Change of Hearts

by Mannulus

Rating: everyone
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Sad, Princess Cadance, Queen Chrysalis, Dinky Hooves, Random, Derpy Hooves, Slice of Life
Length: 13471

Derpy doesn't care for Hearth's Warming, and this delivery for Chrysalis isn't helping, at all. The last thing she wants at this time of year is to examine her own heart, but faced with the changeling queen, how can she not?

Why would a pony like Derpy Hooves -- good-natured, well meaning, and simple in her ways -- ever dislike such a wonderful season as Hearth's Warming? She has her reasons, and she makes it a point not to think about them. Still, the season gets her down, and the last thing she needs at this time of year is a special delivery for none other than Queen Chrysalis, herself. It might not be the greatest day of her life, but this delivery still might mean more to the mare they all know as "Derpy" than anypony could have imagined. It is a difficult thing to come face-to-face with a creature who truly understands -- and consumes -- hearts, especially at a time of year when one's heart is doing its best to stave off memories of a time not so very long ago.

This is NOT "A Christmas Carol" with Derpy Hooves as Ebenezer Scrooge. That would be inane (and maybe pretty awesome, but still inane.) Instead, it's an examination of love and the nature of the heart, and a look at one of the reasons why some of us just can't help feeling a little out of sorts at a time of year that is supposed to be marked by joy. There are a few laughs here and there, and there might -- just maybe -- be a happy ending. Still, don't come looking for a warm fuzzies dispenser. You won't get it.

A Misadventure of Derpy Hooves.

Or was it Ditzy Doo?

Cover Art by Tarantad0 of deviantart.
Click the source link for the original piece, and be sure to favorite it!

Published 2013-12-14 14:10:02 UTC
Last updated 2013-12-14 14:10:02 UTC

Snow, Snow, Snow

Change of Hearts

A Misadventure of Derpy Hooves

by Mannulus

Chapter 1
Snow, Snow, Snow

Her nose was cold. She was armored against the chill of the winter morning by a yellow parka, a pair of matching earmuffs, and a white scarf embroidered with her cutie mark, but Derpy's nose was very, very cold.

She stopped long enough to rub at her muzzle with a foreleg, trying to create some small sensation in its cold, numb tip. She quickly decided the effort was futile, and continued her march towards Sugar Cube Corner. When she finally stepped inside the bakery, she rejoiced at the warmth that flooded into her nostrils, not even minding terribly that it only made her aware of how dry and chapped the frigid air had left them.

In short order, her newly thawed olfactory organ detected Sugar Cube Corner's characteristic aroma: so many good things that it was impossible to distinguish one from another by smell alone. There were muffins aplenty represented in that single uniform haze of sweetness, but at this time of year, there were other things, too: cinnamon and gingerbread, mostly, though also a faint note of roast chestnuts.

And of course the Cakes – and Pinkie Pie – had, as usual, decorated the lobby with all manner of Hearth's Warming trim and finery. There were colorful lights and there was tinsel and there were wreaths of holly. There were silver bells, and red ribbons, and not at any other time of the year or at any other place in the world could anypony ever hope to find so many candy canes.

It was meant, of course, to inspire joy and a sense of goodwill toward ponies, but in reality, it made Derpy's heart sink just a little, though she did her best not to show it. Part of her melancholy was most certainly owed to the fact that her daughter, Dinky, was, for the first time in her life, not at home this Hearth's Warming season, being away at Princess Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns in Canterlot. Derpy Hooves, however, had reasons even beyond this to feel less enthused for the season than she might once have.

For one, it was not easy to have a delivery job during this season. More packages were sent during the month leading up to Hearth's Warming than at any other time of year. Yet there was more to it than her profession, and though her reasons were unique and quite powerful, Derpy Hooves did not lend them much consideration. It was not her nature to think too deeply about anything, and most especially nothing which might give her pain. She was the sort given not so much to an empty mind, but rather one devoted to frivolity. In cases like this one, where random chance sought to remind her of that which she would rather forget, she had taught herself how to evade her thoughts, and how to do so deftly.

Perhaps that was why, as she took her place in the line leading up to the counter, she decided to try and strike up a conversation with the pony in front of her. He was a pegasus stallion, pale, pale blue, like ice. He wore a brown bomber jacket, and his mane, only a shade darker in color than his coat, was too long, as if he simply did not care enough to keep it trimmed.

“Don't you love the way it smells in here at Hearth's Warming?” she asked, verbally contradicting her own feelings in an effort to further distance herself from them.

“Not really,” said the stallion, not even turning to face her.

“Oh, come on,” she said, his dour tone having prodded a little too near her own buried sentiments. “Everypony loves Hearth's Warming.”

“Not me,” he said. “The whole thing's an awful waste of time and bits, and they always want a 'White Hearth's Warming.' Gotta have snow, snow, snow.” He sighed. “I hate snow.”

The line moved forward, and Derpy was pleased to see Lyra Heartstrings trotting towards the door, beside her levitating her purchase -- a steaming paper cup of hot cocoa.

“Oh, hello, Lyra,” she said, doing her best to sound cheerful.

Lyra offered her a nod, a smile, and a “Good to see you! Happy Hearth's Warming!” as she passed on her way.

The stallion to whom Derpy had been speaking edged to the side to allow the seafoam green unicorn to pass, and it was then that Derpy noticed a peculiar thing: His cutie mark was a trio of snowflakes set amidst three gray curlicues that she could only assume were meant to represent wind.

“How can you hate snow?” she asked, genuinely curious. “You've got...”

“Yeah, I know,” he cut her off.

He didn't sound particularly irritable – more tired than anything; like someone who had been asked his whole life how to spell an unusual name.

“Look,” he said, turning his head to look at her for the first time, “just because you're good at a thing doesn't mean you have to like it. I mean, do you like bubbles?”

“Why wouldn't I?” asked Derpy.

“Okay,” he said, turning towards her fully, “bad question. Nopony's talent would ever actually be bubbles. Fate isn't that cruel.”

He had a thin layer of beard stubble, and Derpy actually thought he would be handsome if his gray eyes didn't appear so cold and tired. In truth, just looking at him made her feel colder, somehow, which was the last thing she wanted or needed at this time of year.

He looked her up and down, his gaze pausing on her eyes and cutie mark the longest. The whole affair took all of two seconds.

“I bet you're a total ditz,” he said, completely straight-faced.

Derpy shrank down slightly in mild shame, and stared at the floor.

“Uh, yeah,” she mumbled.

“But remarkably self-aware," he said, and now he noticed her downcast eyes.

“Look, I didn't mean to make you feel bad,” he said, “but my point is that we don't get to choose what we are. We can't change it, either. We don't even have to like it or be proud of it. We just have to... be it. So, I don't have to like the cold, I don't have to like snow, and I don't have to like Hearth's Warming just because it's cold and snowy.”

“Okay,” said Derpy, feeling ashamed of herself for having even broached the subject.

The Stallion turned, and for the duration of their time in the line, he said nothing more.

***

In spite of the long line earlier that morning at the bakery and the associated unpleasant experience with the strange stallion, Derpy was going to make it to work on time. It was a feat she had not accomplished since her very first day with the Equestrian Parcel Service, but nonetheless, there she was at 7:57am, right in front of the door.

Not only was she on time, but by well over two minutes, no less. For once, she could actually use the door instead of crashing through the window of Boxxy Brown's office. It was a triumph years in the making.

“Kinda makes me wonder why I didn't just set the alarm a few minutes earlier all along,” she mumbled to herself.

She pushed open the door, and strode through the lobby and into the employee lounge. Silver Script and Tiger Lily were there, both wrapped in thick winter clothes and the former heavily laden with a pair of oversized delivery bags.

“Big day?” she asked the stallion.

“Celestia's mane,” he replied, blinking rapidly in amazement, “you're on time!”

“I know!” she beamed. “Isn't it amazing?”

“In its own right,” said Silver Script, “but to answer your question, yes, it's a big day. Hearth's Warming, you know?”

“I know,” said Derpy.

“We all know,” said Tiger Lily, “but believe it or not, I've got a pretty easy route today, myself. Only two stops for me!”

“Good thing, too,” said Derpy, poking gently at the rust-red mare's swollen belly. Tiger Lily was pregnant, and the little foal growing inside her kicked even at Derpy's mild intrusion into its tiny world.

Tiger Lily grunted.

“Yeah,” she said, through a painful-looking smile. “It's got hooves, by the way.”

“Sorry!” said Derpy, withdrawing her hoof suddenly, “but trust me,” she giggled, “that's better than a horn.”

“I'll bet,” said Tiger Lily, and she grinned, though it might have been as much a gritting of her teeth in discomfort as any expression of amusement. “I'm gonna go lie down for a minute or two before I start my route.”

