Short Stories from Beyond Time, Space, and Shadow

by ZeroCore

Rating: everyone
Tags: Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Other, Random
Length: 29379

A series of short, one-off stories

This is a (still work in progress) collection of various stories that take place in the FiM universe.

Some come from the edge of the known world, some come from the heart of Equestria... All of them are short, but all are stories none the less.

Published 2014-12-12 21:40:02 UTC
Last updated 2015-03-02 00:57:24 UTC

Note and Leaf

Long ago, before most records were kept, was a filly who was quite far from ordinary. You see, even though she looked to be a normal filly most of the time, in truth she was a changeling, a young nymph. Disguised now as a pony, she lived amongst a nomadic pony tribe. The filly was no prisoner of this tribe, however, and in fact only one knew her secret; her adoptive father being the only one who knew what she really was. Note was his name. A plain name for most, but to him the single word fit. Amidst his own travels he had found her lying in a ditch near a rocky crag. Taking pity on her, he took her in, claiming to the tribe that he'd found an orphaned filly in the mountains around where they wandered. He hid her from view under the guise that she'd been gravely injured. This all worked well enough for the short term, but in the long run he knew that ponies would want to see how she was recovering from these injuries. He thought on this for some time, and in the end it was his own inner talent that brought the solution. Note was a skilled artist, and, digging through his belongings, retrieved a sketch he had made on a piece of wood a long time ago. The changeling looked it over, and in a green flash of fire turned into the form that the image portrayed, that of a young, green-coated filly.

"Leaf," the stallion said as he looked upon his daughter's disguise for the first time.

Years went by, and the hidden changeling, Leaf, began to learn the ways of how the tribe worked, how they moved, gathered, and kept each other going. Note frequently found himself tired, his love energy being just barely enough to keep the growing changeling alive and well, but regardless he found himself in a state of joy.

Leaf began to take on an odd habit, however. Frequently she would find bits of wood, chew on them, and then weave the ground-up fibers together to form sheets. She'd work and weave the sheets together, forming them into odd shapes which would link, melding together form a dome-like structure big enough for her to fit inside, which she frequently began to hide in whenever she could. At first a bit disturbed by the strange habit, Note figured it was merely a changeling's way of building a nest to live in, and so, even as they moved, he hid Leaf's nest, carrying it with them on the cart the two pulled together.

One evening though, something happened happened that surprised both the pony and the changeling he'd kept as his daughter. When all was quiet, Leaf dropped her disguise, as she did whenever she could. To both her own, and her father's amazement, the changeling had begun to grow a thin blue mane and tail. Leaf was overjoyed; too long she'd looked at other fillies and was secretly jealous that their manes and tails, soft and long, were real and not just a shape-shifting illusion. Note was glad that she was happy, but couldn't help but shiver slightly. He realized now why he might have found his daughter in the first place, and it might not have been coincidence.

Leaf was a changeling Queen, perhaps not abandoned or a runaway, but one sent out to form her own hive.

Note spent the next few weeks worried about his daughter, or more precisely what she might become. He didn't want his tribe falling to a changeling hive, but he refused to let his daughter go.

Leaf, meanwhile, noticed how sad her father was becoming; she could feel his emotions begin to shift around. An idea struck the young Queen one night; she knew her father liked those colorful images he made, but frequently was without wood to draw on. Getting to work, Leaf chewed up some old wood bits she'd collected in the weeks before, pasting them together into the thin, fibrous sheets she'd been making her nest out of. As they dried, she took quill and ink to them, and although she lacked the skill her father had drawn, she eventually penned out his image in the now-dried material, taking it to him as soon as it was finished.

Note smiled when he saw Leaf's work, deciding then and there that his original decision was no mistake; she was his daughter and there was no two ways about it.

Leaf later taught her adopted father about how she made those thin sheets of material. Note began practicing by grinding up wood in a mortar and pastel and then soaking the shreds in water, letting them dry. In time, the two had produced the first parchment to be made by pony kind, the substance not being very strong or durable, but strong enough to write upon and hold both word and image. For a long while, they were happier than they'd ever been as more and more ponies began to trade with their tribe, and began to learn the secrets of what became known as "paper".

Unfortunately it didn't last. One day a few patrons managed to come to their tent in the early hours of the morning. Leaf, still asleep, didn't have her disguise, and the ponies ran off in fear after seeing Leaf, now a fully-grown Changeling Queen, asleep in their tent. Upon realizing they'd been discovered, Leaf flew off, leaving the tribe she'd know for years. Note was devastated, made worse by the small scrap of paper his daughter had left behind.

"Tell them I killed your daughter," she'd written. "If you don't, you'll die by their will and hoof. I can't let that happen to you; please, Papa, lie to them and tell them that I'm dead. It'll be easier this way."

Note, teary-eyed, did just as she'd suggested. Clever as he was, he managed to convince his tribe that this was the truth, their anger dissipating into sadness as they mourned what they thought was Leaf's death.

Note lived for several years in a state of perpetual sadness. The old stallion even considered just wandering away, letting himself waste away in the prairies. One day though, his despair turned to joy; a messenger came to his tribe from far away with a large stack of papers. Note looked it over and saw many, many drawings of places far away, including one of a towering changeling hive, and two Queens, mother and daughter, sitting together under a hanging lamp. On its back was a letter:

"I found them," the letter read, "my home, my family, my mother... She wanted to tell my father how pleased she is that her daughter was raised so well. And I wanted to say the same to my Papa. I'll stop by at some point, but you might not recognize me at first. I miss you.

--Leaf".

Year by year, more and more notes came in to the Stallion's tent. Content and happy, father and daughter continued to send each other parcels; Leaf drew, and Note wrote. The stallion eventually collected them all, binding them together into a large stack.

A large stack of papers... a... Leaf.

The Changeling Queen bound hers together too; small, written letters.

Notes.

Author's Note

A quick, one-off that I wrote on a spur-of-the-moment impulse for the Nightly Discussion at Equestria Daily. To be specific, you can find the original in EqD's Nightly Discussion number 196, page four.

Again, this was a small one, thought up more or less as I wrote it. It's short and small, actually smaller than I originally wrote, because EqD only allows posts to be a certain length (which is, by the way, short).

Into the Spider's Parlor

Another bit of a story, if you all don't mind.

Web was quite the odd sort. Still a young mare, Web had quite the unusual special talent; she could use her magic to make spiderwebs and cobwebs appear out of nowhere, and had quite a lot of skill when it came to dealing with spiders and other arachnids. Now this isn't to say that she was an exterminator by nature, no, far from it; Web could literally DEAL with spiders.

She could talk to them.

More than once, her younger relatives had asked their sister, cousin, or however she related to them to remove a spider from their attic, bathtub, sink, or bedroom, and every time, she obliged. Using her abilities, she talked with the eight-legged creatures, worked out an agreement with them--more food, a better web-building spot, safety for their eggs, and so on in exchange for leaving--and then safely carried them to wherever she promised to let them go.

Amongst her family and friends, Web was quite liked for dealing with the, as her siblings put it, "icky little spiders". The spiders liked Web too, for the young mare was one of the few who actually took them seriously as living beings, and not mere pests to be gotten rid of.

Outside of her cobweb-filled home, however, Web was treated quite differently. Other young mares picked on her, teased her, and even tried to throw dust in her mane and tail, all the while mocking her.

"Cobweb-tail!" they'd say.

"Spider-mane!"

"Web-head!"

Web head... Web hated that the most... As if her head was just a dusty, empty skull with nothing in it but... webbing.

Web skulked home after work on days like that, feeling dejected inside even though her siblings and spiders both tried to cheer her up at the end of the day.

One night, Web was feeling rather distraught. Earlier that day, even her boss, a florist in a nearby town, seemed to put her down over her connection to all things arachnid. As she drifted off to sleep, her spider friends gathered around her, each arachnid scurrying about as they mimed out their simple method of communication.

"How can we help her?" one waved its many legs.

"We don't know... We can't..." most replied.

The arachnids had their conversation interrupted as a cool night breeze drifted in through the open window. All eight eyes looking forward, each spider looked out the open shutters as a dark figure appeared in the distance, barely illuminated by the Moon's faint glow.

"Teach her this spell," its voice whispered. "Be careful though; this magic can be a bit unpredictable..."

The spiders, not sure who this mysterious figure was, reluctantly accepted, each one bracing themselves as powerful magic enveloped their silk. One by one, each arachnid felt a telepathic command go through their numbers, each one knowing exactly what to do. The spiders, working together, began to wrap the young mare in their webbing, covering Web from horn to hoof in spider silk. Their task complete, the spiders went to bed, not knowing what would become of their kindly pony friend...

The morning came with a shriek from Web's house. Upon waking up, the mare first thought she'd rolled around in her sleep, what with being tangled in a tight fabric she presumed to be her bed sheet. After struggling to get out though, she realized she'd been wrapped up, and with a blast of magic from her horn, tore the cocoon open. Looking down at herself, Web was shocked; her normal, purely equine form was gone, and from the hips down was something rather different. Getting up to all... eight... legs, Web scampered over to her mirror, the mare in total, partially fear-ridden surprise as to what she'd become.

Half of her body was still that of a pony, to be sure, her front-most legs still retaining their hooves, but from the hips down was a spider's abdomen, six legs forming from an extended hip bone. Her face had changed too; three new sets of very small, beady black eyes sat around the edges of her still-normal sized, yet black as pitch, ones. Two large fangs extended from her mouth, and her mane was much, much longer, the normally green strands now a mix of green, silver, and white. Looking around, she noticed her cutie mark, that of a spider web, had moved, now resting as a large image on top of her spider-like abdomen.

Web sat there, surrounded by her spider friends, for a long while. The arachnids first thought she was outraged, yet too shocked to say anything. In truth, after her shock had evaporated, Web found herself in a trance, a message ringing through her mind:

"Use this magic well, young mare," a cool, regal voice said. "I have given you a powerful spell. Let it amplify your connection to the friends who value you most, and use it to overcome that which stands in your way. Do not fear; if you ever do miss your original body, merely wish it back and it will be yours again. Take care, my subject, and let me tell you this, mare to mare; don't ever let them try to take away what makes you who you are."

Web looked about the room shortly after that, her spiders awaiting rather harsh words. Instead, however, Web smiled.

"I have a plan," she said to them.

The spiders put their friend's plan into action rather quickly, and as efficiently as each one's eight legs could manage. Using Web's own magically-created silk, they worked together, weaving intricate sheets and clothing out of the finest, purest spider silk strands in all Equestria. When complete, each piece, each garment, blanket, pillow, and tapestry, glimmered with white and silver strands, looking as if each was made of silver and marble.

The spiders, taking each piece, made their way out the door, scurrying past Web's very much surprised family, the other ponies stunned as to what had happened to the young mare. As the arachnids made their way into town they managed to attract quite a lot of attention, and somewhat of a panic. The fears of the townsfolk quickly vanished though as they saw the elegant garments and woven treasures they carried, the ponies mesmerized by the elegance and beauty of the fabric wonders Web and the spiders had sewn. The spiders willingly gave these items to the townsfolk; each pony soon found themselves adorned in shimmering silvery silk.

Web herself soon made her way into town, most of the inhabitants at first slightly scared, even repulsed, by the spider pony, but they all soon found themselves amazed once again as Web and her spiders managed to produce and sew even more fine, silken items for them.

By day's end, the entire town found itself decorated with the beautiful creations. Various other spiders from the town eventually helped pitch in, and no pony in the whole town, by day's end, lacked at least some piece of fine silk. Despite her strange new appearance, the others grew to enjoy having Web around, no longer fearing the strange mare or her connection to the spiders. Web felt amazed too; all the things she'd managed to do in just a short amount of time, and how much closer her new form made her feel to her arachnid friends. To the spider's joy, she decided that this new form of hers was for the best, and from that day forward, then and forever, the only time that anyone would see the mare's original body was in family portraits, Web choosing for herself to forever remain a spider pony.

"Just remember," Web told the townsfolk as she went home, "if you ever need any of it repaired, do stop by!"

And it was so; if ever a broken piece of silk arrived at Web's home, she and all of her spiders would mend it and send its owners on their way in happy mood. Web was more than happy to dress anyone in fine silk.

All they had to do was come into her parlor.

Author's Note

Again, another spur-of-the-moment story. It's also on EqD's Nightly Discussion number 197, page four.

Sisters, All The Same

Changeling hives... Massive, towering structures that shoot up into the sky like a giant termite cathedral... Within their towering walls, thousands upon thousands of Changelings live and work, all under the guidance of their Queen, their mother. Some of these shapeshifter children, however, are different from their siblings.

Some were adopted.

Ponies, Gryphons, Minotaurs... it didn't matter. From all walks of life some, upon learning about the Changelings, and studying their culture, wanted to aid the emotion-eating creatures instead of shun them. It's this shared love that eventually brought peace between Equestria and the Changeling Hives. These beings offered themselves, their love, their kindness, to the Swarms in order to keep them fed. At first the shapeshifters were wary of their ways, suspecting it all to be a large, multi-racial trick, but in time they warmed up to their new-found friends to the point of offering them places in their Hives, at first symbolically, and later literally.

Using a combination of complex spells and cocoons, the Changelings managed to find a way to turn others into more of them. Some accepted, and became one with their new-found homes and families.

The political figures of all peoples, Changeling Queens, Pony Princesses, Minotaur and Gryphon Lords, and so on, embraced their decisions, using it as a means of furthering connections between their people. The populace of all these nations, however, didn't always agree. Some openly shunned these "adopted Changelings", treating them almost as bad as the natural-born ones had been not more than a few words before. This didn't sit well, needless to say, with the adopted Changelings, who occasionally felt depressed, downtrodden, and left out even within their own Hives.

