A New Beginning
"It'll be okay, I promise."
Ever heard of Murphy's Law? According to the old adage, anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. For those of you that don't understand this, don't try to. Enjoy every living moment of peace and tranquility you can while it's still there for you to take.
"It'll be okay, I promise."
No matter how hard we try to stop fate, to change our clear-cut destiny, we always get drawn to that one inevitable moment when life comes crashing down around us. We get to watch, helpless as time and space itself comes to a grinding halt. The gears of reality begin to screech as they tug against one another, unable to maintain the balance and tranquility of life itself.
"It'll be okay, I promise."
In the grand scheme of things, nothing is ever really left to choice in our lives. We take it all for granted, assuming that just because the last seven thousand days of our lives have gone by undeterred that life will inevitably continue on in this manner ad infinitum. This statement is false. Life is like one big, billion-sided die with the vast majority of sides being stacked either neutral towards us, or in our benefit. Anyone who understands probability, however, also understands that no matter what was scored on the previous rolls, the next roll might as well be the first.
"It'll be okay, I promise."
That's what everyone said to me, what everyone tried so desperately to drill into my thick head. They always tried to console me, to tell me that it's all going to get better, that the pain will eventually fade away. But it never gets any better. All I see around me are shades of grey, a listless, lifeless world deviod of hope or colour. They always tell me that life will move on, that regardless of what happened in the past, the odds of history repeating itself is unlikely.
They're wrong.
Their theories on life, on the manner in which we tread through our pitifully short existence, are merely the speculations of people who are but finite beings in a world that is utterly incomprehensible to them. No matter how much we think that we're somehow right, life always comes back to haunt us.
It'd been three days since my mother had finally passed away. My life started to close in around me, the thoughts and emotions buzzing in my head slowly driving me insane. Perhaps it was a bit selfish of me, but the thought of her not being there to care for me left me feeling hollow inside.
Two years. For two years, my mother sat there on her deathbed, slowly waiting for the brain tumor to take her. Like a true champion, she'd fought on even after the doctors told her that there was no hope. She held fast for me, always waiting for when I'd come in and visit her after school.
"Mija, did you finish your homework?" she asked me. I set my bags next to her bedside, reaching down to hug her close.
"Yes, Mom," I always replied. I knew that she wanted the best for me, that she wanted me to have a future.
The days flew past us, fall to winter and winter to spring, and I would drop by every afternoon to show her my grades or to tell her what was going on with Liga MX at the time. It was fairly trivial, really, but we both enjoyed one anothers' company.
There were days when I'd not be allowed in to visit her, days that the doctors did their handiwork. They really put a damper on my day, but they were thankfully pretty rare. Most days were the sort where nobody bothered to interfere with us. My mother and I could converse all we wanted during visiting hours, our bond as strong as ever.
"Mija?" she asked one day.
"Yes, Mom?"
"What do you want to be?"
"I don't know," I said, lost in thought. I honestly didn't have the slightest clue what I wanted to make a profession in. There certainly wasn't a strong desire for marriage yet, but that didn't mean that I had a specific career track in mind.
"Mija, listen." She pulled me closely, her face only inches from mine. "Don't do what I did. You're too restless to be a homemaker, Shiloh. Go out and see the world! If you find yourself a man, don't marry him unless he wants to see the world too."
"Alright, Mom."
"And Mija?"
"Yes?"
"Did you do your homework?"
"Yes, Mom," I chuckled.
The days where I couldn't see her eventually started to grow more frequent. I'd sit patiently outside of her room, working idly on any future assignments I knew would eventually be due. The times were boring and tedious, but there wasn't any choice in the matter.
"Mija," she'd say, watching me enter the room. She came to look so tired, but I could still see that same fire in her eyes. The same kind of fire that told me that death hadn't yet touched her, that it was always kept at bay by her pure obstinance. It was that fire that told me she was still there.
"Hey, Mom."
"Did you do your homework?"
"Yes."
"What do you want to be?"
"I don't know yet."
"Hurry fast, child. Take your life into your own hands and choose what you want to be before life chooses for you."
"I..."
"Mija."
"Yes, Mom?"
"I love you."
I looked down at her, the words catching in my throat. A part of me wanted to say that I loved her too, that I loved her more than anybody else in the whole wide world. I'd told her that many times when I was little, and it always made her smile, that same-said smile that I strived so hard to see in her.
"I..."
She frowned at me, waiting for me to say it. I stood there, unspeaking as I tried to put voice to my words. We had just each other, just me, her, and Dad. Why the fuck couldn't I just say it?!
"I..."
"It's alright, Mija," she said, looking suddenly tired. "I'd like to rest now."
There was a week when I wasn't allowed to see her at all. I grew very anxious, wondering whether she was going to make it or not. I sat there, thinking endlessly about it until I remembered that Death wasn't strong enough to take her. Not while those eyes still held that fire.
It was a Tuesday morning when I walked in, looking down at her bedside after coming in from school. She looked so frail, a mere shell of what she used to be. It broke my heart to see her there, looking like she was held together with nothing but thin strings, the puppeteer waiting above with scissors ready to end the show.
"Mija..." she started, looking at me lovingly. "Did you..." I watched as a confused expression crossed her face. "Did you..."
My mother sat there for a moment, utterly baffled as to what she would normally be asking me. A piece of my inner strength died when I saw the fires finally smolder and die in her eyes.
"Yes, Mom?"
"I...I can't remember."
Three weeks later, and she was gone.
All of those close times, all of that care and love came to a close so abrubtly. I spent the next few days looking into the mirror, wondering why I could never tell her that I still loved her. Was it me that killed that fire in her?
I'd always hoped that she'd pull through. I knew pragmatically that this wasn't the case, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd failed her somehow, that there were words that went unspoken that were meant to be said.
Three days and one funeral later, and I was standing outside of the Greenlawn Cemetery. Just like that, my mother was gone.
"It'll be okay, I promise."
I looked up at my uncle, brought out thought by the same words that everyone told me. I tried to hide the pain inside of me, but I might as well have been an open book. No matter how strong I tried to be, no matter how hard I tried to convince myself that I was, I knew the truth of it. I hadn't asked for life to pull down my panties and buttfuck me. It seemed that life didn't really care about that fact.
I'd thought that knowing what was about to happen would somehow dampen the effects it had on me, but I was wrong. I thought that a stiff upper lip would be the solution to everything. I couldn't have been more fucking wrong.
My mother's death had been hard on me. At least in my father's case, a swift death in a street mugging came as a surprise, much like ripping a band-aid off of a latent, gaping wound. It stung, sure, but the shock of it all hadn't meant the end of me.
Instead, I got to sit by my dying mother's bed day after day, coming in every day after school just to watch her slowly drift away. Where the one was a swift punch to the face, this was the lingering effects of a weak poison, slowly pulling away from me the last remnants of my tattered life. I was about to graduate high school and my "Welcome to Adulthood" present was the death of both of my parents, tearing apart my entire world in a matter of months.
"No, it won't."
"Shiloh..."
"You know it won't."
"Just have a little faith."
Just have a little faith, Shiloh. The future is looking up at you, smiling down at you from the heavens on high! Yeah, sometimes there are some bumps in the road, but that doesn't mean that life isn't still good and beautiful!
Fuck that.
"What the fuck do you know?!" I snarled. "You weren't there when she was dying, were you?"
"That's not fair, Shi."
"Life's not fair!"
"Calm down."
"Like you even care!"
"She's my sister! I damn well cared!"
"I showed up every day after school just to watch her slowly wither and die! Where the fuck were you?"
"I was...I-"
"In your basement, wasting away with your pathetic videogames, that's where."
I watched as he flinched back, looking like he'd been slapped. He stared at me with hurt for a moment before his eyes hardened.
