This Is Why, Shining Armor!by contodaslasganasChaptersThe BeginningA Normal Morning, Plus OneCaught! ... AlmostAppearances Can Be DeceivingThe BeginningStarting from the scene in “A Canterlot Wedding” where Queen Chrysalis, disguised as Princess Cadence, is singing. “No I do not love the groom. In my heart there is no room, but I still want him to be all mine!” Queen Chrysalis looked at herself in the mirror, thinking and grinning devilishly. “Shining Armor will be mine, all mine! He will rue the day he toyed with my emotions; he will pay, and so will all of Equestria!” //// Many Years Before In a hospital in Canterlot “Congratulations, it’s a new baby colt!” The bustle of nurses and doctors had already died down for the most part. The birth had resulted in no complications, and now the new parents were enjoying their first moments with their new foal. His white coat was barely visible under all the blankets he was wrapped in, his eyes squinting to see in the haze of the powerful, bright lights. “What will we name him?” asked the mother, holding her foal in her hooves as he watched his new surroundings inquisitively. “How about White Horn,” her husband replied; he was always deeply lacking on the creative side of things. Not only did his wife wince as he said that name, but the young colt had started to cry upon hearing it. It took a few seconds for him to settle down, rocking back and forth as his mother replied. “I’m not sure he likes that name, dear. I know, how about we name him after your grandfather?” “I think that’s a great idea,” the colt’s father replied, softly picking up his new bundle of joy before talking to him. “Don’t you think so, Shining Armor?” The colt laughed gleefully, the sound dispersing and filling the nearly silent room with joy. The nurses still in the room could not find words to describe such a moment, as if at this moment, not a thing was wrong with the world. //// Meanwhile, in a quiet house in Canterlot, somewhat secluded from the others on the same street Wood Trim was sitting in a rocking chair, pondering what her next project would be. She enjoyed making sculptures, though no longer did ponies line up at her front door to ask for her works of art, at least, not since the new sculptor arrived to Canterlot. Sure, he could make those sculptures in a third of the time as Trim could, but she had inspected his work and had spotted many flaws that passed by unseen by the untrained eyes of the populace. Wood Trim always took the utmost care in making her sculptures: such mistakes would never be present in one of her works. Perhaps if she spent less time in checking for errors, she would – KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK The sharp rapping on her front door broke her concentration and almost knocked her off her chair. “Now, who could that be at this Celestia-forsaken hour?” Though it was only one or two hours into Luna’s night, Trim was aggravated that somebody had interrupted her train of thought. Of course, the fact that she was already past the prime of her life had nothing to do with it. As she opened the door, she saw a figure in black scamper away into the night. “Hey, wait, come back!” Trim was about to follow when she noticed the strange object that was sitting right in front of her. The tightly-woven basket was nothing out of the ordinary: no, what was in the basket was much more interesting. A small something – a creature of some sort, it seemed – slowly squirming around was all Trim could see under Luna’s moon, so she used her magic to carefully place the basket on her dining table, the only place untouched by the numerous drawings and tools strewn throughout the house (Trim claimed it brought her “inspiration”). Upon reaching the table Trim slowly pulled down the blanket that was covering the small object in the basket, but what appeared in front of her eyes was so unexpected, so disturbing that were she faint of heart (or perhaps a couple years older), she would have suffered a heart attack. In front of her was one of the most malevolent of beasts, with a chitinous, black shell and perforations throughout its body. It was a changeling. No, it was a baby changeling. It was a changeling, that was true, but it was most unlike a beast. The baby was sleeping, scrunched up into a little ball, and if one looked past the fact that it was a changeling, it looked … well, it looked cute. “What am I thinking? I should put it back where I found it,” thought Trim, but soon after she noticed that the baby changeling was shivering. How could she leave such a poor thing outside, exposed to the elements? Without noticing, Trim had been warming up to the changeling. It could have been due to the fact that the baby looked so cute, or maybe because Trim had always wanted a foal of her own but could not because of her medical condition. Whatever the reason, she slowly placed the blanket back on top of the changeling, carrying the swaddling bundle of sheets and baby onto her bed, hoping that her body heat would stop the shivering and let the filly sleep well. Before she turned off the lights, though, she noticed a small note at the bottom of the basket: “To whosoever receives this letter, I hope that you will find it in your heart to take care of this baby. I no longer have the money nor the health to provide her shelter and warmth. I am forever in your debt, and I thank you for giving my daughter a chance at life.” After reading through the note for the third time, with tears forming in her eyes, Trim decided without a doubt what she would do. She shut off the light and got into bed next to the changeling, hugging the baby close to her. As she trailed off to sleep, Trim softly promised to the changeling, not caring that she was not listening nor able to understand Equish: “From now on, I will be your protector, your guardian, your mother. I will provide you with food and shelter, and I will make sure you grow up to be the best mare you can be. This I promise you, and as such I will call you … Chrysanthemum, my filly.” Author's Note My first story, since I always wondered if Chrysalis and Shining Armor were connected somehow before the wedding incident. The story is entirely in the flashback: the part before the flashback is to provide some reference point to link this story to the episode. Suggestions / remarks highly appreciated, as well as for a better title or cover art. A Normal Morning, Plus OneCelestia’s sun was shining brightly and soothingly through the windows of Wood Trim’s old house. Chrysanthemum’s first night with her new mother had been, well … suffice it to say that Trim did not get much sleep that night: the filly would squirm every couple of minutes, as if she were suffering from chronic nightmares. Trim would then pick her up and rock her in her arms softly, humming an old lullaby that her parents used to sing whenever she couldn’t sleep. Trim then drifted back off to sleep, though the process repeated itself every hour or so. It finally died down in the wee hours of the morning, finally giving Trim a chance to get some shut-eye before facing the new day. For this day was the first day she would spend with her filly, and little did she know that she was going to need all the energy she could gather to take care of her. “…” “…” “… Huh … What … What time is it?” Trim slowly rose up from the bed, careful not to disturb the sleeping filly from her quiet dreams. The practicality of that action was soon negated when she unintentionally let out a huge yawn, loud enough to challenge even a manticore’s roar. Trim quickly glanced back to check if she had accidentally woken up Chrysanthemum, but the filly only squirmed slightly before continuing to suck on one of her hooves, still in dreamland. “Wow, she must be a really heavy sleeper.” Her eyes surveyed the room quickly as she spoke to herself, her gaze stopping at the grandfather clock that, quite aptly, her grandfather had made for her after she got her cutie mark. It took her a couple seconds to read the time, her vision not quite restored completely after the long night. “SWEET CELESTIA, IT’S ALMOST NOON! HALF THE DAY IS ALREADY GONE!” Trim didn’t mean to shout: she was merely surprised since she was always a morning person, waking up almost daily five minutes before the dawn to see the sun rise up from the horizon. Still, her loud voice finally broke through to the filly, who woke up with a start and instantaneously started crying. After scolding herself for her rash action, Trim trotted over to the disheveled bed and picked