This is something that a newly-adopted Changeling, a former Pony named Lightbringer, was soon to find out.

It was about 3:25 in the afternoon, and anyone who was present in the Hive's hatchery would have noticed the sounds that echoed through the birth chamber. The caretakers smiled, the trained Changelings all too familiar with the sound of a cocoon opening, and, although not always there, the delighted laughter of a newly-adopted sibling.

"This... is... amazing!" Lightbringer nearly squealed, giving her diaphanous wings a quick flutter.

"W-whoa!" she said, rising off the ground a bit too quickly, the new Changeling still not used to flying.

"Take it easy," a caretaker said, helping their new little sister stand up.

"Don't overdo it," another added. "We'll send for a guard to help you get everything in order."

Lightbringer nodded, the Changeling still smiling as the caretakers led her to a nearby guard post.

Lightbringer was always the cheerful sort, but after learning of the Changelings and how they literally feed upon love itself, she couldn't resist heading out to see them. She began to care deeply about the Changelings after spending years living with them. She gave them love, and in exchange for the generous meals she provided, they protected her during her visits, and tried to reciprocate the emotions she provided as best they could. The mare was happy being with her shapeshifting friends, but slowly she began to feel a sort of emptiness inside. She'd lived a happy life as a pony, to be sure, but she couldn't help but notice how even though pony society was good, Changeling society just seemed to... fit her, as if she was meant to be with them. The longer she stayed with them, the more these feelings grew.

One morning, after a long, happy dream that she looked exactly like the jet-black, insect-like beings, she felt almost disappointed as she saw her reflection in a pool of water on the Hive's one level, feeling oddly... trapped, almost like she wasn't really herself. She felt this emptiness, this feeling of being mismatched in one's own body more and more as time went on. To her, it was like thinking about a piece of clothing that, for some reason, didn't even go with itself. The Changelings noticed this, realizing their friend's emotion as she went about her daily routine. A few of them, some of whom were also adopted, suggested also becoming one with their swarm. It was a lengthy process to be sure, one first having to get used to the patterns and actions of being a Changeling, and the possible negative remarks she might receive, but Lightbringer had to fix that emptiness she had inside, and she truly enjoyed the company her Changeling friends had given her, and just how right it felt to be around them...

And so, after learning for a long while how to be like them, living with them, acting as them, she eventually found herself in the care of very magically-adept Changelings, specialists who knew all about transformation magic. With some worry, not knowing how things might turn out, she let them cocoon her, the strands of green slime they produced quickly hardening into an enchanted fabric. Lightbringer could remember how her metamorphosis began, and how uncomfortable it was at first, but as she felt the changes overtaking her body, she fell into a deep sleep, only just awakening now as, what felt like for the first time in a long while, herself.

Unfortunately her happiness was interrupted as a somewhat tall, but not terribly much taller than her, guard approached them, an almost scowling expression on her face. The slightly taller Changeling had a red tinge to her chitin, and eyes, a trait that Lightbringer learned the guards possessed.

"I take it this is the new one?" The guard said, her voice stern, and somewhat cold.

"Now, now," the caretaker chided, "is that any way to talk to your little sister?"

"But to answer your question," the other chimed in, "yes. This is Lightbringer. Perhaps you could show her around?"

The guard snorted. Lightbringer cringed slightly as the intimidating Changeling looked her over.

"No red about you, and thank the Gods for that," the guard muttered, "no green either, so you're not a worker... blue thorax bands, and blue eyes... a hunter, eh? Hmph."

Hunter.

They were the Changelings that most knew of; they were the thin, jet-black beings with blue eyes and thorax stripes who, in times now past, went out and stole love from other beings, and also aided their Queens as an invasion force.

These days they mostly just performed odd jobs and aided the guards.

Speaking of which:

The guard Lightbringer had uncomfortably met suddenly flew into the air, her long wings making a low-pitched buzzing as she hovered.

"You coming or what?" she flatly asked.

"Don't mind her," the one caretaker roller her eyes.

"Just take it easy," the other said.

Lightbringer nodded, the new Changeling listing a bit as she slowly rose to the air.

"H-hey, I think I've nearly got it!" she said, her wobbling flight getting a smile from the caretakers.

"NEARLY won't do in here," the guard hissed. "Now follow me."

Lightbringer fell slightly as the harsh guard's voice met her ears. As her red guide began to fly off, the new Changeling followed, the thin fin on her head twitching a bit in apprehension as she flew through the Hive's towering main area. The young adopted Changeling was mesmerized by the flight in. Before her adoption, she had already seen the myriad of living, flying lines of Changelings, worker, hunter, and guard, flying buzzing about within the huge structure, but never before had she been able to fly amongst them, and from this new perspective it all became fresh again as she was finally able to join their ranks.

"This is..." Lightbringer said, wiping a tear from her eye.

"What?! What do you mean 'stuck with her'?!" A loud voice sounded up ahead.

Lightbringer's flight wobbled a bit more, the noisy voice throwing her balance off. Looking ahead, she found the loud sound had come from her guard escort, her red, older sister fuming at the words of a higher-ranking guard.

"You heard me," the higher-up said. "She's your problem since all the other available guards already have a hunter on duty with them. Besides, this could be a good opportunity to show your little sister around."

"Opportunity, right..." the red Changeling hissed.

Lightbringer was startled, and a bit confused. Why did it seem like that guard wanted rid of her so badly?

"That's it then," the guard spat as she flew closer. "Looks like I'm stuck with you then. Just stay behind me and do try to keep up this time."

Without even giving the new Changeling time to speak, the guard took off, darting ahead as she went back to her post near the Hive's entrance. Lightbringer tried to keep up, still not used to flying on her newly-sprouted wings. Eventually, after carefully dodging lines of flying Changelings, Lightbringer made her way to the Hive's entrance, her guard companion already having taken up a spear and armor as she stood looking out over the horizon.

The new Changeling approached her companion, catching the attention of another hunter as she did. The second blue-clad Changeling tossed Lightbringer some equipment, the former Pony flinching slightly as the sharp armor was flung toward her. Seconds before it hit, Lightbringer noticed a red glow, the armor hovering in front of her before it, seemingly on its own, slid around her body and latched into place, the grip of the spear lodging itself in her mouth.

"Don't count on that happening again," the guard spoke, releasing her magical grip from Lightbringer's armor.

After a short while, the young Changeling spoke up.

"Thanks for--" she began.

"Don't... Talk..." the guard interrupted. "Only say something when you see an intruder, and don't get all poetic and teary-eyed watching the horizon either. Remember, we have a job to do here."

Lightbringer, felt a few tears go down her face. She was glad she was wearing a helmet now; no one could see her crying. She knew how important guard duty was; if someone was trying to gain entrance to the Hive, peaceful or not, the last thing that anyone would want to see on duty is a sobbing Changeling.

"This isn't going how I thought it would at all," she thought to herself.

Hours passed, and the sun was beginning to set. Lightbringer and her guard companion were soon called away from duty as the evening guard took up the post. Sliding out of her armor, the young hunter took flight, taking after her guard sister who had already flown off. Lightbringer hovered about for a moment, looking around for her rather bad-tempered sibling, sighing when she found her lying down on a slab of stone on the Hive's opposite side.

The former Pony approached quietly, not wanting to draw too much attention to herself as she made her way towards the rocky slab. The guard, she noticed, just scowled, looking down at a small puddle of water.

"Hey," Lightbringer spoke up, "I know you said not to talk earlier, but we're off duty now, so..."

"You again?" the guard interrupted once more. "Look, what will it take for you new ones to just leave me alone? I swear, ever since they started assigning me new ones, I've barely got a single moment to myself anymore! Why can't you just buzz off somewhere and--"

Lightbringer was generally patient, but this had gone on long enough. All day she'd heard the guard grumble to herself about her, and could have sworn at mid-day that she'd heard a few insults going in her direction.

And she'd had enough.

"Stop it," she quietly hissed.

"What was that, squirt?" The guard snapped. "If you've got something to say then either spit it out or--"

"Shut up!" Lightbringer yelled.

The guard was almost taken aback.

"I don't know what your deal is," the former Pony went on, "but your attitude is just downright rotten. Now I know guards and hunters have to appear tough, but you don't need to do it all the time! And also, I don't know why you're so upset just because I'm around."

"You're adopted," the guard said. "That's all that needs to be said. Trust me when I say this, it's not all that you think it is."

"What?" Lightbringer replied, feeling a chill go through her. "So that's it? You hate me... because I'm adopted?"

The guard just sat there, staring at the puddle of water below.

"A-and you're not?" the new hunter continued. "So that's it? You think you're better than me just because you were born from an egg and I had to be reborn to be one of you?! I don't believe this... of all the... S-so, you think I was wrong to join your Hive? You think that you're so much better than me just because of--"

"I'm adopted too!" the guard started to sob. "Alright, there! No, I'm not one of those bigots who hate adopted Changelings..."

Lightbringer's anger quickly melted away, confusion seeping into the young Changeling's mind.

Silence followed for a few minutes...

"You are?"

"Yes," the guard, her voice much softer now, continued, "I was reborn just like you, and just like you I thought that I'd actually be me when I hatched, and then everything would better, I thought. Turns out I was wrong. Even in here there are those who will put you down just because of the fact that you were turned, not hatched. In my case, I got it even worse."

There was a long pause before Lightbringer broke the silence.

"Why? Why did they act so harshly against you?" she asked, sitting down next to her older sister.

"Look at me," the guard said, turning to look Lightbringer square in the eye. "My original name was Hard Tack. I was born a long time ago now to a pony family in southern Equestria, right near Appleoosa."

"That name..." Lightbringer murmured.

"Sounds like a stallion's name, doesn't it?" the guard spoke up, a bit of sarcasm and anger in her voice.

"So... they changed you... that way?" Lightbringer replied.

It was common knowledge amongst Changelings that the only males were the drones, the Queen's personal escort and entourage, all others were female, natural-born... or not.

"Didn't you ask to be a drone? I'm sure they would have done so if--"

"No," the guard responded. "I specifically asked them NOT to make me a drone."

"Why?" Lightbringer asked.

"Because..." the guard went on, "I never felt like one inside. I thought that becoming different would allow me to get away from that feeling, like I didn't fit in my own body, and at first, well... it did for a time, but then..."

"Other Changelings harassed you over it?"

"Not just them; Ponies, Gryphons... everyone. All of... no, I suppose not all, but a lot of them seem to have something against those who are just born... well, with the wrong parts," the guard said.

Lightbringer felt tears in her eyes again, not from her own sadness this time though. The guard continued staring at the pool of water, her own tears deepening it even more.

The older Changeling shivered a bit a she felt something warm lean against her side. Looking over, she saw Lightbringer sitting next to hear, the hunter wrapping her thin, membranous wings over her.

"I don't care what you were before," Lightbringer said, looking at the red Changeling. "I didn't know you back then. As far as I'm concerned, this is the original. You're a guard of this Hive, part of my swarm, and one of my many big sisters."

The guard's expression softened considerably.

"And I think you should think of it that way too. I say this; be who you are. If you feel like a mare inside, I think you should be happy if you get to bring her outside for everyone to see, even if they're too blind to see how beautiful she really is." the hunter smiled. "Hold on a second! This isn't just dust around here on the walls, it's clay, isn't it?"

"Y-yeah, the walls are lined with it," the guard replied, "but why are you--"

Lightbringer jumped up, hovering over to the Hive's wall. The hunter scraped a bit of clay off the wall, mixing it with the green gel that Changelings secreted. After a few seconds, she flew back over to the guard, sitting down next to the red Changeling once more.

"Hold still, and close your eyes," Lightbringer said. "You'll like this!"

"Hey, what are you doing?" The guard asked as Lightbringer placed a chitinous hoof over her eyes.

"You'll see!"

With a faint snort, the guard closed her eyes, opening them again only when Lightbringer said so. With her sister's direction, the guard looked back into the pool of water, her eyes widening slightly at what she saw.

"Ta-da!" Lightbringer laughed. "My mom showed me how do something similar with clay and water a long time ago!"

The guard couldn't help but smile a bit, a thin tear--a tear of joy, for once--sliding down her cheek. Lightbringer had mixed the clay pigments with her own gel, and some of the water from the pools that dotted the walls of their Hive. Using a thin twig, the ends of it flayed out and softened to form a rather well-made brush, the hunter had made a sort fine, powdered makeup, the guard noticing her hooves now glowing a duller sort of red, with a rather thin red lining going around her eyes. Right below her one eye was a set of sparkling red stars, not too large to be distracting, but just enough to compliment her own natural red coloration.

The guard was surprised, but couldn't help but smile. It might have seemed a bit childish, but the feeling was there all the same. She could feel it, not just in the pigments, but from the hunter at her side. Lightbringer truly did care about her, the love the young Changeling had for her sibling was quite real.

The guard wrapped her own red-tinted wing over her younger sister, the two sitting by side for quite some time. Eventually, though, it had gotten quite late, and they both knew they'd need to get some sleep before tomorrow's shift.

"I guess I'll see you at the gate tomorrow," the guard said, Lightbringer standing up beside her.

"Uh-huh, see you there!" the hunter said.

No sooner had Lightbringer taken off she noticed a rush of air beside her, her sister already quite a distance away from her.

"Wow, you're fast!" the hunter called. "You trying to outrun a comet or something?"

The guard just laughed, and then slowed to a hover.

"Comet..." she said to herself, remembering the faint small stars her sister had painted under her eye.

"Not bad for a mare's name..."

"I don't think it's such a bad name either," a royal voice echoed.

The two Changelings landed back on the rocky slab, both of them looking around for the voice's source.

"Who was that?" Lightbringer asked, feeling a small chill go through her.