“Hang in there!” said Derpy.

“Doing my best,” said Tiger Lily, trying to sound cheerful, but Derpy noticed her gnawing at her lower lip as she walked towards a nearby sofa.

“Well,” said Silver Script, “I gotta get going if I'm going to get all these things delivered today.” With that, he trotted out the door.

“Wonder how big my day's gonna be,” said the gray pegasus, stepping to a small cork board on a nearby wall.

“That's odd,” she mumbled. “There's no route list posted for me.”

“Oh!” said Tiger Lily, from where she lay on her enormous belly. “Boxxy said to tell you to come see him if you happened to come in... you know, through the door.”

“Am I in trouble?” asked Derpy. “I'm on time and everything, for once!”

“I don't think he was upset, but he looked pretty serious,” said the other mare, and she laid her head down beside her.

“Just two stops,” Derpy overheard Tiger Lily mumble to herself. “Two little boxes, and I can go home.”

Poor thing, thought Derpy, as she climbed the short flight of stairs to Boxxy's office, and stopped in front of the door. It was tough for me too, I guess.

She sighed, glancing back once more at Tiger Lily, who winced, probably due to an unexpected assault against her her innards on the part of her unborn foal.

No, it was tougher, Derpy thought. Different reasons, though. Best not think about that, Derps. You've probably got enough trouble waiting for you on the other side of this door without adding that to it.

She knocked.

“Come in!” sounded a gruff voice, and she opened the door.

Boxxy peered at her from over a mountain of paperwork strewn across the top of his desk. He looked mildly stunned.

“You're here?” he asked. “Now?” He checked the clock in disbelief.

“What did you want to see me about?” asked Derpy, a nervous edge in her voice.

“Special delivery,” said the big, brown stallion, reaching into the mountain of paper to produce a small, brown box.

“Oh no,” said Derpy, glumly. “How special?”

“What's big, black, and evil?” asked Boxxy.

“Lots of things,” said Derpy. “Could you be more specific?”

“What's big, black, and evil, and eats souls?” asked the Stallion, totally deadpan.

“Well, let's see,” said Derpy, rolling the question over in her mind.

She had never been any good at guessing games.

“Can you give me another hint?” she asked.

“It's female, and raggedy-lookin,' and has a voice like somepony dragging their horseshoes on a gravel road,” said Boxxy.

“Oh!” said Derpy. “Your mother-in-law!”

“Touche`,” Boxxy replied, shrugging, “but I meant Queen Chrysalis.”

“Oh,” said Derpy. “Well, that makes senWHADJASAY!?”

“I need you,” said Boxxy, keeping his voice calm and level, “to deliver a package,” and here he thumped the box with a hoof, “to Queen Chrysalis.”

“Are you even...” She almost added the word “serious,” but one look at Boxxy's face made the question moot.

“Egad, you are, aren't you?” she said. “Who would... ship her... anything?” asked Derpy, her head swimming a little. “Who? Who would... What would she even, like, order? Do changelings even have Hearth's Warming?”

“Beat's me,” shrugged Boxxy. “Go ask that what's-her-face... Rarity. She's the one who dropped this thing off.”

“I really need to have a talk with her about her clientele,” said Derpy, her jaw twitching slightly.

Boxxy leaned back in his chair, and stretched.

“Business is business,” he said.

“I don't even wanna see Queen Chrysalis,” said Derpy. “Let alone speak to her, or get close enough to give her a package.” She paused long enough to draw three quick, ragged breaths. “Boxxy, she's big... and scary... and she pretty much eats souls.”

“I know,” said Boxxy. “I already mentioned that.”

“Eats. Souls.” said Derpy, spacing the two words out for emphasis.

“Well, somepony's gotta deliver this thing,” said the big stallion.

“BUT WHY ME!?!?” screamed Derpy.

“Because it's technically closest to your route!” Boxxy shouted back, his voice for once not quite matching the mare's for volume. “I already shuffled all of your deliveries over to Tiger Lily and Silver Script on account of you're the only pony here who doesn't have any family obligations.”

“I have a daughter!”

“So does Silver Script,” said Boxxy, “and a son, and a wife! What am I supposed to do? Send Tiger Lily? You've seen her; she's pitiful!”

At this, Derpy's ears drooped in shame.

“Ponyville's got the closest EPS hub to the changeling border,” said Boxxy, “There's no one else for us to pass this off to! Somepony's gotta go. Look, you'll get overtime and a bonus!”

“I'm not going.” said Derpy, firmly.

She dropped to her haunches in front of Boxxy's desk, and crossed her forelegs indignantly.

“Then you're out of a job,” said Boxxy.

“I don't care,” Derpy shot back. “I'll make do until I find another job. ” She scowled. “I'm NOT doing this one, Boxxy.”

Boxxy recoiled at Derpy's obstinance. In the past, she had protested, complained, and even whined, but this was the first time in all her years with the Equestrian Parcel Service that she had outright refused to make a delivery.

“Derpy,” he said, sighing, “it's just a delivery.”

“It's for Queen Chrysalis!” said Derpy, her voice permeated with incredulity.

“Yeah,” said Boxxy, “and it's gotta be done! You think I asked for this to be dropped on my desk?'

“Look,” he huffed. ”If I could take it myself, I would, but they'd fire me for leaving the office for that long in the middle of the season. We got more packages coming in all the time. Somepony has to sort them and keep track of all the paperwork. I'm the only one that knows the filing system!”

He gestured at his overflowing desk, and Derpy cringed. Given the choice between managing that disaster area and making this delivery, she still would have erred on the side that did not involve meeting the changeling queen, but not by much.

“Boxxy, the EPS can't really expect us to do this!” Derpy protested, shaking her head.

“Actually, they can,” replied the stallion, scratching at the back of his neck. “Since Queen Chrysalis is technically the ruler of a sovereign nation with whom Equestria is not currently at war, all normal protocol applies, here.”

“Which means?” asked Derpy.

“If the EPS doesn't make this delivery, we're technically interfering with international commerce. That's against the law. In other words, we have no choice.”

“I don't care,” said Derpy. “I quit.”

“I don't blame you,” said Boxxy. He looked at his desk, and sighed. “Guess I'll have to send Tiger Lily,” he said, sounding perturbed and glum. “I can cover her two stops between...”

“Wait!” Derpy interrupted, her mind flashing back to the weary mare sprawled out on the sofa in the staff lounge. “You can't send her!”

“Silver's dance card is full, – and I mean FULL. I've got – or rather had – three delivery ponies. With you gone, it's gotta be Tiger Lily.”

“Hmph,” he grunted. “What do you even care? It's not your problem; you don't even work here, anymore.”

Derpy stared at the floor, still thinking of the rust red pegasus – her friend -- consoling herself with the thought of an easy day's work and then a little rest for her weary body.

“Yeah, I do,” she finally mumbled.

“Hmm?” Boxxy grunted.

“Just give me the box,” said Derpy. “I'll take it.”

Never Change

Chapter 2
Never Change

The flight itself wasn't so bad, really. She knew better than to set hoof in some of the questionable terrain far below her. Tales of vampiric jackalopes, plants that ate ponies, and even of the dread chupacabra kept her from descending into the forests and hills below her outstretched wings, and despite what horrors that landscape might conceal, from this altitude, it was actually quite pretty. Compared to zipping around Ponville dropping off the obscene number of packages that Hearth's Warming would have had her delivering, this was downright enjoyable.

However, even with friendly air currents to carry her, it was an eighteen-hour flight to the land of the changelings, and she wanted none of the frigid night air on her wings and face.

She had brought a tent, of course, and she managed to pitch it after several unsuccessful attempts, one of which involved her taking flight to retrieve her intended shelter from an unexpected gust of wind. At last, however, she managed to make her camp on a small outcropping of a steep mountainside. The place was essentially inaccessible to anything that could not fly, which made her feel safe enough, but the same wind which had so rudely attempted to bereave her of her tent continued, in partnership with the typical winter cold, to addle her attempts to find some small degree of comfort.

She had assembled what little deadwood she could find into a small pile, intending to start a fire. However, a few minutes of digging through her bags quickly revealed another small crisis: She had no matches.

“Okay,” she mumbled. “So, you forgot to bring matches. It's not the end of the world. You can start a fire without matches, right? Rub two sticks together, or use a flint and steel or something?”

Her horseshoes were steel, of course, but she had no idea what flint looked like, or even if there was any to be found here.

I guess that leaves the two sticks option, she thought.

She took a stick in her teeth, and pressed another one across a stone underneath her hoof. Then, she bent her head downwards, breathed in through her nose... and spat the stick out.