up her filly, slowly rocking her back and forth. Chrysanthemum, however, would not stop crying, and after a couple minutes of bawling, a low grumble escaped from Trim’s stomach. Oh, right, she must be hungry. Why didn’t I think of that sooner? Now, where did I put that baby bottle … Trim slowly put Chrysanthemum back down on the bed and covered her in some of the sheets, which seemed to calm her for a while. She then opened the door to her closet, later pulling out a large wooden chest, easily twice if not three times as large as the average pony. She opened the lid too quickly, though, sending years-old dust in front of her face as she fought desperately to not cough. After dispersing the dust, she used her magic to pull out the contents of the chest item by item, taking out half of the objects before finding exactly what she needed: a box marked Baby Items. “Well, now, let’s see what we have here … There we go!” Trim pulled out a small baby bottle, the same one she had used oh so long ago. Unfortunately, the box had not done an adequate job at keeping its contents dust-free. After another small coughing fit, Trim carefully placed all the items except for the marked box back into the trunk and into the closet. Noticing that Chrysanthemum was once again starting to fidget, she decided to quicken her pace, hurrying to the kitchen to wash the bottle while simultaneously taking out some milk from her fridge and heating it up. In Equestria-record time, her filly was at the table drinking the warm liquid eagerly while Trim prepared some pancakes for herself. As the new mother sat down next to Chrysanthemum, she began to eat and ponder about the future. What am I going to do? I have never been a mother before. Sure, I may have foalsitted for my brother back when I was younger, but will I be able to take care of her? What if Chrysanthemum doesn’t like me? What if she – No, stop thinking like that. You made a promise that night you took her in: you will take care of her, and you will be the best mother to her that you can possibly be. Now, what’s next on the to-do list for today? Her mind started making a mental checklist, most of the items related to taking care of her filly. After remembering that her memory was not as perfect as it was ages ago, she hopped up from the table, rummaged through a pile of papers and tools until she found a notepad and pencil, and started writing down all the tasks she would have to finish. Hmm, okay, I have to buy some more milk as I just used up the last carton. I’m also going to have to make a crib for her, so I’ll need to buy some more wood. Oh, and – Her thoughts were cut short as a bottle sailed through the air and hit her horn, causing it to release an unintended – yet quite powerful – ball of magic that pierced through the roof and sailed off into the distance. Trim quickly regained her wits and spotted the filly squirming in her chair, when suddenly Chrysanthemum tilted a bit too much to the right and started to fall off. Mere centimeters away from the floor, the filly was held up by Trim’s telekinesis. The unicorn (still disoriented a bit by the blow to her horn) slowly brought Chrysanthemum to her bed and plopped down next to her. Trim’s magic had been completely drained in a matter of seconds, and one final thought floated through her mind as she rested: Today’s going to be a long day. Author's Note The next part! So, due to finals and the winter break, I may not be posting updates frequently, but I will try to work on the story when I have time or when I want to procrastinate Caught! ... AlmostThe rest was much needed, and once again Trim continued going through her mental checklist. One piece of furniture seemed quite obvious: a baby chair, one that Chrysanthemum (or Chryssie, as Trim had started calling her filly) could not wriggle her way out of. Trim looked at Chryssie, surprised to see that she was already fast asleep. Trim slowly climbed off her bed and quickly got to work. The next days passed without much incident; what made those days far from normal, however, was Trim's harsh working schedule. Every moment that she could spare, Trim would continue building the chair, and later the crib, determined to finish as soon as possible. Three grueling weeks and a couple of failed designs later, she had finished the chair, and three more weeks after, the crib. By that time, her hooves and horn were sore, but she paid no notice. Only one thought flashed through her mind after attaching the last piece: I hope my filly loves this, a crib of her own. What she had not taken into consideration was that Chryssie had already grown accustomed to sleeping alongside her mother. The first night that Trim tried to convince Chryssie to sleep in the crib was, in fact, a nightmare, but Trim knew that it was for the filly's own good. Chryssie had cried incessantly throughout the night, but after two more bedtimes she had grown accustomed to sleeping in her crib. In fact, Chryssie herself seemed to have grown quite a bit over those weeks, though she was still smaller compared to the average pony filly. Not only did she take her first steps, but she was also able to run around with relative ease (and at quite a decent speed, in truth). As joyous as Trim was for her filly, she could not deny that Chryssie was becoming a lot harder to take care of: the mischief in her house increased five-fold, especially because the filly’s magic would flare up at random times. Still, Trim always felt that she had mostly everything under control. It only took one week after the crib incidents for her to reassess that statement. Mistake 1: Leaving Chryssie unattended in the living room. Mistake 2: Not closing the front door fully after entering. Mistake 3… Trim started mentally counting all her mistakes as she raced down the street, all the while praying to Celestia that nopony see her mischievous filly. That day had started like any other: an uneventful breakfast, followed by Trim placing Chryssie back into her crib for her nap. Trim later left to get some foal food and vegetables from the market, returning without incident. As soon as she opened the door, however, Chryssie woke up and started crying loudly, Trim quickly placing the groceries on the table and taking the filly in her hooves. It only took a couple of seconds for her to realize that Chryssie was crying not so much because she had awoken but because she was hungry. Trim set the filly down on the floor and trotted over to the kitchen hastily to prepare some food, but in the few seconds that Chryssie was left unattended, the filly spotted a small, colorful butterfly just outside the doorway. She had never seen so many colors jumbled on such a small, moving organism. As the filly approached it, though, the delicate animal started to fly away. Chryssie quickly followed it as it flew through the half-open doorway and out onto the street. The only thing that Trim saw was Chryssie’s tail as it cleared the doorway at light-speed. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Trim was quite scared, frightened of what would happen if anypony saw Chryssie: everypony would know that she was a changeling, and then guards would be called in, and they would take Chryssie away, and then … No, I cannot let that happen, not to my filly. I have to find her before anypony else does. Fortunately for Trim, Chryssie had left behind a distinct trail of small hoofprints. Another stroke of good fortune was that the prints led to the park, which at this time would be empty of ponies due to the fashion show that everypony seemed to go to. Meanwhile, Chryssie had followed the butterfly for as long as she could, the small animal rising higher and higher until the filly’s eyes could no longer spot it. However, she then heard a rustle from behind a bush, the sound startling her into noticing her new surroundings. Chryssie was no longer at home, and she felt quite a bit scared, but still curious about why the bush moved. She did not have to wait long, for a large dog jumped out and frightened her with his loud barks. Chryssie had only one thought left on her mind: run. As the filly changed direction, Trim arrived at the park just in time to see that Chryssie was running straight for a huge, deep ditch in the construction zone only a dozen feet away. Trim knew that Chryssie’s frail body would not be able to withstand such a fall, especially with the digging machines still working in the hole. In a state of desperation, knowing that she would not get there in time to save Chryssie, Trim