"Trust me, you're going to want to bow down," the guard replied, her eyes wide. "I know who made that voice, and trust me, you want to be on your best behavior when--"

Her instructions were stopped short as a pillar of green flames erupted from the floor beneath them. As the fires died down, the two sisters looked up in awe as a tall, regal Changeling stood before them, her wispy blue mane and tail shimmering slightly in the Hive's dim light. The two bowed immediately, shocked that their Queen had appeared before them.

"Don't worry, girls," the Queen spoke, "there's no need for that this time. Please, sit down with me; we have a bit to discuss."

The two did as instructed, each sitting down on the rocky floor near their matriarch's side.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you earlier, Lightbringer," their adopted mother said, a small frown on her face. "I try to make sure I'm there for all of my children when they hatch, be they from an egg or cocoon."

Lightbringer smiled.

"And Comet," their Queen continued.

"Comet... hey that is a good name for you!" Lightbringer said.

"Quiet!" Comet said under her breath. "You can't interrupt--"

"Ahem," their Queen said, grinning at her daughters with an eyebrow raised.

The two sisters immediately went silent.

"As I was trying to say," she continued, "I didn't realize that your... previous life... was so hard on you. No one, mare or stallion, should have to go through that, and if it happens again here, I want you to personally report it to me. I promise you, my daughter, I'll make it stop."

Comet nodded.

"And to both of you," their mother said, "don't ever worry. Even if you feel alone in here, lost amongst the thousand siblings you now have, you at least have each other to talk to, and, should I be away from my own duties, I can be of help from time to time."

Their Queen paused, nuzzling both of them.

"Remember, my daughters, your mother loves you, and I think you'll find that your siblings do too."

The three remained there for a few minutes more, draping their wings over one another. With a hug and a laugh, they eventually parted, not before Lightbringer offered to paint their Queen's eyes and hooves too. With a laugh, she politely declined, as she vanished in flash of green flames the two sisters flew off to their honeycomb-like sleeping cells, the two settling down for the night.

"Hey, Comet," Lightbringer said as sleep began to overtake her.

"Yeah?" Her sister responded.

"You were wrong earlier; this was no mistake."

"I know," Comet the guard replied, "I was off too. There may still be those idiots out there who'd make fun of us both, but... we're still together."

"And," the young hunter said, "we're still family either way."

Author's Note

Another tale for all of you. Keep in mind though, this one is a bit topical but still a message worth learning, because the fact is that no matter one's views about themselves, or where they came from, if their mind is kind and open they still deserve basic respect.

Now, I myself am not gay, bi, trans, or adopted, but I've known people who are, and it bothers me very deeply when they get discriminated against just because of it.

And as goes those who discriminate against them: I don't care if someone's upbringing makes them bigoted, or their faith demands that they be bigoted. Whatever the cause, I say drop the bigotry at the door and let people who are different than you alone. As long as they're not doing anything to hurt you, or someone else, and they're not trying to break any written laws of the society they live in, they deserve the same respect as anyone else.

Hay and Beets and Nighttime

It was a merry morning in the Sunlit Hills, a rather curious place in a rather curious realm, but then again it was ALWAYS morning in the Sunlit Hills. Like Equestria, Sunlit Hills, as well as the neighboring Moonlit Valley, was inhabited mostly by ponies, although there seemed to be rather few of them, the only noticeable ones in question seeming to be transparent, ghostly-looking figures that glided in and out of the trees that filled the surrounding area. Apart from these wayward eidolons, two fillies inhabited the nearby area. Both were alicorns, the girls, still young mares, sporting both a horn and wings. Curiously enough, they also both had faint, glowing rings which constantly hovered above their heads. Neither one really knew what they were for, or how they even got to this rather odd place at all, and an even further mystery were the ghostly pony-like figures that drifted about the landscape.

One had a straw-yellow coat, with a mane and tail the color, and oddly the scent, of fresh oatmeal. After a great many days and nights living in this strange place, she'd collected up fallen sticks and timber from the trees, building a crude but still very sturdy barn in which she made her home. She was a very carefree filly and generally enjoyed having a good time. Frequently, she would sing to herself to keep some level of merriment floating through the empty rooms of her farm-like dwelling, singing to no one in particular at all.

“Oh, in this land,

that I call home

that always stays the same,

you'd think it would be boring

but it's never ever lame!

I have my home and yard and barn

where I will always stay.

It is filled with joy and harmony

and soft and fresh, clean hay!

I don't know what others say

since no one's left or came,

but I'm a little filly,

Willy-Nilly is my name.

I kind of lost the lyrics now,

I don't know what to say,

'cause I'm just a little filly

who was napping the hay!”

After the short, fast song, sung to no one but the empty room around her, Willy-Nilly, the little alicorn filly, fell fast asleep in, as she usually did, the nearest pile of hay in her barn's lower loft. Her sleep didn't last long though as a gentle knocking sounded on her barn's front door, the filly slowly getting up, gliding down on her wings to the barn's main, and for that matter only, entrance.

The wooden door creaked open, revealing a slightly smaller filly. Her coat was almost a completely white color, two deep, black eyes adorning her face. On her head was a horn, a similar golden halo above it, and on her back were two feathery wings. A black dress covered her body, the dark garment black in color but still charming in a way. In her smiling mouth she held a basket full of fresh, ripe beets, her favorite food and that which she took great care in growing.

“Morning!” she said. “Hi, Nilly! I have those beets you wanted yesterday.”

“Oh, hi Innocence,” Willy-Nilly yawned, greeting her neighbor and friend. “Thanks for bringing those over.”

Innocence's name was no accident; the filly had never had a single aggressive thought in her life, at least none that she or anyone else ever remembered. Not once had she ever wished harm upon another pony, and although usually quiet aside from her somewhat loud greetings, didn't like the idea of injury or even the slightest scrape or bruise, on one's body or feelings, on anypony.

EVER.

She also had quite the talent for growing beets.

“Anything new?” the snow-colored alicorn asked, her voice returning to its normal, soft tone.

“Didn't you hear my song just now?” Nilly replied. “It's always the same around here.”

“Well, I did hear you singing just a minute ago,” Innocence smiled, “but it's not entirely true; I found someone!”

“Y-you mean another one of those s-spooky ponies?” Nilly shivered.

It was no secret between the two that they both held a bit of fear for the ghostly forms that drifted about, the pony-like shapes never responding to a word they said, and occasionally staring at them, or what felt like THROUGH them with their bright, glowing eyes.

“No, no, not one of those,” Innocence said. “This one looks sort of like us, only completely dark all over, like my dress... almost...”

Willy-Nilly just tilted her head.

“She has a mark on her flank that looks like a moon surrounded by a purple cloud.”

“Do her eyes glow?” The yellow alicorn asked, still feeling nervous.

“Don't know,” the white alicorn replied. “She's been asleep since I found her in my beet patch this morning.”

“So she's back at your place?” Nilly asked.

Innocence nodded.

“Well, then, let's fly to your castle!” the yellow alicorn said, rising into the air, promptly hitting her head on one of her barn's support beams.

“Ow...” she muttered as she landed.

Innocence sighed. Willy-Nilly never was the most careful pony out there. The marble-coated alicorn shivered a bit, remembering the last time her straw-colored friend had said that. It took her a week to patch the hole in her one tower's roof.

“How about we just walk?” she suggested, watching her friend rub her head.

“Yeah,” Nilly responded, “just this once.”

The two fillies began their relatively short walk towards Innocence's castle. Her castle, really more of a fort made of stones and wood which surrounded her cabin and beet patch, sat near the edge of the Moonlit Valley, a small, river-carved valley sitting where night time forever hung in the sky, the heavens illuminated by stars and a bright, eternally full moon. The castle itself was rather small, the walls hobbled together from various stones held together by clay mortar. The towers were arranged out of pillars of wood, made from logs, which held rock walls in place, each capped by a wooden roof and built by Willy-Nilly, along with the walls, after a time when Innocence became afraid to be on her own whilst asleep, the alicorn fillies still remembering that time when a ghostly figure appeared right outside the white alicorn's window.

The two walked up to the castle's front gate, the wooden structure having a heart-shaped emblem carved into its front. Innocence's horn lit up with a faint white glow, the filly tapping gently on the door's surface. The heart emblem lit up with a dull pink glow, and with a gentle creak the door opened. Nilly smiled a bit, seeing how her friend's beet patch was doing so well. Innocence's beets had grown, the plant's sporting thick, healthy green leaves.

Her cabin was doing well too, the small wooden structure well-kept and clean. Innocence herself was already trotting up to the door, going inside to check on her unusual guest.

“Hey,” she called to her friend, “she's awake!”

Willy-Nilly trotted inside, seeing Innocence sitting down next to a pony sleeping on her bed. The pony was an alicorn, no doubt about that. Horn, check... Wings, check... She looked like a filly, and sure enough had a cutie mark of a crescent moon over a purple background, a few stars here and there.

The filly looked at both of them, a bit unsure of where she was. Nilly shivered a bit; the filly's eyes weren't round. Her pupils were thin vertical lines going up and down, her eyes being a turquoise green in color.

“Aww,” Innocence smiled, “she has eyes like a cat.”

“T-t-t-that's kind of w-w-weird,” Nilly shivered.

“Relax,” her alabaster friend said, “she doesn't look like a ghost.”

“Where am I?” the dark filly spoke, her voice almost sobbing. “Where am I? I... don't feel right... I'm missing...”

“Missing?” Nilly asked, trying to calm her nerves.

“I'm not all here...” the dark filly sobbed tears going down her cheek.

“You look here,” Innocence softly spoke.

“No,” the filly went on, “this isn't right... but... do I deserve to know?”

The two other fillies tilted their heads slightly.

“I... don't think we're on the same page here,” Nilly spoke, the yellow alicorn getting slightly confused.

“Yeah,” her snow-white friend added, “first off, who are you?”

“Nightmare,” the filly mumbled softly.

“What's a nightmare? I don't think any of us are asleep,” Innocence asked.

“My name,” the dark filly nearly growled, “is Nightmare Moon!”

The two recoiled slightly at the filly's harsh tone. After a few seconds, Willy-Nilly spoke up.

“So... what do you like to do?”

“Nilly, I don't think that's the best thing to ask right now,” Innocence looked concerned as she replied. “Anyway, miss... Nightmare, that's my friend. Her name's Willy-Nilly, and mine's Innocence.”

Nightmare gave a fast, sarcastic laugh. “Willy-Nilly, really? And Innocence? Does such a thing even really exist?”

“Hey, I heard that!” Nilly said, sounding a bit cross.

“Well, um,” Innocence struggled to respond, “yes. Nilly builds things out of wood and stone most of the time, and usually grows hay.”

“And what do you do?” Nightmare asked, her one brow raised slightly.

Innocence pulled over a small pale, the metal object full of beets.

“Your special talent... is a bucket?” Nightmare flatly asked.

“Not the bucket, silly, what's in the bucket,” Willy-Nilly responded.

“Beets!” Innocence chimed.

“A bucket full,” Nilly spoke.

“Beet bucket!” Innocence chuckled.

“Bucket beets?” Nightmare asked, a bit confused.

“No, beet bucket,” the yellow allicorn spoke.

“That's what I said,” Nightmare glared.

“No,” Nilly responded, “you said--”

“Bucket--” Nightmare said.

“Beets,” Nilly finished.

“A bucket of beets.” the dark alicorn glowered.

“Beet bucket!” the alabaster filly chimed.

“ENOUGH!” Nightmare yelled. “Tell me, NOW, where in Equestria I am.”

The two other fillies looked quizzically at each other.

“Where?” They both asked, heads tilted.

Nightmare's expression went blank, her eyes wide. Were these two fillies serious?

“You mean you've never heard of Equestria?” Nightmare said. “How is that even possible? It's the primary principality of our world, how can one not know of--”.

The midnight alicorn's voice immediately stopped, her eyes turning up to the glowing rings above the two fillies' heads. Nightmare's heart sank.

“No...” she said, feeling tears on her face again, “no... no, no, please no...”

“What's wrong?” Innocence asked, becoming worried about her guest.

“T-those rings,” Nightmare said, “do you not know what those are?!”

The two fillies looked at each other's halos.

“We've... always had those,” Willy-Nilly spoke. “They've always been atop our heads like that.”

“We don't know where they came from, or where we came from for that matter, but we're here all the same,” Innocence added in.

“No...” Nightmare started to panic slightly. “No, no... NO!”

With a flash of purple haze and a pulse of shadow, Nightmare wrapped herself in a cloak of pure darkness and wind, the howling, spinning air carrying the void-shrouded alicorn out the front door and deep into the nearby woods, several dozen sets of glowing eyes watching her move past them.

“What was that about?” Willy-Nilly asked.

“I don't know,” Innocence replied, “but look where she went!”

The two fillies started shaking as they spotted the ghostly figures beginning to move into the woods.

“W-what if they get her?” Innocence stammered.

“I don't want to think about it,” Nilly shivered.

The two sat there for a few minutes, both fillies afraid to even dare beyond the castle walls.

“We can't just do nothing,” the straw-colored alicorn eventually spoke.

“B-but we can't just run off with those ghosts around,” Innocence shivered.

“If we don't do anything then we'll never be able to help her,” Willy-Nilly spoke.

Innocence noticed her friend sounding rather unlike herself; instead of carefree and aloof she seemed rather focused, her eyes concentrating on the dark woods that lay ahead of them outside of Innocence's castle.

“I-if you come with me,” Innocence eventually said, “maybe the ghosts won't get us.”

“Here's hoping...” Nilly replied. “Let's fly!”

The two took to the air, Innocence still carrying her bucket of beets.