"You think it was easy for me?! She's the only person I know that matters! I couldn't sit there and watch while the only person I care about died!"
"You piece of shit, how dare you-"
The sharp sting of a strong backhand burned across my face. I looked back at my uncle wide-eyed as his sides heaved from exertion. My hand drifted unconsciously to my face as I rubbed the mark he'd left.
"Don't you ever fucking talk to me like that again, you pathetic cunt." He sneered at me. "You're nothing but a two-bit bitch that some pimp will pick up and sell for chump change. You're a filthy little pig and it shows. Your mother was never like that to me. She'd be ashamed of you."
"Go fuck yourself," I said. "You're just a looser who sits around on disability you didn't even earn. If you love my mom so much, why don't you go join her?"
There were things I'd done and said that I wasn't too proud of. The first time I got laid in the back of a ratty Skylark was one of those times, and that day when I'd beaten the shit out of my former best friend when I'd blown my fuse was another. None of that rivaled how much regret I have for what I'd just said.
"Y-you..." he started. I could see his eyes tearing up, knowing that both of us had said things that we wanted to take back but never could. The shots had been fired and that was that. I kept my face hard, even with how much I wanted to take it all back.
"Go," I said. My voice was so cold and dead that it sent shivers up my own spine. "Live your worthless life in your smelly little appartment. Fap to girls who you'd never have a chance with and feel like you're amazing when you unlock another World of Warcraft achievement."
No, stop.
"Feel satisfied in what a great man you are, knowing that you'll conquer the world from your armchair."
Please, just stop.
"Just stay the fuck out of my life, you creepy pervert. I don't care if you beat off to images of girls my age, it's no longer my concern."
Shiloh!
"I'm surprised Mom ever saw anything in you."
I turned around, walking away without even bothering to look back at him. I didn't need to see with my own eyes how much he was hurting. I didn't need a psychiatrist to tell me what a monster I'd just been.
"You play with fire, you get burned," I muttered to myself as I slammed the door behind me. My face darkened; I probably would've given just about anything to have an excuse to let off some steam. Sometimes getting your wishes isn't such a good thing.
I was walking down the hall when a man wearing a nice, snazy tux walked up to me. I was exiting the cemetery when tried to hand me some milk-white little card from his clean, well manicured hands.
"It's hard, losing a loved one. Do you know what's even harder?" he asked. "Having to bury them without money! Try our new life insurance policy in the eve-"
I slammed my fist into his mouth, throwing my full weight into the blow. The man fell down on his ass, and I snarled as I grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him up against a wall. His beady little eyes were wide with apparent fear of me. Good, motherfucker deserves it. I grabbed his jacket and pulled him right up to my face, breathing into it as my eyes met his own.
"Do you know how pissed I am right now? I don't even think the fucking dictionary has a word cut out for what I'd like to do to you! My parents are dead, you slimy little bastard, and you ask me to buy life insurance?" My voice cracked at that last bit, and I started to feel my tears welling up. "You're the worst kind of greedy, self-interested little shit."
Irony, your name's Shiloh.
The dude was practically pissing himself as I moved my face within millimeters of his own. My eyes seemed to peer deep into his soul as I sought for the words to say. "Oh, I want to hear you scream at night, the way I've been for the last three, to feel your heart burst as all that matters in your life is taken right in front of you." By now, the dude was starting to breath heavily. "But I'm. Not. You. I won't stoop to your level and take pleasure out of exploiting others' misery. So get the fuck out now, before I change my mind."
I threw him to the ground, stepping back as I watched him scramble to his feet and run away. It was only in that moment that I noticed that my uncle had come outside. He didn't say anything, only looking sorrowfully at me, his eyes looking utterly pitiful. I tried to meet his gaze, but I just couldn't.
I left him standing there as I walked over to my car, hopping in and turning the key without another word. I felt the engine come to life, and I didn't hesitate to drive off. Running away from the problem had never been easier.
I didn't actually enter the front door to my house until well after midnight. It really didn't matter what time I walked through the front door anyways; it wasn't like there was anyone home to ask why I was out so late. The hallway was dark, casting an eerie shadow along its length from the moonlight. I walked towards my bedroom, barely managing to resist the urge to visit my parents' room to say goodnight. I knew that the habit would fade away in time, but for now I had to work to break it. As I entered my room, I paused in the doorway.
"Goodnight, Mother. Goodnight, Father," I said, wishing that they were still there to reply. It was rather odd, not having anyone around to love or to be loved by. The the house I resided in was just an empty shell, a shadow of the place I grew up in. I knew that it would probably be best to move away from there eventually, but for right then graduating was my top priority.
I stripped down from my day clothes and hopped into my bed, not bothering nor caring to wear anything. It wasn't exactly like anyone would be there to see my womanhood or anything. Sleep came soon enough, and with it a moment of peace. All in all, sleep is really the only peace that anyone can truly know.
"It'll be okay, I promise."
I woke up to the sound of a light rapping on the front door to our...my house. I got up slowly, still rather groggy from the little sleep I had actually managed to receive. Without further ado, I walked over to the door, muttering, "can't let a girl sleep."
"I'll be right there!" I shouted before flipping the deadbolt. "Just a sec."
I opened the door to find a pair of officers standing outside.
"Miss? Is your name Shiloh Johnson?"
"Yeah, what of it?"
Both the cops were staring at me. It took me a moment, but then I remembered what an interesting wardrobe I typically used when I slept. They seemed to notice too, and my birthday suit didn't go unappreciated.
Shit...
"Um...ma'am. Uh.."
"We're here regarding your uncle, Michael Hernandez," the other cop replied, somehow managing to keep his cool despite the obvious blush and boner he was sporting. I really should've been more careful, to be honest. "He, well, I think you should come with us. After, ah, getting dressed, of course."
Twenty minutes later, we pulled into the front of the city's morgue. I knew immediately that there was something really, really wrong. My mind did its best to hide it from me, but inside I still knew. As we walked through the front door, I tried to feign ignorance to myself, and managed somewhat successfully.
The mortician walked up to greet us, talking in the same quiet, comforting tone that seemed the hallmark of those that worked day in and day out around bodies. It was rather unsettling, but I'd unfortunately grown rather used to dealing with them in the last year. I already knew that this guy's name was Keith Hughes.
"Please follow," he almost whispered, calm and reverent in both his tone and movement. We followed behind him as he lead us farther in. "I know that it will hurt, all things considered." He opened the door to the inner part of the morgue, the place where the bodies were regularly stored and packed like meat in a deli. There was a table sitting in the middle of the room, a blanket shrouding a body as it laid there.
He lead me up to it, and pulled the covers back. The body sat there, the head obviously destroyed by a powerful blast from what I assumed was a shotgun. The skin was rather tan, fitting the description of a man who was probably of mixed race, part hispanic and part caucasian. My breath left me as I noticed the green celtic cross tattooed over the left side of his chest.
Oh my God...
It had taken up to that point for it to really hit me. Sure, I'd known what had happened as soon as the officer said it, but I didn't want to believe it. There was no denying what sat right in front of my face, however. I started to back up, shacking my head as I leaned back against the wall.
"No..."
"I'm sorry, Miss Johnson. I know that so soon after your last loss, this must be very hard on you."
"Oh God, please..."
"He was found dead inside his home last night after the neighbors called regarding a gunshot in the middle of the early hours. We found him dead in his home in this current state. This is in fact him, isn't it? The DNA results will show up soon enough, but we'd prefer to know sooner."
"Michael..."
"This note was found on his body," the mortician said, handing me a scribbled note with a speckling of blood on it.
Dear Shiloh,
You were right.
~Mike
I backed up, dropping the letter as the dam finally burst. Tears rolled down my cheeks unabated as I wept openly in front of them. I knew what had happened, and I knew why it had happened. The only thing that was on my mind was the one simple, horrid truth: I killed him.