“This isn't gonna work, is it?” she asked nopony in particular.

She would just end up spraining her neck, and likely to no avail. The truth was that she had no idea of how to start a fire without matches. In the blustery wind, she doubted she could have even kept a match lit, anyway. There was really only one thing to be done. She crawled inside her tent, and zipped herself into her sleeping bag.

“I hate camping,” she mumbled.

It was true: she did hate camping, but she hadn't always. In fact, she seemed to remember a time when she had deeply enjoyed it.

“He always started the fires back then,” she said, watching her breath puff out in quickly-fading clouds of steam.

It was so easy for him, she thought, but I guess magic makes everything easier. A quick little twinkle, and whatever you want just... happens.

“Hmph,” she grunted, trying to tighten herself into an even smaller ball to conserve heat. “What I want is for that stupid box to get where it's going. Then, I want to go home -- that's it. I just want to get this over with, and make it back home in one piece. I want Dinky to come home for her break so we can have a happy, normal Hearth's Warming.”

Normal: now there was a concept. What was normal for Derpy Hooves seemed, as of late, to ricochet so drastically between the bleak, the comical, and the potentially lethal that there really wasn't much meaning in the word, anymore. Only a few years previous it had meant a nice, little house on the edge of Ponyville, and nothing more difficult than an hour or two of day-to-day weather work; the life of the common young pegasus mare.

“Then, you're supposed to fall in love, get married, and have a foal,” she said. “The whole shtick.”

There was bitterness in those words; bitterness because the “shtick” hadn't quite fully played itself out according to the script. As was generally the case in her life, something had gone awry.

“What I wouldn't give for this season to be over,” she grumbled. “I hate Hearth's Warming.”

At least she wasn't the only one, though.

“What was his name?” she asked herself. “That guy I met at Sugar Cube Corner, this morning.”

Then, it struck her that she had not asked him.

“Doesn't matter, anyway,” she said. “Just some weather patrol pony with a bad attitude.”

Maybe, Derps, she thought, but he had you pegged with one look.

“Ditz,” she sneered, her snout crinkling in disgust. “Ditzy Doo; disgustingly adorable, like a pony name is supposed to be.”

Nopony but her own parents had called her by her given name since she was a filly. The nickname “Derpy” was concocted by her schoolmates, and as such things often do, it had stuck. Only one pony had called her Ditzy Doo in years, and he was gone.

She sneezed, and rubbed at her snout.

“Ditzy Doo,” she said. “I miss that.”

She smiled a little, and her thoughts began to stray towards times, places, and faces that she knew better than to let herself recall, especially here and now, alone in the wilderness.

“Cut it out, Derps,” she said suddenly. “Stop thinking so much.”

She looked up at where her saddlebags lay, and poked a hoof out from her sleeping bag to drag them closer. She opened one, and withdrew a muffin. She pulled it inside the sleeping bag with her, and clutched it close to her face where she lay curled into a tiny, shivering ball. She took a bite. Like everything else on the side of this mountain, the muffin was cold.

“Still good, though,” she said, “or good enough to keep my mind off things, at least.”

***

It took her only half a day's further flight to complete her journey. Overland, it would have taken longer, but she was carried onward by swift wind and a deep drive to be done with this job and go home. Finally, as the land the changelings called home loomed into view, Derpy felt her heart speed up and hammer at her ribcage. Even as its rhythm intensified, however, it felt somehow watery and weak.

“It's so... dead,” she said to herself, casting her gaze downward from where she rode on the lower reaches of the jet stream.

The earth below her seemed totally empty of life, except for an occasional gnarled, sickly tree. Spires of jagged, twisted stone jutted upward towards the sky like the grasping claws of some hateful beast beyond Derpy's imagination.

There were no cities or towns, – only that empty, brutal landscape – so that for awhile, she wondered if she was headed in the right direction. Finally, after flying all morning, she saw something peak over the horizon: a black, jagged spire that heaved itself upward over what soon revealed itself as a sprawling city of similar ugly, black structures, each one pocked with dozens of openings, all emitting a faint, green glow.

She wondered for more than a moment what the changelings would do when they saw her. She was tempted to turn tail and fly home.

No, she told herself. I came this far; I'm gonna do this.

Having so resolved, she flew onward.

As she began to pass over the city proper, she heard a terrible buzzing arise below her, and as she looked down, she saw a sight that twisted her guts with distilled dread: changelings pouring by the hundreds from every opening in the black, malignant cityscape.

She was seized again with the desire to flee, but immediately, she realized it would be useless even to attempt. There was no direction she could turn from which the black, chittering menace did not ascend. Given no other option, she simply stopped, and hovered in mid-air, waiting to see what would happen. Soon, she was surrounded. On every side – above, below, port and starboard – they hovered by the dozens, the thrum of their wings filling her ears. She drew deep, heavy breaths, wondering with every second what these wicked creatures might be planning to do to her.

After a a minute or so, a lone changeling, clad in shiny, chitinous green armor, flew forward, and in a moment he hovered before her. He tilted his head left and right, as if curious, but the motions were sudden and abrupt, unnatural to the eyes of an equine in every way. His green eyes had no pupils by which she might judge what part of her he was observing, but she had the distinct sense she was being scrutinized, and with an unsettling degree of care.

“Little pony,” it finally said, its voice gritty and thin.

“Y... Yes?” asked Derpy, keenly aware of how her voice shook, even at the utterance of a single syllable.

The changeling chuckled at this, and then smiled. The hard, chitinous skin around its mouth actually cracked a little from the strain of being so manipulated, but Derpy watched as the cracks quickly healed, leaving faint, hairline scars where they had been.

“What brings one of Celestia's little ponies to the lands of our Queen Chrysalis?” it asked.

“Uh,” Derpy was so frightened that for a moment, she could not even remember how or why she had come to be here.

“Well?” it ground out in its crackly, unnatural voice.

She felt herself beginning to hyperventilate, and forced herself to take a few deep breaths.

“I have a package,” she finally said. “It's for Queen Chrysalis, herself.”

She gulped. It was just as absurd as it sounded, despite the fact that it was true. Would this creature even believe her?

“Really now?” asked the weird being hovering before her under the power if its buzzing wings. “Come with me,” it said.

The creature turned and flew towards the huge, black spire in the distance. Derpy followed, and the changelings opened a way for the two of them. In a few minutes, they landed on a twisted, black balcony that jutted from the side of the enormous edifice. The vaulted doorway that led inside glowed forebodingly. Without a word, the changeling entered, beckoning for her to follow.

She felt her head swim, and ice water flooded her veins. She followed, nonetheless. If they had not done away with her yet, maybe they did not intend to.

Yeah, right.

She shuddered at the thought, but walked on.

The corridors of what Derpy could only guess was the palace of Queen Chrysalis were illuminated by many small, gelatinous orbs that clung to the vaulted ceiling. They were irregular in their spacing, and the ceiling itself was uneven, appearing more as if it had grown than been built.

At length, Derpy realized that the floor had begun some time ago to slope upwards, and that a gentle curving of the passage would seem to indicate that they were ascending the inside of the gigantic structure in a long, slow spiral. Eventually, the floor leveled itself out, and she found herself standing in a large chamber with no evident entrances or exits.

Or guards.

The changeling that had led her to this weird room emitted a short burst of loud, sharp clicks, and a door on the ceiling above them spread open like a sphincter. Very little light seemed to emit from the opening, and Derpy stood staring at it in trepidation for several seconds before the changeling spoke.

“Get on with it,” it said.

“Huh?” she responded, tearing her eyes away from the door to face her escort.

“Are you going in, or not?” asked the armor-clad changeling.

“Just me?” she asked.

The changeling cut loose a sputtering, cackling laugh, and then smiled.

“Queen Chrysalis has no need of any protector – least of all against one such as yourself. I am most certainly not going in there,” it said, “but neither am I leaving until I see that you have.”

Derpy gulped and spread her wings, carrying herself aloft with a few gentle beats. As she passed through the strange door in the ceiling, she looked down to see the changeling watching after her. It said nothing as the door slowly closed beneath her, but she was certain that she saw on the creature's face a look of what could only be relief.

As the door shut itself fully, Derpy flapped her way just a little to one side of it, and sat down her hooves. She had no desire to physically touch a thing so unsettling as that weird portal.

It was dark in this tiny chamber, but now that she was inside, she could see more of the alien, pale green light emitting from a tall, vaulted passage that began just across the room from where she stood.

Never in her entire life had she been so reluctant to tread a path that lay before her, but there was no other choice. She stared down the corridor for several moments, feeling her stomach flit this way and that inside her. Finally, she realized that she would either move forward, or she would pass out. The last thing she wanted was to be unconscious in a place like this – especially with whom she knew must be so nearby.

