There's a Changeling On My Couch, and Other "Tails" From the Far North

by Super Trampoline

Rating: teen
Tags: Drama, Diamond Dogs, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Mystery, Other, Romance, Changelings
Length: 11393

Flashpan Alley saved Ereton Parallax's life. now she's bleeding on his couch. Conversation ensues. A collection of interconnected stories from the very, very cold mining colony of Sparkler

(dis)Like what you read? Tell me why! ~Super

"Solid Worldbuilding" ~totallynotabrony

High up in the mountains and clouds, across the ocean and The Greater Marigold Ley Line, Earth, Pegasi, and Unicorn ponies eke out a living mining rare gems in the town of Sparkler. These are their stories.

Chapters are written out of order, then inserted into the correct chronological order, at least for now.

Rated teen for a few swear words and ponies being mean to each other, as well as a very brief and passing reference to sex.

Feel free to ask any questions in the comments section, or tell me how much you love/hate/are apathetic about it. Also feel free to suggest side stories. I have the plot of the whole arc figured out, but I'm working out the details as I write each chapter.

No, this story isn't dead.

Published 2013-09-16 09:10:02 UTC
Last updated 2014-04-01 04:56:47 UTC

Chapter 1: Sea Wagons

Chapter 1: Sea Wagons

It was a dark and stormy night, and the moon was full.

This was really rather unsurprising, to be honest. Nights tend to be dark, and if the Equestrian moon wasn’t full, there was a serious problem. And as for the storm, well, what do you expect when you are sailing over the Greater Marigold Leyline?

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

Large Version

Magic subduction Zone (M.S.Z.) was the technical term for the phenomenon all the little colts and fillies learned about in geography class. To mainlanders, that’s about all it was: a far off novelty of little importance. But to those who dared to travel to and from the colonies, it instead ranked somewhere between highly disconcerting and slightly terrifying.

Imagine if you will, having just eaten an exceptionally satisfying meal. Now imagine the sensation of having all that yummy food sitting in your stomach over the course of a few minutes steadily just… disappear. It wouldn’t be painful persay, just well, weird.

Now, imagine this happening to your magic. Only, instead of happening in a few short moments, you could feel it coming and then occuring over several laborious hours. Earthens feel their strength being sapped. Pegasi cease to fly. And unicorns get the worst of it, being rendered rather useless. They also are the ones who tend to need the barf bags.

Autumn Leaves and Sea Swirl were bored. Two unicorns, married three years ago, now immigrating to Sparkler from the mainland. They came in search of adventure and with the promise of a nice cushy government-bank rolled job in the mines divining for gems. But right now the only thing they were finding was boredom. Despite all the hype, magic subduction zones weren’t exactly dangerous. Sure, the storms kicked up by the magic turbulence could be quite fierce. But these long haul trade ships such as the one they were currently on, the HMS Mahogany Dawn, were pretty large and sturdy, and the ponies who operated them were nothing if not experts. There was always wind, so with careful and frequent sail changes, they actually traveled faster there than with coal alone. But once one got over the novelty of being magicless, it was mostly just tedious.

As the two unicorns hunkered down in their cabin, their talk turned towards the future.

“So, hon, what are you most and least excited for once we get there?” Autumn asked her husband, trying desperately to escape the mildly nauseating sloshing of the seas.

“Well,” said Sea as he cuddled up next to her in bed, “I’m not looking forward to the cold, that’s for sure… BUT! I am very much looking forward to exploring a new land with my Leafy Weafy.”

“Mmmm, good answer,” she replied, nipping playfully at his neck. “You know, since we’ve nothing much to do right now, I think,” her voice lowering a little, “we could do some ‘exploring’ of our own.”

A suddenly very aroused Sea Swirl whispered in her ear “I like your style Autumn.”

So they danced the dance of life.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

That evening, a foal was conceived. They didn’t know it then, but as the eddies and rapids of magic flow swirled around their entangled bodies, what should have been a unicorn became instead an earth pony, and Flashpan Leaves came to be. In time, he would do great things.

Chapter 3: Can Phil Collins Orchestrate This Too?

Pen Stroke grumbled as he grabbed for the next stack of papers with his magic, wondering which of his past sins had caused him to deserve this. It wasn't that he hated his job, in fact he was quite fond of it. He only hated doing it. The adoption department of child services was a shining example of bureaucracy and red tape. He understood of course - adopting a child is serious business. But he couldn't help but wonder whether it was a several-hundred-pages-per-case-of-forms-in-triplicate-and-notarizing-and-legalese level of seriousness. Still, the work must go on. After all, he was the adoption department of child services. In fact, he was child services. And he was bettering lives. One legal document at a time.

He really did love this part of his job, he told him self repeatedly as he grumbled over why his request for documentation of immigration had been denied by the local archives. He loved the smiles on the faces of the childless couple told they finally could have their own foal. He loved knowing that the baby abandoned by its parents wouldn't freeze or starve. He loved knowing that the desperate single mother had an option that didn't hurt quite so much as the others. But most of all he loved the happy tears from the fillies and colts old enough to understand what was happening, to see their faces light up as they realized that somepony would once more be there to love them. It warmed his heart.

Much, much harder though, was the next task at hoof today. The why's. For behind every adoption is a story, and usually an ugly one. This case he now had in his hooves was no exception. A young couple -neither even thirty yet!- dead from the recent dragon attack. With a one and a half month old son. Tragic. He remembered reading the newspaper article on them, Autumn Leaves and Sea Swirl, two unicorns with a bright future ahead of them. The survivors had praised them, saying that they sacrificed their own lives distracting the dragon so that everyone else could escape. And now they were dead.

But at least they left a gift for the world: Flashpan Leaves, a beautiful orange baby colt. Pen held up a picture he had been sent of the little earth pony. He smiled. Don't worry buddy. I'm gonna find you a home.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

Winter Heart was barren. It was simple. As much as she and her husband Flintlock Alley wanted to have a foal -and indeed they had repeatedly and with much vigor reproduced the actions normally required to concieve one- they simply couldn't. No number of tears cried or doctors visited or expensive potions consumed would change that. So they turned to adoption.

"So, you ready to go?"

"No. I'm mean yes. I mean I'm nervous."

"It's alright hon," Flintlock said to his wife. "I know it might seem embarrassing. But if you really want something, sometimes you have to go through some awkwardness to get it. And we really want a child. Right? So grab a scarf if you feel the need (Frankly it's not too cold right now.), and lets go visit the adoption place. I don't know what time they close on Tuesdays."

"All right All right," she replied, reaching over to kiss him lightly on the cheek. "Let's get going." And with that they strode out the front door.

It was a somewhat warm and mostly sunny spring late afternoon, as Winter and Flint strolled through town on the way to their destination. Snowstorms were becoming less frequent now, and only a few piles of the dirty snow were left here and there from the previous one. They manuevered around some colts playing in one of those piles ("Shouldn't they be doing their homework?" Flintlock mused.) as they headed toward their destination. It wasn't a long walk, but then again when you live in a town of twelve thousand, it usually isn't. It was only about a mile from their house to the business district, and even then that was only if they went the long way. Which they often did, because they enjoyed their nice trots together in the crisp spring air.