Slowly, the two fillies made their way through the woods, crouching and stopping every now and then as the drifting, transparent spirits made their way past them. Nilly had the idea to follow the ghosts, staying out of sight the whole time. Innocence, shivering in fear, reluctantly agreed, and after a few minutes the two found themselves in a clearing, Nightmare in the middle of the grove under a starlit sky. She was surrounded by the ghosts, the phantasms kneeling down around her as she sobbed to herself under the open night sky.

“No!” the two fillies called, fearing for their acquaintance.

The two quickly placed a hoof over each other's mouth as the ghosts spun around to look at them. Shivering in fear, the two clenched their eyes tightly shut, screaming as the spirits cast their glowing gaze upon them.

“Let them be,” Nightmare said.

The ghosts backed up slightly, giving the shrieking fillies some room.

Willy-Nilly and Innocence opened their eyes, their screams of terror soon ending. Nightmare motioned for them to come closer, and so they did, carefully making their way past the group of observant eidolons.

“They're not dangerous,” Nightmare softly spoke. “In a way they're like me; feared for no reason other than that they're different. I suppose it doesn't matter now. Dead is dead, after all.”

“Dead, what do you mean?” Innocence asked. “They're the only ones who look like ghosts here.”

“And why did you freak out at our rings earlier?” Willy-Nilly asked. “What made you so scared of all this anyway?”

“Nilly!” Innocence interjected.

Nightmare just lowered her eyes.

“Sorry about that,” Innocence softly spoke, kneeling down to Nightmare's eye level. “We're just...”

“Scared?” Nightmare asked. “A lot of ponies fear me... You wouldn't be the first...”

“Well, not so much you,” Innocence replied...

“Maybe you should just tell us what's bothering you,” Nilly said, still feeling uneasy as the ghosts hovered around them.

Several seconds passed.

“Can they stay?” Nightmare asked.

Reluctantly, the two fillies looked around, watching the ghosts watch them. Turning back to Nightmare the slowly nodded.

“As long as they don't hurt anyone,” Willy-Nilly said.

“They won't,” the midnight alicorn replied.

Nightmare began her tale as the two other fillies listened, surrounded by their spectral onlookers. Nightmare spoke and they listened, listened to a tale of neglect, pain, sorrow, and night time eternal, and of six heroines who stopped her and separated her from the one who created her in the first place, and how the end of that battle seemed to have broken her apart, not just away.

The two fillies couldn't help but cry along with their new friend as the listened, the story weighing heavily on their hearts.

“S-so that's why you were so scared,” the yellow alicorn said. “W-where you come from, these rings only appear above those who are dead...”

“At least in mythology, yes,” Nightmare said, drying her eyes.

“A-and these ghosts... Eidolons, you called them?... They're just like you... sort of; shunned but not actually bad inside?” Innocence sobbed, feeling quiet bad herself for ever being afraid of the ghosts.

Nightmare nodded.

“Like me,” she said, “they're not actually out to harm anyone. They're just sad that no one seems to like them no matter what realm they travel to. Unlike me, however, they took it better... They didn't nearly doom a whole world...”

“Hey,” Nilly spoke, “you only did that because you were in a lot of pain, right?”

“Mh-hmm...” Nightmare nodded in agreement. “It still doesn't make it any better...”

“Well, maybe not,” Innocence added, “b-but you don't want to do it again, right?”

“N-no!” Nightmare nearly began crying again. “No, not again... Not again...”

The fillies placed a hoof on the midnight alicorn's shoulder.

“Then as long as you don't try it here, everything will be fine,” the two said in unison.

“Also,” the yellow alicorn spoke, “I've noticed something.”

Nightmare looked at her.

“I've noticed that you don't have a halo,” Nilly said with a grin. “Even if... well, what you said about those is true...”

“I sure hope it's not...” Innocence mumbled.

“Anyway,” Willy-Nilly went on, “even if your spirit was fragmented, like you said, I don't think you're deceased since you don't have one.”

Nightmare smiled, feeling reassured.

“So, why don't you say here with us for a while until you can, you know, find a way to put yourself back together again?” Innocence asked. “And you could stay with me near Moonlit Valley; it's always night time over there.”

“I think I'd like to stay with you, Innocence,” Nightmare replied, “a-and perhaps we can see your friend, Nilly, too?”

“You bet!” Willy-Nilly replied.

The three fillies smiled to themselves, the ghosts around them even seeming to grin. Eventually all three companions, and their ghostly escorts, walked back out of the woods together, Willy-Nilly flying back to her barn and Innocence and Nightmare heading back to the small stone and wood castle.

Over time, Nightmare's power grew, the midnight alicorn locating many of the lost fragments of her soul. Some had found their way to foreign worlds, such as this one, whilst others still drifted in the void, now reconnected through a magical link Nightmare constructed. Eventually returning to her full size, she now towered over her small, filly friends, not that they minded. In the Sunlit Hills and Moonlit Valley, the three alicorns, and the ghosts they eventually came to call friends, lived together in a sort of harmony, Nightmare using her shadow magic to talk to the eidolon ponies. Strangely enough, they too had managed to grow horns and wings, now appearing as transparent alicorns with shining, friendly yellow eyes, appearing less like haunting spirits and more like benevolent guardian angels. Nightmare eventually, with their help, began sending telepathic, magical messages to Equestria and other worlds where her fragments lingered, even eventually making peace with her old adversaries, and Luna, the alicorn of Night who began her life in the first place, and although this fragment of hers stayed in this far off magical realm, she at least was able to talk with those back home.

There was one mystery that she had yet to solve though.

“Innocence,” Nightmare asked one day, the three alicorns eating lunch together, “mind if I ask you something?”

“What is it?” the white alicorn filly replied.

“Well,” Nightmare went on, “I've seen Willy-Nilly's cutie mark, a haybale with a cloud behind it, and you both know that mine is the crescent moon, but I've never seen yours since you always wear that black dress you have.”

“Oh,” Innocence laughed, “that's easy. It's a beet!”

“A beet shaped like a heart,” Willy-Nilly added.

“A beet... shaped like a heart?” Nightmare asked.

“Beet heart,” the alabaster filly smiled.

“A... heart BEET?” Nightmare slowly said.

The fillies looked at each other for a few seconds before bursting into laughter.

“W-why didn't you think of that?!” Nilly laughed.

“I-I don't know,” Innocence giggled. “Nice one, Nightmare!”

The three laughed, a few ghosts laughing along with them as they overheard the commotion. Throughout their times together, and certainly that day, the three alicorns, and their spirit friends, remembered a lesson they all knew very well by then; just because somepony seems strange or different doesn't automatically make them bad, and certainly doesn't warrant anyone making fun of, or shunning them. You'll find that even the strangest of individuals can still be good friends, and you also might find that beets are good vegetables, that hay lofts are good for sleeping in, and the night time sky is very, very beautiful.

Free

Hello there.

I know this seems strange but, relax, I mean no harm.

I have something for you.

I know this is sudden, but please, listen, I have a gift to give. Oh, but look at me going on like this; perhaps I should introduce myself.

My name is Transcendent Memory, an alicorn, but not a normal one. I was built, or rather rebuilt, not ascended or born. I live in a tall city, its buildings made of steel and glass rather than stone, in a time far off from now; oh, how useful time spells can be, why I get all giddy just thinking of...

Ahem, perhaps for another day.

I have something for you. Read my message, and think of what I speak. The rest of my spell will activate then, and hopefully you'll be able to see my world, my flight, my magic, through my eyes, that of a pony, an alicorn.

Relax now, read, and think.

Now that you know my name, perhaps you should know more about me. I have a white coat made of thin, flexible glass filaments, occasional bits of luminescent circuitry lighting up beneath it. My wings are broad and flexible too, having a soft membrane covering them instead of feathers. My mane and tail are about the same color as my coat, and are, admittedly quite long. My horn has a yellow glow when lit, and my symbol, my “cutie mark” as you know it, well... it must be a strange emblem to your eyes, I admit. Perhaps I'll go into that later.

Now then, breath, read, and think.

Imagine yourself viewing the world through my eyes. We're in my room now, my apartment in a tall building towering above the ground. The skies are cloudy, some rain hitting my glass windows. I have the lights turned off, my mechanical body aglow with a dull yellow light.

I'm going to walk forward now. Keep up with me; one hoof, then the next, and so on. Imagine walking on all fours, your weight perfectly balanced over all your joints, elegant wings tucked in on your sides, and a magical horn atop your head.

One, two, three, four.

That's it.

I'm going to move my ears around a bit, left and right. Can you imagine it; a slight rush of wind past your ears, the motion atop your head?

Try it it out. Keep it up.

Now relax a bit, this is where the fun starts.

I'm going to lift a few of my things around.

Let's walk again, one, two, three, four.

Each hoof rises and falls on my carpet.

We're in front of my table now. I have a few things atop it; a remote control, a bowl, and a few pieces of fruit in it.

Can you guess what we'll do now? We'll lift it.

With magic, of course.

Focus on what you want to move. It can be anything there.

Focus.

Now imagine it lifting, floating into the air and going whichever way you want.

Lift up.

Feel the glow on your forehead as arcane power surges through you.

That's it.

You might notice the glow of my horn. Just keep focused and watch the objects move. They're under your control now.

Up, down, left, and right. To, fro, and spin around.

Very nice.

Keep it up as long as you wish. Magic certainly is a beautiful thing, isn't it.

When you're done, we'll proceed; I want to show you one of my favorite things to do.

How about we go flying?

I can see you look a bit excited; that's the spirit. Come on, we're going to walk over to my balcony.

Left front, back right, left back, front right...

You really are good at walking on all fours, aren't you? Very nice.

Okay, I'm opening my balcony door now; it's made of glass, just in case you're having trouble visualizing.

Ah, there we go; a rush of cool wind, a bit of rain on your fur... I find it exhilarating. It's cool, and fresh... not the slightest bit harsh either.

Get ready now, I'm going to spread my wings. They're long and broad. Not terribly heavy either, but have enough weight for you to notice. Feel them on your sides, now fully outstretched. Up, down, up, and down; can you feel me moving them around?

Good.

Now then, time for the main event.

I'm going to run off the edge and take to the skies. You with me?

Let's go!

I'm running forward. Feel the hooves on the concrete balcony, the clip-clop noise as they bolt across the wet surface. Feel the rain on me, the wind wrapping around me, and the weight of my wings as they go up and down, wind spiraling around them and flowing over their surfaces.

I'll jump now! I'm off the ground, nothing around me but wind and rain. I'll tuck my legs close to my body, my wings fully outstretched and flapping hard.

Up! Up! Up!

Yes! I'm flying!

Look around; the city skyline is streaking past as I fly around buildings, my reflection speeding along after me as I soar past the mirror-like glass windows. The rain feels a bit harsher now, but not painful in the least, and my elegant wings are doing wonders keeping me up; keep feeling my flapping as I climb higher and higher.

I want you to focus now on the clouds ahead. Remember using magic before? Time to do it again.

Keep focusing on my flight as well, but look ahead to the clouds as we race toward them.

Here we go.

I want you to latch onto the clouds with your mind; grab them and push them aside.

There you go. Revel in my arcane power as my horn lights up! Blast a tunnel into the clouds.

Yes! There you go! You're moving them aside. Feel the confidence flowing through you as even part of nature bends to your command! This is the control an alicorn's magic can bring to you!

The clouds are forming a tunnel now; I like how you've made it too. You're so new at this and yet so in control.

I'm still flying up through the tunnel in the clouds, spiraling and rolling around in my flight. Imagine it, feel it! We're nearly through!

Almost... yes!

I'm through the cloud layer, above the storm and above the horizon!

Look around at the world below, the clouds creeping below us and the wide open sky above. The sun is just setting and the moon rising; Celestia and Luna are certainly forces to be reckoned with, to be sure; one more example of just what kind of power being an alicorn can bring.

Gaze around now; you can just make out the curvature of the world from here.

Beautiful, isn't it?

Magic, flight, power...

But there's something else you feel too.

Freedom.

Free from the shackles of society below, free from the problems in the world.

As I've said, revel in it.

This freedom, this power, in a body that not even time can touch.

Stay in this blissful state as long as you please; this is my gift to you all.

I'll proceed back to my home as soon as you're done; don't worry, I imagine you'll see me again at some time in the future.

I sense a bit of curiosity though; why... you wonder... is an alicorn living in an apartment? Why am I mechanical? What world do I hail from, and what time? Why have I just come out of nowhere, just for you?

Well...

Those are for me to know, and you to find out later.

I know we just met, but trust me, it will be worth the wait.

Farewell for now; feel free to revisit this spell of mine whenever you wish. Let your mind wander, and run free in my magic, my flight, my power...

Farewell, take care, and hopefully your spirit will rise just as high as I can fly, and grow as strong as my magical power.

Author's Note

This isn't meant to be a hypnosis story, but I suppose it might be able to be thought of as one... Who knows, maybe it did come from someone else, somewhere, some when, and I'm just a conduit for penning it down. :P

Really Good At Being An Owl

"Hoot!" Owlowicious said.

He'd gotten much better at sounding like, well, an owl, since he'd first arrived in Equestria. Ah, that had been so long ago, and he and his friends, Spike the Dragon and Twilight the Alicorn, had been through so much together since then. You see, he wasn't always an owl, nor was he originally from this universe. It all started during a very odd, scary, horrifying... and rather ridiculous... Halloween long ago...

In the small town of Teufort, New Mexico...

"The bomb ain't movin', lads!" the BLU Sniper called to his team mates.