By a gargantuan and painful act of will, she moved herself forward towards the dim, green glow. Once again, the corridor seemed to wind its way around the circumference of the structure, but this time, it was only a short distance before it opened up into a large, vaulted chamber.

This place gave Derpy pause. It was more brightly lit than she had expected, being illuminated by a huge chandelier of twisted, black chitin which hung from the peaked center of the ceiling. In place of candles, it had more of the weird, glowing orbs. Beneath it there was what appeared to be a bedroom, but it was like none she had ever seen or imagined.

In a word, the place looked painful.

The normal, expected dressers, mirrors, and yes, even a bed, did exist, along with a sitting area having two large couches and low table. What made it all so bizarre was that they were all black, gleaming with the pale green reflection of the strange, strange lights, and every corner and edge that could be made so without rendering them useless was sharp and blade-like. Even the bed, round rather than rectangular, was wreathed with half a dozen spines that curled back over it like brutal talons, and each one was twisted, uneven, and by all appearances, very sharp. Derpy would not have dared touch anything for fear she might slice herself open.

The whole scene was so harsh and twisted that Derpy completely missed Queen Chrysalis herself, partly by virtue of the changeling's body being so similar in appearance to the décor of her chamber, and partly by virtue of the fact that she stood utterly and perfectly still – until she blinked.

She was standing not three paces from the little pegasus, – had been standing there for as long as Derpy had been in the room – but something about that slow, deliberate closing and opening of her eyes made her starkly and terrifyingly present to the tiny, gray pony.

Derpy gasped, but said nothing. She wracked her brain for what to do, and finally, it came to her that she should probably bow. This was a queen, after all; an evil, soul-devouring queen with designs on world domination, but a queen, nonetheless.

As she lowered herself on shaky legs, the huge changeling finally spoke.

“If I had taken a step,” she hissed, “I should imagine you would have died of fright.”

Derpy righted herself, and looked up once more at the black, haggard thing that stood so still.

“I'm Derpy Hooves with the EPS,” she forced herself to say, and every word shook like a leaf in a gale. “You have a package here.”

She fumbled in her saddlebag with a wing, her eyes never moving from the changeling.

“I know,” said Chrysalis, calmly. “Do you think you would have been allowed in here otherwise?”

“Of course not,” said Derpy, finally managing to produce the package, which she clutched next to her side. “Why would somepo... some...one... like you ever want to be bothered with a cross-eyed little klutz like me? In fact, if you'll just sign for it, I'll be on my way!”

“One moment,” said Chrysalis, and now, she actually did take a step -- directly towards Derpy.

To see Chrysalis move in her direction sent such a cold sensation through Derpy's spine that the pegasus believed for a moment she might prove true the queen's prediction that she would die of fright.

“Let me see it,” Chrysalis demanded, calmly.

Derpy turned slightly to the side, and lifted her wing a little to let the package be seen more clearly. Chrysalis responded by taking it into her telekinetic grip, causing it glow green. It freed itself from Derpy's grasp, and floated through the air. In a moment, it had stopped in front of Chrysalis' face, and it began to turn itself over slowly where it hovered in space.

“No one has tampered with it?” she asked, skeptically.

“No, uh... your majesty,” said Derpy.

“Not even one of my own? No other changeling has so much as touched this box?”

“No.” Derpy was confused. “Only me and one or two others... Other ponies, I mean.”

“Good,” said Chrysalis, though what satisfaction Derpy could hear in the word seemed muted and cold. “Then it is intact.”

“Intact?” asked Derpy, immediately wishing she hadn't spoken. The less she said, the less chance she might incur Chrysalis' displeasure.

“Things of sentimental value are weakened in their essence even through indirect contact with a changeling,” said Chrysalis, seemingly unperturbed at Derpy's inquiry. “Memories and feelings that they would otherwise elicit simply cease to be.”

Her head tilted as she looked the box over, and even such small movements as these were slow, precise, and calculated.

“Eaten?” whispered Derpy.

“Yes,” came Chrysalis plain reply, and the box, once more upright, opened.

In her years as a delivery pony, Derpy had watched many unicorns open packages. It always gave her a certain degree of amusement to watch a floating box seemingly rip itself asunder. This was different, however. A number of slits silently appeared in the packing tape that held the box shut, as if they had been sliced with a razor. Then, its two top flaps opened outward carefully, slowly, and in perfect unison. Derpy watched intently, deeply curious as to what had been shipped to such a creature as Queen Chrysalis from a place like Carousel Boutique. There was a squeaky rustling from inside, -- the familiar sound of foam packing peanuts – and a thing levitated from the box that transformed Derpy's curiosity into mind-bending confusion.

For all her keen awareness that she probably should not speak, the gray mare simply could not restrain herself. The words had jumped out of her mouth before she even realized she had spoken.

“A wedding veil?”

“Yes,” said Chrysalis, and she seemed both pleased and relieved, insomuch, at least, as her hollow, grinding voice and unnaturally still posture allowed her to convey emotion.

The dark implications of what she was seeing quickly began to gnaw at the pegasus' mind. To whom had that wedding veil belonged? To what terrible story was it so central a part that it could give a creature like Chrysalis joy (albeit ever-so-reserved) to see it now?

Derpy shuddered.

“It's like it's brand new,” Chrysalis murmured in a gravelly hiss that was barely audible to the pony's ears.

Derpy wondered if she should make her escape while the changeling was distracted, but quickly realized that the only exit was shut tight with a door that she had no idea of how to open. As if that was not bad enough, on the other side of that door came the long, winding descent down the black spire, which would give Chrysalis ample time to overtake her. Worse still, beyond that lay an entire city of changelings, ready to strike her from the sky and feed on the very love in her heart.

Love for who? she thought, and an image of Dinky flashed through her mind.

At that exact moment, Chrysalis' eyes widened, as if the pegasus' simple thought of her daughter and the sentiments attached to her had piqued some sixth sense unique to her malignant, cruel race.

Derpy silently cursed her foolishness at allowing such a thought to enter her mind in a place like this – especially at this particular moment.

“Hmhm,” chuckled the changeling, though the sound was distant and almost empty of pleasure, and then she turned her eyes towards the pegasus. “I have to sign for the delivery, don't I?”

“Uh, yes ma'am,” said Derpy, beginning to hyperventilate. “Yes, your majesty, I mean. I'm sorry.”

Derpy fumbled one more in her saddlebag with a wing, and removed her clipboard. It glowed a sickly green, and then it levitated to a jagged, black writing desk near a far wall of the chamber. Chrysalis walked behind it, box and wedding veil in tow, and placed them both beside the clipboard there on the desk.

There was a strange fluidity to the way the changeling moved, utterly unnatural for a being so jagged, haggard, and unpleasant to behold. Weirder still was the fact that a creature so large should make absolutely no noise in her stride. It was as if everything that Queen Chrysalis did, even the slightest movement or the quietest sound, was a choice.

Without a word, Chrysalis withdrew from a drawer on the desk a small inkwell and a ragged-looking black quill, both glowing green with her magic.

“You... need to sign each page,” said Derpy, her voice quivering.

“Of course,” said Chrysalis, something sly and knowing behind the words, and she dipped the quill in the inkwell.

These signatures – why the EPS needed so many, Derpy would never know – always took too long by the pegasus' estimation, but in this particular instance, the whole affair seemed to stretch into eternity. Chrysalis herself made no particular hurry, taking several seconds to sign each page, and as Derpy stood there, sweating and terrified, the little mare did all she could do to empty her mind of any thoughts of her friends and family. This of course only caused her to think about them more. There began a roll call of every single pony who had ever meant anything to her, each flashing through her mind against her own will, and she had to wonder if it wasn't the doing of the black queen who was, at that moment, still signing the forms on the clipboard.

So. Very. Slowly.

The roll call continued, spilling name after name and face after face onto the canvas of Derpy's addled mind. Finally, there came a face that made her cringe – not with pain or disgust or even fear, but with sorrow. There, at the face of a unicorn stallion, her mind stalled, and at last stood still.

This, at last, was too much.

“STOP IT!” Derpy shouted, and Chrysalis did not so much as flinch.

“Stop what?” she asked, leisurely signing another of the many papers.

Derpy was not sure, but she thought she heard only the faintest note of coyness in the changeling's voice.

“Stop making me think of all these ponies I know.”

“Ah,” said Chrysalis, as if she had just been reminded what day of the week it was. Her neck and head craned smoothly towards Derpy, and when her face was set towards the pony's, it stopped – all at once, and with no evidence of momentum. The rest of her body remained, as always, statuesque. She let loose a low, grinding chuckle, but even this barely disturbed her immaculate rigidity.