Soon enough, the buildings grew a little bit bigger and sturdier, though the tallest were still only three stories in height. Another minute of walking through downtown, and they found the nondescript grey brick building they were looking for. Flintlock reached out and knocked.

thock thock thock

A moment later, hoofsteps could be heard approaching the door, and soon it opened, with a lanky royal purple stallion behind it.

"Hello?"

"Uh, hello. We're ah, looking for the child services department," said Winter slightly tentatively.

The unicorn inside smirked. Which happened a lot since ponies said that to him a lot.

"I am the child services department," said Pen Stroke, with just a tiny dollop of smugness at their naïveté. "How may I help you?"

"Oh great!" the mare lit up. "That was suprisingly easy! So, um, I imagine you must be in charge of adoptions then?"

For a very brief moment, Pen's eyes grew wide, as a giant flashing neon sign screaming "PAPERWORK!" illuminated the interior of his brain. Fortunately the microburst of expression went unnoticed by the couple, and Pen cheerily responded, "Aye, that I be. Come in, let us talk." He motioned for the two to follow, and Winter and Flint eagerly filed into the building.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

...a nonspecific amount of time later...

"So it's really that simple?" Winter asked. "I expected, I don't know, more paperwork or something."

Pen tittered. "Oh there is Mrs. Heart. Trust me, there is. It's just that it's for me. I'm the one doing the paperwork. You're the one doing the adopting."

Flintlock spoke up. "You seem to really have a passion for helping these kids. Have you yourself adopted any?"

"I can take care of them for a bit, but I'm not the right stallion for the job. For one thing I hate changing diapers. Now I know that's normal. If you enjoyed changing diapers I'd be more than a bit concerned. But my point is that while, yes, I very much love kids, I'm rubbish when it comes to rearing them. I'm fine with that too: I'm just one solitary stallion in the larger scheme of life, and I am happy with my role as a stepping stone, a rest stop if you will. These kids' ultimate destinations are loving families like yours. Speaking of which, I have a photograph I just received which I would like to show you two."

He rummaged around his desk for a moment while the couple waited eagerly, then hoofed a packet of papers over to them. Paper clipped to the top of the small stack was a picture of a peaceful sleeping baby colt. His coat was orange and scruffy, his mane a dirty mahogany brown with occasional streaks of silver "He's beautiful," Winter whispered. "Whats his name?"

"Flashpan. Flashpan Leaves."

"Leaves?!?" She gasped. "He's not the son of ... oh my."

"Yes, I'm afraid those where his parents. But now he has a chance to have a new family. Winter Heart and Flintlock Alley, would you be interested in adopting Flashpan Leaves as your son?"

The couple looked at each other, then faced Pen and, despite having heard of the foal only a minute earlier, responded without hessitation.

"Yes."

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

Two weeks and lots of paperwork for Pen Stroke later, Flintlock and Winter stepped into their house, this time with a baby resting in one of Winter's saddlebags. Flintlock reached in and carefully grabbed the sleeping child, then sat on the couch, cuddling the colt in his forelegs. The baby looked up into his adoptive fathers eyes, and cooed. A single salty tear splashed down onto his stomach, and Flintlock smiled.

"Welcome to your new home, Flashpan Alley."

Chapter 6: Exposition Parkour

Chapter 6: Exposition Parkour

Chapter 6: Exposition Parkour

Like the city that sits upon it and the province that surrounds it, the mountain is not surprisingly called… wait for iiiiittt… Sparkler. Not a particularly original name, but it does the trick. Unfortunately, its origins are somewhat obscure. The great blizzard of 447 A.D.[1] effectively wiped out the city’s historical archives as well as ponies’ disposition towards caring about such trivialities as the genesis of a name when they  had bigger problems to worry about like the fact that half of their town and a third of their population was gone. But we can surmise that there are two equally likely explanations. One is that, given how Sparkler is both a fairly common surname and forename, it is not improbable that the region was simply named after one of the prominent members of the original seafaring expeditions which founded the colony. The other equally plausible theory is that perhaps those earliest founders simply found a lot of shiny gems.

Whatever the case may be, it can be confidently said that the mountain lives up to its name. Hard numbers are hard to come by, but any estimate of the wealth which has been drawn from its mantle must begin in the trillions of bits. Perhaps most impressive is that even after more than eleven hundred years of mining, production is in fact slightly increasing each year. Empires (Equestria aside) have risen and fallen, but the city of Sparkler continues to produce those ever so rare and shiny gems it is known for, year after year, decade after decade, century after century, millennium after mill… ok maybe that’s pushing it. But to say that it is firmly ingrained within its own little niche of the Equestrian economy is to speak words of truth.

Not to discount a plethora of improved mining techniques, but the main reasons for the peak’s continued fertility is simply its massive size. Standing 2045 SCs[2] high, it towers over the local landscape. The nearest peak even half that height is fifty seven miles away. The mountain stretches six and a half miles along the coast, and depending on who’s counting, perhaps three or four miles inland.

Predictably, there is a rotating restaurant and full service bar near the top. It even has a banquet room, which is hardly surprising, given that in 1336 (the most recent year for which statistics are available) a full seven percent of all weddings in the area were held there. The suspended cable cars that run from both sides of the base of the mountain to the top are one of the more impressive feats of modern engineering especially given the storms they weather, and the coal-fueled steam engines that power them are among the largest in the world. Of course, long ago diamond dog contractors dug tunnels bisecting the mountain, connecting the seaward and inland sides, but the gondolas are still a popular recreational destination. They also are a must-ride for the scant number of tourists who for some reason keep showing up.

There are few places on earth where pegasi play a more important role in controlling the weather. Perhaps controlling is not a fair term, for everyone knows who really is in charge. Being a high latitude oceanic mountain far away from any stable pony-bred meteorological systems, the weather here sucks, to state it plainly. The brave pegasi on cloud patrol don’t direct the winds and fronts as much as divert them. Most of the cloud structures surrounding the area are meant as air walls, or on bad days temporary buffers, and the only permanent cloud formations which are actually inhabited appear in limited numbers in the lower altitudes near the inland side of the mountain. Most pegasi live in more permanent abodes upon the ground.

The most prominent wind system is the Airhorn Express, affectionately named after the first meteorologist to study it in depth, Foghorn Airhorn. It is a local coastal wind, blowing in from the Marigold Ocean during the day, and flowing back out to sea at night. On the one hoof, damn if it isn’t chilly. But on the other hoof, at least it keeps the mosquitoes away. Of course, this pattern is often overwhelmed and ignored by the frequent storms which rear up from the sea, so to use a local expression, sometimes the “cool train ain’t runnin’.”

Winters, unsurprisingly, are cold. The record low, recorded in the dead of a winter storm 127 years ago at the top of the mountain, was negative 37 degrees Celsius. Fortunately, the winter temperatures tend to hover more around negative five to ten degrees at the base of the mountain. The inland side is consistently several degrees warmer, being warmed by the sun in the morning and having the mountain as a buffer against the storms. On the winter solstice, Celestia’s ball of fire is visible for only five hours, and inasmuch much of the cold season is shrouded in darkness.

Summers, unsurprisingly, are also cold. However, they are a lot less cold. Sometimes, if the local clouds and winds are cooperating, they may even flirt with the concept of being warm. The record high temperature, recorded in late August 53 years ago, was 31 degrees. Of course, usually summer highs are in the teens, and snow remains on the summit year round.