Scout was running in circles, ghosts chasing after him. Demoman was furiously waving that cursed sword of his around, trying to flay the image of that ghostly, and rather incompetent, wizard, Merasmus. The rest of the Builder's League United, or BLU, team was, to his disbelief, actually managing to shoot at something non-supernatural, the Reliable Excavation and Demoliton, or RED, team, namely the ones standing non-nonchalantly around the cart the BLU's were SUPPOSED to be pushing towards the RED base. They stood there, next to the BLU rail-cart mounted bomb, laughing at the BLU's; from behind the bomb, they hid behind their Engineer's sentries and chortled as their Medic's medigun made even the faintest scratch they received vanish into thin air.

The BLU Sniper would show them what taunting his team, and him, would get them.

"Standin' around like a bunch of idiots..." the Sniper groaned, taking aim with his trusty hunting rifle.

The New-Zealand born, Australian-raised hunter took aim at the first target he could see, the RED Medic, who was laughing in that annoying cackle of his as red bursts of healing energy shot out of his medigun.

"Steady... Steady..." the BLU Sniper whispered, taking aim.

He held is breath, concentrating hard.

He reached for the trigger, exhaling slowly as he did.

He was in the zone, he'd make the shot.

"Too slow, medicine woman!" he said, aligning his cross-hairs with the RED Medic's forehead.

All he had to do now, was pull...

"Oi! Merasmus! Go back to whatever hole ye' done crawled out from this time!" Demoman cried out, swinging at the bumbling wizard.

Sniper dropped his aim as his drunken Scottish team mate flung explosives at the wizard.

Merasmus merely floated out of the way, the bombs ricocheting off the nearest wall, bouncing up into the air... and landing promptly behind the BLU sniper, the adopted Australian being sent flying by the blast straight into the wizard's path.

"Ha ha! I'll show you, fool!" Merasmus laughed, charging a spell.

A large wheel suddenly appeared above the haunted battlefield, spinning in circles like some floating haunted parody of a game show.

"The wheel of misfortune! The wheel!" Merasmus screamed as the wheel's spinning slowed. "Come on, wheel... Merasmus needs this..."

The wheel stopped, the desolate ringing of an old church bell sounding in the distance. The area around the mercenaries, RED and BLU suddenly lit up, the ground shaking as glowing green arcane power shot through the landscape. Fissures arose in the dusty soil, screams of the dead echoing through them as mercs on both sides began screaming and running for their lives.

"Ha ha!" Merasmus went on. "You will now suffer at the wrath of... Wait, wha?"

The wizard looked up at the wheel, the arrow pointing to an image distinctly resembling a bird.

"Dead birds?" Merasmus groaned.

He really wasn't the most competent wizard on the planet.

The screams turned to squawks as the ghosts shooting up out of the fissures took on a rather distinctly feathered shape. One by one, with a comical "POOF!" the ghosts became transparent, spiritual birds, each one squawking and hooting, flying up into the night sky. The mercenaries were dumbfounded. Most looked on, flabbergasted--save for the Spies, who merely groaned at the ridiculousness of it all--as their ghostly attackers merely flew off into the night sky.

The BLU Sniper, currently being airborne, got a different view, namely the view one gets as they're carried up towards a giant floating wheel by a bunch of undead fowl.

"GYAHHHH!" the Sniper yelled, slamming into Merasmus' giant wheel as the birds carried him up.

With a green blast of energy, wheel and bird and mercenary vanished, the rather annoyed wizard merely teleporting away as the drunken, one-eyed Scotsman kept on flailing his possessed sword.

Sniper felt himself being twisted and pulled as the wheel and birds became a torrent of ghostly energy around him. He was blown through the very fabric of reality, screaming as the maelstrom of ectoplasm grew bright and loud. With a final blast, all went silent, the BLU team's Sniper passing out as he felt himself land on somewhat damp grass...

Morning soon came, Princess Celestia raising the sun as she had done for more than a thousand years now. Near the small town of Ponyville sat the edge of the mysterious Everfree forest, a place so dark and shrouded in chaotic energy that few dared approach. If one had been around though, they might have heard the sound of a distinctly Australian accent, namely one put out by a being that had been screaming as they fell from the sky in a green fireball of energy before promptly crashing into the ground.

Sniper awoke from his impact-induced sleep, his ears ringing as he surveyed the scorched crater around him. He'd been blasted, shot at, and blown up plenty of times before, to be sure, but nothing ever along these lines. To make things worse, his clothes were more or less destroyed, save for his wide-brimmed hat and glasses, and his rifle was nowhere to be seen. When he saw that blasted undead wizard again, so help him...

The mercenary continued to look around, not seeing any trace of his team mates, or for that matter even the battlefield they'd been fighting over. All he saw around him were very, very tall trees, a refreshing sight from the deserts of Teufort to be sure, but definitely not where he should have been. Climbing out of the crater, the BLU Sniper noticed that he didn't quite feel like himself. Every movement seemed off-balance and wobbly, almost like he was waddling rather than walking.

Clamoring away from the debris, he noticed a pool of water.

"Maybe a drink might do me some good, 'specially after that," he muttered.

The BLU Sniper walked--waddled--his way to the pool looked into the reflective, clear surface... and promptly screamed.

"I HAVE AN OWL HEAD!" the outdoors-man shrieked, noticing his face, and for that matter the rest of him, had become distinctly avian.

It was then that the Sniper did what any professional, upstanding assassin from down-under would do; he ran off into the woods, tripping over his own limbs, not stopping for anything or anyone.

"This can't be real... No, it ain't happnin' no way! No way!" He yelled to himself.

The Sniper started to become hysterical as he tried to convince himself, in vain, that this was all some horrid dream. He began to wave his arms, now wings, in a panic, his manifested fear growing worse as he realized he'd taken off. Now flying, the Sniper winced as branches and leaves hit him as he rocketed past, the foliage stinging as it collided with his downy body.

Just outside of the haunted woods, a yellow pony was caring for her collection of animal friends, a white rabbit, annoyed and stuck-up yet still loyal as ever, aiding her as she went along.

"Ah, there we go," Fluttershy said in her soft, gentle tone. "That's enough for everyone. Thank you ever so much for all your help, little Angel Bunny."

The rabbit pridefully smiled.

"HOOOOOOT! HELP! GYAHHHHH!" a panicked voice shouted out.

The animals scattered at the loud sound, Fluttershy looking around, worried, what sounded like an injured creature. Angel went on the defensive, the rabbit jumping in front of the yellow pony, drawing a carrot as if the vegetable were a sword. The two didn't have to wait long as a brown mass of feathers darted past them, crashing with the sound of breaking pottery and flatware as the BLU Sniper sailed through Fluttershy's open front door and straight into her cupboard.

Nervous and scared, the pony ran inside, rabbit in pursuit, and promptly placed a hoof over her mouth as she beheld a rather dazed and bruised owl slowly falling out of the ruins of her dishes, the bird landing on the floor with a soft thud.

"Oh dear... Goodness, no!" Fluttershy squeaked, the kindly equine hating to see any living thing hurt.

She trotted over to the owl, picking the slightly injured bird up in her wings.

"There there," she said, "I'll make sure you heal up, Mr. Owl."

The Sniper merely groaned, still in a daze.

Several days passed, the newly-avian BLU Sniper recovering quickly. His wounds outside had healed, but the adopted Australian still burned inside. He'd make sure to put more than one bullet through that wizard's head when he got back, he'd make sure of it.

"That blasted, floating, ghostly son of a..." he muttered to himself, pacing back and forth on Fluttershy's coffee table. "First ghosts, then explosions, plus a weird spinning tornado made of who-knows-what, and now... talking ponies... ain't life as a mercenary grand? Maybe dad was right; maybe I should have just been a doctor and left it at that..."

The talking bird felt a groan in his stomach. It had been a while since he'd had a proper meal, aside from the ones his equine caretaker had provided for him. Raiding the fridge was out of the question; he might be a mercenary--and an owl--but he was still quite the professional. No, he'd take care of his own eating needs. After all, he'd hate to upset the one who had nursed him back to health, especially after noticing how timid and emotional the pony was, and how many animals she cared for... all the creatures that she loved and catered to without even a second thought. The way she looked after him, and them, touched the Sniper deep inside. He knew right then and there what this mare must be doing with them all. After all, what other purpose could anyone have all these animals for?

"Hunting time," the owl mumbled, a maniacal, predatory grin coming over his face.

At the sound of the word "hunt", Angel's ears shot straight up, a bolt of fear coursing through the rabbit. He looked over at the feathered intruder, watching in horror as the owl began assembling a bow and arrow out of a piece of clothes line and sticks. Taking a few kitchen knifes as ammunition, the owl flew up to the house's rafters, taking aim at a few ferrets out in the yard. Licking his beak, the sniper grabbed the bow in one leg and the knife-arrow in the other, hovering with his wings as he drew the improvised arrow back.

"Take this, ya' greasy weasel," he said, eying up the ferret.

Angel screamed, throwing a frying pan up towards the avian attacker. The pan struck the sniper clean over the head, a resounding "oof!" echoing through the room as the knife fell from his talons. Angel leaped into the air, catching the blade as it just barely missed a sleeping cat who had been resting on the floor.

The rabbit sighed, carefully putting the blade down.

"Angel," Fluttershy said, walking in through the door, "put that back in the kitchen, please. You know knives are too dangerous for little bunnies to hold."

Angel turned around, spying his caretaker as she returned from feeding the outdoor creatures. The rabbit placed the knife down, quickly waving one arm while pointing at the owl with the other, a strained look on his face. The Sniper, dazed but still conscious, flapped his wings and landed in the rafters, letting out an improvised "HOOT!" as he noticed the pony looking at him.

"Now Angel," Fluttershy went on, "you shouldn't blame others for what you did. Now please, put the knife back in the kitchen."

Fluttershy trotted away, leaving the annoyed rabbit staring up at the owl. The bird promptly stuck his tongue out at the rabbit and, as soon as the pony was out of sight, drew another knife, taking aim once more at his quarry outside.

Angel panicked, the rabbit running outside to scatter the ferrets as the Sniper took aim.

"Steady... Steady..." the mercenary bird said, focusing on his target.

The knife sailed through the air, the owl grinning as it came within inches of its target. Angel managed to get there first, the ferrets bolting as the rabbit ran at them, the knife landing harmlessly on the ground. Angel wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead, waving a fist at the owl as he gathered the two knives and hurried them back to the kitchen.

Needless to say, the Sniper was less than amused.

"Oi, back off!" he shouted at the Rabbit. "You big-head wa-"

Fluttershy dropped the dishes she was holding, hearing the rather obscene word echo through her house, several of her animals covering their ears. At first she was scared, fearing an intruder in her home--animals didn't talk after all, save for parrots and crows--but afterwords became quite annoyed; she did NOT like swearing, especially around her animal friends.

The pony quickly bolted into the living room, a glare on her face. Looking around, she saw no one but the animals, her owl guest landing on the back of her couch.

"Well," she huffed, closing the open door, "at least that Mr. Rude-mouth is gone."

The equine noticed a white rabbit, still waving and pointing at the owl, miming the motion of firing a bow and arrow.

"Now Angel," she said, "I know you must have been scared, and ever so hurt, but that rude pony, whomever they were, but Mr. Owl couldn't have done it; owls don't talk."

The rabbit firmly placed a paw over his face, annoyed that he just couldn't prove the owl's guilt.

Angel didn't have to wait long for another chance though, the owl soon flying off to the kitchen after Fluttershy had vanished from view, retrieving yet another blade and flying to the door. The rabbit leaped up, trying to follow the hungry raptor as he landed on the door hook, eying a mouse that was scampering about on the floor below.

The hare tackled, the bird, the Sniper sent flying into the near-by Victrola record player. The needle dropped and the device began to spin, the owl sliding off as the song "millionaire holiday" began to play. The Sniper stood back up, gripping the knife as the mouse scampered past.

"Stabbing time," he grinned, chasing the rodent.

Angel yelled in horror, the bird closing in on the mouse. The rabbit's eyes clenched shut, fearing for the worst, but it never came, much to his relief. Without warning, the door flew open a trio of fillies standing their, unaware that they'd managed to wedge a certain bird between the wooden door and wall, the knife dropping to the floor with a harmless clang.

"Fluttershy!" they called in unison, "We're here!"

"Oh, hi girls," the yellow pony said, remembering she'd invited the three crusaders over. "I'm sorry, but could you wait a few minutes, please? I have to take care of some food for the ducks in the kitchen."

The fillies nodded in agreement, watching as their hostess walked away.

Now normally, any other pony would have politely waited for her to return, but these were fillies and fillies didn't like to be kept waiting around. Boredom set in almost as quickly as Fluttershy had left, and immediately the three set off looking for something to do. As they walked inside, the door opened lightly, a rather stunned owl falling with a thud to the floor. The sound got the attention of the fillies, the trio quickly staring at the bird as he groaned his way back to consciousness.

"Is that owl okay?" the silver-coated Sweetie Belle asked.

"Ah don't know," Applebloom, the farm pony replied.

"Maybe he's having trouble flying," Scootaloo, the orange filly added in. "Hey, maybe we can help him fly again!"

"Cutie Mark Crusader Bird Helpers!" the three shouted.

Darting back outside, bird in hoof, the three scrounged up materials from the nearby bushes, improvising a catapult in a matter of seconds. The Sniper soon found himself in the device's scoop, the fillies pulling the nearby string. The sniper was no fool when it came to improvised weapons, the owl going wide-eyed as he realized what was about to happen.

"Ah, pi--" he said, his words stopped short as the device was triggered.

Across Ponyville, various members of its populace heard a distinctly Australian voice screaming as a brown, barely-visible feathered object rocketed through the air, crashing in the branches of the Golden Oaks Library Tree.

Back at Fluttershy's cottage, the yellow pony looked around, noticing her owl guest had vanished.

"Did you three fillies notice where that owl went off to?" She asked the trio, the crusaders having quickly hidden their improvised artillery piece.