“I'm not making you think of anyone or anything,” she said, her head still turned – just a little further than it seemed to Derpy that it should have been able to turn, at all. “You choose what you see.”

“What do you mean?” asked Derpy.

“You choose what you want to see, and then I become what you choose; see?”

And then, she was him – bizarre posture, facial expression, and all. It lasted only a moment before Chrysalis resumed her true shape, but it made Derpy's blood curdle and her knees go weak.

“Please, don't do that,” said Derpy, feeling a tear rising to one of her eyes. She shut it, and rubbed at it with a hoof.

“You asked,” said Chrysalis, her voice uncolored by emotion, and her head followed exactly the same track it had followed before, returning her gaze to the clipboard.

Derpy felt immensely relieved to have the creature's eyes fixed somewhere else, and somehow even moreso that her voice had fallen silent, though that did not last long.

“That is the nature of an illusion,” said Chrysalis. “It can only stand as long as the deceived wishes to continue believing in it. It is our most basic precept; the law by which we live and die.”

“I don't care,” said Derpy, sniffling slightly.

“Oh,” said Chrysalis, “did you think that I was speaking to you? I apologize. I was ruminating.”

“Rumi-what?” asked Derpy.

“I sometimes think aloud,” said Chrysalis. “It keeps me sane.”

Derpy said nothing as Chrysalis continued to sign the clipboard, actually seeming to slow her pace from its already glacial crawl. She was becoming more and more certain that Chrysalis was toying with her, and began to wonder whether the creature had any intention of letting her leave.

So, she asked.

“Are you gonna let me go?”

“Probably,” said Chrysalis. “You have a dreadfully conflicted little heart. Your love is mixed with sadness and regret and uncertainty. You'd likely make me ill.”

“What do you mean?” asked Derpy, suddenly feeling, for reasons she couldn't fully identify, a need to defend herself. “I don't feel uncertain or sad about anypony I love, and I certainly don't regret it; you're wrong.”

Chrysalis did not turn to face her, but she spoke, her voice taking on only the faintest note of irritation.

“Don't become so emboldened to know that I wouldn't have you for myself,” she said. “Other changelings are not nearly so selective as I am. I can cast you to the rabble, and they will leave you an empty, soulless husk in a matter of seconds.”

Derpy gulped, and tried to moisten her lips, which were dry and chapped with fear and with the wind and cold of her long flight.

Finally, Queen Chrysalis flipped the clipboard back to its front page, and sent it floating through the air towards Derpy. The pegasus took it in her teeth, and dropped it in her saddlebag. When she lifted her head away from shutting the bag's flap, Chrysalis was right there.

Derpy staggered backward, yelping in surprise. In only the briefest moment, Chrysalis had crossed the room from her desk without making a sound or even noticeably stirring the air. She was within hoof's reach of Derpy's face, and she stood still as a stone but for her mane slowly settling around her neck and shoulders under the impetus of whatever surge of alacrity had brought her so near the terrified, gray pegasus.

She grinned, but no mirth reached her eyes.

“Since you presume to know your own heart so well,” said the Changeling, “I would like to play a little game.”

Derpy felt her body quivering with a surge of adrenaline, and clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering.

“You see, little pony, I know hearts. I know them better than anyone. I know them better than those to whom they belong. There is a reason for every act of the heart – every pithy 'I love you,' every curse uttered in anger, and every tear shed. There are more feelings than one mortal lifetime can ever host, and as many feelings as there are, there are still more reasons to feel them. And I know them all. So, as you might well imagine, I take exception to your insistence that I am... 'wrong.'”

There was malice in the changeling's voice, mild and faint, as all of her emotions seemed to be, but more than that, there was pride.

“So, here is my game: I will ask you three questions, and you will answer truthfully.”

“That's... the game?” Derpy managed to stammer out.

“That is the game,” said Chrysalis.

“What happens then?” asked Derpy.

“That is the whole game,” said Chrysalis. “You will play it because I want you to play it. I will decide what happens after that, but that will not be a part of the game. Do you understand?”

Derpy nodded silently.

“Very well,” said Chrysalis, her voice as cold as ever. “That unicorn stallion whose image you chose; you loved him?”

“Yes,” said Derpy, and she felt a lump rise in her throat.

“And he is dead,” said Chrysalis, "and has been for some time?"

And now, tears streamed down Derpy's face.

“Yes,” she said, shrinking down even further.

“And you do not believe... No. You know that you will never feel that kind of love again?”

“Yes,” Derpy whispered, but in the silence of the chamber, she was certain Chrysalis had heard it.

“Hmph,” grunted Chrysalis, and then she gave another of the empty, almost joyless chuckles. “Hmhmhm.” She took a deep breath, and released it with a sigh that could be plainly heard, though only barely seen.

“The game is over,” she said. “You may go.”

Derpy did not move as Chrysalis turned and glided silently back towards her writing desk, each step measured and perfectly even. The pegasus simply lay on her belly, her legs pulled in tight to her sides and her head curled up beside her. She wept quietly.

Chrysalis did not speak to her, and because of Derpy's posture, she could not see her. Finally, after a few minutes, the numb, creeping sadness in her gave way to a singular, uncomplicated urge.

“I wanna go home,” she mumbled, and she stood up.

She was surprised to see Chrysalis still standing at the desk. She levitated the wedding veil Derpy had delivered in front of her, and was looking at it with an expression that was only vaguely forlorn.

Derpy turned to leave, but she took only two steps before she stopped. As she turned back, she saw Chrysalis, still standing there, silent and seemingly lifeless in the grip of her perfect, perfect immobility. Only her eyes moved, scanning over the veil slowly.

“Your... Majesty,” said Derpy, “may I ask you a question?”

“You may,” said Chrysalis, “but I may not answer.”

Derpy wiped the moisture from her cheeks with a foreleg, and sniffled once.

“How did you know all those things?”

Chrysalis said nothing. Derpy waited for most of a minute, feeling her fur stand on end with a growing terror that Chrysalis might turn and exact retribution for some perceived insolence. Finally, she decided it was best that she leave. As she shifted her weight to turn, however, the changeling finally spoke.

“I have lived a long, long time,” said Chrysalis, her hollow, almost soulless voice echoing in the chamber, “and in that time, I have taken many forms; played many roles. Some of them I enjoyed playing more than others, and some of them I should have liked to have played a little longer.” She continued to stare at the floating veil. “Does that answer your question?”

“I... I'm not sure,” said Derpy.

Chrysalis reached out and physically touched the wedding veil. A sharp edge of her ragged foot, which was so like a horse's hoof, and yet so not, tore at it slightly. She made no show of emotion at having damaged the thing with which she was so transfixed.

“It is always the nature of love to damage both its genesis and its object,” she said, “and yet it is such a pleasant thing to experience.”

She withdrew the ragged appendage.

“Deliriously addictive it is,” she said, “and that is what makes it the cruelest of all sensations -- and of all... decisions. Make no mistake, it is both.” She lifted her head, and blinked once. "In the end, however, every feeling born of it is ugly... ugly... ugly.”

She lowered the veil gently to the desk. Then, she turned and walked slowly towards Derpy. Her pace was slow and perfectly even, and with not a single step did she disturb the silence of the chamber. When at last she stood over the pegasus, she lowered her head, and looked her in the eye.

Even though she stood so close, for the first time since the changeling had made Derpy aware of her presence, she did not terrify the little mare. She spoke, and there was sadness in her voice. It was faint, – barely present at all – but in a voice so stolid and calm, it bore the weight of the bitterest lament.

“I am a changeling, my little pony. Whatever I love I consume and destroy, and whatever loves me will always find in me its ruin. It is the nature of what I am, and I can never change.”

She lifted her head, and turned it lithely towards a wall of her chamber. Her horn glowed, and the wall simply grew an opening.

“Now go,” she said.

Derpy took a few uncertain steps towards the sunlight that shown in through the newly-formed portal, and looked back.

Chrysalis strode to her bed like some huge, black ghost. Gently and noiselessly, she stepped between two of the weird, jagged spines that surrounded it, and she lay down. She looked past the pegasus and into the sun, and Derpy was sure that in her half-open eyes she saw only the dimmest glimmer of sorrow.

Derpy watched her for a moment longer. Then, she turned and leapt outward and into the sky. She banked northward, and as she flew away from the city, not a single changeling emerged to accost her.