There are many alpine lakes dotting the landscape, though obviously only the bravest of ponies dare swim in their frigid waters. The western side of the mountain is rocky and fairly steep, rising up from the small strip of coastal plain in front of it. The eastern side, on the other hoof, is more gently sloping and vegetated, sheltered from the elements as it is. Here lies the marginally arable land where the farmers grow the hardiest of crops, assisted by their earthpony magic. Higher up the slope, forests cover the land in a beautiful verdant green. Higher still above the treeline lie alpine meadows, springing into a brilliant verisimilitude of a Jackson Fetlock painting during the brief summer. Near the aforementioned gondolas, there is a narrow ski slope, running the length of the mountain for residents to enjoy during the long winter months. Occasionally there is talk of holding the Winter Equestrian Games here, but the logistics would prove daunting to say the least.

Here and there on both sides of the mountain, thundering waterfalls crash down from the melting snowcap, leveling out first into rushing streams then later small, fast rivers that snake down the alluvial plains that ring the monolith. The largest, the Dolce Grande, bisects the western face of the mountain and the downtown of Sparkler City, flowing among the docks of the all-important port into the sea.

  As for the city itself, perhaps a dozen thousand ponies call it home, with another half that number scattered over the surrounding province. It is a small but always bustling and hardworking city. Though storms, flooding, fires, the occasional earthquake, and other natural disasters continuously buffet the town, through sturdy construction and perhaps a touch of unicorn magic the buildings remain remarkably resilient against the elements, and in fact there remains a quaint historic district where many of the buildings are over 400 years old. Here lies among other antiquities The Crusty Rusty, a bar with the distinction of having continuously operated for over 900 years! While few griffons inhabit the cold land, those that do almost all work in the boutique fishing industry. The rich cold waters off the coast supply much of the Griffon Empire with the fresh seafood its richer inhabitants crave. On the other side of the city, many of the diamond dogs which live here have dug their homes directly into the face of the mountain, some with passages directly to the mines.

Though most evidence of pony habitation on the other side of the mountain are the many fields and commercially-grown forests, those who wish to live away from hustle and bustle of the port and the mines also make their homes on the east. These smaller communities may be called suburbs, as it were, but though there are a few small markets and a doctor’s office located there, the body and heart of the population faces the coast. As one continues outwards to the north, east, and south of the mountain, settlement slowly and seamlessly blends (or peters out, depending on your point of view) into hilly forest and the great unknown. Thus completes our examination of the remarkable geography of Sparkler.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

Of course, Flashpan knew when his midterm geography test came around in the morning, half of the material on the study guide was simply going to transfuse out of his brain and into the surrounding air. He supposed it was his own bloody fault he waited ‘til half an hour before midnight to begin studying. Oh well.

Chapter 8: "Stuff"

Sparkler, like many of the Outlier Colonies, was both a city and a province. In many ways it could be compared to the main islands of Haywaii, in that it was large enough to have separate niches and pockets of life and activity, yet small enough that those bubbles were always woven together; large enough to get away from it all for an afternoon if you wanted, yet small enough that you could still be home in time for supper. In summation, Sparkler really was the perfect size.

        Flashpan bore this in mind as he trudged along the uneven path among the trees on the lower east side of the mountain. His hooves were tired, but he knew that he would reach his destination soon. Or at least he hoped it was his destination. With Wendy Skies, it was hardly a given, given her propensity for exploring and using her wings to do so. But Flashpan knew she was a traditionalist at heart, and so even if she often longed for new adventures, she still treasured the standards.

All this was to say he hoped to find her in her usual moping spot, because otherwise the last three hours of trotting and hiking were for naught. Fortunately, they were not for naught, for he got what he sought: A sulking pegasis sitting in a small shallow cave.

        How a pony greets others says a lot about him or her. Flashpan simply could have started with a plain “hello”. But that wasn’t his style, and he wasn’t going to let a salutation crimp his style. So he didn’t.

        “Hey, look who’s hiding out in a cave here, frowning at everypony she sees. What’s up girl?”

        Wendy Skies couldn’t help but giggle a little. Her faithful friend Flashpan, always knowing when to come cheer her up.

        “While I appreciate the obscure yet overused pop culture reference, I do hope you didn’t trot all the way over here just to deliver it?”

        “YES! YES I DID! I’M A FAILURE! WAHANGH HANGHHHH! No seriously though, what’s up?” Admittedly, Flashpan could be a bit immature at times.

        “Sigh… just, you know, stuff.”

        “Stuff?” the earth pony asked.

        “Yeah, stuff.”

        Flashpan scratched his head. Wendy wasn’t usually this evasive. Something must really be bothering her. “You want to elaborate hon? I’d like to help you with your problems, but you have to tell me what they are first.”

        Wendy sighed again. “It’s… my grandpa. He’s… I think he’s dying.” She said it cold, clinically, as if she had used up all her tears and fears about it that morning - which she had.

        The words came as a shock to Flashpan, though more for their impact that for their surprise. He couldn’t say he didn’t see it coming. The stallion she spoke of was sixty three after all - not ancient, but certainly not young. Everypony has strengths and weaknesses, and while the goddesses had granted her elder much cunning and wisdom, they had also cursed him with fragility.

        “I’m… sorry to hear that.” It was all he could say really, but it was all he needed to say. So she continued.

        “He talks of hearing voices, whispers, wailing noises in the night. I think he’s going delusional. He says they’ve told him his time has come, and that he’s ok with that. Maybe he is, but - b-but I’m *sniff* not. I don’t want to lose my grampy!”

        She was crying. So sitting in the small lukewarm cave on the east side of the mountain on a sunny summer day in the province of Sparkler, Flashpan did what he always did when he found his friend here crying. He sat down next to her and hugged her.

        Wendy Skies saw through her runny eyes that her friend had sat down next to her on the cool damp ground. She felt him wrap a hoof around her in support, and felt her own head resting against his barrel in return. It wasn’t a particularly hard cry -she had used up most of her worries already by the time Flashpan showed up- but it felt good just to sniffle and murmur into his fuzzy orange coat. He didn’t seem to mind. So she just lunged there, drifting peacefully off…

Flashpan Alley sat there with the sleeping young mare leaning against him, and while he wasn’t super duper comfortable, he was certainly content. There were few better feelings than being there for a friend. He was kind of thirsty and his saddle bag was sitting a few feet out of reach, but that could wait. So he just sat there.

        But as he sat there, he began to think about what she had said. Her grandfather’s time coming to an end? Wailing in the night? This was disheartening and… interesting. He would have to pay the stallion a visit. If only because it might be the last time he got to. And then maybe pay a second visit to the local library. Wailing premonitions sounded …oddly familiar? Huh. Oh hey, she’s waking up.

        “Have a nice nap sleeping beauty?” he asked, looking down at his fuzzy headed friend.

        “Who are you? Oh you must be Prince Charming, here to rescue me …  or … something?”

        The two shared a small laugh. “Come on Wendy, let’s get you home.”

~Dear Diary: I never understood why friendzone is such a derogatory term. Flashpan Alley is the best friend I could wish for.

~Wendy Skies

Chapter 14: Training Montage, Except A Montage Requires More Than One Scene.

Chapter 14: Training Montage

*IT* was  (fairly) unheard of. (sort of) Preposterous. (not so) Revolutionary.

But it was hardly surprising.

For the first time in 67 years, an earthen was apprenticing under a unicorn.