"Um, he flew off," they said, "in a hurry too."

"Oh," Fluttershy smiled, "he must be feeling better by now then. That's such a relief."

In the branches of the library, Sniper groaned once more, the owl falling into a catatonic state that lasted until the evening.

"Just great," The Sniper said, staring up at the now darkened sky. "I'm stuck who knows how far away from home, the life I had not that great either, now that I think about it. Now I don't even have that though, and sure as heck can't even get something to eat on my own..."

The Sniper let out a soft "hoot", sounding more like an owl than ever. A door creak caught his attention as a purple pony, illuminated by candle light, looked out at him, a concerned expression on her face.

"Oh great... this can only get worse..." he thought as the librarian carried him inside.

The Sniper couldn't have been more wrong. In the coming days, he managed to find a friend in the purple pony, the pony letting him actually earn his keep instead of just sit around. He helped keep the place clean and rodent-free, and she helped him with whatever scraps of food she could spare, and a bit of shelter too. With time, he began to adapt, even embracing the name she'd given him; Owlowicious, the now-former mercenary well aware of the amusing pun. Eventually, he earned the trust of her dragon, Spike, the two even spending time together.

Now, more than two years after their first meeting, Owlowicious was on quite good terms with the ponies in his life, the ex-Sniper living with the librarian, now Alicorn Princess, Twilight Sparkle in her rather astounding crystalline castle in what used to be the cursed Everfree forest. He still stayed with her, helping her carry scrolls around the palace grounds, and kept out the mice, now fully embracing his new-found avian nature.

"Heh heh heh," he laughed to himself one day, having just chased off some cheese-stealing rodents, "I am really good at being an owl."

The Colt's Music

Music can come from strange places.

In the middle of Canterlot sat a rather old store, the quaint place of business specializing in musical instruments and records, as well as the repair of them. Inside this shop of sound was a colt who, even though his cutie mark was that of a record, always found himself a bit envious of those who could really get into music, not just those who could listen to a song and interpret meaning from it, but those who could make it, weave sounds into a new song or symphony. Admittedly he'd love to be able to write music, but no matter how hard he tried, even his best “pieces”, if one could call them that, wound up having all the appeal, grace, and melody of a cat scratching against a chalkboard, and that was on a good day.

“Hmmph...” he sighed, thinking about all the musicians, some famous, who appeared in his parent's shop from time to time. “If only...”

The small bell tied to the door suddenly rang—even the doorbell sounding melodic and tuned—as a pair of mares entered. The colt instantly recognized them; one had a gray coat with a black mane and tail, both well-kept and styled. The other had a white coat wild blue mane and tail, streaks of lighter blue in them in a somewhat haphazard fashion as if the mare's mane had lightning running through it.

“Yo, Pseudo Octave!” The white mare called, the DJ approaching the clerk's desk. “I hear your folks are gone for the day. You watching the shop for them?”

“Uh huh,” the colt replied, “that's right, Miss Scratch.”

“Psh, ah, come on,” Vinyl Scratch laughed, “Ya' know I prefer either Vinyl or DJ Pon3.”

“Really, Vinyl,” the DJ's companion replied with a grin, “you can't criticize the young colt for being polite.”

“Aw, cool it, Tavi,” Vinyl smiled back.

“Don't mind her, dear,” Octavia went on. “Anyway, young Mister Octave, do you have our supplies repaired?”

“I sure do!” the colt smiled, ducking back into the back room.

A few seconds passed, Pseudo Octave returning with a freshly polished and boxed set of records and a perfectly cleaned and varnished double bass.

“Everything is set and ready, Miss Octavia,” Octave said, “but to be honest, I still don't know how a double bass of yours managed to get so many scratches on it.”

“Ask Vinyl,” Octavia deadpanned.

The DJ just snickered to herself.

“Like I said, Tavi,” Vinyl said, signing the check and promptly making her way to the door, “you should let a DJ near a bass; you never know when it might drop!”

Both other ponies face-hoofed as Vinyl Scratch made her way outside, waiting for her more socially-refined friend to join her. The bassist pony just shook her head as she began to make her way outside.

“Thank you, and your parents, again for the superb job,” Octavia said, balancing Vinyl's records on her back as he slid her bass into its wheeled case, the instrument rolling along the floor after her.

“No problem,” Pseudo Octave replied, “have a nice day!”

“You too!” both mares said as they made their way down the road.

About half way down the street, Pseudo Octave thought he heard the sound of a mare yelling, no doubt Octavia complaining at something Vinyl did again.

“Heh, drop the bass,” he thought, remembering the DJ's rather obtuse pun.

He brought his attention back to the store again as he heard a wooden block hitting the floor, the simple rhythm instrument bouncing off the table as he leaned against it.

“Speaking of dropping,” he thought, trotting over to retrieve the block.

Pseudo Octave placed the block back on the table's edge, looking it over for any sign of damage. Pleased that the instrument survived intact and without a scratch, the colt went back behind the desk once more, eyes drifting back to a daydreaming state. He thought of how one day, he was sure, he'd finally find that instrument, that rhythm, and that state of mind that seemingly all musicians had. He'd write a song, a real song, that finally, finally, sounded nice. He didn't care about fame or fortune; all he wanted to do was write and play.

The colt sighed.

“Yeah, like that'll ever happen,” his ears drooped slightly. “The only reason I got this mark at all was from cleaning a record.”

Pseudo looked over the calendar, noticing that another job for Miss Octavia and Miss Vinyl was due to be picked up in a few hours after a pair of concerts the two had to perform. Trying to put his own problems out of mind for the moment, Pseudo Octave went into the shop's back room, inspecting the instruments that were due in a short time.

The shop's back room smelled of varnish and sawdust, the repair department always having odd materials around the area. The colt checked a few boxes containing the instruments, making sure they were in tip-top shape. He sneezed slightly, wiping dust from his muzzle as he pushed the box forward, trying to make sure that he was as gentle as possible.

The dust had a problem with that.

“A-ah choo!” he sneezed, nearly falling over.

The colt rocked backwards, bumping into the repair bench. Thankfully no instruments were present, but the small bits of pipe, tube, and bolts on the bench scattered around the room, landing in a few corners where the lantern's light didn't quite reach.

“Oh come on!” Pseudo complained. “Stupid dust!”

The colt sighed, focusing as he cast the one spell he knew how; a simple light sorcery that made his horn glow.

The faint yellow glow was enough for him to see, and so after a bit of scanning around, he found the nuts, bolts, tube, and such, placing them back on the table as neatly as he could. The issue with round tubes is that they tended to roll about, and, to his further annoyance, Pseudo Octave had to catch a few as they managed to fall off the table once more, resounding with a few hollow reverberations as they hit the floor.

Rolling his eyes, Pseudo grabbed them again, standing them on-end on the table's surface.

“That'll show you,” he chastised the inanimate metal parts.

Before heading back out, Pseudo stopped for a moment, his mind noticing how the metal tubes hit the floor, and the noises they made.

“Huh,” he thought, remembering how each 'clang' they made had been different. “I wonder...”

The colt looked back to the workbench, pulling up a tall stool to sit on. Now in front of the bench, he looked down at the tubes, the thin brass cylinders reminding him of a pipe organ... and the fiasco his attempt at playing one had been. NEVER would he go into that chapel again, regardless of how much they were willing to pay to repair that thing.

He shivered a bit, putting the dreadful notes he'd managed to get the pipe organ to wheeze out away in the back of his mind.

“Yeesh, I'm not thinking about that,” he said to himself, “but... these aren't anywhere as loud... and they are just scrap metal...”

He tapped the top of one with his hoof. The tube gave out a low reverberation, the hollow noise faint and soft, sounding almost like a sort of dull “poof” or “huff”. Pseudo tried another, the slightly smaller tube giving off a lighter, yet still similar, sound. Now, as bad as he was at playing instruments, Pseudo Octave was no stranger to how they worked, and in the case of pipes the mechanism was obvious; the longer the tube, the lower the note.

“I wonder...” he said, placing the pipes in order of smallest to greatest.

He tapped each one, listening to the chaotic sounds as he tried to get the patterns right. Frustration build up in him, same as always, but the colt couldn't bring himself away from it. Unlike other instruments that were loud, and tended to scare him off as soon as he tried to play them, Pseudo felt rather comfortable with the soft, low sounds the pipes produced.

“Hmmmph, come on,” he thought...

A few taps here and there, a few more there and there...

Suddenly, Pseudo thought of something he'd never tried before. He'd noticed how some ponies had metronome devices or even a tapping hoof in the background when they played, that steady tick, tock, or tap, tap, always playing.

“Maybe that's why they do that,” he thought. “It keeps them steady!”

Pseudo tried tapping his hoof, doing his best to keep the beat steady. Tapping the tubes again, this time with the aid of his steady beat, the colt began to smile; a simple rhythm formed. His grin increasing, Pseudo started tapping away on the bits of brass, the colt soon forming the basis of a tune, HIS tune... the type he'd wanted to make for so long, the colt practically feeling creativity flowing through him as his simple song flowed through the back room.

The tune stopped as a new thought came to the colt. Pseudo hopped off the stool, grabbing a few bits of cardboard and plastic tubes from a nearby dust bin. Collecting up a few old, broken drum heads, a few wooden boards, nails, and screws, Pseudo Octave began work on a device that he knew would sound wonderful.

Bits of old plastic and cardboard were cut to length, each tuned by the pony's sensitive ears, and slid into special slots in the device. Scraping the last bits of varnish and paint out of emptied cans, Pseudo coated the entire frame in a dull brown coat of the protective chemicals, the entire piece looking less. Drum head were trimmed, and fastened tightly onto the edges of the tubes at an angle. Coats of laminate went over the tubes, the device looking less and less like a pile of tubes put in a box to a set of shiny, silver-painted pipes atop a well-build, seamless frame. Finally finished, the varnish and paint dried, the colt stood his device on end, the tubes facing sideways with the drum heads facing him on a slant. The instrument, HIS instrument, was finally done.

“Now to have some fun!” he smiled, the colt resuming his rhythmic song on the improvised percussion device.

The large, plastic and cardboard tubes resounded with a dry buzzing noise, each tuned specifically to different notes. Tapping a hoof and keeping in step, the colt had a percussion song complete in a surprising amount of time each and every note sounding, for once, like an actual song rather than just a cacophony of noise.

“Nice!” Pseudo said, overjoyed at his piece.

“I'll say!”

The colt immediately stopped, looking around to see where the voice had come from. Spotting the small room's door swinging open, Pseudo spotted the two musician mares from earlier. Apparently they'd stopped by for the rest of their gear.

“Aheh, sorry,” Pseudo apologized, the colt seeing how late it had gotten as he eyed the room's clock.

“Don't be!” Vinyl replied, the DJ breaking into a wide smile. “That was some of the best-sounding improv I've ever heard!”

“Très bien, indeed,” Octavia added, looking the collection of pipes over. “And look at the instrument itself. You managed to build this in such short time?”

Pseudo pridefully nodded.

“Whoa-ho-ho, not bad.” Vinyl went on. “It looks like you've got a bit of music in you, I see.”

“I guess so,” Pseudo smiled, feeling quite good inside, “I guess so!”

Author's Note

BTW: Pseudo Octave's instrument was inspired by the real-life instrument known as a tubulum, an instrument made with PVC tubes all trimmed to different lengths to produce different sounds, a slanted drum head at the top of each tube for striking. The instrument was made popular by the famous Blue Man Group, who use these devices in most of their performances.

Run of the Mill

Fillies can be curious.

Fillies can also be destructive.

A trio of fillies can be nigh-cataclysmic given the right circumstances, especially on a not-too-typical morning in Ponyville, a loud explosion sounding from across the road. Some of the townsponies fled in horror, thinking a monster had, yet again, infiltrated their town. Others merely sighed, going on about their business and trying to calm down the less-informed townsfolk. The explosion, they knew, didn't come from a monster, but from three fillies named Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom, and Scootaloo, the self-declared “Cutie Mark Crusaders”.

“Ah' told you it wasn't a good idea,” the farm filly said. “Fireworks aren't our thing.”

“It was your idea to light them off away from the farm,” the orange filly replied, a silght huff of frustration in her voice.

“Ah' said to light 'em off away from the farm,” Apple Bloom retorted, “not light it all off inside an outhouse!”

“Whose idea was that anyway?” Sweetie Belle added.

By this point the three were already on their wagon, Scootaloo pulling them on her scooter.

“It was yours!” he two friends said. “You'd thought it'd be funny, remember?”

The alabaster filly smiled innocently, rubbing the back of her mane.

Eventually the three had headed out of sight, knowing full well they'd have plenty to answer to later. Parked next to a nearby tree, the fillies began wondering what to try next, the constant want to find their own special talents perpetually clogging their minds. The three pondered and thought as to what to do, occasionally spouting ideas that ranged from the grandiose to the strange to the downright stupid. The others always rejected them, until the white-coated filly spouted an idea that would set in motion a rather strange chain of events.

“Hey!” Sweetie Belle perked up. “Why not try potion making? We all got a bit of experience in lots of things from when Twilight taught us some stuff...”

“Back when she still had time and didn't live in that fancy castle of hers...” Scootaloo's ears dropped slightly, the orange filly missing the time the Princess of Friendship and Magic spent with them.

“Hey, she's busy with all sorts of important stuff,” Apple Bloom said, defending their much older purple friend, “and besides we all get to see her still when she's not too busy.”

“I know,” Scootaloo continued, “but...”

“Hey!” Sweetie Belle interrupted, a bit frustrated, “I'm not done yet!”

The other two redirected their attention back to the other filly.

“As I was saying,” the alabaster filly continued, sounding a bit more serious, “Zecora taught us about some potion-making too, so if we pick something simple and go with it, we might find our true talents!”

