The Lost Bride
She stood there silently, waiting for the seamstress to finish her fusing. Back and forth went that lovely unicorn, retrieving a sheet of cloth there, adding an accent here, tying and untying a string of lace. The Bride fought back a sigh; the poor mare was running herself to the point of exhaustion. It touched her how much effort the seamstress was willing to put in her work, how much she was sacrificing to ensure that the Bride looked absolutely perfect on her wedding day.
To the Bride, it didn't really matter how she appeared, so long as she appeared next to her Groom. Her loving Groom, the one who captured her love. The thought would have sent her blushing. She turned to her lovely bridesmaids, and it warmed her knowing that as beautiful as her wonderful friends were, the Groom would have eyes only for her.
"I don't know when she changed, but she changed!" the other unicorn, a friend of the seamstress, had been grumbling. The Bride watched as she paced through the room. The Bride would have rolled her eyes. Whatever was upsetting the unicorn was none of her concerns, and the Bride tried to tune out her complaints. She began to imagine her wedding day, when she would stand next to her Groom. He would lean toward her, and whisper those two simple words. Then she would repeat them, lean forward, and--
"Did I hear someone say my name?"
The sudden exclamation jolted the Bride out of her fantasy. She watched as the seamstress left her side and prostrated herself before the newcomer, whom regarded her with cold and haughty eyes. Like the lovely seamstress and her friend, the intruder had a spiraling horn that sprung out of her forehead. A pair of feathery pink wings adorn her sides, colored the same shade as her coat. A small golden crown rested on her head.
"Your highness!" the lovely seamstress chirped. "Let me just start by saying what an honor it is to play a role in such a momentous occasion." She laughed nervously.
"Uh huh," the intruder said, her voice steady and without energy or enthusiasm. The gold shoes on her hooves clicked lazily against the hard floor as she brushed past coolly. She turned to the Bride, whom would have shuddered as that hard and judging gaze fell upon her. "Is my dress ready?"
"Yes, of course," the seamstress assured. "Um, I've been working on it ever since I was given the assignment, and I think you'll be pleased with the results!"
"I was hoping for something with more beading and a longer train," the cold mare said, staring at the Bride with disdain. The Bride seemed to bristle at the mare's words, her anger overcoming her unease. More beading? A longer train? How dare she! What was wrong with her beading? If her train was any longer she would risk tripping over it. The Bride would have spoken up if the intruder hadn't turned her attention to the bridesmaids standing respectively to the side.
"And those should be a different color," she continued to demand. The bridesmaids seemed to shrink fearfully at the mare's very words.
The Bride turned to the seamstress, hoping to urge her into protesting. Her heart sank as she watched the unicorn's quill fly through the notepad she held as the seamstress jotted down the suggestions. Anger grew within the Bride, and she seemed to shake in rage. Who was this rude mare, and what made her think she could barge in and make such ridiculous requests? Change her bridesmaid? Rudely comment on her appearance? It was almost enough to make the Bride scream.
The mare didn't seem to notice or care. "Make them a different color," she said with an air of utter finality before turning. The echoes of her golden hooves followed her as she left the room.
The Bride's temper slowly subsided until her anger died down and became mild annoyance, and she had soon calmed down. What that mare had said didn't really matter. A few cosmetic changes here and there, but really, that was it. The mare had been rude, there was no debate on that fact, but it was childish for the Bride to nearly lose control of herself like that. It didn't matter what she looked like, her Groom said so, and as long as she stood beside him on that special day, she could stand having to hold a heavier beading or a less maneuverable train.
The Bride gave her bridesmaids a shy embarrass look. They stared back in understanding, resigning in silence as the seamstress rushed toward them with rolls of cloth. Such patient dears, the Bride thought to herself.
The purple unicorn took her eyes off the doorway as the mare walked out of sight. "Gee, maybe her name should be 'Princess Demandy-pants'," she said with a frown.
The Bride fought back a chuckle. She was alright, this unicorn; a little grumpy perhaps but clever and funny, and at least they could agree in regards to that mare's behavior. She watched as the unicorn said her farewells to her friend and confirm a meeting time with her before she left as well. She would have to get the lovely seamstress to invite her to the wedding. After all, the more the merrier. Or marrier.