Yes there were challenges. Yes there were hardships. Yes there were....

"hmmmmm," Flashpan thought to himself. Need to follow the rule of three. "Yes there were... obstacles? Nahhh. ...were..."

"FLASHPAN!" Moody Blues yelled. "Click click,[1] 'Hello?' Break time's over. You can fawn over your autobiography later. Time to get back to work."

"Awwwww, ok. What ever you say coach." Flashpan sighed and put down the ink quill he was holding, not at all eager to get back to his drills. Well, he was sort of long term eager. Just not eager right this second.

"Come on kid," the gentle giant said. "I'll go easier on you this time."

Verily, Moody Blues was the epitome of the phrase "gentle giant". He was quite well constructed much like a draft horse; indeed his father had been in his time one of the main farmers in Eastside. But he was in fact a unicorn on account of his dainty mother's lineage, and a quite proficient one at that. Dark, midnight blue fur was accented by his long straight electric indigo mane which lithely draped his body; some said he looked the part of some otherworldly weeping willow tree.

His disposition was of a similiar nature: he gave off an air of quiet resignation which many mistook for moodiness, but was in fact merely deep contentedness. At 57 years, he was slowing down, but nopony really noticed, perhaps because he had always moved with a firm unhurried steadiness. He was usually droll, but it was a drollness that warmed you up, comforted by its lack of pretense and commotion. And most importantly, he had heart, and lots of it. All these traits made him one of the more popular basic magics teachers at Drumsticks High School, where he had spent the last twenty seven years educating impressionable minds [2]. These traits also acted as a counterbalance against Flashpan's natural excitability, and in fact though he would admit it to none but himself, Moody really did enjoy the fresh burst of energy he recieved three times a week from training his eager protege. It was relaxing to not have to put on airs of imperturbability for three hours, even if they were authentic ones. But we digress.[3]

In spite of his genteel nature, Moody Blues was not a softy, and his "I'll go easier on you this time," was relative. It generally meant something like 200 push ups instead of 250. In this case, it meant trying to levitate eight rocks at a time instead of ten.

"Come on sonny! Is that the best you can do? My grandma can levitate better than you and she's dead! Show some strength. Show some resolve. Show some pizzazz, some chutzpah!

Flashpan however, was struggling mightily to lift the small boulders. Sparks were flying from his hooves and his whole body was shaking and glowing."Your... (wheeze) grandmother.... was a.... (ugh) ... .... a UNICORN!! (gah!)"

He collapsed onto his stomach, the pieces previously hovering now falling aimlessly around him. "Too much... too much (pant)...work!" Despite the cool temperature, he was sweating profusely.

"Come on kiddo," Moody pleaded. "You can't just try to brute strength it. You gotta feel it in you. You have to flow with the magic, become one with it. Which is easier, to dam a mighty river, or to merely change its course, hmmm? That is what you must do. Do not try to force the magic to bend to your will. Bend your will to that of the magic force."

"Oy vey, sensei-Blues, do you have any idea how cheesy you sound?"

"Yes." A rare but knowing smile appeared on the lips of the tutor.

"Good just checking. Ok I'll try again. You have any rocks with a higher mineral content? My finicky earthen magic seems to respond better to those."

"Shall you always have your surroundings to your liking? If you can master your strengths even at your weakest, then the enemy shall have false confidence. Let your weaknesses become your strengths."

"You're enjoying this too much you know."

"I know Flash. Now levitate those rocks."

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~--~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

Such was the amiable relationship between master and student, and in time both grew wiser in the ways of sort-of arcane magic. And Moody Blues, whos own adopted (though for other reasons) son had long ago moved to graze in greener pastures, so to speak, felt the warm feeling of being a father again. He guided Flashpan Alley into discipline and determination, and the colt grew with earth pony strength and unicorn heritage. Though the skies were sunny for now, soon his powers would be tested...

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~--~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

Now as for his reading assignments...

"GUH this is *so** BORING! I'm a rock research intern and I think this is boring. Ughhh!"* Flashpan repeatedly slammed his head against the book in an effort to stave off a revolt by his gray matter against the harsh living conditions he was currently subjecting it to, namely, "this STUPID BORING BOOK!"

Chapter 14.5: Dinner for Two

Bonus Chapter: April 1st, Pinkie Pie Style!

Bonus Chapter: April 1st, Pinkie Pie Style

Flashpan awoke with a yawn and a sigh. Actually, it was the fifth time he had woken up that morning, but he figured he should only count actual attempts at getting out of bed, of which this was his first for the day. He looked over at the wall clock. “10:47” it read. “I’ve got to stop sleeping in,” he not-very-convincedly told himself. He meandered over to the restroom to do what one does there, then after washing his front hooves, glanced in his dresser mirror to see how bad his bed head was.

“AAAAAUGHHH!!!” He jumped a good three hooves into the air in surprise. There in the mirror was not his own hoofsome  face, but that of a very bubbly pink mare smiling back at him.

“Who are you and what are you doing in m-m-my mirror?!?!” He stammered as he awkwardly back pedaled a Celest* or two back away from the seemingly possessed mirror.

“You mean you don’t know who I am?” she asked incredulously as she scrunched down then sprung out of the mirror onto the floor in front of it. “I’m Pinkie Pie! You know, ‘Element of Laughter’, thrower of parties, friend to Cthulhu and Deadpool. You don’t know me?” At this she deflated a tiny bit, saddened by the fact that somepony might not have been graced by her cheerful antics.

Flashpan was flabbergasted. “Uh, I’ve heard of you I think. You seem as every bit as …” –He tried to think of a nice way to say “Completely Insane”– “Um, out there as I’ve heard you described. It’s a… um … pleasure to meet you Miss Pie.”

She trotted up to the startled stallion and shook his hoof vigorously. “Likewise, Flashpan Alley!”

His jaw dropped. “H-How do you know my name?” he asked.

“Oh, I know everypony,” she replied nonchalantly. “Anyway, I just wanted to say hi. HI!”

“Um, ok, uh, hi? But how did you… just… come through my mirror?” he asked, not entirely sure he wanted to know the answer.

“Oh, you mean the fourth wall? I break it all the time. It’s my special talent! See?” She pointed to her flank, which had… balloons on it?

“Uh Pinkie, what is the fourth wall, and what does it have to do with balloons?”

“Oo Oo Oo!” she shouted. “Story time! Sit down on that couch in the yonder next room, and I’ll bake you a cake while I tell you alllll about the fourth wall!”

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

Forty five minutes and one delicious cake later, she finished. “And that’s how Twilight became the fresh princess of Ponyville! Maybe some other time I’ll tell you about how I got my cutie mark!”

Flashpan sat there wordlessly munching on (very yummy) cake. There really was nothing one could say after witnessing that whirlwind standup routine he beheld before him.

So Pinkie spoke for him. “Well, I guess that was all I really came here for, to buck the laws of physics and magic and say hi. I’ll be going. See you later alligator!” She started to head towards the mirror, but then turned around as if remembering something.

