I say; Do you like BAG?"

I returned to my normal state of calm and relaxing, hiding the crown in my pocket to prevent any other wierd looks. With this stuff, I did not need any more attention to myself. "Sorry, yes I would like a bag," I replied before being handed my loot by the woman.

Over three hundred million spent on one shop. That is the last time I ever act on impulse again.

BAMF! I heard, slamming into someone. Sending the bag flying into the air.

"Whoops! Careful!" A familiar voice said. When a hand rushed in to grab the bag before any nasty impacts could occur. The hand then advanced to mine.

The man helped me up, revealing to be, in all his suited glory, Darius Jem. "You need to be more careful with your shopping there miss. You made me ruin a good suit!" He tutted, drawing attention to a dropped pasty and a large stain on his jacket.

He paused and raised an eyebrow while staring at me. "Wait... I know you!" He clicked tice and lowered his head while trying to guess my name. "Korra? Lydia? Hannah? Hannah! Yes, Hannah! You're Patrick's friend aren't you?"

I nodded politely, still thinking over the fact the prime minister was being so casual and suave in conversation with someone he'd just met. You'd think he was putting it on, like an act. But there was something off about him, that made you ignore it, just by looking into his eyes.

"Hello? You spaced out there Hannah... CAN you talk?" He barged in, noticing I was just staring blankly at him.
"You look as if you are in a hurry. So I won't keep you long..."

He began to hand the bag back to me before his eye was drawn to the glimmer of something within it. "What have we here then?"

Oh crap...

He took out one of the horseshoes and looked in detail at it. Closely examining it like I did. "Is this yours?" He asked, pointing to it.

"No. It's a present for Patrick," I replied, keeping calm as he smiled sheepishly and looked at the rest of the armor.

"With a matching crown and armor... Surely this would be a better present for Cordelia? Doesn't she own horses?"

I smiled, keeping nerves low as he stood taller over me. "No... I just thought that it would look good on him."

Darius raised his eyebrow and picked up another horseshoe. "Really? You spent good money on these, I can tell. Do you think Patricks going to turn into a pony overnight? Because I hope you haven't noticed this armor is made for Equine anatomy."

He put the shoes away and raised his hand. "Hand them over," he ordered, but I kept cool (in exterior).

"What's them?"

"We both know that neither of us could afford that kind of thing. So some donations would have to be made... The bonus credit cards and whatever you've been using to avoid anyone noticing you using them."

I was taken back on the outside. But terrified on the inside. He caught me at the wrong time, and read me like an open book. But at least I still had one chance left.

"I have no idea what you're talking about Mr Jem. They're just novelty presents!"

He picked up a receipt I had idiotically left in the bag. Before lowering his glasses and widening his eyes.
"300 million pounds worth of novelty presents! I mean, Jesus, Hannah! You robbed the bank of fucking England!"

"Why does it say 300 million?" I continued to ruse. "There's obviously a misprint there, mister Jem. It's nothing that you should-"

He dropped the tone of his voice and raised his glasses over his eyes. "No, Hannah. HERE'S how it's going to work!" He cut across, acting more serious than before.

"You are going to give me the cards you have collected. I will go to the bank personally and give them back with a report of a robbery. You will never do this again! Or I will go to the police, and I will have you arrested for multi-million pound credit card fraud and identity theft! Deal?"

My eye twitched as he loomed over me. He finished his sentence coldly; "I can be your friend Hannah... Don't make me your enemy on these terms."

I scowled at the man with loathing. But he had put me into a difficult situation. And I was not comfortable knowing that one man could put me in prison. So I reluctantly tore my wallet out of my jacket and took out two of the cards into his open hand.

"And... The rest," he instructed coldly. Shortly followed by me handing him the rest of the cards in anger.

"Is that all of them?" He asked. I nodded, putting on a forced smile. Only to have him tear the wallet out of my hand, and despite my protests: he then took out two more cards. "You mother's old card... And... Patrick's?"

He glared harshly. With the black scelera clearly visible in his eyes. "You didn't... Use this did you?"

I scoffed. "NO! Patrick's my friend! I would never steal from him! I have no idea how that got in there in the first place!"

Darius leaned in closer, with dark shadows cast on his looming face. "Do you expect me to take that as the truth? Do you believe that I will just take your word for it?"

I clenched my teeth. "You're the fucking prime minister. You tell me."

Darius smiled and returned to a standing posture. "True. I take your word. I'll return the cards back, and give this back to Patrick."

I looked left and right at this sudden mood swing. "Just... Like that? You're letting me go. Just on that!"