cried out at the top of her lungs: CHRYSSIE, STOP! SOMEPONY, PLEASE STOP HER! Tears filled her eyes as she expected the inevitable. She willed herself to gallop faster, all the while denying, but inwardly knowing, that she would be too late, too late to save the one thing that she had longed for and finally found, the one thing that could bring her happiness in her remaining years, the one thing that she loved more than anything in the world. … … SWOOSH! A figure appeared from an obscure path and swiftly moved to intercept the small filly, blocking her path to the hole. … … A white light suddenly filled the scene, lasting only a second or two, but leaving Trim blind for a moment. She blinked madly to see what had become of her filly, fighting back the tears, and what she saw was quite unexpected. A stallion was lying on the ground, inches away from the ditch. Farther away from the construction zone was the small filly, standing in front of the fallen pony and looking around as if to readjust to her new surroundings. When Chryssie saw her mother, she galloped over and clutched her hoof, trembling with fright. Trim, still a bit stunned at the display in front of her, sat down and took Chryssie in her hooves, rocking her back and forth until the filly finally felt safe. At that moment, the stallion started to stir, and turned his head toward the mother and child. Trim, not wanting to leave the injured stallion but afraid that he would see her filly and report her to the guards, did the first thing that came to mind. She remembered a disguise spell that she had used on herself when she was little to change her mane color and give herself a cutie mark, though she doubted that she could remember exactly how to cast it. Still, time was of the essence, so she pictured herself in one of her disguises (minus the cutie mark) and cast the spell on her filly. Since she was little, she knew that the spell was not that difficult but that it required massive amounts of magic, so much that she could only hold it for a minute or two. However, this time it felt different: it was almost as if the filly was accepting the spell and even supplying some of her own magic as Trim cast it. How is this possible? Does my filly have such an affinity for this type of spell? Or does she have so much magic hidden inside her that it just wants to be let out? It was then that Trim understood what the scene she had witnessed was: Chryssie must have gotten startled and used her magic inadvertently, striking the stallion. That same stallion cut Trim’s thoughts short, standing up with a little difficulty and about to ask Trim what had happened. Trim beat him to the punch and began to explain. “Oh, I’m so sorry, my filly must have gotten startled when you showed up that I think she lost control of her magic. Oh, and THANK YOU, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SAVING MY FILLY!” Trim had started to tear up again, and she hugged the stallion with all her might, without dropping Chryssie. The stallion took a moment then understood what had happened, and he replied, “No problem, it was nothing.” “But how can I ever repay you?” Trim replied, letting go of the pony in front of her. “No need,” the mysterious stallion said, but he later became sad for some unknown reason. Trim noticed this sudden change. “By the way, I hope I’m not prying, but why do you look so sad? You have just done something honorable. You should be happy.” “No, it’s not about that, it’s just …” The stallion hesitated, but later continued, he himself needing to open up to someone. “The thing is that I had a fight, a big one, with my wife, and I don’t know what to do. We have been having a lot of fights recently, and see … this is just not what I thought marriage was going to be. I don’t know if I can keep this up.” “Let me ask you one question before you continue,” Trim interjected, seeing that the stallion was running out of breath. “Alright, breathe, calm down, and answer me this: do you still love her?” The stallion hastily responded, “Of course I do, I have loved her ever since I first set eyes on her. She is the most beautiful mare I have ever seen, her kindness is limitless, and she still makes my heart jump just by looking my way …” “Then you have your answer,” Trim cut in. “You still love her, so there is no reason to break apart, now, is there? As for the fights, no marriage is a walk in the park. Fights are common, but each one that is resolved only makes the marriage stronger. Just because a married couple fights doesn’t mean that they don’t love each other; in fact, it can even be the opposite: they fight because they do care about each other.” By now, the stallion was listening intently, and with every sentence, he was beginning to realize how ridiculous he was to think about breaking up his marriage. “Now,” Trim continued, “I can’t tell you exactly what to do to fix your marriage, but I know that your wife must be feeling as bad as you are right now about that fight. Go to her, comfort her, and work on fixing the problem together.” The stallion abruptly wrapped his hooves around Trim. “Thank you, thank you so much for letting me see the error of my thoughts.” He then looked down at the filly in her hooves and commented, “Make sure you watch that filly of yours. My small colt is also the mischievous fellow.” “Oh, you have a foal of your own! What’s his name?” Trim asked. “Shining Armor,” he responded. “What about your filly’s?” “Her name is Chrysanthemum.” “A beautiful name for such a beautiful filly.” “Why, thank you!” The stallion then began talking to Chryssie: “Don’t make your mama worried, okay? Be good to your mama.” Chryssie simply stared back at the stallion and smiled. The stallion shifted his gaze back to Trim. “Thank you once again for the help. I’ll be going back, and don’t worry about me, I’m not injured in the slightest.” “Well, good luck!” Trim shouted as he trotted away. “Oh, wait! I never got your name!” However, the stallion was already too far away to hear. Trim, noticing that her magic was running low and that Celestia was getting ready to lower the sun, quickly trotted back to the house and shut the front door. She dropped the disguise spell and fell back on her bed, Chryssie in her hooves. Trim felt so relieved that her filly was safe, but she knew she had to have a stern talk with Chryssie. However, what came after quickly melted away any anger and worry from Trim’s mind: “Mama.” One word, only one word, her first word. Trim could not contain her joy, hugging Chryssie close to her until the filly was sound asleep. The mother slowly picked her up and tucked her snugly under the sheets in her crib, and she just stood there, watching her filly sleep peacefully. As serene as the scene was, Trim felt something tug at the back of her mind. I know I can't keep her inside the house for the rest of her life. She has to grow up, go to school, make some friends, have fun, experience life, but if anyone else were to see her like this, they could really harm her. What should I do? What can I do? With this thought, Trim fell into a restless sleep, worrying about the future and hoping to find a way for Chryssie to lead a normal life. Author's Note Back from winter break! Any comments appreciated. Happy New Year! Appearances Can Be DeceivingTrim was alone in the darkness, squinting and blinking rapidly until at last she was able to make out another shape: a small filly curled up in a ball, visibly shaking, crying. The mare leaned close to the small, trembling figure, and as her sight grew more accustomed to the lack of light, she recognized the filly: it was Chryssie – or at least it looked like Chryssie – but she was covered in deep gashes, bruises all around her black body. Trim quickly trotted over and hugged her, tears accumulating ever so slowly in her eyes. “Chryssie, what happened? Are you okay? Who did–” That was as far as Trim got, for then she heard multiple hooves striking the ground with determined speed. “Please, Ma’am, step away from the monster. We must eliminate her at once, by order of Princess Celestia.” The owner of one set of hooves approached the two ponies, dressed in uniform and bearing the crest of the Royal Guard. Four more ponies dressed in similar fashion appeared behind him, each carrying a shield and various weapons, all of which were pointed toward Trim and Chryssie. “W-w-what do you mean?” Trim stuttered, though she had an idea of who they were calling the “monster.” “We cannot let this changeling live,” the guard continued. “She is a threat to all Equestria, and as such must be eliminated.” “M-mama, p-p-please h-help me.” Chryssie’s voice was so soft and trembled terribly. “M-mama, I’m s-scared.” Trim felt something click inside her. She turned to her filly and reassured her: “Don’t worry, Chryssie, I will protect you,” kissing and hugging her tightly until the filly settled down and stopped crying. Trim then turned back to the guards. “This is my filly, and I will protect her with my life. I will NOT let anypony, especially the royal guard, harm her. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?” “Ma’am, I am sorry but we have been given this order by Prin–” The guard got no further. “I don’t care who the buck sent you! Even if Princess Celestia were here, I wouldn’t let her touch my filly. So, in case you didn’t hear, GET THE BUCK AWAY FROM MY FILLY!” Indistinct whispering fluttered among the four guards in the back, and after a couple excruciating seconds, the stallion on the right nodded at the one in front. “I guess we have no choice, then, but to take her by force.” “I would like to see you try.” By now, Trim was fuming. She didn’t care that she would have to fight against five stallions, or for that matter five guards sent directly by Princess Celestia. The only thing on her mind was Chryssie, and the mare had already decided that she would rather die than let her daughter fall into the hooves of those guardsponies. “Run, Chryssie, go behind me and run, and don’t look back. Don’t worry, mama will be right behind you.” Trim knew that last part was a lie, but she needed Chryssie to get as far away as possible from the scene. The filly complied, but as she started to run, more stallions in golden armor burst into view, encircling the two ponies and cutting off the changeling’s escape. Trim tried to teleport Chryssie out, but she noticed that the guards in the back had set up a massive barrier: there was no way out. Still, Trim’s determination did not waver, and she charged up the only attack spell she knew. With luck, I may be able to stun all the guards inside the barrier. When reinforcements come, they’ll be forced to open the barrier, and from there Chryssie and I can run, run to where they cannot get my filly. “This is your last chance. Give up now and we will not harm you. We only want the changeling.” “Buck you.” Trim shot a small wave of energy, stunning a couple stallions in front of her. The stallions began to advance, and the courageous mare shot another wave, then another, then another, then another. But there were just too many soldiers. Too many to count. Trim shot another wave. Still more filled the gap. Her magic was running out. The strain was just too much. Her hooves finally gave way, and she fell to the floor, exhausted, her horn crackling, her heart aching. I’m sorry, Chryssie, I tried my best. … … A blinding light arose from the ground, everypony looking up to inspect the scene. “Wait, where’s the changeling?” The white light expanded explosively, and Trim felt her magic being restored miraculously. The light slowly fell to the floor and died down, and in its place stood another pony, a mare with holes throughout her body but with a white aura around her. “C-Chryssie?” “Let me take care of them, mother,” the mare replied to Trim. Chryssie let loose a huge beam of energy, wiping out half of the guards, leaving only steaming piles of armor in their place. She then concentrated her energy on the barrier, destroying it in a manner of seconds. “Oh, no, we were too late. Bring all of the reinforce–!” Chryssie took care of the talking stallion and set her sights on the remaining guards around her. She began to strike each one with intense, white-hot beams, incinerating them. Trim stood up, speechless, dumbfounded at the scene developing before her. However, she noticed that something was happening to Chryssie: the once white aura around her was turning darker, much darker than the sky on a starless night, much darker than the blackest paint. Chryssie’s eyes had turned dark red, with a black, devilish tinge throughout: she was enjoying killing the stallions. “Chryssie, please stop! Don’t kill the guards! Come on, now’s our chance to escape!” Chryssie ignored her, killing stallions two or three at a time, now black smoke venting from her eyes and body. “No, Chryssie, please stop!” The changeling paid no heed, and wiped out the rest of the stallions in a flash. She then teleported out, leaving no trace of her presence other than the golden armor carpeting the ground, still smoldering. Trim could not believe it. No, this can’t be, this is not my Chryssie! Her thoughts were interrupted by a faint screaming behind her. Trim teleported out towards the screeching sound, only to find herself with an even more gruesome picture than before. Chryssie had already destroyed all the homes in Canterlot. Ponies lay dead all around the city, bodies strewn throughout the street … it was just too much for Trim. But what caught the mother’s eye was the battle ensuing right in front of her: Celestia was fighting Chryssie, and the outcome did not look good. In an instant, Chryssie unleashed a ball of energy directly at Celestia, who was unable to block at such close range. The scene disappeared in blistering light, then reappeared to show Celestia on the ground, dead, Chryssie victorious. “No, no, no! Why? You have to stop, Chryssie!” Suddenly, a small colt appeared in front of Chryssie. The changeling prepared to launch her attack, a beam that would have destroyed the innocent pony in an instant, and Trim could not control herself. She shot a stun wave at Chryssie, who brushed it off as if it was nothing and continued to stare at the small, defenseless pony. There was only one thing Trim could do. As much as it pained her, she charged up the one spell that no one knew she had learned, one that she had stumbled on as a young filly and vowed never to use, for the description itself was scarred in her mind forever. But still, she couldn’t let all of Equestria suffer under Chryssie’s wrath; she couldn't let that innocent colt die. She focused all her magic on her horn, and she spoke the incantation for that forbidden spell. “O daemones in abscondita tenebrarum, accude mea inimici apud internecinum sudes.”* I’m so sorry, Chryssie. Please forgive me. A small black beam hit the ground beneath the changeling, and large black beams of energy arose from the shadows and struck the demon that used to be Chryssie. The changeling could not defend herself against the onslaught, spike after spike of energy crashing on her body. Finally, the spell was over, and Trim fell onto the ground, clinging to the last of her life source. I used too much magic. Oh, Chryssie, I am so sorry… However, Chryssie was not down for the count. Though with deep wounds, she continued her rampage relentlessly. A beam of magic shot from Chryssie’s horn and hit the small colt in the chest, Trim watching in horror. The changeling later turned to her attacker and unleashed a powerful spell upon her mother, a beam that burned with hatred and anger. Why, Chryssie? //// Trim woke with a start, sweating buckets, trembling uncontrollably, almost falling from her bed. Oh, it was just a dream. But why was it so vivid, why did it feel so real? Could it be a premonition, a warning? No, my Chryssie is not this way. Just because she’s a changeling doesn’t make her bad. I can raise her to be a good filly, and that’s what I will do. Trim noticed that it was already dawn, so she prepared a quick breakfast. After almost knocking over a couple dishes with her hooves (which were still trembling, though the effects of the dream were slowly wearing off), she went to wake up Chryssie. The filly was sleeping so serenely, though, that Trim decided against keeping her from her dreams. She pushed the dream out of her mind as best she could and sat down at the table. After she finished eating, her brain a little clearer, she remembered the questions that had plagued her thoughts the day before, thankful for something to keep the happenings of the night off her mind. Ok. When making a plan, start where all the information is: the library. Maybe there I will find a way for Chryssie to live alongside everypony. Author's Note I wonder, how many of you thought the fight was actually happening and not a dream? Any comments appreciated! * "Oh spirits hidden in the darkness, strike my enemies with deadly stakes." This may not be an accurate translation, as I used Google Translate and changed around a couple of words to make the incantation sound darker. BTW, almost 200 views! Thanks, guys!