Still a Feeling

Chapter 3
Still a Feeling

She flew straight home. She did not stop to sleep – not even as the sun sank and the moon rose, and not even in the cold of the night. It was before dawn of the next morning when she arrived back in Ponyville, and as her hooves touched the ground, a thin blanket of fresh, powdery snow crunched beneath them. It was still falling, and in the light of the streetlamps, it twinkled, whipped, and whirled. It reminded her, like everything about Hearth's Warming, of a time in her life that part of her wished had never been.

“This time of year,” she sneered bitterly. “Glad I'm always so busy.”

She turned down a little alley, marked only by an old, crooked sign reading "Tack Street," and trudged into it. The snowfall could barely reach here, and whereas the rest of the town was covered in an ever-thickening blanket of snow, here there were only a few lonely flecks of white and scattered piles of brown slush on the cobblestones. She trod the path she knew by heart, avoiding the slippery, black ice that had formed here and there.

At last, she came to a door. It was unremarkable among its brethren; plain and oaken, with a brass placard reading “D.D.H.” It was, of course, unlocked, and had rarely been locked in all of the pegasus' time as a resident there. Derpy had little to steal, after all, and even before Dinky had gone to study at Princess Celestia's school, her mother would never have left her there alone for any length of time, so that there had rarely been cause.

She stumbled inside, and slipped out of her jacket and earmuffs, placing them on a coat rack beside the door. She took off her saddlebags, and dumped her muffins, now stale and mostly frozen, into the trash. Then, she wandered up the stairs, and headed for the bathroom. She wanted to warm herself up with a hot shower, but as she stepped towards her destination, she came face-to-face with her own image, reflected in the old, cloudy mirror above the sink.

Her eyes were fixed forward, as straight and true ahead as anypony's. They only ever did that when she was thinking clearly – completely in touch with herself and the world around her. How long had they been that way? She would not have been able to guess, even had she noticed them, but in truth, she did not notice them, at all.

What had drawn her gaze was beneath them: two icy streaks frozen into her fur; tears she could not even recall shedding, so numb had her long flight driven both her face and heart. She stepped into her shower, and let the hot, steaming water do away with them. Then, she stumbled to her bed, and lay herself down, not even bothering to dry her mane or tail. In some way that she did not fully understand, she felt too exhausted even to fall asleep. She only stared out the window, glad of the softness of the mattress and the warmth of the blankets piled on top of her. After awhile, however, she felt herself begin to relax, and the mist of slumber began to overtake her weary mind.

Boxxy won't expect me until late afternoon at the earliest, she thought. I'll just let myself wake up whenever I wake up.

Even as sleep began finally to take her, the sun began to rise, showing Derpy an image of dozens of tiny snowflakes, all made by hoof in Cloudsdale, battering themselves to pieces against the old, warped windowpanes. She hoped that she would not dream. For if she did, she could not imagine her dreams would be pleasant, and in the light of day, not even Princess Luna would be able to protect her or help her make sense of them.

In spite of her fear, her eyes fell slowly shut, and if she dreamed at all that day, she did not remember it.

***

It was late afternoon when she awoke, and though she probably could have gotten away with not showing up until the following morning, she decided to go in to work anyway, if only to turn the forms Queen Chrysalis had signed over to Boxxy.

Her mane looked a mess, of course, a product of her having slept with it wet, but she didn't care. She made the snap decision to stop by Sugar Cube Corner, and was unsurprised to see Pinkie Pie at the counter, smiling gleefully.

“Derpy!” she shouted. “I missed you yesterday! You want the usual?”

“Just one muffin, thanks,” said Derpy. “I don't even care what kind.”

Pinkie skipped to a nearby counter, and removed a blueberry muffin.

“Mr. Cake just made them; it's still warm!” she said, placing it in a small, brown paper bag.

“You... look a little odd, today,” said the pink earth pony. “Can't put my hoof on it. Are you feeling alright?”

“Oh,” said Derpy, quietly. “I slept with my mane wet. That's all.”

“Maybe that's what it is,” said Pinkie Pie, an eyebrow raised. “Here; I'll pick up the tab on this one.”

“Thanks, Pinkie,” said Derpy.

“Happy Hearth's Warming!” chimed the earth mare as Derpy turned, and stepped towards the door.

She munched on the muffin on her way to the EPS, and it put a bit of energy into her step. Still, however, she felt far too aware. She had made it the business of her life to not give consideration to the things that made her unhappy, but the last two days had left her with little else to consider.

“Maybe it's good for me to think for a change,” she said to herself as she approached the front door of the EPS hub.

As she stepped into the lounge, the door to Boxxy's office stood open. As she reached the top of the stairs, she saw the big pegasus' desk, still buried under the mound of paperwork. He was sitting behind it, as always, a pencil clutched in his teeth, and he was scribbling furiously at whatever document lay on the top of the heap. Noticing her, he finished it quickly, and moved it into a basket marked “Out,” which itself was stacked deeply with papers.

“I hate Hearth's Warming,” he grumbled, spitting his pencil into a cup.

“Join the club, Boxxy,” she said, quietly.

He looked up.

“You alright?” he asked.

“Huh?” Derpy remembered Pinkie Pie's comment. “Oh, I'm sorry I'm such a mess today. Do you have anything for me to do?”

“Nada,” he said. “Everything's already out for the day. You got the forms on that... eh... special delivery?”

“Sure thing,” she said, and she dropped the clipboard on his desk.

He rifled through the pages quickly, and removed the stack from the clipboard. He stapled them together, and pushed the stack to the side of his desk.

“Oh, yeah, a telegram came in for you yesterday afternoon,” he said, and he pulled a small, yellow card out of a drawer.

Derpy took it, and read.

DEAR PARENT OR GUARDIAN OF (and here, Dinky's name had been written in pencil)

DUE TO YOUR CHILD'S STATUS AS AN ELEMENTARY STUDENT, HE/SHE WILL COMPLETE FINAL EXAMINATIONS TODAY, AND SHOULD ARRIVE HOME BY TRAIN TOMORROW AFTERNOON BY WAY OF THE (and here, 5pm had likewise been penciled) TRAIN FROM CANTERLOT. PLEASE BE PRESENT OR MAKE ARRANGEMENTS TO SEE THAT YOUR CHILD IS ESCORTED SAFELY HOME.

ADMINISTRATION, PRINCESS CELESTIA'S SCHOOL FOR GIFTED UNICORNS

“I'm glad you showed up,” said Boxxy. “I couldn't help reading it – telegram service said it was urgent, so I figured somepony better. I was gonna send somepony to get her if you weren't here, but then Tiger Lily's baby came early last night, and Silver Script is covering three routes...”

“Oh, goodness,” said Derpy. “Is she alright?”

“Tiger Lily?' asked Boxxy. “I flew by and checked on her on my lunch break. She's fine; foal's fine. They're both fine. Imagine what mighta happened if she'da had to make that Chrysalis delivery, though.”

Saying these words, Boxxy Brown actually smiled at Derpy Hooves, and gave her a look of genuine admiration.

“Yeah,” mumbled Derpy, more to herself than Boxxy. “Imagine.”

“Well, it's almost five now,” said Boxxy. “Guess you'd better head to the train station.”

***

Derpy waited at the train station, her eyes fixed on a small hill in the distance: Ponyville Memorial Garden.

“Memorial Garden,” she grumbled to herself. “Why don't they just call a cemetery a cemetery? It's like how everypony says somepony 'passed away' or 'isn't with us anymore.' Dead is dead. Why can't anypony deal with it?”

“Oh, hello, Derpy,” said a pleasant voice from just behind her.

She glanced back over her shoulder, and saw, to her mild surprise, a purple alicorn clad in a white parka.

“Princess Twilight,” she said, turning around and offering a smile in an effort to be respectful. Twilight would have none of her bowing or calling her “highness,” but Derpy would at least do her the honor of facing her to speak – even if she didn't really feel like standing face-to-face with anypony right now, least of all a princess.

Twilight Sparkle recoiled ever-so-slightly.

“Is something wrong?” asked the alicorn.

“Nothing,” Derpy lied. “What would make you think so?”

“Well, okay,” said Twilight. “You just look a little off, somehow.”

“My eyes?” asked Derpy.

“Yeah,” said Twilight.

Derpy wasn't surprised. By now, even she had noticed their peculiar realignment.

“They do straighten up from time to time,” said the pegasus, and even as she spoke she realized that the melancholy in her voice would do little to assuage the Princess' worries.

“Well, there is that,” said Twilight, “but I meant... They look so tired.”

“They do that from time to time, too,” said Derpy.

Twilight said nothing, but scratched at her right foreleg with her left. She seemed uncomfortable, and Derpy felt guilty. Here was a princess, and she had managed to give even her a few moments of awkwardness and discomfort.

“Sorry,” said the pegasus, and she turned away to look down the tracks.