"Keep her under watch. We don't want any repeats of this."
Life is a cruel, merciless master with no concept of empathy or love. I've always known this, and the last few months only heightened my understanding of it. The world is a fucked up place, and no matter how much we might want it not to be, it still is. I could cry over it, curse life over it, or do nothing but ultimately the results would remain the same.
I was sitting on the generic white bed in the padded room as I waited for my food to come. Many thoughts flew through my mind, but there was one that kept cropping up time and time again.
"Why?"
Because you're a useless, worthless, selfish little bitch who only considered her own pain.
"How was I to know that he'd do this to himself?"
Does it really matter? Your hands have his blood. If you'd known that he'd go through with it, would you have said something different?
"Yes."
Then you're a horrible, horrible person if the only motivation you have to stay your tongue is to keep him for yourself. That's selfishness, not compassion. If your only reason for taking care of those you 'love' is that they'd be taken from you, all you are is a greedy little cunt.
"I didn't know!"
Yes, you did know. You can hide from it, say it wasn't your fault. But you and I both know that it was. Hell, you made this! He was probably close to the edge as it was, and instead of helping him through you told him to go through with it.
"I didn't mean it like that."
It sure as hell came off as if you did. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that it's true.
"Okay, then what the fuck am I supposed to do?"
Well, I would say for you to jump off of some bridge and drown yourself like a sake of worthless blind kittens, but unfortunately, you can't do that. By the time they release you, you won't be hearing me anymore.
"So then what?"
Just shut the fuck up and go to sleep. It'll be better come tomorrow...
I couldn't argue with the logic of it, so I said goodnight to my alter-ego and curled up in the bed they'd provided me with. As an afterthought, I ripped my clothes off and tossed them aside for no particular reason. Why the fuck not? Not like they could stop me, and it was my only form of rebellion for placing me in a padded cell. Let's see how many boners they could grow. It's not like I'm an exhibitionist or anything.
At that, I drifted from consciousness and entered the wonderful world of fucked up dreams.
The surrounding dreamscape seemed rather odd. Everywhere seemed to be centered around the mass of random objects and landscapes. Everything was rather dark and twisted, much like a darker, more depraved version of Wonderland (eat your heart out, Alice), it seemed. I would've been rather surprised if the Cheshire Cat didn't show up at some point soon. I wasn't actually that far off.
"Greetings, Shiloh."
I wheeled around, trying to distinguish the source of the voice from the surrounding ethereal chaos. "Hello?" I asked, ignoring the fact that I was probably just asleep and talking to my self, my new friend 'Mr. Straight Jacket', or something else as utterly stupid as that. Oh, it would be really entertaining to watch a hot eighteen-year-old writhe in her sleep completely butt naked while she muttered pleasantly at nothing. (Yeah, I know what you're thinking you pervs.) Everyone's heard that that's the first sign of madness, but I really could care less about it at that moment.
"I've been waiting for you, Shiloh. I've been watching you for quite a while now, and at long last we have met."
I basically just ignored the fact that he just admitted to watching my body for the last few hours. That voice sounded oddly familiar, like something I'd heard on Star Trek before, and while it may belong to just another stalker, my curiosity outdid my sense of propriety. Not like I really had any anyways. Deciding not to make any assumptions, I tried my best to locate him. (I was pretty sure it was a him.) I think I pinned it as reminiscent of Q, though. Maybe it was just my mind playing tricks on me, but I might as well have followed along with it anyways.
"Okay, but what exactly is it that you're wanting with me?"
"Straight to the point, I see. That's something I've always liked about you. You never bother with all the fluff and hype, simply reacting to the situation with the best of your skill and cunning. It somewhat reminds me of myself, at least in my younger days. But those times are long past and gone now."
"And it's that same cunning that lets me know that you're stalling. Can you cut the shit and show yourself?"
"Oh, so you still have some fire in you! I like that, among other things."
"Can it, Casanova. My tits aren't that spectacular."
"You're such a spoilsport sometimes, you know that?"
A tall strange-looking creature descended from a nearby staircase that I could have sworn had not been there only moments prior. He seemed almost like a patchwork concoction from the left over parts that God hadn't been able to use anywhere else beforehand. Seriously, it was like he got sloshed and decided to slap together everything from the lost and found box. There were many draconic features on his body, but it seemed largely smoshed with equine parts and a goat's antlers. Seriously, who the fuck came up with this thing?
"Forgive me, Dearest. I sometimes forget that you are unaware as to what I am. Most people would recognize me much quicker, but I suppose you don't exactly have any experience in my world. My name is Discord, milady."
With a courteous bow, he took my hand in his grip and gave it a gentle kiss. I didn't know who this creature was, but he seemed to be a bit of gentleman, to me at least. He was certainly a flatterer, which as long as it was directed at me was rather good in my book. He slowly rose from his kneeling position, and met my gaze evenly. There was something rather noble in his eye, and something seemingly half mad. It was almost like talking to the saner side of Sheogorath.
"You still haven't answered my question, Discord. What are you doing here, why do you know of me? What do you need of me?"
The draconic lord peered into my eyes, taking in everything, perhaps even my thoughts and soul. It would almost have been disturbing if I hadn't felt somewhat trusting towards him. He was a stranger to me, I knew that, but at the same time there was almost a sense of familiarity between us, as if we'd known each other for ages.
"I suppose I'll answer those in a more maneagable order. I know of you because I've seen many humans in my time as stone. One of the people I saw was a young girl who had a rather interesting life and an inquisitive, judging eye to the world. She was like many other children I had seen, and yet there was something about her that drew me to her. I'm sure you understand perfectly well who I'm referring to. As for the second question, it's a little more complicated than that.
"My role in my world is to maintain a sense of order to the chaos of the world. I am, in a sense, the Lord of Chaos, and it has ever been my task to balance off the sense of order that others have needed to create. View it as a sort of organized chaos, as it were. Someponies have hated me for it, and others have viewed my mischievous intentions as paramount to evil. But that is neither here nor there, I'm afraid to say. The real issue is not about me, nor Equestria, nor anything else of my world, really.
"I've felt a disturbance in the order of my world, and it feels truly evil. I'm not speaking of mere rapists, murderers, or zealots. They all have their reasons, and there's still good mixed in with the bad. Even King Sombra had some intentions other than pure butchery. No, I ran into this being myself at one point. I couldn't see it, nor could I sense what it really was. But there was one thing I felt there, one simple flaw. It was viscious, it simply oozed malice and hatred. I was afraid, Shiloh, frightened in a way I'd never been before."
The creature looked into my eyes imploringly, like something grasping desperately for straws. I'd heard of this state before, even seen it myself once or twice. It was like a man about to fall down into a deep chasm with only a tuft of grass to hold onto. There was only one word to truly sum up what he seemed to be: Desperate.
"That is why I'm here, Shiloh. I've been looking for someone to help me, anyone. And you were the first one that came to mind. My world lives in a constant state of black and white, never erring from the directed path. I need someone who has a bit of perspective in dealing with the unseen."
"But what makes you think I'm equipped for the task?" I asked. It was rather flattering to think that he might be looking for me as a solution to his problems. Or just too damn desperate to do otherwise. Besides, how do you know that he isn't just a figment of your imagination? I decided to stifle the thought. Maybe it was true, but I wasn't going to let a potential threat to good people go unstopped because I wasn't certain it was real. What defined real anyways?
"So where do I come in?"
"I need you to mold into Equestrian society, to try and spot any such entity wherever it is. I would approach another established pony from my world, but they have no experience in spotting domestic threats. It's been a long time since the last execution due to treason for a reason. I need your help, not theirs."
"But aren't there better qualified people than me to do this?"
"Yes, but they all lack something you have. I can't quite place a finger on it, but there's something in you that I have yet to see anywheres else. I would explain the whole situation to you, but I know basically no more in this matter than you do."