The Bride managed to keep her little giggle within. Oh, she was laughing at her own jokes now, what was the world coming to? She would have sighed if the seamstress hadn't begun attending to her again. The Bride stood stock still as she felt the needles prick through her. The threads cut into her thin layers, but not a peep escaped her. The Bride kept quiet while the lovely seamstress sliced through her chest and began to play with her insides. She trusted the seamstress and her needle, she would not stay mutilated for long.
The Bride could endure the pain. For him, her Groom, and for her special day.
*
The morning flew by for the Bride like a blur. She went through her preparations in a trance, in an almost half-asleep state. She remembered getting up, she remembered singing, there may have been dancing as well, and...was there something else? Something important perhaps?
Today was the big day, wasn't it, the day she would finally stand beside her Groom? She remembered her vows, didn't she? The Bride tried to recall them. Yes, she knew her vows, but they seemed, well, off. Not genuine, fake even. How was that possible, the Bride wondered.
The Bride tried to shake herself. It was simply nerves, she decided. Yes, she was just nervous, and that was causing her to overthink and to worry. The Bride considered taking a deep breath to calm herself. Everything will be fine, she told her self, turning to the mirror. Once she was next to her Groom, she was certain her confidence would return. She would just check her appearance one more time and--
The Bride would have gasped. Something was wrong. Wait, hold on, was there? The Bride tried to lean forward, tried to get closer to her reflection. She looked beautiful, like the perfect little bride, with her long silky ends and her golden curved front. Had she seen a tear or a loose strand somewhere? No, the seamstress had done a wonderful job, that wasn't the problem. She had gotten over the changes in her design, so it wasn't the extra beading or the long train trailing behind her that was the issue.
What was it then? Why did her own reflection send a chill through her? She tried to look more closely. The bride in the mirror that was staring back at her, it didn't feel like the Bride. It was...different. It wasn't her.
She tried to shake the notion out of her. What kind of ridiculous idea was that, the Bride asked herself. Of course it was her. It was her reflection, wasn't it? There was her veil, her lace, her ornamental flowers. What was the problem? The Bride began to calm herself. She must have been more nervous than she thought. She hoped these odd feelings would settle down before the ceremony started.
The ceremony. The Bride's thoughts turned to the upcoming event. She would be walking down that aisle in less than an hour. Soon, she would stand next to her Groom. They would stand silently, they would lean forward, and they would be together, forever.
"The day is going to be perfect..."
The anxiety was returning, along with those strange thoughts. The Bride did her best to ignore them, focusing instead on her journey toward the main hall of the palace, where her Groom and their guests waited patiently. She tried to drown out her doubts with the cries of the organs. She tried to distract herself with the little flower girls that serve as her vanguard, with how their colors matched the petals in their baskets and how intricate their crowns were.
Something still felt wrong. Even as the Bride took her first step into the room, and all her guests turned to her, she still could not shake that odd feeling. Every step felt awkward and off rhythm. The Bride suddenly felt dizzy, and she attempted to take a moment first to steady herself. Her body refused to answer her commands, and the Bride moved forward instead.
The Bride tried to cry out, tried to scream to the guests around her for help. She couldn't speak, or maybe they just couldn't hear. Her bridesmaids simply watched, ignorant to her pleads. The Bride struggled frantically, searching for anything that could help. Her gaze fell upon the red figure at the front, and the sight filled her with relief. It was her Groom. He would help her, the Bride assured herself. He would see that something was wrong, and he would save her from whatever was threatening her so.
There he was, her Groom, red with golden edges. A bright blue strip ran across his front, behind a decorative seal of a shield. Her knight in shining armor.
The Bride's spirit fell like a heavy stone as she grew closer. Her Groom was stiff and lifeless. She couldn't feel his presence at all. She tried to call out to him, to grab his attention, but the Groom remained stock-still. It was if he didn't even notice her there in front of him. Perhaps she wasn't. Perhaps he wasn't here either, this dead and soulless groom before her.
"Mares and gentlecolts, we are gathered here today to witness the union of..."
Stop! the Bride tried to scream. This is not my Groom, not him at all. Stop, please, I can't do this!
No one heard her pleas. The Bride broke down, falling limp. Something force her to stand, and she couldn't find the energy to fight against it. She let herself hang in defeat. She couldn't fight it, whatever was happening. Confusion and hopelessness weighed her down heavily. She couldn't move, couldn't even struggle now.
"...it is my great pleasure to pronounced you--"
Stop!
"Stop!"
A collective gasp filled the hall. The Bride weakly tried to lifted herself up. Who had shouted? Had it been her? No, the sound came from the entrance. The Bride fought to focus as the room seemed to spin around her. She would have squinted, would have grabbed something to steady herself.