The BeginningStarting from the scene in “A Canterlot Wedding” where Queen Chrysalis, disguised as Princess Cadence, is singing. “No I do not love the groom. In my heart there is no room, but I still want him to be all mine!” Queen Chrysalis looked at herself in the mirror, thinking and grinning devilishly. “Shining Armor will be mine, all mine! He will rue the day he toyed with my emotions; he will pay, and so will all of Equestria!” //// Many Years Before In a hospital in Canterlot “Congratulations, it’s a new baby colt!” The bustle of nurses and doctors had already died down for the most part. The birth had resulted in no complications, and now the new parents were enjoying their first moments with their new foal. His white coat was barely visible under all the blankets he was wrapped in, his eyes squinting to see in the haze of the powerful, bright lights. “What will we name him?” asked the mother, holding her foal in her hooves as he watched his new surroundings inquisitively. “How about White Horn,” her husband replied; he was always deeply lacking on the creative side of things. Not only did his wife wince as he said that name, but the young colt had started to cry upon hearing it. It took a few seconds for him to settle down, rocking back and forth as his mother replied. “I’m not sure he likes that name, dear. I know, how about we name him after your grandfather?” “I think that’s a great idea,” the colt’s father replied, softly picking up his new bundle of joy before talking to him. “Don’t you think so, Shining Armor?” The colt laughed gleefully, the sound dispersing and filling the nearly silent room with joy. The nurses still in the room could not find words to describe such a moment, as if at this moment, not a thing was wrong with the world. //// Meanwhile, in a quiet house in Canterlot, somewhat secluded from the others on the same street Wood Trim was sitting in a rocking chair, pondering what her next project would be. She enjoyed making sculptures, though no longer did ponies line up at her front door to ask for her works of art, at least, not since the new sculptor arrived to Canterlot. Sure, he could make those sculptures in a third of the time as Trim could, but she had inspected his work and had spotted many flaws that passed by unseen by the untrained eyes of the populace. Wood Trim always took the utmost care in making her sculptures: such mistakes would never be present in one of her works. Perhaps if she spent less time in checking for errors, she would – KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK The sharp rapping on her front door broke her concentration and almost knocked her off her chair. “Now, who could that be at this Celestia-forsaken hour?” Though it was only one or two hours into Luna’s night, Trim was aggravated that somebody had interrupted her train of thought. Of course, the fact that she was already past the prime of her life had nothing to do with it. As she opened the door, she saw a figure in black scamper away into the night. “Hey, wait, come back!” Trim was about to follow when she noticed the strange object that was sitting right in front of her. The tightly-woven basket was nothing out of the ordinary: no, what was in the basket was much more interesting. A small something – a creature of some sort, it seemed – slowly squirming around was all Trim could see under Luna’s moon, so she used her magic to carefully place the basket on her dining table, the only place untouched by the numerous drawings and tools strewn throughout the house (Trim claimed it brought her “inspiration”). Upon reaching the table Trim slowly pulled down the blanket that was covering the small object in the basket, but what appeared in front of her eyes was so unexpected, so disturbing that were she faint of heart (or perhaps a couple years older), she would have suffered a heart attack. In front of her was one of the most malevolent of beasts, with a chitinous, black shell and perforations throughout its body. It was a changeling. No, it was a baby changeling. It was a changeling, that was true, but it was most unlike a beast. The baby was sleeping, scrunched up into a little ball, and if one looked past the fact that it was a changeling, it looked … well, it looked cute. “What am I thinking? I should put it back where I found it,” thought Trim, but soon after she noticed that the baby changeling was shivering. How could she leave such a poor thing outside, exposed to the elements? Without noticing, Trim had been warming up to the changeling. It could have been due to the fact that the baby looked so cute, or maybe because Trim had always wanted a foal of her own but could not because of her medical condition. Whatever the reason, she slowly placed the blanket back on top of the changeling, carrying the swaddling bundle of sheets and baby onto her bed, hoping that her body heat would stop the shivering and let the filly sleep well. Before she turned off the lights, though, she noticed a small note at the bottom of the basket: “To whosoever receives this letter, I hope that you will find it in your heart to take care of this baby. I no longer have the money nor the health to provide her shelter and warmth. I am forever in your debt, and I thank you for giving my daughter a chance at life.” After reading through the note for the third time, with tears forming in her eyes, Trim decided without a doubt what she would do. She shut off the light and got into bed next to the changeling, hugging the baby close to her. As she trailed off to sleep, Trim softly promised to the changeling, not caring that she was not listening nor able to understand Equish: “From now on, I will be your protector, your guardian, your mother. I will provide you with food and shelter, and I will make sure you grow up to be the best mare you can be. This I promise you, and as such I will call you … Chrysanthemum, my filly.” Author's Note My first story, since I always wondered if Chrysalis and Shining Armor were connected somehow before the wedding incident. The story is entirely in the flashback: the part before the flashback is to provide some reference point to link this story to the episode. Suggestions / remarks highly appreciated, as well as for a better title or cover art.
A Normal Morning, Plus OneCelestia’s sun was shining brightly and soothingly through the windows of Wood Trim’s old house. Chrysanthemum’s first night with her new mother had been, well … suffice it to say that Trim did not get much sleep that night: the filly would squirm every couple of minutes, as if she were suffering from chronic nightmares. Trim would then pick her up and rock her in her arms softly, humming an old lullaby that her parents used to sing whenever she couldn’t sleep. Trim then drifted back off to sleep, though the process repeated itself every hour or so. It finally died down in the wee hours of the morning, finally giving Trim a chance to get some shut-eye before facing the new day. For this day was the first day she would spend with her filly, and little did she know that she was going to need all the energy she could gather to take care of her. “…” “…” “… Huh … What … What time is it?” Trim slowly rose up from the bed, careful not to disturb the sleeping filly from her quiet dreams. The practicality of that action was soon negated when she unintentionally let out a huge yawn, loud enough to challenge even a manticore’s roar. Trim quickly glanced back to check if she had accidentally woken up Chrysanthemum, but the filly only squirmed slightly before continuing to suck on one of her hooves, still in dreamland. “Wow, she must be a really heavy sleeper.” Her eyes surveyed the room quickly as she spoke to herself, her gaze stopping at the grandfather clock that, quite aptly, her grandfather had made for her after she got her cutie mark. It took her a couple seconds to read the time, her vision not quite restored completely after the long night. “SWEET CELESTIA, IT’S ALMOST NOON! HALF THE DAY IS ALREADY GONE!” Trim didn’t mean to shout: she was merely surprised since she was always a morning person, waking up almost daily five minutes before the dawn to see the sun rise up from the horizon. Still, her loud voice finally broke through to the filly, who woke up with a start and instantaneously started crying. After scolding herself for her rash action, Trim trotted over to the disheveled bed and picked up her filly, slowly rocking her back and forth. Chrysanthemum, however, would