“Oh by the way, I miiiiiight have peaked ahead a few chapters, and while I Pinkie Promised her not to –OOPS! IT! I MEAN GENDER-NEUTRAL IT!... anyway I Pinky promised to an androgynous friend –I mean enemy –I mean pony ill-defined sentient creature– not to give away any of the details (As my friend’s wife would say, ‘Spoilers!’) surrounding it, but suffice it to say that you should buy a scarf for your marefr– I MEAN marvelous acquaintance. Yeah. Go buy a scarf and thank me later. Bye!” The pink fluffy eldritch abomination hopped onto the stool in front of his dresser, then dove back into the mirror from which it came.

        “Wait!” Flashpan pleaded. “I have so many questions to ask you!” But Pinkie Pie just smiled, turned and waved, then bounced out the virtual bedroom door and out of virtual sight. But there in the mirror, beyond the door to his virtual living room, Flash definitely thought he saw a… whatever that thing was called he read about. “Weird,” he thought. “But in the context of the last fifty minutes… not that weird.” His mirror then shimmered an alien baby blue color, and then… was normal? Huh.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

“GAH!” Flashpan awoke and rose from his bed in a start. “No more chocolate milk and cotton candy right before sleepies!”

Bonus Chapter: April 1st, Pinkie Pie Style!

Chapter 21: There's a Changeling On My Couch, and It's Bleeding. What Do?

There’s a Changeling On My Couch (The Story That Started it All)

-By Bryan Chandler

“You saved my life.”

“Yes. Yes I did.”

“You saved my life.”

“Yep.”

“You… saved my life.”

“…sigh… are you ok?” Flashpan Alley looked over at the broken changeling currently oozing phlegmatic stuff onto his couch. Then he went back to washing some vegetables.

“I… well, no actually, I’m not really. One of my wings has been ripped off and the other is hanging by a thread, I have multiple cracks and pocket marks in my exoskeleton, I’m bleeding all over your couch, and I can’t see out of one eye. But… still… that’s better than… you really saved my life?”

“Yes, I did, now don’t make me regret it.” The pale orange earthpony scowled at the tomatoes, which didn’t make them blush because they were already bright red, but mostly because they were tomatoes. Having finished slicing them, he popped the knife from his frog holder* and washed his hooves. Realizing this strange creature might not understand implied hyperbole, he sighed and wandered over to the stained couch to have the conversation he had been putting off with the excuse of preparing dinner.

“Look, I’m sorry I’m cranky. I didn’t really mean that last thing I said. It was…”

“Fueled by your frustrations with circumstances beyond your control?” The creature piped up.

“No, it’s just… yes actually. Huh. It’s not hard to tell I’m in a bad mood, but how did you pick up on the ‘why’ of it?”

"I’ll be happy to explain, but first, can I have some gauze. Actually, no, a lot of gauze? And some water please?” At the last word the changeling prostrate on his sofa actually looked up and smiled. It was actually kind of cute, or at least would be if it wasn’t currently discoloring his upholstery, thought Alley as he walked away to some rarely perused cupboard to find a medical supply kit.

Having located the water bottle which was now velcroed to his fetlock, and the gauze which he carried in his mouth, the pony trotted back over to his visitor and sat both down on the tea table nearby.

“I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve introduced ourselves properly. I’m Flashpan Alley. And you are?”

“I’m…” it telekinetically lifted the water to its mouth with its bruised but still functional horn. “Ahhh, that feels really good. I’m Ereton Parallax. But you probably know me as Vanilla Fudge.”

At this, the host gasped. “You’re – you’re Vanilla Fu… but… what?!?!”

“I’m a Changeling. I imitate ponies. I think the crowd back there made it quite clear that even this far out in the colonies ponies are well aware of our existence.”

“Yes, yes it’s just… Vanilla… wow… I’m gonna miss her. She was really nice, though come to think of it, kinda awkward.”

“You know,” the creature said while wrapping some of its larger wounds with gauze, “I’m right here.”

“Yeah but… you’re not Vanilla. You’re Ergon-”

“Ereton”

“My bad, Ereton Parallax. Cool last name by the way. But you aren’t Vanilla Fudge, you’re … well, you.”

“That’s true that that persona I created was fake but, I’m still me. I still have a sweet tooth and a need to practice my social skills. And I can tell what you’re thinking, and yes I’m still a mare.”

“That’s reassuring I guess. Wait, how did you know that was what I was thinking?”

“I didn’t. Lucky guess. But I did know you were feeling slightly uneasy about something somewhat trivial, so I figured that was it, and what do you know, I was right.” She perked up a little with the last turn of phrase, and Flashpan noticed she was no longer bleeding, or oozing or… whatever she had been doing.

“You seem to be very good at reading emotions,” Flash said over his shoulder while he went to go find some cleaning supplies. “Did you take a psychology class or something in high school?”

“I’ve taken five psychology classes. But that’s neither here nor there. I pick up emotions so well because that’s how I find food. I’m a changeling, remember? I eat love to stay alive.”

Flashpan thought back to the article he had read several years ago that was all over the front of the town’s weekly paper. He recalled something about an evil drama queen and one of the lesser princesses banishing her. “But I don’t get it. Those… things were evil, or at least painted to be. You seem more chaotic neutral at best.”

“I’m flattered by the Dungeons, Dragons and Diamond Dogs reference, but no, my species is pretty evil, at least according ponies.” Her voice took on a slightly harsher undertone. “According to you guys, we are merely emotionless manipulative bugs fit to be squashed. That mob certainly thought so.” She was glaring now, if her alien eyelids were any indication.

“Yeah, about that… I’m… I’m… Goddess I hate my species sometimes. We’re so fucking uncivilized. What ever happened to peace and love and harmony and all that crap?” As if to emphasize his anger, he harshly dropped the stain remover onto the table. “Ghahh, I’m just frustrated. I’m sorry Ereton.”

“Flash, (can I call you Flash?)”

“Yes”

“I tasted their emotions. They were angry, but behind that anger was fear. They were scared of me. They didn’t see me as another sapient being. They saw me as a lying shape shifter. Which I am. Changelings have imitated ponies for centuries, and one of the first things they teach us in school is, I’m sorry, but how xenophobic you all are. So when you stood up for me when I had a noose around my neck, I was, well fucking scared shitless” –she shuttered- “but behind that I was really pretty amazed. Which brings me to what I started with. Thank you, from the bottom of my morphological equivalent of a heart, for saving my life. Also, your compassion tastes delicious.”

The greenish trail through the house that mapped out the path Flashpan had taken carrying Ereton to the couch was slowly diminishing under the hoof of his scrubbing, and as she said this, he came to the base of the furniture, looking up into deep, dark, vast blue eyes on a fanged face which was smiling.

“You’re welcome. I hope I can show you that we’re not all like that. And maybe… with time and a good PR stallion, we can show the world that there’s more to you than meets the eye. But first, I think you need a bath.”

Ereton groaned as she rose once more, a few ominous pops and creaks sounding in the process. “Oooh, I am gonna be sore in the mornin’, that’s for sure. But glory to the queen, I AM ALIVE!”

“I’m going to ignore that questionable oath,” the earth-colored pony chuckled. “Bathroom is second door on the right; take as much time as you need and then I’ll reapply your bandages. I’m going to finish fixing my soup.”

What Ereton did next surprised him. She trotted over and nuzzled him on the withers. Though the sensation of chitin on his fur was somewhat odd, he didn’t mind.

“Thanks for everything Mr. Alley. I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

Chapter 21: There's a Changeling On My Couch, and It's Bleeding. What Do?

Chapter 22: Now What?

Chapter 22: Now what?