There was...purple? Yes, purple. It was the purple unicorn, the seamstress's friend. The Bride tried to call out to her, tried to reach out toward her. The room started to spin once more.
"A-Ah don't understand," the Bride heard someone say. "How can there be two of 'em?"
"She's a changeling," was the reply. The voice, had the Bride heard it before? It sounded similar, but it felt different, like comparing a false imitation to the genuine. "She takes the form of somepony you love and gains power by feeding off your love for them."
Pain. The Bride tried to scream out in pain. Any feeling she had left was replaced with unrelenting agony. She felt every tear in her body as they formed and every torturous gash and rip that appeared as she fell apart. And suddenly, she was freed. Whatever had forced her to stand had released its hold on her, and the Bride fluttered to the floor in pieces.
Her Groom stood right above her. She tried to crawl toward him, to hold him, to simply touch him and remind him that she was his Bride. If only she could just break him out of the spell that held him.
The Bride's vision blurred. She doubled her efforts, but she moved no closer. The Groom was becoming harder and harder to see. The darkness that coated the edges of her sight were expanding. Feeling had left her completely, and what little strength that had been with her vanished as well. Reluctantly, the Bride stopped trying to move and devoted everything she had remaining on focusing on the fading image of her Groom instead.
I...do...
The shadows consumed her vision. And then there was nothing.
*
"Wow," Cadence breathed as she stared at her reflection. "Is that...me?"
"Is everything alright, Princess Mi Amore Cadenza?" Rarity asked cautiously. She looked to Twilight for assurance. Twilight simply shrugged as her quill hovered right above her checklist. The two unicorns turned back to the pink alicorn standing in front of the mirror.
"Hmm?" Cadenza blinked and shook her head as if she had suddenly been awoken. "Oh, Cadence is just fine, Miss Rarity," she said. "I'm just surprised, that's all."
"Well, I hope it's a good surprised," the seamstress said with a nervous chuckle. Her thin glasses threatened to slip from her nose and fall.
"Oh yes," the princess replied, nodding eagerly. "I can't believe you manage to make something like this in such a short period of time. You're amazing!"
"I'm flattered, but it's the planning process that's the hard part," Rarity said, her face slowly turning red. "I already had the design, remaking the entire dress wasn't as difficult as you think."
"Still...just, wow." Cadence sniffed. "I-I can't believe it. I-is that really me?"
"Of course it's you, dear," Rarity asserted, giving the princess a handkerchief. "What do you think, Twilight?"
"She looks wonderful," Twilight agreed with a smile. "Like you're about to be married."
Twilight's grin vanished as she saw a tear roll down the princess's face. "Wait, Cadence, I, uh, I didn't--" she tried to say, rushing to her side. "I mean, well..."
"It's nothing," Cadence said, wiping her eyes. "It's just...I just can't believe how close I was to losing Shining Armor, how close this day was to ending in a disaster." She reached out and pulled Twilight into an embrace. "Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you so much."
Twilight began to smile again. She returned the hug, holding her new sister-in-law closely. Her pen and checklist fell to the floor with a clatter. "No problem," she said. "So, ready to make this day perfect?"
Cadence laughed. "I'm going to have to fix my make up first," she joked, releasing the unicorn. "Rarity, could you..."
"Right here, darling," Rarity said, holding up a small kit and a tiny brush. "Now Twilight, I need you to step for a bit, thank you dear."
Cadence sat patiently as Rarity wiped away the smeared blush and mascara. She looked into the mirror once more. "You know," the princess said, tilting her head to the side, "I can't forgive the changeling queen for what she tried to do, but I have to admit she has some pretty good taste."
The princess raised a brow as Rarity and Twilight's mouths fell open. "What?" she asked. "I think the long train looks nice."
Twilight stared in dumbstruck silence before suddenly bursting into laughter. Rarity joined in a moment after, and soon the room was filled with giggles as all three mares laughed.
The Bride would have smiled at her reflection. It didn't matter what those mares were discussing or who they were or why they were here with her. It didn't matter that she couldn't remember anything before this very moment. All that didn't matter.
Today the Bride would be married. She would walk down that long hall toward him, her Groom. They would finally stand together at last. They would exchange their vows and declare their love. He would lean toward her and whisper two simple words. She would lean toward him and repeat them.
I do.
She was made for this, after all. She, the Bride.