not stop crying, and after a couple minutes of bawling, a low grumble escaped from Trim’s stomach. Oh, right, she must be hungry. Why didn’t I think of that sooner? Now, where did I put that baby bottle … Trim slowly put Chrysanthemum back down on the bed and covered her in some of the sheets, which seemed to calm her for a while. She then opened the door to her closet, later pulling out a large wooden chest, easily twice if not three times as large as the average pony. She opened the lid too quickly, though, sending years-old dust in front of her face as she fought desperately to not cough. After dispersing the dust, she used her magic to pull out the contents of the chest item by item, taking out half of the objects before finding exactly what she needed: a box marked Baby Items. “Well, now, let’s see what we have here … There we go!” Trim pulled out a small baby bottle, the same one she had used oh so long ago. Unfortunately, the box had not done an adequate job at keeping its contents dust-free. After another small coughing fit, Trim carefully placed all the items except for the marked box back into the trunk and into the closet. Noticing that Chrysanthemum was once again starting to fidget, she decided to quicken her pace, hurrying to the kitchen to wash the bottle while simultaneously taking out some milk from her fridge and heating it up. In Equestria-record time, her filly was at the table drinking the warm liquid eagerly while Trim prepared some pancakes for herself. As the new mother sat down next to Chrysanthemum, she began to eat and ponder about the future. What am I going to do? I have never been a mother before. Sure, I may have foalsitted for my brother back when I was younger, but will I be able to take care of her? What if Chrysanthemum doesn’t like me? What if she – No, stop thinking like that. You made a promise that night you took her in: you will take care of her, and you will be the best mother to her that you can possibly be. Now, what’s next on the to-do list for today? Her mind started making a mental checklist, most of the items related to taking care of her filly. After remembering that her memory was not as perfect as it was ages ago, she hopped up from the table, rummaged through a pile of papers and tools until she found a notepad and pencil, and started writing down all the tasks she would have to finish. Hmm, okay, I have to buy some more milk as I just used up the last carton. I’m also going to have to make a crib for her, so I’ll need to buy some more wood. Oh, and – Her thoughts were cut short as a bottle sailed through the air and hit her horn, causing it to release an unintended – yet quite powerful – ball of magic that pierced through the roof and sailed off into the distance. Trim quickly regained her wits and spotted the filly squirming in her chair, when suddenly Chrysanthemum tilted a bit too much to the right and started to fall off. Mere centimeters away from the floor, the filly was held up by Trim’s telekinesis. The unicorn (still disoriented a bit by the blow to her horn) slowly brought Chrysanthemum to her bed and plopped down next to her. Trim’s magic had been completely drained in a matter of seconds, and one final thought floated through her mind as she rested: Today’s going to be a long day. Author's Note The next part! So, due to finals and the winter break, I may not be posting updates frequently, but I will try to work on the story when I have time or when I want to procrastinate
Caught! ... AlmostThe rest was much needed, and once again Trim continued going through her mental checklist. One piece of furniture seemed quite obvious: a baby chair, one that Chrysanthemum (or Chryssie, as Trim had started calling her filly) could not wriggle her way out of. Trim looked at Chryssie, surprised to see that she was already fast asleep. Trim slowly climbed off her bed and quickly got to work. The next days passed without much incident; what made those days far from normal, however, was Trim's harsh working schedule. Every moment that she could spare, Trim would continue building the chair, and later the crib, determined to finish as soon as possible. Three grueling weeks and a couple of failed designs later, she had finished the chair, and three more weeks after, the crib. By that time, her hooves and horn were sore, but she paid no notice. Only one thought flashed through her mind after attaching the last piece: I hope my filly loves this, a crib of her own. What she had not taken into consideration was that Chryssie had already grown accustomed to sleeping alongside her mother. The first night that Trim tried to convince Chryssie to sleep in the crib was, in fact, a nightmare, but Trim knew that it was for the filly's own good. Chryssie had cried incessantly throughout the night, but after two more bedtimes she had grown accustomed to sleeping in her crib. In fact, Chryssie herself seemed to have grown quite a bit over those weeks, though she was still smaller compared to the average pony filly. Not only did she take her first steps, but she was also able to run around with relative ease (and at quite a decent speed, in truth). As joyous as Trim was for her filly, she could not deny that Chryssie was becoming a lot harder to take care of: the mischief in her house increased five-fold, especially because the filly’s magic would flare up at random times. Still, Trim always felt that she had mostly everything under control. It only took one week after the crib incidents for her to reassess that statement. Mistake 1: Leaving Chryssie unattended in the living room. Mistake 2: Not closing the front door fully after entering. Mistake 3… Trim started mentally counting all her mistakes as she raced down the street, all the while praying to Celestia that nopony see her mischievous filly. That day had started like any other: an uneventful breakfast, followed by Trim placing Chryssie back into her crib for her nap. Trim later left to get some foal food and vegetables from the market, returning without incident. As soon as she opened the door, however, Chryssie woke up and started crying loudly, Trim quickly placing the groceries on the table and taking the filly in her hooves. It only took a couple of seconds for her to realize that Chryssie was crying not so much because she had awoken but because she was hungry. Trim set the filly down on the floor and trotted over to the kitchen hastily to prepare some food, but in the few seconds that Chryssie was left unattended, the filly spotted a small, colorful butterfly just outside the doorway. She had never seen so many colors jumbled on such a small, moving organism. As the filly approached it, though, the delicate animal started to fly away. Chryssie quickly followed it as it flew through the half-open doorway and out onto the street. The only thing that Trim saw was Chryssie’s tail as it cleared the doorway at light-speed. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Trim was quite scared, frightened of what would happen if anypony saw Chryssie: everypony would know that she was a changeling, and then guards would be called in, and they would take Chryssie away, and then … No, I cannot let that happen, not to my filly. I have to find her before anypony else does. Fortunately for Trim, Chryssie had left behind a distinct trail of small hoofprints. Another stroke of good fortune was that the prints led to the park, which at this time would be empty of ponies due to the fashion show that everypony seemed to go to. Meanwhile, Chryssie had followed the butterfly for as long as she could, the small animal rising higher and higher until the filly’s eyes could no longer spot it. However, she then heard a rustle from behind a bush, the sound startling her into noticing her new surroundings. Chryssie was no longer at home, and she felt quite a bit scared, but still curious about why the bush moved. She did not have to wait long, for a large dog jumped out and frightened her with his loud barks. Chryssie had only one thought left on her mind: run. As the filly changed direction, Trim arrived at the park just in time to see that Chryssie was running straight for a huge, deep ditch in the construction zone only a dozen feet away. Trim knew that Chryssie’s frail body would not be able to withstand such a fall, especially with the digging machines still working in the hole. In a state of desperation, knowing that she would not get there in time to save Chryssie, Trim cried out at the top of her lungs: CHRYSSIE, STOP! SOMEPONY, PLEASE