He was now walking off, but turned to me with a smile. "Yup! That's me! Enjoy your birthday by the way!"

"We're not done here!" I yelled, trying not to run towards him to avoid attention. But he kept walking and smiling.

"Yes we are! Hope he enjoys the prezzies!"

This sudden change in attitude confused me further. Causing me to stammer my sentences. "You... You can't... YOU'RE A MADMAN!"

He didn't even turn back. Just waved his hand up. "It's pronounced 'politician', dear. But these days, who can tell the difference?"

And then he disappeared into a crowd of people without saying another word.

I seethed, thinking about that man. He took my device and my cards as quickly as he appeared. But when you take back what is stolen, you should always check when you're being robbed yourself.

I took out his card from my back trouser pocket and grinned smugly before picking up the heavy shopping bag again. I needed to get back home. I had the Lutece's party to prepare for.

When I returned home. Patrick was nowhere to be seen. I assumed he'd cleared off when I went into town. Although there were some signs of rummaging through the living room; a couple of cushions and books lying around.

And just to check my theory, I checked my phone; to have a text I had ignored pop up on the screen.

"Have you seen my bloody credit card? Please don't tell me you used it!

-P"

I texted back, giving a brief summary on how I gave the cards to Darius. Missing out the part about the money spent and the presents.

He texted back almost instantly;

"Bloody fucking hell. At least it's with Darius.

Just heading to Lutece's. I do NOT need a lift. See you tonight."

I put my phone and bag on the counter of the kitchen. And with a quick unpacking I got started on the wrapping process of the presents. A hated task among my circle of friends. But I had to do it for tonight. After all... It was all of our birthdays today.

While I was trying to wrap some of the heavy armor. I checked through my phone messages. Only to find the usual influx of spam, with some messages from Cordelia. I was going to meet her in person later, so I thought I'd leave discussions until then.

When the presents were wrapped. I decided to get the place sorted out a bit. Since there was a bit of loose laundry and some areas just looked untidy. I had some time, so I decided to be a bit more thorough than I would normally be.

I got round to the sofa which Patrick slept on, to only see some cushions out of place, and the main parts of the sofa a bit scattered. A quick dust up and rearranging were not much of a problem. But what else I had seen shocked me.

Blood. Blood on the side where his head was.

I never knew he had any injuries. And I knew I didn’t bash his head in and steal his credit card. So I came to a logical conclusion. He was internally bleeding.

I panicked. I immediately rushed to my phone, stubbing my toe on the way and hastily sent Patrick a text.

‘Are you OK?’ I asked, to have the little replying icon appear.

‘Yeah, I’m fine.’ He replied.

‘I found blood on the sofa. I think you might be internally bleeding.’

There was an awkward moment with no reply. But he still replied with a calm text.

‘I don’t have ebola, Hannah, I checked this morning when you were out. It wasn’t in my coughing.’

I sighed in relief. But I was greeted by another text.

‘Although… Since I woke up… My eye has become… Quite sore.’

‘How sore?’

‘It doesn’t matter really. Although if it’s infected, I’ll go and see the doctor tomorrow… But I do have that stupid social thing.’

I rolled my eyes, knowing his annoyance towards school reunions… ESPECIALLY on his birthday. I knew he would just continue as normal, so I ended the phone conversation with a colon and a bracket.

I packed my things up in my car. Breathing a bit slowly to calm down a bit from that sudden ‘friend might be dying’ ordeal. Having to force some things into the book as well due to their size. I was lucky it even managed to fit into a carrier bag. Either that, or Doctor Who exists, and time lord science applies to bags.

I didn’t want to drive to the Lutece’s too quickly. But I felt under a little imaginary time pressure.

I started the drive down, letting my mind wander a little.

Usually, I would find myself thinking about what just happened, but something expected happened.

I could not get my mind off the dream I had last night.

It became clearer as I continued to drive, if some of the facts were a bit fuzzy in my head. It was quite odd, if quite cool. If I had the time; I might write it down as a fanfiction. If I just recalled the details:

Celestia making deals with Chrysalis
Celestia now addressing herself as Queen
Changeling Alliance with Ponies
Luna… Possibly dead.
Celestia with new pony called-

I swerved suddenly, to avoid a fast moving truck; I had lost concentration. Breathing slowly, as to calm myself down. I decided not to think about that anymore until I had gotten back home.

It was a long journey for me, so I kept my focus to the open road, with the belief that nothing else could go wrong today.

Author's Note

This chapter's from Hannah's point of view for a change. Shout out to Twisted Spectrum, Violet Runner and Dusk Writer for allowing me to crossover in later chapters!