“It's okay,” said Twilight, “Who are you waiting for?”

“Dinky gets home from school today,” said Derpy.

“Oh, fun!” said Twilight. “She's going to have so much to tell you!”

Derpy smiled a little at this, and then a thought crossed her mind.

“Who are you waiting for?” she asked.

“Oh,” said Twilight. “Shining Armor and Cadance are coming to visit for Hearth's Warming. They stopped by Canterlot to see Celestia on the way... and Princess Luna, I guess, but who knows where she is and what she's doing most of the time, right?”

“Probably sleeps most of the day,” Derpy said, thinking back to her day's long nap.

“Probably,” said Twilight, not at all noticing the slight note of irony in Derpy's voice. “Here comes the train!” She pointed a hoof, and Derpy's eyes followed.

Indeed, the train was rumbling down the tracks towards the station, and as it screeched to a halt, Derpy's heart couldn't help but surge with a little joy and hope.

Dinky was home.

“Come with me,” said Twilight. “When I was in school, they used to send the out-of-town students home on the first class car. Yours probably won't be too far from mine,” said Twilight.

Twilight trotted towards one of the cars, and Derpy followed. It was only a few moments before three ponies emerged from the car: a prince, a princess, and a tiny mauve-colored foal, all bundled up in thick winter clothes.

Dinky was talking to Princess Cadance, who was smiling and laughing, her eyes squeezed so tightly shut in her amusement that tears squeezed from their corners. If not for that, Derpy would have been apprehensive to know her daughter was speaking to a pony of such importance. As it was, however, the sight put her at ease.

And then, Dinky saw her.

“Mommy!”

The word was like warm tea on a frigid day – and a frigid day, it was.

The little unicorn ran to her mother and shoved her face into her chest, nuzzling her as tightly as Derpy could ever remember. She responded by bending down to hug her with her neck. After several seconds, she release her.

“Did you have fun?” asked Derpy.

“Uh-huh,” said Dinky.

“And did you learn anything?” asked Derpy.

“Watch this!” said Dinky.

She backed a few paces away from her mother, and pointed her horn straight up. There was a crackling and sparking at its tip, and then a brief gout of pure, red fire shot straight upward, illuminating the entire area briefly.

“Wow.” said Derpy, being not in the least facetious.

Just like him, she thought.

“Careful with that!” Derpy heard Twilight Sparkle shout in clear admonishment.

The pegasus turned her head to see Twilight gathering herself to her full height from a bizarre posture, her rump raised into the air, made all the more absurd by the fact that Princess Cadance mirrored it. She had little time to ponder this odd state of affairs before Twilight trotted gingerly over and stopped in front of her daughter.

“Sorry, Princess,” said Dinky, and she dropped her head.

“It's okay,” said Twilight. “Just remember: lots of things burn. You can't cast a spell like that just anywhere, anytime.”

“I know,” said Dinky, sullenly. “It's just... It's the only thing I'm good at, and I wanted to show Mommy.”

“That's okay,” said Twilight. “Just show her outside of town – preferably over a nice, big lake.” The alicorn's face took on a look of contemplation for a moment. “And come get me first, okay?” She thought for a moment longer, “In fact, never do that at all, unless you have my expressed permission.”

She snickered.

“Goodness, I sound just like Princess Celestia.”

“I apologize, Twilight,” said Derpy. "Guess it wasn't a good idea for them to teach her that."

“They didn't," said Twilight Sparkle. "They don't teach anything like that at all until your senior year of high school, and then it's only for military applicants. She must have figured that one out on her own."

"Really?" asked Derpy. "Oh, dear."

"I'm not as good as everypony else at most spells," said Dinky, "but Princess Celestia said she was glad she found me when she did, anyway."

"Celestia probably didn't mean that quite the way Dinky thinks," whispered Twilight, leaning close to Derpy's ear, "but still, it is a good thing."

"Don't worry," said Twilight, speaking plainly, now. "Princess Celestia had to reign me in a time or two when I was her age. She'll do fine.”

Twilight trotted away to speak to her brother, and Derpy was surprised to see Princess Cadance approaching.

“Uh, hi,” said Derpy, bowing slightly.

“Hello,” said Cadance. “I'm guessing this one's yours?” She indicated Dinky with a hoof. “She kept me very entertained on the way here.”

Dinky blushed, and edged in closer to her mother.

“I hope she wasn't any trouble,” said Derpy.

“Not at all,” said Cadance. “I love children. I used to... Ah, never mind.”

The alicorn shot a peculiar glance towards Twilight Sparkle that Derpy couldn't quite decipher.

“Well,” said Derpy, “Thank you for looking after Dinky. We'll get out of your way. Enjoy your visit”

She turned, wrapping a wing around Dinky's hindquarters to guide her.

“Wait,” said Cadance.

“Hmm?” Derpy grunted, stopping, and turning back towards the Princess.

“Dinky,” said Cadance, “I bet Twi... Princess Twilight would love to hear about what you've been studying at school. Could you go talk to her for a minute?”

“Okay!” Dinky almost shouted, and she was off towards where Twilight stood talking to her brother.

Princess Cadance watched her go, and as she approached him, Shining Armor looked up towards his wife, who gave him a little wave, and a smile. He returned a knowing look, and then looked down at the little, excited unicorn filly as she proceeded to begin an exchange with the Princess Twilight Sparkle.

Now, Cadance, turned back towards Derpy.

“What's wrong?” she asked.

“Wrong?” asked Derpy, evasively. “My daughter's home early for Hearth's Warming,” she said. “What could be wrong?”

“I get this weird feeling from you,” said Cadance. “You seem sad, somehow. Deep down, you know? Where it means something.”

“I'm just a little tired from work,” said Derpy. “I had a... rough delivery... yesterday.”

“Is that all?” asked Princess Cadance.

“Huh?” was Derpy's only response.

“Listen... What was your name? When she talks about you, Dinky just calls you 'Mommy,'” laughed the alicorn.

“It's... Dit... Derpy... Derpy Hooves.”

“Well, Derpy,” said Cadance, “You know I can sort of feel what other ponies feel, right?”

“Oh,” said Derpy. ”You know hearts, then?” The question was flatly spoken and bore a faint note of accusation that Derpy had not intended.

“Huh?” said Cadance, and she withdrew slightly, and gnawed at her lower lip. “Well, no.”

“Excuse me,” said Derpy. “That came out wrong.”

“I just get feelings from other ponies,” said the Princess. “I mean, I can... make them love, in a way, but I can really only make them feel the best part of what they already feel; see the best part of what they already see.”

“But you understand hearts, then?” said Derpy.

“No,” said Cadance, shaking her head. “I don't understand hearts, at all. I don't know why anypony feels... anything. I don't know what makes anypony love or hate or anything. I know it's all beautiful, though.”

“You really think so?” asked Derpy. “All of it?”

“Yes, all of it,” said Cadance. “Even the feelings that are...” and here she hesitated. “Hard to feel,” she finally said, and she cleared her throat quietly.

Derpy said nothing; she was too ashamed. Princess Cadance stood there in silence awaiting a response. Finally, after a few seconds, she spoke.

“I'm sorry, Derpy,” she said. “It wasn't my place.”

“No,” said Derpy. “It's okay.”

As Cadance turned to walk towards where Dinky still stood speaking to her husband and sister-in-law, Derpy bit into her lip so hard that she almost drew blood. Then, she spoke.

“Princess!” was all that she said.

“Yes?” asked the alicorn, looking back over her shoulder.

“What makes those feelings... the hard ones... what makes them beautiful to you? How can a thing like sorrow or grief or loneliness ever be beautiful?”

“Because, Derpy Hooves,” said Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, "those feelings prove to us that we can still feel, and as long as we can still feel, we can still love."

"But love is a decision," said Derpy. "Not just a feeling."

"You're right," said the alicorn, "but it is still a feeling, Derpy. The decision is really just whether or not to let yourself feel it."

Princess Cadance smiled as she said this, and Derpy could think of nothing else to say. She smiled back, and the princess nodded.

"Happy Hearth's Warming, Derpy Hooves," she said, and she walked away towards her husband and sister.

Embers and Emeralds

Chapter 4
Embers and Emeralds

“Memorial Garden?” said Dinky Hooves, reading the letters in the cast iron arch over the gateway through which she and her mother passed. “Why would they call it that?”

“I guess it's because you're supposed to come here to remember,” said her mother, thinking of how much she, herself, did not want to remember. “You know,” she said, “to remember ponies that have... passed away.”

It was Hearth's Warming Eve, and they were walking along a cobblestone path between the many gravestones of the Memorial Garden, Headed towards a place Derpy had never before taken her daughter. The sun was sinking low on the western horizon.