"So let me get this straight, you want to take me to this world of yours and look around for something that neither of us understand and somehow blend in while doing so?"
"Yes."
"And how do you plan on making me fit in?"
"By turning you into a form that already exists in my world, of course."
I pondered this for a few moments. Was this really a good idea? No. Of course, was there really anything left to leave behind either? I didn't bother answering that. Besides, this may well have been a dream, right?
"Okay, I'll do it."
"Good. You have no idea how happy that makes me feel."
Maybe I don't want to...
"Now hold still, this will hurt a lot, I'm afraid."
He couldn't have been farther from the truth. It didn't just hurt. I felt my very essence tearing apart at the molecular level, and there was no anesthesia to lessen the agony that flowed through. I could almost feel the spiders crawling down my throat as I drowned in a pool of arachnids as they tore my innards into beef shavings. Let's just say it hurt like a bitch. With that, everything mercifully faded to black.
"C'mon, Shiloh!"
We ran through the grass at Madison Square Park, the cool morning dew brushing against my young feet as we ran barefoot. It was a rather nice Saturday morning, and spending time with my parents was always a pleasant break from the monotony of daily life in the major city.
Playing tag with your parents is very enjoyable to any eight year old girl, and this was no exception. We ran through the grass, enjoying every moment we had together. Time was in limbo, ignored by all parties for the sake of simply enjoying the gentle breeze and affectionate relationship transpiring.
As the day passed by, we enjoyed every moment as it passed by, leaving a trace of joy on our lips even when we left the park. It was one of the finest days in my life, and it held with me ever since. There was no way to forget what true joy and love is, and no reason to.
"Can you pass me the screwdriver, Shi?"
Without taking the time to answer, I handed my father the flathead he needed. The red-handled tool found its way into his big greasy hands from underneath the car. We had been working on it all morning, and were now both sporting gritty hands and clothes, but that didn't matter. My father and I had always enjoyed working on the older classics together, and over time we'd formed a bond from it that words can't really describe. I turned my attention back to the distributer I was fitting so that the firing system could work properly again.
This particular model was a 1969 Camaro Z28, both his and my personal favorite. We'd been working on classics for a while now to keep food on the table, and there were many opportunities to take a look at different classic cars. And yet that particular model was still as enticing as it had been when I had first worked on one at the age of eight, a good ten years ago. I sighed contentedly as I finished placing the distributor in place.
"Hey, Dad?"
"What, Shi?"
"Do you think..."
"Hmm?"
"Do you think we can maybe start saving up to, I don't know, keep one of these?"
He laughed good naturedly at that remark. I started to move on to the carburetor when he said, "Sure, Shiloh. Maybe some day we can save up enough to both get one, and then we can have a little drag race down old Greenville Road, eh?"
My heart started to pick up pace at just the mere thought of all the exhilaration of driving down that clear road in a bucket seat, clutch in hand, the good old Chevy 350 roaring as my foot slammed the pedal to the floor. There would be a moment of waiting as the car burned rubber, accompanied by the smell that goes with it, and then I'd be off, picking up from 0 to 100 mile per hour in mere seconds...
"Um, Shiloh?"
"Huh?"
"You're drooling."
I looked down at my work shirt, spotting globs of slobber running down from my chin to stain said shirt in a rather embarrassing manner. "Uh...hehehe. Sorry."
"Nothing really wrong with that. I did the same thing before my first race. Man, that was a long time ago."
I noticed that he'd pulled himself up from under the car, and realized that he'd probably finished changing the brakes. It was good enough timing, considering the fact that I was just now putting the air filter back on. Wiping my hands on a shop towel, I carefully closed the hood. Taking a step back, I looked at the regal beauty before me.
The Camaro had a beautiful finish over it, a sleek silver coat with twin black racing stripes over it. There were black bucket seats inside to help the aspiring dragster to speed down the highway, and the entire vehicle had the look of great care and maintenance. But that wasn't what really mattered.
Underneath the hood sat the monster that we'd just spent the last ten hours fixing up. The Chevy 350 may be a small block, but it sure was one hell of one. With the gearing and trany that we'd installed, this thing could easily hit 160, if not better, in mere seconds. The gas mileage probably sucked, but who gives a shit anyways?
"Dad?"
"Yeah?"
"That's fucking beautiful."
"Yeah, and it's yours."
If there'd been any water in my mouth in that moment, I'd have taken a total spit take. As it was, I was probably going to pass out from the oncoming orgasm at just the idea of it. The world started to spin at the awesomeness that stood before me. And it was mine, all mine. Not to lose my head about it, I still managed to go through the motions.
"What?"
"It's yours, Shi. You don't think I'd really let your 18th birthday go by without a surprise, do you?"
Without even thinking about it, I rushed forward and literally glomped him in the biggest hug I could around his neck, pulling him tightly and almost screaming into his ear, "Oh thank you, Daddy! Thank you, thank you!"
I pulled back, looking up into his now tear filled eyes. "Anything for my girl," he said, meeting my brown eyes with his soft blue. There was a joy brimming inside my chest at that moment like nothing I'd ever held. In a way, I wished that that moment would never pass. But it did, as all things do. Or more accurately, as all men do.
"Psyche!"
"What?"
He suddenly keeled over laughing as he drew away, his sturdy frame shaking with mirth. "Oh Shily, I can't believe I caught you with that!!" Suddenly, my chipper mood faded like oh so much broken glass. For a moment tears started to fill my eyes, but the sadness quickly gave way to annoyance.
"Ah, you fucking cunt!"
Gasping for breath, he looked up at me with tears from the sheer pain of his incessant laughter. "Chill, Shiloh. It's not like we can exactly afford to just keep one of these. At least, not quite yet. Don't worry, as soon as we can, we'll get ours."
Standing back up, he moved over to the nearby workbench and sat down, picking up the glass of water he had sitting nearby. I tried to keep a strait face the entire time, but that man had the ability to be a total prick and still somehow make me smile. I started laughing too, and that kept him at it for a few more moments before we finally calmed back down.
"Dad?"
"Hmm?"
"Don't you ever change."
"Changeling!"
The sound was odd to my ears as I heard gasps coming from around me. Slowly trying to rise on my legs, I attempted to shrug off the stupor from the transformation I had probably just gone through. What I didn't understand was why everywhere around me I heard screams as if everybody was being attacked.
I didn't expect the sudden sharp pain to rap against the back of my skull. The first thing to hit my vision in this world was a group of dancing stars, I shit you not. Taking a moment to clear my head I looked around, only to find myself surrounded by a group of stallions as they drew closer. I wasn't particularly expecting a society run by ponies, but what really surprised me was the manner in which the approached me. They were looking at me angrily, as if I were some sort of beast or monster.
Rather than waiting to get hit with something else, I did the only thing I understood how to do. I tried to run. I made it an entire four feet before promptly falling on my face, a bitter, coppery taste filling my mouth as I bit down on my tounge. That was all the chance the stallions around me needed before they managed to tackle me. I felt immense pain as the pummeled me mercilessly with their hooves. I suppose this was a good "Welcome to our World, Bitch" greeting if I ever saw one.
I was in a daze as they dragged me into some type of building. It was odd, feeling both near and far off at the same time. I was in pain, there was no denying that. But it felt distant, more like someone else's suffering. That's all I could really think about that. It was really strange, all considered.
The pair of stallions that had so unceremoniously dragged me into the building dropped me in just as much of an uncaring manner. Well, I supposed that I'd entered world not really that different than mine. Just my luck, I supposed.
"Triumvir, we've found another one of these bugs inside our walls."
"I noticed."
"What should we do with it?"
"Dispose of it, immediately. I wanted those things erradicated months ago. I thought you said the attack on the hive was successful?"