STOP HER! Tears filled her eyes as she expected the inevitable. She willed herself to gallop faster, all the while denying, but inwardly knowing, that she would be too late, too late to save the one thing that she had longed for and finally found, the one thing that could bring her happiness in her remaining years, the one thing that she loved more than anything in the world. … … SWOOSH! A figure appeared from an obscure path and swiftly moved to intercept the small filly, blocking her path to the hole. … … A white light suddenly filled the scene, lasting only a second or two, but leaving Trim blind for a moment. She blinked madly to see what had become of her filly, fighting back the tears, and what she saw was quite unexpected. A stallion was lying on the ground, inches away from the ditch. Farther away from the construction zone was the small filly, standing in front of the fallen pony and looking around as if to readjust to her new surroundings. When Chryssie saw her mother, she galloped over and clutched her hoof, trembling with fright. Trim, still a bit stunned at the display in front of her, sat down and took Chryssie in her hooves, rocking her back and forth until the filly finally felt safe. At that moment, the stallion started to stir, and turned his head toward the mother and child. Trim, not wanting to leave the injured stallion but afraid that he would see her filly and report her to the guards, did the first thing that came to mind. She remembered a disguise spell that she had used on herself when she was little to change her mane color and give herself a cutie mark, though she doubted that she could remember exactly how to cast it. Still, time was of the essence, so she pictured herself in one of her disguises (minus the cutie mark) and cast the spell on her filly. Since she was little, she knew that the spell was not that difficult but that it required massive amounts of magic, so much that she could only hold it for a minute or two. However, this time it felt different: it was almost as if the filly was accepting the spell and even supplying some of her own magic as Trim cast it. How is this possible? Does my filly have such an affinity for this type of spell? Or does she have so much magic hidden inside her that it just wants to be let out? It was then that Trim understood what the scene she had witnessed was: Chryssie must have gotten startled and used her magic inadvertently, striking the stallion. That same stallion cut Trim’s thoughts short, standing up with a little difficulty and about to ask Trim what had happened. Trim beat him to the punch and began to explain. “Oh, I’m so sorry, my filly must have gotten startled when you showed up that I think she lost control of her magic. Oh, and THANK YOU, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SAVING MY FILLY!” Trim had started to tear up again, and she hugged the stallion with all her might, without dropping Chryssie. The stallion took a moment then understood what had happened, and he replied, “No problem, it was nothing.” “But how can I ever repay you?” Trim replied, letting go of the pony in front of her. “No need,” the mysterious stallion said, but he later became sad for some unknown reason. Trim noticed this sudden change. “By the way, I hope I’m not prying, but why do you look so sad? You have just done something honorable. You should be happy.” “No, it’s not about that, it’s just …” The stallion hesitated, but later continued, he himself needing to open up to someone. “The thing is that I had a fight, a big one, with my wife, and I don’t know what to do. We have been having a lot of fights recently, and see … this is just not what I thought marriage was going to be. I don’t know if I can keep this up.” “Let me ask you one question before you continue,” Trim interjected, seeing that the stallion was running out of breath. “Alright, breathe, calm down, and answer me this: do you still love her?” The stallion hastily responded, “Of course I do, I have loved her ever since I first set eyes on her. She is the most beautiful mare I have ever seen, her kindness is limitless, and she still makes my heart jump just by looking my way …” “Then you have your answer,” Trim cut in. “You still love her, so there is no reason to break apart, now, is there? As for the fights, no marriage is a walk in the park. Fights are common, but each one that is resolved only makes the marriage stronger. Just because a married couple fights doesn’t mean that they don’t love each other; in fact, it can even be the opposite: they fight because they do care about each other.” By now, the stallion was listening intently, and with every sentence, he was beginning to realize how ridiculous he was to think about breaking up his marriage. “Now,” Trim continued, “I can’t tell you exactly what to do to fix your marriage, but I know that your wife must be feeling as bad as you are right now about that fight. Go to her, comfort her, and work on fixing the problem together.” The stallion abruptly wrapped his hooves around Trim. “Thank you, thank you so much for letting me see the error of my thoughts.” He then looked down at the filly in her hooves and commented, “Make sure you watch that filly of yours. My small colt is also the mischievous fellow.” “Oh, you have a foal of your own! What’s his name?” Trim asked. “Shining Armor,” he responded. “What about your filly’s?” “Her name is Chrysanthemum.” “A beautiful name for such a beautiful filly.” “Why, thank you!” The stallion then began talking to Chryssie: “Don’t make your mama worried, okay? Be good to your mama.” Chryssie simply stared back at the stallion and smiled. The stallion shifted his gaze back to Trim. “Thank you once again for the help. I’ll be going back, and don’t worry about me, I’m not injured in the slightest.” “Well, good luck!” Trim shouted as he trotted away. “Oh, wait! I never got your name!” However, the stallion was already too far away to hear. Trim, noticing that her magic was running low and that Celestia was getting ready to lower the sun, quickly trotted back to the house and shut the front door. She dropped the disguise spell and fell back on her bed, Chryssie in her hooves. Trim felt so relieved that her filly was safe, but she knew she had to have a stern talk with Chryssie. However, what came after quickly melted away any anger and worry from Trim’s mind: “Mama.” One word, only one word, her first word. Trim could not contain her joy, hugging Chryssie close to her until the filly was sound asleep. The mother slowly picked her up and tucked her snugly under the sheets in her crib, and she just stood there, watching her filly sleep peacefully. As serene as the scene was, Trim felt something tug at the back of her mind. I know I can't keep her inside the house for the rest of her life. She has to grow up, go to school, make some friends, have fun, experience life, but if anyone else were to see her like this, they could really harm her. What should I do? What can I do? With this thought, Trim fell into a restless sleep, worrying about the future and hoping to find a way for Chryssie to lead a normal life. Author's Note Back from winter break! Any comments appreciated. Happy New Year!
Appearances Can Be DeceivingTrim was alone in the darkness, squinting and blinking rapidly until at last she was able to make out another shape: a small filly curled up in a ball, visibly shaking, crying. The mare leaned close to the small, trembling figure, and as her sight grew more accustomed to the lack of light, she recognized the filly: it was Chryssie – or at least it looked like Chryssie – but she was covered in deep gashes, bruises all around her black body. Trim quickly trotted over and hugged her, tears accumulating ever so slowly in her eyes. “Chryssie, what happened? Are you okay? Who did–” That was as far as Trim got, for then she heard multiple hooves striking the ground with determined speed. “Please, Ma’am, step away from the monster. We must eliminate her at once, by order of Princess Celestia.” The owner of one set of hooves approached the two ponies, dressed in uniform and bearing the crest of the Royal Guard. Four more ponies dressed in similar fashion appeared behind him, each carrying a shield and various weapons, all of which were pointed toward Trim and Chryssie. “W-w-what do you mean?” Trim stuttered, though she had an idea of who they were calling the “monster.” “We cannot let this changeling live,” the guard continued. “She is a threat to all Equestria, and as such must be eliminated.” “M-mama, p-p-please h-help me.” Chryssie’s voice was so soft and trembled terribly. “M-mama, I’m s-scared.” Trim felt something click inside her. She turned to her filly and reassured her: “Don’t worry, Chryssie, I will protect you,” kissing and hugging her tightly until the filly settled down and stopped crying. Trim then turned back to the guards. “This is my filly, and I will protect her with my life. I will NOT let anypony, especially the royal guard, harm her. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?” “Ma’am, I am sorry but we have been given this order by Prin–” The guard got no further. “I don’t care who the buck sent you! Even if Princess Celestia were here, I wouldn’t let her touch my filly. So, in case you didn’t hear, GET THE BUCK AWAY FROM MY FILLY!” Indistinct whispering fluttered among the four guards in the back, and after a couple excruciating seconds, the stallion on the right nodded at the one in front. “I guess we have no choice, then, but to take her by force.” “I would like to see you try.” By now, Trim was fuming. She didn’t care that she would have to fight against five stallions, or for that matter five guards sent directly by Princess Celestia. The only thing on her mind was Chryssie, and the mare had already decided that she would rather die than let her daughter fall into the hooves of those guardsponies. “Run, Chryssie, go behind me and run, and don’t look back. Don’t worry, mama will be right behind you.” Trim knew that last part was a lie, but she needed Chryssie to get as far away as possible from the scene. The filly complied, but as she started to run, more stallions in golden armor burst into view, encircling the two ponies and cutting off the changeling’s escape. Trim tried to teleport Chryssie out, but she noticed that the guards in the back had set up a massive barrier: there was no way out. Still, Trim’s determination did not waver, and she charged up the only attack spell she knew. With luck, I may be able to stun all the guards inside the barrier. When reinforcements come, they’ll be forced to open the barrier, and from there Chryssie and I can run, run to where they cannot get my filly. “This is your last chance. Give up now and we will not harm you. We only want the changeling.” “Buck you.” Trim shot a small wave of energy, stunning a couple stallions in front of her. The stallions began to advance, and the courageous mare shot another wave, then another, then another, then another. But there were just too many soldiers. Too many to count. Trim shot another wave. Still more filled the gap. Her magic was running out. The strain was just too much. Her hooves finally gave way, and she fell to the floor, exhausted, her horn crackling, her heart aching. I’m sorry, Chryssie, I tried my best. … … A blinding light arose from the ground, everypony looking up to inspect the scene. “Wait, where’s the changeling?” The white light expanded explosively, and Trim felt her magic being restored miraculously. The light slowly fell to the floor and died down, and in its place stood another pony, a mare with holes throughout her body but with a white aura around her. “C-Chryssie?” “Let me take care of them, mother,” the mare replied to Trim. Chryssie let loose a huge beam of energy, wiping out half of the guards, leaving only steaming piles of armor in their place. She then concentrated her energy on the barrier, destroying it in a manner of seconds. “Oh, no, we were too late. Bring all of the reinforce–!” Chryssie took care of the talking stallion and set her sights on the remaining guards around her. She began to strike each one with intense, white-hot beams, incinerating them. Trim stood up, speechless, dumbfounded at the scene developing before her. However, she noticed that something was happening to Chryssie: the once white aura around her was turning darker, much darker than the sky on a starless night, much darker than the blackest paint. Chryssie’s eyes had turned dark red, with a black, devilish tinge throughout: she was enjoying killing the stallions. “Chryssie, please stop! Don’t kill the guards! Come on, now’s our chance to escape!” Chryssie ignored her, killing stallions two or three at a time, now black smoke venting from her eyes and body. “No, Chryssie, please stop!” The changeling paid no heed, and wiped out the rest of the stallions in a flash. She then teleported out, leaving no trace of her presence other than the golden armor carpeting the ground, still smoldering. Trim could not believe it. No, this can’t be, this is not my Chryssie! Her thoughts were interrupted by a faint screaming behind her. Trim teleported out towards the screeching sound, only to find herself with an even more gruesome picture than before. Chryssie had already destroyed all the homes in Canterlot. Ponies lay dead all around the city, bodies strewn throughout the street … it was just too much for Trim. But what caught the mother’s eye was the battle ensuing right in front of her: Celestia was fighting Chryssie, and the outcome did not look good. In an instant, Chryssie unleashed a ball of energy directly at Celestia, who was unable to block at such close range. The scene disappeared in blistering light, then reappeared to show Celestia on the ground, dead, Chryssie victorious. “No, no, no! Why? You have to stop, Chryssie!” Suddenly, a small colt appeared in front of Chryssie. The changeling prepared to launch her attack, a beam that would have destroyed the innocent pony in an instant, and Trim could not control herself. She shot a stun wave at Chryssie, who brushed it off as if it was nothing and continued to stare at the small, defenseless pony. There was only one thing Trim could do. As much as it pained her, she charged up the one spell that no one knew she had learned, one that she had stumbled on as a young filly and vowed never to use, for the description itself was scarred in her mind forever. But still, she couldn’t let all of Equestria suffer under Chryssie’s wrath; she couldn't let that innocent colt die. She focused all her magic on her horn, and she spoke the incantation for that forbidden spell. “O daemones in abscondita tenebrarum, accude mea inimici apud internecinum sudes.”* I’m so sorry, Chryssie. Please forgive me. A small black beam hit the ground beneath the changeling, and large black beams of energy arose from the shadows and struck the demon that used to be Chryssie. The changeling could not defend herself against the onslaught, spike after spike of energy crashing on her body. Finally, the spell was over, and Trim fell onto the ground, clinging to the last of her life source. I used too much magic. Oh, Chryssie, I am so sorry… However, Chryssie was not down for the count. Though with deep wounds, she continued her rampage relentlessly. A beam of magic shot from Chryssie’s horn and hit the small colt in the chest, Trim watching in horror. The changeling later turned to her attacker and unleashed a powerful spell upon her mother, a beam that burned with hatred and anger. Why, Chryssie? //// Trim woke with a start, sweating buckets, trembling uncontrollably, almost falling from her bed. Oh, it was just a dream. But why was it so vivid, why did it feel so real? Could it be a premonition, a warning? No, my Chryssie is not this way. Just because she’s a changeling doesn’t make her bad. I can raise her to be a good filly, and that’s what I will do. Trim noticed that it was already dawn, so she prepared a quick breakfast. After almost knocking over a couple dishes with her hooves (which were still trembling, though the effects of the dream were slowly wearing off), she went to wake up Chryssie. The filly was sleeping so serenely, though, that Trim decided against keeping her from her dreams. She pushed the dream out of her mind as best she could and sat down at the table. After she finished eating, her brain a little clearer, she remembered the questions that had plagued her thoughts the day before, thankful for something to keep the happenings of the night off her mind. Ok. When making a plan, start where all the information is: the library. Maybe there I will find a way for Chryssie to live alongside everypony. Author's Note I wonder, how many of you thought the fight was actually happening and not a dream? Any comments appreciated! * "Oh spirits hidden in the darkness, strike my enemies with deadly stakes." This may not be an accurate translation, as I used Google Translate and changed around a couple of words to make the incantation sound darker. BTW, almost 200 views! Thanks, guys!