“I hope you know what you're talking about,” Apple Bloom said.

“Yeah,” Scootaloo added. “Remember the whole 'heart's-desire-causing-cutie-pox' incident?”

The two others, especially Apple Bloom, shuddered.

“We're not going to try it on ourselves,” Sweetie Belle answered, pulling out a bag she'd hidden away in their wagon, “we're going to try it on something else.”

“Like what?” the others asked.

“I was thinking a rock,” Sweetie went on, “like the ones near that old windmill on the outskirts of town.”

“That might work,” Scootaloo responded.

“So long as it don't do anythin' weird...” Apple Bloom added, still shuddering at the mention of the term 'potions' as the trio hopped back on their wagon and scooter...

The fillies soon found themselves sitting at the edge of the old Mill Creak Mill, the tall windmill that sat on the edge of Ponyville. Sweetie Belle was mashing herbs together in a mortar and pastel, Scootaloo was preparing a clean flask, and Apple Bloom acquired a stone to Sweetie's specifications.

“Okay,” the off-white filly spoke, reading over a few notes she'd salvaged from Twilight's library. “It says here that we place everything into a flask, mix it with water from a running stream, pour it onto whatever we want this potion to affect, and then add in the final ingredient...”

“What's that?” Apple Bloom asked, placing the rock on the ground.

“It says here this is what's called a 'changing potion',” Sweetie Belle replied. “It's supposed to turn stuff into other stuff.”

“That doesn't sound terribly safe,” Scootaloo said, the orange filly just coming back from the stream, a full flask sitting under her wing.

“It's only supposed to be used on stuff,” Sweetie replied, “not ponies. We should be fine.”

The other two Crusaders, nervously, allowed the alabaster filly to place the ground-up herbs into the flask, stirring them gently with a pipette. A light green glow started to emanate within the flask, the color beginning to shift in hues as it went from dull-green to the color of grass in the spring. Sweetie Belle smiled, the other Crusaders looking on in awe.

“It's ready!” she beamed, comparing the potion's look to that in the slightly burnt notes.

“Wait, are you sure?” Scootaloo said, picking up and eyeing the concoction in the flask. “It doesn't look like the same color to me.”

“Give it here!” Apple Bloom said, grabbing the flask in her hooves. “I wanna see it!”

“Girls, quit it!” Sweetie Belle interrupted, grabbing the flask away from them.

Soon, all three fillies found themselves competing for the glowing flask. As the tussled for a bit, dust stirring up in the air, the three stopped as they felt the particles building up in their noses. Trembling slightly, each filly could only say the same thing:

“A-ah-ah-choo!” they sneezed, the flask going flying into the air.

The sound of breaking glass filled their ears as the flask shattered into tiny bits, the potion landing on the side of the windmill's stony base.

“Oh... great,” Sweetie Belle said, snorting the dust out of her nose.

“Well, that idea's ruined,” Apple Bloom pouted, “sorry about that, girls.”

“Yeah, me too,” Scootaloo added, “especially since it's kind of my fault since I took the thing in the fi-first...”

A bit of dust still lingered in her nose.

“Y-ou ok-o-” Apple Bloom said, fighting back another sneeze.

“S-stop you're gonna make m-m-me...” Sweetie Belle said, feeling the dust in her nose once more.

“Achoo!” the fillies sneezed.

Now, if this had been any other sneeze, it would have been nothing. Unfortunately, the three fillies had put themselves in a rather strange predicament, their sneezes landing right onto the glob of still-glowing potion that had landed on the Mill Creek Mill, the one intended to turn one thing into another. Unfortunately for the other Crusaders, their friend Sweetie Belle hadn't quite done her research completely when she pilfered Twilght's notes from the smoldering ruins of her burnt-down library. The spell was indeed intended to turn one thing into another, but, as the yet-unread back of the notes said, “things” could also include “living things”.

Ponies are living things.

With a swirl of arcane smoke and lightning, followed by a resounding “POOF!” that made the three fillies wince, the Mill Creek Mill disappeared, the structure gone in a flash, leaving a roughly equine object sitting in the gravel-filled area where the building had once stood. As the magical smog vanished, the Crusaders felt their jaws drop as they beheld a rather strange-looking pony.

She was a mare, as her figure gave away. She was tall, almost the same height as Princess Luna, with hooves made of pure stone. Her body was composed of gravel and rock, held together by glowing green bands of arcane energy. Bits of wood and vines wrapped around the rocky sections of the mare's body, each seeming to flow slightly in the breeze emitted by her arcane essence. Wings grew from her back, composed of sail cloth like the windmill's blades, her mane and tail also composed of the fabric that billowed in a non-existent wind. A horn, made of wood, grew from her forehead, illuminated by green magic and a faint glimmer that came from her emerald-colored eyes. Upon her flank was a carved piece of wood, the emblem resembling the shape of the windmill she used to be.

This mare didn't resemble the Mill Creek Mill; she was the Mill Creek Mill.

She was also something else.

“I'm free,” she said, her face quickly changing from a blank, emotionless stare to an ear-to-ear grin, “I'M FREE!”

The fillies nearly fainted as the mill-turned-alicorn began to jump and dance about in total revelry.

“I'm free! I'm free!” she shouted, flapping her cloth wings. “At long last, I can move! I can move! No more sitting on a boring old foundation!”

The Cutie Mark Crusaders began to mutter to themselves, their shock quickly turning to worry.

“W-what have we done?!” Scootaloo spoke, eyes still wide.

“W-we done turned a m-mill...” Apple Bloom stuttered, “i-into a mare.”

“And I have you to thank for it!” the enchanted mare yelled with glee, running up to and embracing the stunned fillies in a tight hug.

“U-um...” Sweetie Belle squeaked out, half smothered by the magical construct's embrace. “Y-you're w-welcome?”

Letting the three go, the energetic alicorn jumped skyward, flapping her sailcloth wings and taking to the air. She hovered above the three fillies for a moment, pulling a few turns and spins as she did before landing off in the nearby field.

“Hey!” she called to them, “I'd bet you can't catch me!”

“Wait!” Apple Bloom said, the filly snapping herself out of her dazed state. “Y'all gotta come back here! You can't run off!”

“No way, sister, I'm done with this stupid hill!” the Mill Creek Mill-turned-pony replied. “I'm out of here, and there's nothing you can do about it unless you catch me! See ya!”

With that, she took off in a pure gallop, heading into Ponyville with a never ending, elated laughter.

“We gotta catch her!” the farm filly shouted to her still-flabbergasted friends. “Come on, girls, get up!”

Scootaloo was the first to move, the orange filly pulling up their scooter and wagon.

“Get in,” she said, fastening her helmet.

Apple Bloom grabbed a hold of Sweetie Belle, the white filly still wide-eyed at the whole situation. With a nod from her farmer friend, Scootaloo took off, pulling the other Crusaders as they chased after the renegade windmill.

“W-what have I done?” Sweetie Belle began to sob.

The Mill Creek Mill bolted through town, her magically-enhanced legs carrying her faster than any normal pony could hope to run. The townsfolk darted out of the way, half scared for their lives in some cases as the mystical construct galloped through the town square. Happiness in her newly-formed heart, the ali-mill-corn couldn't help but feel a rhythmic sound escape her mouth. Gleefully going with it, she, for the first time in her life, began to sing.

“Oh, up there on that hill,

“I had to stand still.

“A whole world that I was missin'.

“But now I'll take flight,

“All Day and all Night!

“No more hills; it's time for livin',

“Oh ye-ye-yeah, ye-ah!”

The Crusaders had soon caught up, the filly-powered scooter and wagon just barely managing to keep pace with the rather unusual mare.

“She's over there!” Apple Bloom said, pointing to an alleyway.

“Nuh-uh, she's up there!” Sweetie Belle pointed, looking at the top of a chimney.

To the surprise of all thee, the mill-alicorn managed to pull off seamless teleportations that would make both Pinkie Pie and Twilight Sparkle envious, the changed windmill seeming to go into one object and suddenly pop out of a completely different one.

“Time to take my stand!” she sang on, diving into a dumpster.

“I'll travel cross this land!” came her voice from atop a roof.

“No more foundations, no gravel and no boulder!”

“On that roof!” the fillies cried out.

“My exodus is here!” the mill sang on, jumping about from roof to roof.

“My happiness, you'll hear!

“I'm free like the seasons, the hotter and the colder!

“This is my life!

“O-oh, this is my life!

“This is my life!

“Oh yeah, this is my life!”

Scootaloo, half distracted by the song and the mare's teleporting antics, didn't see the trash cans in front of her, the fillies crashing into the heap of debris.

“Augh! We got wasted!” Scootaloo huffed in frustration, wiping a banana peel off her face.

The Crusaders looked on, watching in disappointment as the mill-mare took to the skies and flew off, heading out over the Everfree Forest.

“We've got to catch her somehow,” Scootaloo said.

The fillies pondered for a moment, Apple Bloom soon piping up.

“Ah've got the best idea ever!” the farm pony beamed.

“This is the dumbest idea ever!” Sweetie Belle huffed, the filly stuffed inside a rather rediculous windmill costume.

“Relax,” Apple Bloom said. “Everypony eventually wants to see someone of their own kind, and I'd bet she's no exception.”

“I've got to go more with Sweetie Belle on this one,” Scootaloo said, an eyebrow raised. “Dressing her up as a windmill doesn't seem like that good of an idea.”

As if on cue, a smiling face stuck out from the branches of a nearby tree.

“Hey! Another windmill!” the Mill-turned-mare said, happily flying over.

“Told ya'!” Apple Bloom said, pulling Sweetie Belle onto their wagon. “Hit it, Scoots!”

The orange filly nodded, pulling her friends along the nearby road towards where the Mill Creek Mill once say.

“Oh, so you want to race, huh?” The animated mill called, her horn lighting up with a green glow.

The wind began to pick up, the windmill alicorn's magic pulling the air along. She sped up, approaching the fillies as their scooter and wagon approached the foundation. Apple Bloom waited, the filly knowing what lie in the bushes along the road. Just behind the small shrubs was a catapult from their past “crusades”, the relic finding new purpose as a net launcher.

“Now!” Apple Bloom yelled, jumping off the wagon and onto a trip wire.

The catapult fired, a thick rope net darting through the air and ensnaring the windmill mare. The Mill Creek Mill screamed for a moment as she collided with the ground stopping, uninjured but shaken up, in the spot where she once stood.

Apple Bloom dusted herself off, trotting over to the now-stationary wagon as Scootaloo helped Sweetie Belle out of her costume.

“And that settles that!” The fillies all said.

“No fair! No fair!” the Mill-mare struggled. “Let me out of here!”

The fillies' smiles quickly inverted themselves, the trio looking at the captive alicorn. Green tears soon made their way down her face, fearing what might become of her.

“Gosh... girls, Ah' don't think we can do this,” Apple Bloom said.

“Yeah,” Scootaloo agreed, “we can't just turn her back into a windmill. All she really wanted was to have fun.”

“Go figure,” Sweetie Belle said, her ears drooping, “we tried to find our cutie marks and now we're about to take somepony's freedom away...”

The white filly walked up to the animated mill, the net-covered mare cringing as she approached. The Mill Creek Mill's magical eyes slammed shut in fear, but then slowly opened as she felt the net being pulled off of her.

“We can't do it,” the Crusaders said.

“It just ain't right to take your life away like that,” Apple Bloom said.

“It doesn't matter that you used to be a windmill,” Sweetie Belle added in. “You're a pony now, even if you are held together by rocks and magic and... stuff...”

“Yeah, it wouldn't be right,” Scootaloo spoke up.

“And that's why you're not going to be punished for this,” a voice added in.

The group turned around to see none other than their purple friend, Princess Twilight Sparkle standing behind them, an eyebrow raised yet her face sporting a smile. Next to her were the owner of the Mill Creek Mill, a one Wooden Barrel, and his wife, Velvet Button. They looked at the mill-mare with some confusion, but at the same time a bit of hope.

Twilight explain to the fillies that after the whole mill had gone missing she was called in personally to see what was going on, the alicorn expecting some kind of magical thief. As she surveyed the area though, she caught on as to what was happening, originally planning on having the fillies help rebuild the mill should the construct pony escape.

“But, since you brought her back, and spared her life,” Twilight went on, “I'm willing to look the other way this time, but please, girls, don't do it again.”

“We won't!” the Crusaders all agreed.

“S-so...” the mill-pony asked, “w-what happens to me now?”

“Well,” Wooden Barrel said, approaching the mare, “the fact is that Velvet and I always did think of having a daughter of our own, but, well... we could never really have one.”

“I remember when my husband built that mill, uh... you... a long time ago,” Velvet Button spoke up. “In a way, you were always part of our lives...”

“I think what we're both trying to say,” Wooden Barrel interrupted, “is, well...”

They never got a chance to finish, the arcane construct wrapping both of them in a hug.

“I guess I'll could get used to calling you 'mom and dad',” she said, her wide smile returning to her face as her family hugged her in return.

Several months went by, the Mill Creek Mill, now going by “Milly” began living with her family, Velvet Button and Wooden Barrel, and although they had to build a new windmill, the couple couldn't be happier now that they finally had the daughter they both so wanted in their lives. The Cutie Mark Crusaders spent the time going back and forth between Ponyville and Twilight's castle, each learning more as they went and glad they got to spend time with their regal friend again.

“And that's why,” Twilight said, finishing the lesson, “that all safety and lab equipment must be well-maintained.”

“Twilight?” Sweetie Belle asked, raising a hoof.

“Yes, Sweetie Belle?”

“What ever happened to the bits of glass and stuff from our flask?” She asked. “We tried to clean everything up, but we couldn't find any bits of it.”