"As you wish, my Lord."
With that, the pair of stallions heaved me up rather roughly before I could even take stock of where I was. If I hadn't been nearly delerious from the prior beating, I would have been worried at what they intended to do with me. As it was, I was rather unconcerned with my own fate at that moment. They pulled me towards the door, my limbs dragging on the ground in a rather demeaning manner.
"Wait!"
"My Lord?"
"Bring it over here."
They did as instructed, and I soon found myself slumped over in front of yet another blob of a stallion. He seemed to be assessing my physical state when he suddenly stood up and directed his underlings to leave the room. They complied of course, leaving me alone with the man, or in this case stallion, that had nearly wished me dead.
After several moments, my vision started clearing, and I took stock of my surroundings. There was a simple desk nearby with some archaic scrolls sitting on top of it. It was rather plain, and seemed to fit its use well. Nothing much aesthetically, but it was useful. My gaze drifted over to the stallion, my eyes focusing at last. "Who are you?" I muttered.
"I am Lord Lucius Vorenus, Triumvir and leader of the Northern Legion of Equestria. Perhaps the more relevant question would be who are you?" the stallion asked. He seemed to be aged somewhere around his middle years, though it was hard to tell considering what species he was. He had a lightly colored alabaster coat with a black mane that cascaded loosely down the side of his neck, cropped suddenly somewhere around the shoulders. A sloping horn topped his head, which was more than enough to state as to what exactly he was. The stallion held himself well, he was obviously trained for war.
"You can call me Shiloh, my Lord," I replied, lowering my head in a submissive way. It would take an idiot not to recognize power when you saw it, and I was no idiot. "I still don't know how I got here, and I apologize for any manner in which I have offended you."
Lucius seemed to lighten up some at that statement. He seemed to gaze over my body for a few moments obviously sizing me up much as one would assess a potential threat. After a moment, he seemed to relax, coming to the conclusion that I probably was in fact benign.
"While as a leader of my station, it would be foolish for me to trust you, you in no way act as others of your race have. Please, sit," he said, moving to behind his desk in a relatively lax manner. And by lax, I mean that he didn't look quite so ready to rip my head off at the shoulders as he had a few minutes ago. He took a seat, motioning for me to sit across from him.
"Most of the subjects in this Empire would be more hesitant to trust your kind, but I have long ago decided not to judge by appearance. Celestia knows, I learned that the hard way. Tell me, what exactly are you doing so far from your hive?"
"Hive, sir?"
He looked suspiciously at me for a moment, before chuckling lightly. "I would have pinned you for a spy were you not so blatantly horrible at it. Your pretending to be ignorant as to what a hive is makes it quite clear to me that you are in fact sincere. No spy worth his or her salt would ever try to feign ignorance to such common knowledge. Besides, you don't look quite like most Changelings. So I'll tell you this now, who are you really, and what exactly are you doing here?"
"If I told you, sir, you'd never believe me."
"I beg to differ. Besides, I have a lie detecting spell. You just tell me how, right at this moment, and I'll know the truth of it. No matter how improbable the truth, I'll believe it more readily than a plausible lie. Now, please, do tell."
I was already beginning to like this guy. Perhaps he was a little bit crusty around the edges, but no matter the case, he was at least up front about this. With that, I began to tell him as to what I really was, and why I was there. At first, he smirked, thinking it nothing but a fairy-tale. After he checked me with his horn, searching for the lies, his amused expression quickly changed to one of shock, before turning to that of neutrality. With that, I told him the rest of the tale, his face remaining stony and firm the whole time.
"That...is not what I was expecting."
"I didn't expect it to be."
"You're right, Shiloh, I wouldn't have believed a word of that without this spell...To think, such mythological beasts really have roamed the Earth." He looked up at me, his bright blue eyes meeting my own. He seemed to ponder as to what to do next for a moment, before promptly drawing a conclusion.
"I trust you, Shiloh. I don't know why, but I do. As to what the next step shall be, I need to send a message to her Majesty and see as to what she wishes done with you. For now, you are to remain on these grounds, confined to your quarters for the time being. "
"Quarters, sir?"
"As you have obviously done nothing wrong, I shall not keep you locked up unjustly. We need to detain you for the sake of security, but as long as you comply, I see no reason to keep you in a cell. I'll have my steward place you in a room for now, and we shall see how the Princess reacts," he replied, looking at me impassively. "Don't get your hopes up yet."
With that, he led me to the door, opening it and motioning me to leave. He directed one of his guards to lead me to a room, and turned around to head back into his office. Lucius looked over his shoulder for a moment, meeting my gaze before closing the door behind him. The soldier led me down the corridor, straight to wherever it was that the Triumvir had directed me. As I entered my new room, I knew that I was in for a long wait.
Treading on Glass
The morning sun was gently starting to beat down through the trees in Central Park. The trees bore the softer greens and that slight touch of gold that signaled the end of summer. People walked down the paths in the bright, peaceful morning light with smiles on their faces. The beautiful summer day had done its work. Near the center of the park, several pairs of men and women sat around on a ring of benches, all of them focused intently on their various games of Chess and Backgammon in the same way that the mighty generals of old would focus on the battlefield before them.
I sat among them, watching my own board just as intently as the rest of them. My father sat across from me, watching me carefully judge my next move with a slight smirk on his face. I still had yet to beat him at any point in my life, somewhat understandable when you considered how old I was. For a seven-year-old child, I was doing remarkably well.
"It's your move, Shiloh."
I got this!
The board sat in front of me, a mystery that I still couldn't fully grasp. Why was I even loosing? I'd opened the game beautifully, trying my best to maintain center board control while I managed to create the traditional King's Indian Defense that had become somewhat of a calling card for me over the last few months since I'd begun to learn the game. I had put everything in order, even pushing some of his forces back almost methodically as I pushed for that ever illusive "Cheque Mate" that I'd spent so many games attempting to achieve.
"How did you...I had done everything perfectly!"
"Yes, you did," my father replied somewhat smugly. "You're still loosing."
The most annoying part was the clock ticking next to me. Why my father had always insisted on using that wretched thing was as much of a mystery to me as the way to defeating him was. It sat there, ticking away like no-one's business, pounding mercilessly into my skull. The worst part was in the fact that the moment I hit the button, my father simply moved a piece and hit it himself. He always seemed to know what to expect of me, and that meant that he had already planned out his move before I had even made mine. It was utterly infuriating.
"Doesn't mean I will loose, either. Daddy, how do you do it?"
He simply smiled at me. "Magic," he replied. "Now stop wasting your time, or I'll win by default."
I groaned in frustration before making my move. I put my bishop into place, lining up for that next move that could bring about that glorious win I'd been wanting. I smiled at my father, hoping against hope that I'd done something capable of giving him pause. There was no such luck, and my smile faded away as he moved his queen into place, forever trapping my king in that immovable position that every chess player fears to reach.
"Cheque mate."
I simply looked up at him in wonder. "Daddy, how'd you do that?"
"Simple, I left an opening for you to potentially win and let that distract you while I moved my knight in position near where my Queen would be to go for the 'mate'. It's really not that complicated."
I stood up, watching as he set the pieces back in their various positions inside the board, placing each one in its small velvet ribbon. Once he'd folded it up, we started walking further into the park. I looked around at the trees that lined the grassy fields and small hills that were spread throughout Central Park, everything leaving me in nothing short of wonder. Ah, the joys of early childhood.
"Shiloh, you've just got to stop being so focused on playing by the rules. Your play was brilliant for your age, sure, but you were nothing but predictable."
"Those plays are really well known, right? Momma always says not to fix what isn't broken."
"Everyone who's serious about chess already knows those moves and their counters. Your gameplay can often end up as nothing but a ritual at that point, both sides going through the motions as they go about the game. That's all well and good for a win if you're on the white team, but you were black. You cannot win that way when you play as the second to move, you know. Maybe it would've been better if you'd started thinking of things to do yourself."