Half an hour later, a happily humming changeling with a bit of a reflective sheen on her now clean chitin sauntered into the kitchen where Flashpan was currently sitting on a cushion in front of the table, consuming his vegetable soup.

        “You sound awfully happy,” he observed without looking up from the book he was reading.

        “Well I am,” she replied slightly giddily. "Want to ask why?”

        “Sure, Why?”

        “Well, as I mentioned earlier, I am very much alive, which really is a pretty wonderful thing. I’m also not in jail, so I guess that’s two for two. And best of all, I now have an awesome housemate who’s going to take care of me!” At this she sat down next to him grinning with a leg around his shoulder.

        “WOAH woah woah!” Flashpan sputtered, spraying some small droplets of broth onto his (borrowed from the library, oops) book, “Who says you’re staying here?!!?”

        “You mean to say that you would kick a poor defenseless pony out onto the street of a cold hard city which hates her? You MONSTER!”

        “Damn, an hour and a half after I rescue you and you’re already emotionally manipulating me? That must be some kind of record,” he deadpanned back at her.

        “Nah, the record is actually seventeen seconds, which was set about fifteen years ago. Three and a half minutes is my personal best.”

        “The fact that you keep track of that fascinates and concerns me. But seriously, I’m not sure I want to hide a fugitive in my house.”

        Ereton grinned an evil fanged grin. “Well, I could always cast a knockout spell on you, build a cocoon in your closet out of my own saliva, stuff you in it, and steal your love and life force while you sleep, all while pretending to carry on as you.”

        “Oooooh, scary,” he replied. “But I’m not too worried. Even changelings have standards.”

        “Flash, I like you. Most ponies would freak out should I suggest that, but you don’t even bat an eye. I have to say you’re pretty cool for a pony, I guess.”

        “I guess? Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Despite himself, he let a smile show through as he got up to take his empty soup bowl to the sink. “So, now what?”

        "Now? I don't know. Why don't we sit down on a couch that isn't stained with my blood and chat mano-a-mano."

        "I don't think that term means what yo-"

        "Shut up and join me!" the chipper changeling called to her rescuer. "Let's chat!"

So they did.

        She began. “First of all, I know what you’re probably thinking, and yes, I would like to go see a doctor sooner than later. While I know that I have no life threatening injuries, I would like those I do have to be sterilized against infection. Also, I hurt like a sow, if you pardon the expression. Some pain killers would be reeeeeaalllly nice right about now. The only reason I’m not doubled over in agony right now is the sweet sweet salve of your love. Beneath this mask of giddiness is a pony in pain.”

        “Now hold right up just a minute. You’re starting to grow on me, but I am most certainly NOT in love with you! … Unless… you didn’t cast some sort of spell on me, did you? DID YOU?!?!”

        “Oh darling, please. You flatter me. But despite my status of being a 'monster', apparently I know a bit more about 'the L word' than you. Love is a many splendored thing you know, and the simple fact that you are accepting of me means a lot. I mean, I myself, being a changeling, can’t exactly feel compassion (or any emotion for that matter), but as I said earlier, I can definitely taste its sweetness. This isn’t the first time this has happened you know, but it is the first time somepony has still accepted me afterwards."

        The look on Flashpan’s face said that he was rather taken aback by this deluge of new information. “Two things,” he began. “First of all, what do you mean you can’t feel emotions, and second of all, you’ve been discovered before?”

        Ereton replied. “Let me answer your second question first. Of course I’ve been discovered. Believe it or not, the Canterlot attack was not the first or even the largest discovery of changelings. It’s just what with all the crazy shit that goes down in Equestria, most ponies have a pretty short memory. The mind wipe spells we sometimes use might also have something to do with this… heh… heh.”

        The pony next to her was somehow raising his eyebrows and glaring at her at the same time. Ereton wasn’t entirely sure how. So she continued.

        “And as for the first question, no I can’t really feel my own emotions. Like, I know when I should feel happy, like when you saved my ass this afternoon, and I can even be happy on an intellectual level, like ‘Oh, this day is going to be perfect.’ But while I have dreamt of it since I was small, I’ve never actually gotten to experience my own emotions. Maybe that’s why us changelings are so love-thirsty - it’s the only chance we get to vicariously feel feelings we’ll never feel ourselves.”

As she explained this, her voice and expressions dimmed, and she seemed, even though she had just gotten through saying that it was impossible, to be sad.

Flashpan likewise was affected. “I’m… sorry to hear that. To never feel all the wonderful emotions that ponies feel, that must be… awful. So let me see if I understand this. Though you have every right to be sad right now, you aren’t?”

“Oh no, I am sad right now. It’s just that I know it, I don’t feel it. It just sort of ‘is’. It’s like trying to describe what an apple looks like to a blind pony who can feel it. Intellectually, he knows exactly what the apple would look like to a seeing pony, but he will never be able to see it for himself. But don’t feel too bad. To finish the metaphor, us changelings can still vicariously ‘see’ that apple through the eyes of other ponies. Which is still pretty cool.”

Flash smiled at her. “huh. That’s fascinating. Thanks for sharing Ereton. I’m sorry you haven’t gotten to experience true love, but then, nor have I.”

“GUAHHH!?!?! You haven’t?!?! Oh you poor creature. Well, don’t worry too much about it. You can’t hurry love, no you just have to wait. I’m sure you’ll find you’re special somepony. Heck, you might be looking right at her.”

“Meh, I’m not too worried. Now let’s get you to a doctor.”

Wait a minute. Did she just wink at me?

Chapter 22: Now What?

Chapter 27: A Knock in the Night

Surely, thought Flashpan as he sleepily wandered toward the door, “ROYAL GUARDS! OPEN UP!” is fairly high on the list of things one doesn’t want to hear at three in the morning. He would have compared its ranking with other unfortunate phrases, but he reached the door before he could. “Hello Gentlestallions, how may I –OH MY GLOB PRINCESS YOUR HIGHNESS!” Indeed, flanked by two of the white pegasi, was a familiar off-white diarch looking down on his groveling figure.

                 “At ease boys. You can stop groveling Mr. Alley.” By Luna’s beard, her voice was glorious, like marshmallows on Gruff*. Flashpan dared to look up, surprised to see that behind the booming voice was a… knowing grin?

                 “Uh, lovely time for a visit, Your Highne-”

“Please, call me Celestia.”

“Right um, so, Miss Celestia, w-what brings you here?” he asked nervously. And he was nervous. For good reason.

“Stallions, you are positive this is the correct residence?” She turned to each pegasus, who in turn nodded. She continued, this time addressing the occupant of the house. “Sir, I understand you are illegally harboring an enemy of the state.”

Shit! Shitshitshit! thought Flashpan as his mouth hung slightly agape, waiting for a signal from his brain not currently forthcoming. But then he remembered all the other crap he had put up with for Ereton over the past month and a half. What was one more immortal alicorn princess goddess? He sobered up from his binge thinking and confidently replied.

“Yes, yes I am.”

Celestia merely raised her ethereal eyebrows at this display of boldness. “Could you produce her please?” she asked, her tone still quite rigid.

            Stalling would only delay the inevitable, so reluctantly, Flashpan trudged back into his tiny apartment to fetch the somehow still snoring Ereton from the bed they now shared.

                 “Ery, hon, wake up,” he said, shaking her. “I… I have bad news.”