“Well,why are we here?” asked Dinky.

“Because,” Derpy began, and she was tempted to say that there was no reason, and to just walk her daughter home. But she did not.

“Because this is where your daddy is buried, Dinky,” she said.

“Oh,” said Dinky, slightly confused.

“I should have brought you here a long time ago,” said Derpy.

“What for?” asked Dinky Hooves.

“Because you deserve to know,” said Derpy. “You should know where he is and who he was.”

Mercifully, Dinky did not respond, and the snow continued to fall gently around mother and daughter as they moved along the path towards a particular corner of the graveyard – one that was not well-lit nor especially high on the hillside.

By and by, they reached it, and Derpy was pleased to see that the groundskeeper had bothered to keep the tombstone and grave site clean since her last visit.

When was that?

The question bit at her heart more deeply than the cold at her muzzle and wingtips – it must have been five years, at least.

“There he is,” said Derpy, pointing a hoof at a headstone. “That's where your daddy is buried.”

Dinky waddled up to the gravestone, and sat down, right on top of where her father lay beneath her. Derpy did not scold her, or tell her to move. It was the closest he would ever come to holding his daughter, after all.

“Emberwisp?” asked Dinky, looking at the tombstone curiously.

“That was his name,” said Derpy, choking up a bit to hear her daughter say the word. “He was a unicorn, like you. He's why you're a unicorn – why you are what you are.” She swallowed a lump in her throat, and in the cold, it hurt. “He was better at fire magic than anypony, or that's what everypony used to say, anyway.”

“What happened to him?” asked Dinky.

“He had an accident,” said Derpy, flatly. “Turns out even the best can make a mistake. Sometimes, the world just doesn't care who everypony says you are, I guess – or who you think you are.”

“Is he why I'm good at fire magic?” asked Dinky.

“I'm sure he is,” said Derpy, proudly.

“Then I'm glad he was my daddy,” said Dinky, “because if he wasn't, I wouldn't be good at anything.”

Derpy felt her heart seize up, like the cold itself had seeped into her to take hold of it. She wanted to bawl like a baby at her daughter's words, but she absolutely would not allow it. She held fast, imagining herself to be made of iron – cold, blackened iron that was rusty, jagged, and pitted with age – and utterly still.

She did not cry.

“I'm glad,” said Derpy, grinding her teeth, momentarily. “I'm glad, too,” she said, and she gasped in several breaths of cold, cold air, using them to keep herself stolid and stone-faced.

“Emberwisp Hooves,” said Dinky. “That's a good name.”

“Absolutely,” said Derpy, still taking deep breaths of the frigid air as quietly as she could manage.

“Do you think he'd be proud of me?” asked Dinky Hooves.

“Dinky,” said her mother, “he'd be so proud of you that he wouldn't know what to do.”

Dinky stared at the tombstone for a few seconds longer, and then spoke.

“Why'd you fall in love with him, Mommy?”

Derpy Hooves racked her brain, and then laughed quietly, realizing that she had no answer. She smiled down at the little unicorn who faced her father's tombstone, and having been asked a question, she answered truthfully.

“I have no idea,” she said. “I don't understand why I felt what I felt.” She sighed. “Maybe that's why I was able to feel it, at all.”

“Huh?” Dinky grunted.

“Don't worry,” said Derpy. “I think you'll understand, one day.”

The snow began to pick up, now, and the wind whistled loudly. The weather patrol had gone out of their way to get the clouds started on a thick blanket of snow for the next day's many celebrations.

“Come on, Dinky,” said the pegasus, “It's really cold. I'll bring you back here another day, if you'd like to visit again.”

“Okay,” said Dinky, and she stood up from where she had sat upon her father's grave.

They moved back through the graveyard, Dinky walking close beside her mother, who kept her tucked under a wing to keep the little unicorn warm.

As they crested the hill, they were surprised to see, of all things on a day so cold and snowy, another pony. It was a pegasus stallion, and as they drew closer, Derpy recognized him as the same stallion she had met in Sugar Cube Corner on the morning she had left to deliver Queen Chrysalis her package. He was sitting on his haunches, looking down at a pair of gravestones, one much smaller than the other, situated beneath an old oak tree. He looked up, and recognition shot briefly through his expression, followed by embarrassment. He quickly diverted his eyes, turning them back to the two gravestones which had earlier occupied his attention.

She almost passed in complete silence. She almost said nothing, and that would have been so easy. Yet Derpy Hooves spoke to the near-total stranger.

“You don't have to be ashamed, you know,” she said.

He lifted his head, looking totally perplexed.

“It's good of you to come here, especially on such a cold day.”

He gave a dismissive wave.

“I'm fine,” he said, raising his voice barely enough to be heard above the wind. “Cold is what I do, remember? What I am.”

“I remember,” said Derpy, “but you said you didn't like it.”

“I did, didn't I?" he sighed.

Derpy stood there for a moment, uncertain of what to say or do.

“Is that your daughter?” asked the stallion, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Derpy said, rubbing at Dinky's side with her wing in an effort to warm her a little. “I wanted her to see her daddy's grave. She'd never seen it before.”

“Good of you to bother on a day like this,” said the stallion.

“Well, he died around this time of year,” said Derpy. “We had just found out I was pregnant, so he never got to...” she said, her words trailing off. “It just seemed right.”

The stallion nodded. He gestured just once at the tombstones, and his hoof fell limply back down.

“Six years ago this same day,” said the stallion, clearing his throat to maintain his composure. “She was always sickly,” he said. “She got pneumonia. Can't help seeing it as my own doing in a way, but everypony always has to have a white Hearth's Warming, you know?”

“Cold is what you do,” Said Derpy, flatly. “It's just what you are. No need to regret it... to change it.”

He gave a quiet, raspy. “Hmm,” and that was it.

“What about the little one?” asked Derpy, nodding at the tiny headstone.

“Nopony buried there,” said the Stallion, gesturing at the smaller headstone, “She was pregnant. It's just for show; not even a name on it.”

He reached out, and brushed the snow away from the face of the little headstone, which was indeed blank, but for a simple, florentine carving.

“Emerald Flicker,” said Derpy, turning her eyes towards the name on the larger monument. “That's a pretty name.”

“I just called her Emmy,” whispered the stallion, but Derpy's ears caught it.

“What's your name,” said Derpy. “I never asked.”

“Chill Breeze,” he said.

Dinky nudged at her mother.

“Mommy, I'm cold,” she said.

Chill Breeze smiled down at the little unicorn,

“Take her home,” he said, looking back at Derpy. “She'll catch her dea...” He stopped himself, and cleared his throat.

“It's cold,” he said. “Too cold for little fillies.”

Derpy laughed a little to herself.

“Oh, she's got more fire in her than you'd think,” she said. “But we better get going anyway.”

She squeezed the little filly tight against her side, and was about to take a step when a thought crossed her mind.

“What are you doing for Hearth's Warming?” she asked the stallion.

“Me?” he said. “I usually just sit at home and watch the snow. She, eh... She loved the snow.”

"That's terrible," said Derpy. "That you just sit at home, I mean. You should come and have dinner with us. I haven't done much for Hearth's Warming in awhile, but I could give it a try, for once."

“Really?” He smiled, and it matched the sorrow that Derpy had seen in Queen Chrysalis' eyes for its subtlety. “I might just do that,” he said.

“Tack street,” said Derpy. “The plate on the door says 'D.D.H.'”

“And what's that stand for?” he asked.

“Ditzy Doo,” she said. “Ditzy Doo Hooves.”

“Ditzy Doo,” he said, and he laughed a little. “That's cute.”

“Well, everypony calls me...” she began, but she stopped herself.

“Hmm?” he grunted, raising an eyebrow.

“Ditzy,” she said. “Just call me Ditzy Doo.”

finem

Author's Note

This got really, really messy.

I started this meaning for it to be essentially a comedic piece about Derpy's hilariously terrifying adventure delivering a package to Queen Chrysalis. Then, I gave some very real consideration to who Chrysalis was, and to everything implied about Derpy so far in the "Misadventures" series. Those considerations led to the realization that Queen Chrysalis is actually a sad character in a lot of ways, and that no interaction that a single mother could ever have with her would likely be comedic. By that time, though, it was too late to turn back. Whatever the case, I'm tired of working on this, and I've already made up my mind to publish it. So, I hope you enjoyed this, whatever it might have turned out to be.

I make no claim that it is perfect or even particularly good. I feel that it doesn't have a solid theme, and that it tries to do too much in far too few words. I don't even like the title, to be honest. All the same, I'm ready to be done with it. So, if you've read this far, thanks. I hope you got something out of it.

I'm going to bed.

Mannulus.