"Oh...what?"
My dad let out a sigh, looking down at me. "You'll understand one day."
I smiled up at him before wrapping my little arm around his own. He looked startled for a moment, before returning the smile himself. It seemed to surprise him whenever he remembered that I was still quite young. I had quite the vocabulary for my age, something that most of my piers did not. Still, it was nice to spend some time with him. We continued to walk through the park, simply enjoying one of those mornings as any father and daughter should.
As we started nearing the edge of the park, the gigantic buildings that surrounded the place started to become more noticeable. I looked up at them, enjoying their towering size and intimidating features like I had every Tuesday morning since as long as I could remember. The pleasant Tuesday morning had always been somewhat special to me, that one time of the week when I could truly spend time with my father.
I looked over towards a gap in the towers when I noticed something. I tugged at my father's coatsleeves, trying to get his attention. He looked down at me for moment, before kneeling down and following the direction of my finger. I continued to watch it, my eyes tracking every moment.
"Why's that plane flying so low?"
That was the last thing that escaped my mouth before we watched it slam right into the north face of the northern tower of the World Trade Center. Even from Central Park, the view was very clear. The World Trade Center was the tallest thing around, so there was simply no missing it. My jaw dropped at the sight of the blast, watching in intent horror at that one moment where hundreds of people were killed nearly instantaneously. I stood in shock, grasping my father's arm as we stared at the sight fire and falling debris, some of which was still living.
My father slowly put his arm around me, pulling me into a hug as we watch the fires burning and the smoke rising from the side of the building. I didn't cry at the time, I was too shocked to even fully comprehend what had happened. I just stared and stared...We knelt there for quite a while, just holding each other as we watched the second one impact on the southern tower. We watched the people fleeing from the park as best they could, everyone panicking at what had happened. We watched the buildings fall.
"Daddy...why'd they do it? You know, on purpose?"
He looked down at me, and I watched as the man I had idolized my entire life started to break down and cry. He pulled me into an even deeper hug, gently rubbing my back as he openly wept into my hair. I hugged him back, still not fully understanding what had happened. We stayed there for a time, just keeping to each other as the world seemed to throw itself into chaos around us.
"I don't know, Shi. I just don't know..."
I sat up with a gasp, my mind reeling with one of the unwanted memories of my early childhood. It took a few moments for my mind to register the fact that I was no longer in my human body. Perhaps that was a relief, changelings seem rather incapable of sweating through their carapace. I stood up with a groan, taking a moment to look around me. I stopped almost immediately, taking in the sight of someone I had spent most of the day before considering how best to give a piece of my mind.
"Good morning, Shiloh."
Discord stood there, his perpetually smug expression forever plastered on his smarmy lips. I had to resist the urge to test out my new body on that stupid grin. I scowled at him, my indifferent mood being quickly replaced with one of annoyance.
"Good morning, Fuckface."
"Tut tut, that's hardly the way to greet a friend!"
I just glared at him. "Yeah, and sending your 'friends' into a specist world like this in the body of someone they absolutely despise totally is. Fuck you very much, Discord."
He simply chuckled. "If I could've sent you here in the body of a pony, I would have. It sure would've been a lot easy for me to not have to deal with the mess that this is creating. My magic, however, is chaotic in nature. I could no more choose what form you came in than you could choose what hand you'd get in a game of poker." His smug look faded for a moment. "Sometimes I've really come to wish that this were not the case..."
My scowl started to lessen as I took in what he was saying. As much as I'd have liked to stay mad at him, it really wasn't his fault that I came in the form I did. While righteous anger has its uses, there's no point at being angry with someone who didn't even intentionally harm you. Besides, he was just a little too likable as it was.
"So...what now?"
"Well, now you have to find a way to thrive in a society that absolutely hates your guts. No real challenge there, right? My best advice to you would be to try and find the Elements of Harmony. If anyone is tolerant of people other than themselves, it'll be them. They might be somewhat hostile at first, but give them some time and you can probably win them over." Discord looked down at me. "Anyways, I've got to go for now. You will be checked up on every now and again, and while I'm no longer technically considered a public enemy, it would be best if I wasn't here when they did. Besides, it wouldn't look good for you either."
As he turned to leave, I looked at him pensively. "Wait, so who are the Elements of Harmony?"
"Oh, just a few mares that are rather naive at times, but they mean well." He looked over his shoulder. "You could also consider actually learning your powers. There's a reason your kind is called a 'Changeling,' after all. For now, though, you're supposed to be 'confined to quarters.' Just try and be polite and things will come out okay in the end."
With that, the strange being before me snapped his fingers and disappeared in a poof. He was right in time; someone knocked on the door not moments later. With a bit of a push, I stood up and managed to make my way over to the door. The servant with a tray on the other side greeted me with that impassive look that I was soon to grow all too familiar with.
Apparently most ponies took the term 'confined to quarters' rather seriously, to my great chagrin. I was granted a small room on some back end of the castle, and the entire place was more than a little spartan in appearance. I was not permitted to leave, not even to use whatever excuse for a lavatory that they sported in this time era. No matter what I wanted or needed, I was to remain in that room. Hell, they even posted a pair of rather intimidating guards at my door. Were the fangs and black plates of steel armor really necessary?
It wasn't all bad, especially considering the state of my bed being something other than a generic wooden plank, or the fact I was given a decent meal three times a day. Medieval prisons were not nearly so nice, so I supposed that that was a plus. I could even request certain books from that gigantic library they had in the castle! I probably would've audibly squeed if it weren't for the fact that the whole thing was written in fucking Windings or some shit like that. I think that sighing started to become a habit somewhere around then.
My time for confinement also gave me a chance to properly adjust to my new frame, something that I sorely needed. While walking on all fours wouldn't seem like too much of an issue to anyone who'd ever crawled, it was a bit of a bitch to learn when your knee joints are essentially reversed. Needless to say, it was a good thing that I was by myself when I started mastering the art of faceplanting. I think I'd earned my doctorate in the subject by the time I got used to it.
That didn't last forever, of course, and I eventually grew accustomed to my new center of gravity as time went on. Being who I am, that wasn't quite enough, but it was a start. I practiced religiously on my balance, trying to learn not only how to walk and trot, but how to do so with grace and fluidity when I chose to do so as well. Considering the amount of time that I spent in that room, I started to get rather skilled at it.
They were, of course, kind enough to grant me a mirror for the sake of beautifying myself. I didn't even bother with that, especially considering the fact that I had no clue as to what 'beautiful' meant around these parts. Besides, I doubt that changelings were considered hot at even the best of times. The only thing I really found useful in that dull, reflective surface was the ability to see my new body as a whole. While I already knew a lot of it, being able to see it in a mirror could more than help.
I had already figured out that my frame was rather thin when compared to most of the ponies I saw, something I would prefer to call 'svelte' than 'anorexic', and I stood at roughly the same height as most of the stallions around me. My mane was a strong electric blue, standing out against my black carapace in a rather silky and luminescent way. I freaked out more than a little when I took stock of the holes that glared our at me from my wings, legs, and even my own horn. How a species could possibly evolve into something with all of those, I had no clue. Seriously, if there's a God out there, He's one fucked up creator.
What really surprised me were the eyes, a lustrous and somewhat predatory green that stared back at me through my reflection. They spoke of hunger, or an insatiable lust for food in a way that reminded me much of a locust. At the same time, there was a bit of a playfulness to them, something that didn't quite add up to the predatory gleam that seemed perpetually stuck within them. Still, those fucked up eyes made it clear to me why ponies didn't really like 'my' kind. It was far more like looking into the eyes of a starving wolf than that of an actual pony, and I knew that I was beginning to feel the predatory pangs that confirmed my suspicions.