                 “Pancakes?” she moaned groggily? “Apple yes mare.”

                 “Come on, wake up, the royal guard is here.” He neglected to mention the alicorn accompanying them.

           At this she bolted upright. “I – I see. I’m not surprised it came to this.” She quickly rolled out of bed, rubbing her eyes with a black fetlock. “Well, I love you hon,” she said as she walked with her coltfriend out of the room. “Just remember that.”

            “You’re awful nonchalant for somepony probably about to get arrested,” Flashpan dryly teased.

            “Hey, ‘cool, calm, and collected’ is the changeling mantr- OH QUEEN’S HOLEY FORLEG IT’S A PRINCESS!” She yelped and galloped into the bathroom, locking the door to it behind her.

                 “Heh, um, sorry about that. She can be a bit… skittish with the authorities,” Flashpan sheepishly explained.

              But the princess as always had her air of grace about her. “Oh, it’s ok. I understand I tend to have that effect on ponies. May I come in?”

                 “Well,” Flashpan started, “Seeing how you are my princess, I don’t believe I have much of a say in the matter, now do I?”

                 “Oh my little pony,” she tittered, “I’m flattered, but I still do like to have the approval of my subjects. I may be a dictator, but I’m a benevolent one. Guards, remain posted outside. You know the drill.” They complied.

                 Flashpan was surprised by her gentle tack, which seemed to be accompanied by a continued softening of her voice and features. “Well, um sure you can come in. Would you like some tea or something?”

                 “Oooo, do you have Vanilla Caramel Truffle? I’ve been on a huge black tea fix lately.” She perked up cutely at the mention of her favorite beverage.

                 He was taken aback at her sudden enthusiasm. “Yes I do actually. That’s one of Ereton’s favorite flavors. She loves tea.”

                 “Huh,” Princess Celestia muttered. “I did not know that changelings like tea. Is this a universal thing?”

                 “I don’t know,” Flashpan said. “I’m still learning a lot about her and her species. Speaking of which…” He knocked gently on the bathroom door. “Come out sweetie.”

                 “No.” The changeling inside was quite adamant.

“Please?”

                 “No.”

                 “Pleeeeaaasssse?”

                 “NO.”

                “…sigh… Princess, you try.”

                 “Ok Flashpan. Miss Parallax is it? Miss Parallax, could you please come out?”

                 Ereton responded bluntly. “No, go away.”

                 Undetered, the princess tried again. “I’m not going to hurt you. I only wish to speak with you.” Flashpan observed that the ruler had a lot of patience for 3:37 a.m. Then again, she had a lot of experience to go off of. Several thousand years-worth. Still, Ereton was undeterred.

                 “No. You’re going to throw me in changeling prison or grind me up into shiny black powder or banish me to the moon or something.

Celestia flinched. “That last one was a low blow Ereton. Now this is the last time I’ll ask nicely. I’m not going to arrest you or anything like that. Please come out.”

                 “Make me,” the changeling sneered coldly.

        “Ok, if you insist,” said the princess.

        What happened next was somewhat surreal for all parties involved. Celestia simply commanded in an authoritative voice, “Ereton Parallax, step out of the bathroom, now.”

        To hear of Celestia’s mind and motor control powers was one thing. To experience them firsthoof was another thing entirely. Flashpan felt the words invade his brain and the thoughts become his own. But seeing how he was neither Ereton Parallax nor hiding in a bathroom, the words had little bearing on him, and instead simply left him a little loopy feeling. The effect on the intended recipient however was quite clear. A moment later a very visibly shaken and disturbed changeling opened the door and stepped out.

        It had been a long time since Ereton had felt the sensation. And really, she wouldn’t have minded if she never felt it again. Queen Enthalum was not the tyrant some changeling leaders were (cough Chrysalis cough). But she was still more than happy to always get her way, and being the boss of the hive mind, frequently saw to it that she did. So it was with more than a bit of bitter irony and déjà vu that Ereton once more felt her body dancing to the beat of a drum not played by her. It wasn’t pleasant. But she could neither disregard nor disobey the words rattling around her skull, and so she quite unhappily found herself opening up the door to face the music.

Chapter 27: A Knock in the Night

Chapter 28: Well, Fudge or: How I Learned To Stop Worrying and Love the Princess

Ereton Parallax was quite surprised to learn that the music was not the Death Metal Screamo Dubstep Hardstyle Noisecore Thrashing she expected but instead something closer to an elegant waltz.

        “Hello my little changeling,” Princess Celestia said cheerfully. “Care to join me for tea?”

        This was not the greeting the changeling expected. At all. “uhhhh- buh-buh uhh? Wuh?” She tilted her head and scrunched her face quizzically . “You… aren’t going to… you know, sm-smite me?”

        “And why, dearest Ereton, would I do that?” Celestia asked, motioning with her head for Ereton to walk back with her to the dark living room. As they did, and Flashpan was preparing tea, Celestia lit the gas lamps with a flick of her magic.

        Ereton was flummoxed. “Becaaaauuse… I’m a changeling? Who’s evil?”

Celestia giggled. Awfully informal Ereton thought. “Ereton, If I freaked out over one little well-behaved changeling, I would have died of a heart attack centuries ago from much more freak-out-worthy causes.”

        Ereton hadn’t really thought about that. “Oh. I… I guess that makes sense. Being a princess must take a lot of patience.”

        “Yes it does. But I imagine so does being a changeling,” the alicorn replied.

        “What do you mean?”

        “Well, it must be hard to never be yourself, always pretending to be somepony else. So repressive.”

        “Meh (did I really just say ‘meh’ to the princess?), us changelings consider it part of our job. What someling else might consider restrictive we just consider a job description. Besides, if you a re a –ahem– low level infiltrator like I, you don’t have to take up specific personas. You can be whomever you like. So in a way it’s liberating. I really do like vanilla fudge.”

        “Oh?” the off-white alicorn raised an eyebrow.

        Flashpan came in with the piping-hot tea to answer her unasked question. “That probably doesn’t make much sense out of context. Ereton lived as a pegasus named Vanilla Fudge, who unsuprisingly loved vanilla fudge. She was one of the city’s two producers of candies and sweets. However, she now is sort-of-not-really in hiding since the incident six weeks ago.

        “Thanks Sweetie,” Ereton said. “It’s true! I do love fudge. But now that I’m not running my stand anymore, Double Bubble is edging in on my territory! Princess,” -the changeling looked up at her with big beady eyes as they sat on the couch sipping the caffinated beverage- “I don’t know what I’m going to do. I want to get back to selling and making fudge, but I’m scared now. Help me princess.”

        Celestia was touched. Here was a mare of a different species almost universally despised by her little ponies, and she was putting  her full faith, trust, and hope in their leader, herself. She pondered the situation for a minute, holding her nearly empty tea cup near her lips with her magic. Then she set it down and smiled.

        “Guards! Come inside please!” She shouted. Then realized it was four in the morning. “Oopsies,” she blushed.

        Said white pegasi appeared inside momentarily and saluted. “Yes, your highness?”

        “I have a new mission for you. See to it that this changeling, Ereton Parallax, also known as the pegasus Vanilla Fudge,  may make and sell her fudge unharassed. And that she doesn’t suck the love-life out of anypony.” Looking over at Flashpan who was sitting across from them she added with a wink, “Unless it is consensual.” Flashpan blushed. Turning back to the guards, Celestia concluded “Do you understand your mission sirs?”