Great, just what I need.
Every other day, some random officer would check up on me, and he'd look me up and down before turning to leave. I certainly saw neither hide nor hair of Lucius while I remained in my quarters, and it was starting to feel less and less like hospitality and more and more like imprisonment as the days continued to drag on. It didn't help that the few ponies I actually had contact with usually remained silent and impassive when dealing with me. "Fucking pricks," I'd mutter.
I was actually in the middle of staring at the timbers above me when a soft knock came on my door. I growled softly and stood up, trotting over to open it as usual. I was a little annoyed at being interrupted in my all important counting of the individual grains in the wood, something that I don't see any reason to be proud of. Days of remaining nearly stationary was doing wonders for my dour mood, so I opened it with a bit of a scowl on my face, starting to say, "What the fuck do yo-" before I realized that it was none other than Lucius looking back at me.
"She's here."
"Okay, now what?"
"Now you should prepare yourself for the most unpleasant half hour of your life," he muttered, turning around to leave. He started to trot away before stopping to look over his shoulder at me. "It has been arranged for you to arrive in the courtroom in an hour, so you'd best prepare yourself to deal with the might and influence of a Goddess."
"Thanks for inspiring my confidence," I responded darkly.
"Don't mention it," he replied, a hint of a smile touching the corner of his lips. "I try my best."
You fucking...
Saying that the next half hour would be hell for me was an understatement. I soon found myself dragged into a complete makeover at the hooves of some psychotic bitch of a mare who wanted to make me look a little less hideous for the purpose of 'preserving the mental state of her Majesty.' I shit you not, that was literally what she said! If it weren't for the fact that I wasn't born in this body, I'd probably have slapped her for that. I may have been raised as a bit of a tomboy, but a girl is still a girl, and such brazen comments like that were likely to make you loose some teeth.
"Hold still, Dear," she direct me, putting a fairly obvious emphasis on the word 'dear' like she meant something less cordial. She continued to untangle my mane violently, trying to make sure that the long blue strands were no longer plagued with knots as she prepared me for what must obviously have been somehow important to her. Apparently the ponies had yet to realize that their monarchs still take a shit in the same way that we do.
I held my piece, too busy worrying over what to say when I actually dealt with whatever monarch they thought actually moved the very stars themselves. For all I knew, they were right. After all, a world of talking ponies, unicorn magic, and strange monsters could likely create some truth out of what humankind would deem mythology, so I had no guarantees that this was the case. Top that off with the potential for the power necessary to control celestial powers being mingled with worship and adoration from every pony they have ever seen, and it wouldn't take much to realize that whoever this monarch was may have demanded nothing short of groveling in her presence.
Whatever the case may be, I couldn't bow down to some arrogant asshole that held such power even if she did have it in her to exterminate me. Once you spend enough time free in a nation that supports equality, groveling really just is not in your nature. Worrying wouldn't help given that I would be seeing her whether I wanted to or not, but that didn't stop me from doing so.
"You'll be fine, Dear," the mare next to me said, obviously having read the nervous expression that had flooded my face. "She's truly a kind spirit, so you don't need to be scared."
I looked at her surprised. "You know her?"
"Heavens no, Darling! Still, it doesn't take an intimate relationship with her to know that she'll be merciful. Why ever would she not?"
Because I look like something that might make a tasty snack out of a school of plump little foals?
"Well, maybe I'm just being nervous."
"It's perfectly fine, Dear. She isn't a bad sort, by any means," the pony beside me stated. "She may have to be harsh at times, but there's a reason that everypony loves her like they do."
I think it was at that moment that I let out a sigh of relief. I don't know what it was, but I was really desperate to have any reason to believe that I'd be leaving that chamber with my limbs intact. It would really suck if I got a firsthand experience as to what it felt like for those poor flies that my friends and I used to rip the wings off of as kids. Demented fucks, I know.
Once I was spiffed up and ready, I soon found myself led down one of the many marble halls of whatever place I was being detained at. Seriously, marble halls. Anyways, I found myself in front of the door to some type of throne room, probably reserved for royalty when they would happen to grace the halls. It didn't matter to me, though, given that I was preoccupied with trying not to make a scene by pissing myself before even getting a chance to see her majesty.
"Enter" was all I heard before the doors were opened by a pair of rather large, burly stallions in suits of some of the shittiest golden armor I'd ever seen. How that stuff protected them, I would never know. Maybe in a world of talking ponies, wearing armor might work for stallions the same way that metal bras worked for female warriors in videogames back home. But I digress...
As soon as I'd entered the throne room (if they call it that), I knelt down as instructed. I probably would've been sweating had I a set of glands to do so with. There was apparently some sort of clock in the room; I kept hearing the pendulum moving back and forth, steadily keeping beat like an old metronome.
"Rise."
I shifted my weight back onto my hind hooves, looking up to peer into the eyes of whoever was in front of me. My legs were really taking the opportunity to show off my nervousness, and I was hard pressed not to just to fall on my face at that moment. The sight I saw was more than a little shocking to say the least.
She was tall, very tall, and her white frame was thin and lithe, much like my own. Her wings were massive, and the horn that donned her head would've been more aptly called a 'lance' than anything else. Her mane flowed with softer rainbow colors, moving perpetually in some strange, ethereal wind that no one else could touch or feel. She was utterly awe inspiring.
At a glance, Princess Celestia turned to her guard to motion for them to leave. If she was at all surprised by anything about my, she was very good at hiding it. It was only after everybody else had left the room that she turned to really look at me.
"When I'd heard that a changeling of your kind was found in the middle of Ponyville, I was more than a little skeptical. Your kind never work on their own, let alone someone of your standing," Celestia stated, slowly approaching me. "Don't get me wrong, I trust Lucius implicitly. I expected you to be Chrysalis, however. As far as I knew, she was the only Queen left in the world."
"Queen, your highness?"
Celestia stared at me for a moment as if I were some unknown level of stupid. Maybe she'd give me a medal for it. The white mare walked up to me, taking everything in. After a moment, she gently smiled at me and asked, "May I take a look at your memories?"
Well that came out of left field.
"Uh, sure?"
"Thank you."
I felt the tip of Celestia's horn touch against my skull, gently caressing my head. I would've expected some sort of existential experience when she sifted through my old memories, but I guess not everything works the same way as it does in movies. A pity, really, I would've loved to have seen my own mind.
After a few minutes, Celestia pulled her head back and let out a sigh of relief. "That went better than I expected," she stated, suddenly smiling at me in a much more friendly manner. "I was worried that Lucius's spell had been thwarted, but apparently he was right. I'm sorry for your loss, Shiloh."
I didn't even consider the implications of that before saying a polite "Thank you" to the mare who'd just sorted through my memories like some kid's science project. On the other hand (or hoof), I probably wouldn't have done any different were I in her place. She had no way of knowing what I was without doing so, really. All things considered, it was probably for the best.
"Please, take a seat," Celestia said, pulling me out of my little reverie. I noticed her motioning to a nearby table, and I made my way towards it. The wood was of a rather dark oaken type, well kept and lacquered nicely. I took a seat across from her, keeping my piece until she had said hers. She waited quietly for me to take it all in.
Since the initial shock had worn off, I now had the opportunity to take in my surroundings properly. We were in some sort of make-shift throne room as I had figured, but it obviously wasn't the sole purpose of the room we were in. Just like with everything else in the palace, this room was intended as some sort of dining hall when not in use for court. There were a few long tables situated along the length of the hall, each using a series of chairs rather than the traditional benches for some reason that I failed to conceive. There were a few banners in places, and the entire place felt rather secure and homely. All in all, it was rather nice.
"So tell me, Shiloh, why have you come here?"
"Um, don't you already know that?" I asked, somewhat incredulous.