The Royal Guards replied in unison “Ma’am yes ma’am!”

 She then turned to face Ereton who was trying and failing to hide her building excitement. “And as for you, Ereton, I expect a fifty pound shipment of fudge to arrive in Canterlot within the next sixty days. Luna and I need a new dessert after having been banned from every cake store in the kingdom. Do I make myself clear?”

Ereton burst into high pitched squeaks. “OHMYGOSHOHMYGOSHOHMYGOSHOHMYGOSH!!! YOU WANT ME TO BE THE ROYAL FUDGER? TO SERVE THE PRINCESS? SQUEEEEEE!” Forgetting all sense of decorum she jumped up and squeezed the princess in as much of a bear hug as she could muster. The guards moved to intervene, but the princess gave them a look that said “stand down, I got this.”

Ereton released her captive, and looked up, cerulean tears spilling from her compound eyes. “You don’t know how much this means to me. I can taste your love, your understanding, your acceptance. It feels wonderful. I…” She grimaced as her voice suddenly took a darker tone upon the arrival of a new thought. “How can you be so noble and wise, and yet let your subjects treat me so poorly?” she pleaded.

Celestia sighed a world-weary sigh. “Ereton, I have been a ruler for over a thousand years. As I told you earlier, there are so, so many bigger problems for me to worry about, like running a country. And as great of heights as our kind has accended to, at the end of the day I still rule over an often petty, herd-minded populace. I love and cherish each of them deeply, but to be frank (No offense Flashpan), ponies can be stupid. So I implore you to be patient, and to try to set an example both changelings and ponies can look up to. And send me fudge.”

Ereton couldn’t help but wonder at the grace, poise, and political tact and gentle decorum of the ruler sharing a couch with her. She felt determined. “I understand Princess. I shall be an inspiration to all who are different and oppressed. And I shall make you delicious fudge.”

Celestia nodded. “That is all I ask of you, my little changeling.”  She got up and motioned for the guards to step forward. “Allow me to introduce to you your escorts, Sweet Pea and Merry Weather Jr.” The two in turn stepped forward and shook hooves with Ereton and Flashpan. They seemed friendly enough, for the wee hours of the night at least. “In my absence they are authorized to use whatever means necessary to protect you and your fudge.”

She really likes her fudge Ereton thought.

“I really would love to stay and chat,” she continued, “but have several very important meetings scheduled for tomorr- today technically, and I’d like to get a little  sleep before I meet with the mayor pro tem at 11 . But I’m very glad we got to have this little talk. Sorry it had to be so secretive. But I assure you that I will see to you not being harassed anymore Ereton. And with that I take leave.” She turned to head out the door.

“Wait!” exclaimed Flashpan who had been quiet up until now. “Princess, if you knew about Ereton and what almost happened to her, why did you wait until now to show up?”

Celestia blushed. “Well… truth be told, when I first read about this in the paper, I didn’t believe it. A non-aggressive changeling in an outlying colony? An angry lynch mob? A heroic speech and rescue? I thought it was just tabloid hyperbole to be honest. I had to wait until the second round of news came back from here to affirm the veracity of the story. Unfortunately as I am sure you are well aware the ley line makes travel and communication to and from here very difficult. Even a being as powerful as I can’t just teleport through that level of magical disruption. So I don’t take the three day trip here lightly. I apologize for my doubt, and hope you understand.”

“I do Celestia. Thank you so much. Hopefully we’ll see you again before you leave Sparkler?”

“But of course my little pony,” she replied. “I wish you both the best of luck. Farewell, and may my blessing of peace be upon you. Huzzah!”

A flash of light, and she was gone.

Chapter 32: Waking Up (From Ash and Dust)

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Appendix A: Chapter Summaries

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Appendix B: Character List

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Prologue

We are battered and beaten and bruised

Floundering, Feared and forgotten.

But we're enterprising and enthused,

And our spirits shall never grow rotten.

We are hardy and wholly constructed

This is no place for feeble and meek.

With great vigor our lives are conducted

With great sorrow we bury the weak.

The Mountain is quite unforgiving,

The clouds make the mountain look easy.

But nowhere would we rather be living

Than this village so biting and breezy.

There is gold to be found in the boulders

There is ice to be tamed in the sky.

And though many a town may be colder

There are none with a windchill so high!

We dig for the rarest of gemstones

With a passion that's equaled by few

Though the work be brutal, as we've intoned

There is nothing that we'd rather do!

Pegasi, Unicorns, Earthen:

Together we labor as one

In this miserable town we are birthed in

We unite til the labor is done.

Though our bodies be battered and beaten

And We protest each day that begins

We are proud of this land that we meet in

We are proud to be Equestrians.

We are proud in the summer sun's glare,

We are proud when the days grow far darker

We are proud of this city we share

We are proud of our city of Sparkler.

Chapter 28: Well, Fudge or: How I Learned To Stop Worrying and Love the Princess

Appendix B: Character List

Appendix B: Character List

A list of characters appearing in this story, in order of appearance. Will be updated with additional characters and illustrations as time goes on. Not too spoilery.

Piddly Drumsticks Jr.: Lived from 781-864 A.D.. Ones of Sparkler's native sons and a well known poet of the time. Composer of the official Ode To Sparkler.

Autumn Leaves: Unicorn immigrant to Sparkler. Mother of Flashpan Alley. Wife of Sea Swirl

Sea Swirl: Unicorn immigrant to Sparkler. Father of Flashpan Alley. Husband of Autumn Leaves.

Pen Stroke: Unicorn in charge of adoption and other child services in Sparkler. Loves his job, hates the paperwork it requires.

Winter Heart: Earth pony pharmacist, wife of Flintlock, adoptive mother to Flashpan

Flintlock Alley: Earth pony pharmacist, husband of Winter, adoptive father to Flashpan. His grandfather was a firearms manufacture in the Griffin Empire, thus the unusual name.

Flashpan Alley (née Flashpan Leaves): Male earth pony with unusual magical abilities. Has a diplomacy cutie mark. Star of the story, and generally a good guy, though prone to sloppiness. Falls in love with Ereton Parallax.

Wendy Skies: Female pegasus who is best friends with Flashpan, may or may not have a crush on him. Her uncle is a rising politician; her grandfather is Mayor of Sparkler.

Pinkie Pie: Apprentice baker at Sugar Cube Corner, resident nutcase of Ponyville, and bearer of the Element of Laughter. May or may not be invading Flashpan's dreams through breaking the laws of the universe.

Ereton Parallax: (Pronounced AIR-ih-tun) Female Changeling in Sparkler. Almost lynched by a mob after her outing, saved by Flashpan. Disguised as a pegasus fudge maker named Vanilla Fudge. Falls in love with Flashpan

Her Royal Majesty Princess Celestia Solaris of Equestria: Divine demigoddess, alicorn, and co-ruler of Equestria. Has a fondness for tea, gentle ribbing, and remaining remarkably calm.

Double Bubble: Ereton's confectioner rival.

Sweet Pea: Pegasus Royal Guard tasked with protecting Ereton. Don't tease him about his name.

Merry Weather Jr.: Pegasus Royal Guard also tasked with protecting Ereton. Don't let the name fool you; he's a lover, not a fighter.