"I only gathered enough memories to tell if your story had been genuine or not. Some magi are skilled enough to thwart a unicorn's detection spell, but I have yet to encounter any even close to skilled enough to get around a direct mind-link like I performed with you. So please tell me, why are you here? How did you arrive? And why are you a changeling? Lucius told me a few things, but I'd rather gather the information directly from the source here."
I hesitated for a moment before diving into my story. Perhaps I'd have to work on a better way of saying it if I was going to get asked a lot. While I certainly wouldn't tell just anyone, there were probably a number of people who'd have the authority and motivation to ask. I watched for any reactions that Celestia might have, but she maintained a fairly decent poker face the entire time.
"That is...interesting. Discord is a good soul, though somewhat unpredictable. I'm not that surprised that he would play this card, all things considered. As with what he told you, I too have little evidence as to who or what this threat is. I honestly believe that this is just paranoia, but it is better safe than sorry, I suppose. Now to more relevant matters. I have brought someone with me for in the event that what you'd stated before was true."
With that, a golden aura surrounded Celestia's horn. The air started to shimmer about ten feet away from her, and the illusion spell she'd cast earlier dispelled. Standing where nothing but open air had been only moments earlier was one of the ugliest, most fierce looking predators that I had ever seen.
It stood at about the height of the average mare, holding itself rather nicely and with perfect posture. The eyes were blank blue orbs, resting lifelessly in its skull like balls of pure stone as it seemed to take in everything at once. The gossamer wings on its back didn't quite look slimy, but damn was it close. When it opened its mouth to smile, large fangs and razor sharp teeth glared back out from its open maw.
"Shiloh, this is 3Be-26, a former member of part of a branch hive of Chrysalis's. She's been under my employ for more than a decade now in secret, and I figured that it would be best if she spent a couple weeks to get you up to speed on all matters changeling related. Her pony alias goes by the name of Winter Morning, so you may use that when talking to her."
I stared at the changeling for a moment before collecting myself. So this is what ponies see in me... I stood up and trotted over to the creature before offering my hoof. The young 'mare' gently shook it before quickly transforming into a white mare with a frosty blue mane. "Pleased to meet you, Shiloh," she said.
"You two had best get acquainted, because you two are essentially going to spend the next month together." Celestia smiled at me, a comforting smile that made me feel a little more at ease. "Don't worry, Shiloh. Everything will be alright."
Everything will be alright...
"Tantum illud vos rogo, ut debet recogitare meum-"
"Dixi vobis iam dixi, cives, quod propositio vestra, temeraria ad optimum. Non possum ferre per quod et debent inde declinare tuus offero. Discedete, Senator."
The old mare turned to leave as directed, ending the session for the day. Lucius rubbed his eyes as he stood up. The entire court process was a truly tiring affair, and he had no love of doing so. Were it not for the vox populi, he would probably have retired years ago.
The aging stallion trotted slowly out of the room, leaving directions to a nearby servant to prepare a bath for him. The Triumvir followed after, putting on a mask of strength to hide his exhaustion. As he headed to the baths, he did his best not to let down his guard. Such was the life of a Lord of his station.
Once his personal balnea was prepared, Lucius settled into the water, letting out an audible sigh as the tension in his large shoulders was released. A cute young mare took her position behind him and started to message him into the deeper portions of his muscles. The entire room smelled wonderful as the best perfumes in the region were put to good use. While the duties of a Triumvir may be taxing, the benefits were wonderful.
"Bring me my son," Lucius directed a nearby servant, before promptly relaxing back into the treatment he was being given. While he was not yet an old timer, he was getting past the point of middle aged life, and these baths were becoming longer and more frequent as time moved on.
"You called, Father?"
"Yes, my Son," the elder stallion replied, not even bothering to open his eyes. He remained silent, waiting for his child to speak up and inquire as to why he had been summoned. It was something that had always irked the lad, and an heir to such a position as his should not be so easily annoyed. The younger stallion let out a soft sigh.
"Why have you summoned me, Father?"
"An excellent question, Lad," Lucius said, opening his eyes to look over at his son. The younger stallion was well into his twenties, and he too sported an off white coat much like his father's. His mane, however, was of a much lighter shade, keeping a blonde hue as compared to his father's black. He was built much like his father, but was not quite tones as well due to his incorrigible laziness. Lucius snorted at that.
"I have called you down here, Blueblood, to talk about your incessant use of a title of ours that is practically irrelevant."
"This again, Father?"
"Yes, this again. The term "Prince", while perfectly valid and entirely within your right to use, is not something to be trifled with."
"You've said this many times before, Father. Do you think I have so suddenly changed my mind?" Blueblood replied, looking down at his relaxing father with something much akin to a base sneer. The elder stallion let out yet another sigh, something that sadly has not set a record.
I swear that colt is the reason I'm graying at the temples...
"I understand that you have not changed your mind, and that you probably never will. I will, however, harass you about it until you do." Lucius stood up, trotting over towards his child with a scowl forming on his face. "Quite frankly, you embarrass me, Blueblood. Do you think that title was just given to our bloodline for no reason? Do you think we just run around flashing it about to reel in whatever mare we see like it is but a plaything?!"
Blueblood was obviously trying not to smile as he saw father growing flustered yet again. Lucius noticed this and snorted. "Do you honestly think that trying to anger me will get you anywhere? You're a disgrace to the family, and you know it. I have never done anything half-ass in my life, and I always thought I could succeed at anything. Apparently not, I am a sorry excuse of a father for you to have sunk this low."
That caused the younger stallion to scowl, his face turning from smug to angry at his father's blatant insult. He tried to stare his father down, but the elder was far more experienced at dealing with such contests of will. The older stallion continued, not taking his solid, unmoving gaze from his son's as he spoke.
"I am ashamed of you, and were she still alive, your mother would be as well."
"Don't you dare fucking talk like that!" Blueblood hollered, jumping on top of his father in an instant. The younger stallion started wailing on him, his hooves slamming forcefully into his father's body, trying to force the elder to the ground. Lucius simply threw him off before straightening up to face his son. What he did not expect, however, was for Blueblood to recover so quickly. The young stallion struck him across the muzzle with his forehoof, sending his father reeling.
Lucius was no stranger to the odd brawl now and again, even in his position. He shifted his weight from hoof to hoof, waiting for his son to approach him. Blueblood did just that, charging him head on like a freight train, ready to do some real damage. A small smile touched Lucius's lips before he sidestepped his son, watching as he fell into the hot-tub.
Blueblood promptly found himself being dragged out of the water before feeling several successive strikes on his face, leaving his head spinning as he tried to re-orient himself. The younger stallion calmed down enough to realize that he was wasting his time, so he simply hung his head in defeat, trying not to sob.
The Triumvir wiped a forehoof across his muzzle, noticing a thin streak of blood on it as he turned to face his son. "Look at you! Sitting there sniveling like a little foal!! At your age, you should have been able to wipe my ugly ass all around this room like a mop! Instead, you barely managed to make me bleed, something that is really not that difficult at my age. You wonder why I am ashamed of you? It's because you run around playing 'Prince' without even attempting to earn the right to say it!"
The stern look on Lucius's face dissolved a little. He trotted over to his son and pulled him into a tight embrace. "It's not really your fault, you know. It's mine," he said, wiping a tear away from his son's cheek as he felt his own welling up. "I-I coddled you for far too long. I just...I couldn't do it! Not after your mother died."
Blueblood looked up to meet his father's gaze, tears streaming down the sides of his cheeks. "Am I a bad pony, Father? I-I just..."
"Sh, sh, It's okay," his father replied, slowly rocking him slowly back and forth as they wept. "It'll be okay."
It'll be okay...
The double doors to the balnea suddenly burst open as an armored guard rushed in. "My Lord-"
"What is it?"
"We have an emergency! It's regarding the murders..."