“I've kept what's left of it right here in my desk,” Twilight said, floating out a pile of broken, still-glowing bits of glass in a pitri dish. “I've been studying the potion you brewed since I've been curious as to exactly how you mixed the ingredients.”

The three fillies crowded around the sample, nearly pushing Twilight out of the way.

“Careful, girls!” The alicorn cautioned.

“OW!” the three Crusaders said, already having cut themselves slightly on the glass.

“I tried to warn you,” Twilight said, “broken glass is dangerous, especially wh-wh...”

The alicorn felt a sneeze coming on.

“Achoo!” Twilight sneezed, the alicorn's sneeze blowing over the sample.

The Cutie Mark Crusaders all began to feel slightly odd inside.

“Um,” they all began.

They never got a chance to finish as a bright flash of light enveloped them all with a plume of smoke and a loud “POOF!”. As the dust cleared, Twilight saw that the three fillies had changed, each one now a tall, regal alicorn, each standing about as tall as Princess Celestia with long, broad wings and magical horns atop their heads. The trio looked at each other, amazed and overjoyed inside that they'd become such majestic creatures, but even more so from the symbols that had appeared on their flanks.

“Our cutie marks!” they all squealed, looking at the symbols adorning them.

“Hey, they look just our Crusader symbols!” Scootaloo said with joy.

“You girls know what that means?!” Sweetie Belle asked.

“Cutie Mark Crusader Alicorn Princesses!” the Crusaders shouted.

“B-b-b-b-b-but t-that potion i-i-is p-permanent...” Twilight stammered, eyes wide as a dinner plate. “Th-there's n-n-no way to r-reverse it... ever!”

“Does that mean you'll teach us magic and stuff, Twilight?” Scootaloo asked, looking forward to future lessons with their friend.

“U-um well, I'll h-have to,” Twilight tried to answer.

“Hey, Twilight, Ah've been wonderin' something; do alicorns really only grow up until they're grown up, but not old?”

“W-well, yes; alicorns age differently f-from other p-ponies. They grow up, b-but upon r-reaching their pr-prime, stay th-that way f-f-forever so...”

“Will we get a big, important, Princess-like job to do, too?” Sweetie Belle asked?

“Maybe we'll help all the colts and fillies in Equestria find their cutie marks!” Scootaloo responed.

“You girls know what this means?” Apple Bloom asked.

“Cutie Mark Crusaders Forever! YAY!” they cheered.

Twilight promptly fainted.

Author's Note

First off, for those of you who didn't get the joke; the song is a parody of "Baba O'Riley" by The Who.

Secondly, I've read through the journal of the two sisters; the journals says that alicorns "age differently from normal ponies" but nowhere in there does it say that they grow old and die. I still prefer to think of them as having what's known as "biological immortality", or in other words, a creature that doesn't ever die of old age, and also, growing up to one's prime and then afterward staying in their prime forever does indeed count, in my mind, as "aging differently than other ponies".

Amber

Ten thousand years...

Ten thousand years away from the world...

Amber... my prison, and now, my namesake...

…

It is pleasant to have others listen, I thank you for that, and truly I do apologize for my somber mood. It is not often a Changeling Queen receives an audience out of sympathy rather than fear. I will share my story with you, should you wish to hear it, but be warned; it starts long ago... very, very long ago...

In my time, an ancient time, the first the kind you know as Changelings were born. Our heritage is a closely-guarded secret, but I will, admittedly at some risk, give knowledge to you on the matter; the ponies of the world, and our own kind, once looked rather similar...

…

I'm sorry, I cannot say more... It might make things... a bit more uneasy in the world if I went on further.

…

Hmm... As I was saying...

Like all creatures, when Changelings appeared in the world we were hungry, and quickly discovered our need for love to survive. It was a remarkable discovery that changed our way of life in the same way that we had changed from... well... those who came before us. At first, the early Changelings clung to the old ways of life, eating the foods that had sustained our ancestors. It did not take long to discover though that mere food and drink did not satisfy; anything eaten would merely force its way back out our throats...

If one looks at a Changeling today and declares them to be thin, they would be shocked as to what had happened to us back then. The early Changelings nearly starved away, withering to mere thin, black husks, looking very much like charred skeletons shambling around in some kind of twisted undeath.

We Queens fell into despair, worried that there would be no future for any of us. Making it all worse was a trait we soon discovered in our subjects; they had a complete lack of feeling. Each one was completely apathetic, not caring if they starved to death or not. All emotions had been lost... gone... rotted away. Only we Queens had any semblance of feeling left. At first we thought it was merely starvation, but... even the more healthy ones didn't respond to any feeling at all.

Nothing at all... just... husks...

Empty inside.

…

…

I... I am sorry for... for... just how long my story has become... It is not easy to remember such times and maintain even a semblance of calmness...

*Ahem... *

...

One day, however, a Pony came from a foreign land, her nomadic tribe having stopped for the night as they made their way through our lands. She spied us in the distance, at first afraid, but ventured into our original colony. She hesitantly asked what had happened to us, and when we Queens told her of our plight she began to weep with sorrow, her sympathy and concern nearly palpable. Our subjects began to take notice, their shriveled forms creeping up around the Pony. One by one, we Queens watched in amazement as the Pony's eyes, and our subjects, began to glow with a faint green light, the starved bodies of the other Changelings quickly filling out, becoming as healthy as they had been before.

As their feeding ended, we Queens felt overjoyed; hope had returned to us in the form of love itself. In our glee, however, we noticed the Pony, still alive yet very much tired, faint from the energy being siphoned out of her. A member of her tribe, another Pony, had seen the entire event, the angered equine dashing down a nearby hill, grabbing the unconscious mare up, and with slander and hate in his voice retreated with his friend up the hill, the rest of the nomadic group quickly running away with them.

Our glee quickly turned to shame. We hated the thought of being seen as little more than monsters, but we could stand the thought of our subjects dying even less. An accord was struck; for the sake of our subjects, we would steal the love of others.

We had to survive, and survive we did.

All was not well though. As our subjects gathered love from wandering tribes, the other Queens and I began to become quite attached to the power we had gathered, becoming intoxicated by it in a way. Years went on, becoming decades. Decades became centuries, and it was through the passage of time that we discovered another trait we had come to possess; as long as we fed, we stayed young, vibrant, and as energetic as they day we'd been born. Injury and illness still did claim lives, but time could not touch us.

Changelings had in them the ability to live forever, a trait that nearly all, even to this day, see as a blessing of the highest kind, but we Queens began to revel in it, adding to our constant want for power, and competition over that power soon began to rise up.

This constant struggle for love created an imbalance within our ranks. Some of our kind ventured out from our original home, venturing out into the world and trying to gain the affection of various creatures. Unfortunately their efforts were to no avail, the creatures of the land becoming wise to our ways. Minotaurs and Gryphons saw us as vermin or game to be hunted, Buffalo and Zebras saw us as beings of impure spirit, banishing us with strange tribal incantations, and dragons... well... we never did find out what they thought; their response was, as always, a seething-hot jet of flame.

A schism formed within Changeling society, and from that arose the Hives that exist in Equestria to this day. At first they remained in the place of our birth, each scared like a newborn foal to venture beyond their cradle. Fear eventually gave way to bickering among the Queens, who could only watch as their Swarms seemed on the verge of collapse.

“And why travel to there?!” Some would say. “Why take up that direction when clearly the other is more in our favor?!”

“No, clearly this is wrong!” others would reply. “This path suits us not!”

“Fools, all of you!”

“How dare you?!”

“I could say the same!”

…

Eventually a question was asked whose words would echo through us all, remaining with us, in some form, to this day.

“And so which to choose? Tell me, Queens of the Changeling Swarms...”

I can't remember her name, only her face on that day.

“Where do your own hearts wander?”

Her tone was sarcastic and angry. It was a mere mask however; an illusion put up to appear strong.

“North, South, East, or West; which one holds your favor?”

…

In those times it was an insult, a slander meant to make on feel indecisive, unaware, and unintelligent. As time went by, however, it became a marker, a way for us to find our home.

As the Changeling Hives went their separate ways, each found themselves venturing into a new frontier. One remained in the place of our birth. The other four went in each cardinal direction, taking their path's name for their own. My Swarm, my Hive, went south, and so we became the south; the Southern Swarm, our home the dense jungles and rain forests that covered what is now Equestria's southern border.

At the time I thought it was ingenious, the dense trees and foliage a perfect hiding place, and dwelling. In certain spots, the trees' canopies wove themselves together, forming a thick, strong blanket under which we would take shelter from the ever-present rain. My subjects were content for a time, my small Swarm eking out an existence under the trees and water.

It did not last, however. Our numbers grew as the love we stockpiled increased, admittedly at my own fault; Queens are not merely leaders of our Swarms, we are mothers as well, the only ones able to produce fertile eggs. I became ambitious, careless even as I though of a day when my Swarm would soar in power to match the others, all of them larger than us.

Eventually our larders were bare. The Zebra tribes we'd scavenged love from had since moved on, and with no other beings to harvest from I quickly became worried that my Swarm would simply die out, starving to death before ever coming close to the grandiosity of the others. In my own arrogance, I once led a raiding party away from our nest, heading out towards a nearby tribal village.

I had been a fool.

We were ensnared, and I barely escaped with but a scant few of the hunters I'd taken with me. On the journey back to our home, I signaled for us all to rest in a nearby tree. The plant was giant, and more than stable enough for us to rest upon. As we landed, I noticed just how exhausted my subjects had become. I sat between all of them unfolding my wings as far as I could, sheltering them all with my diaphanous embrace.

In that moment I forgot all about splendor and grandiosity, about pride and power. I... I merely wanted them to live.

I went to sleep, and... well...

They had tried to wake me; I remember them tugging at my side, urging me to move, but I did not. I was simply too exhausted to fly. I...

The tree had fallen slightly, a few upper branches had given way, and in a tree as large as that... well... it contains quite a bit of sap. Before I could even struggle I felt myself coated in the viscous resin, the substance quickly hardening around me before I could move. As I became coated, I tried to use my magic to escape, my aura reaching out through the tree's golden slime, but...

It did me no good...

I had merely set down for a few hours of rest.

A few hours had turned into thousands of years.

When I awoke, a group of scholars was standing over me, all of them ponies. One of them, an alicorn—to my amazement—slowly trotted up to me, greeting me in a gentle manner. Suffice to say that the ponies there were less than thrilled at the fact that I had somehow survived. They were afraid, and I suppose with good reason; they were our prey after all. The alicorn made her best attempt to be civil and kind, but as a mistress of deception I could tell a lie from the truth; she was afraid as well.

I noticed then, after seeing a lock of my mane drift by my eyes, that the combination of sap and magic had changed me. No longer did I have the dull blue tinge to my chitin and mane, or the azure bands around my abdomen; I was, from then on, amber in everything but my jet-black hide, and even that shined with a dull orange glow.

I was confused, scared, and felt as though I should fly away. I feared for my Swarm, my subjects... my children... and... and...

…

It wasn't until a Zebra, one who lived in a nearby town, stepped in that the worries of the others dissipated. To my shock, he argued in my defense, leading the others and me to a nearby structure in the heart of the forest. I felt a chill as the familiar scent of Changeling pheromones filled my nose, and as I approached the large building a buzzing filled my ears. I looked up, a Changeling guard hovering above me, her chitin a glimmering red.

“And the messenger asked,” she spoke to me, “North, South, East, or West; which one holds your favor?”

That old question, back again not in jest or mockery, but in complete honesty.

“The South,” I replied, as I had to the other Queens long ago, “where the jungle grows thick and tall.”

The guard's eyes went wide. A second later, a thick, scent-laden cloud of pheromones drifted through the air, the entire Hive quickly coming out to greet me. The Changelings, much to my amazement, alive with emotion and tears, each one absolutely stunned to see me. I felt a tear in my own eye too; somehow they had regained what the ancestors had lost; they need never steal love again, for they had managed to regain it on their own.

The crowd of black forms and translucent wings retreated slightly as a tall, thin Changeling, a Queen, made her way through their ranks. She looked at me, a few strands of her blue mane in her eyes, and quickly ran up to my side, nuzzling me with all the affection a daughter could give.

She had been one of my hunters, and the first one to crawl up to my side on that long journey after our failed raid.

I hugged her tightly as she told me her tale. After she and her sisters had flown off, they had returned to the Hive even more empty inside than they were before. This Queen, my daughter, and the clever girl that she is, realized that without a leader the Swarm would vanish, never to be heard from again. She, at the time, had understood what love is, even though she could not feel it herself; it was not just our food, it was a feeling inside that compelled you to care for others you looked after, and felt safe around. This inspiration, this awareness... it changed her inside, my daughter growing from hunter to Queen as the very essence of love awakened inside of her. With her guidance over the centuries, the Swarm grew, her own daughters learning from their mother about the true nature of love itself. In time, their emotions returned, and then blossomed, leaving them reliant on no one but themselves to survive, and live. Tribes of Zebras in the area learned of this, and as generation after generation of the striped equines went by, they became closer and closer to the Southern Swarm, the two coexisting as friends.

It was as if my wildest dreams had come true.

…

Now we come to the present day. My Swarm, now more my daughter's Swarm, is doing very well. The other swarms have learned and changed, and even despite the history, attacks both ancient and recent, Changelings, Ponies, and other races are beginning to coexist. Through our magic, we have even been able to give other races one of our most precious gifts; our immortality, as we weave our own life forces with theirs. Changelings continue to be eternally young, our love and magic sustaining us forever, and now others have the opportunity to join us in a joyous eternity.

As for my children, well... I left my Swarm in the care of my daughter. She protested, but I reassured her that she has become a far better Queen than I. The young, purple alicorn that found me has become a personal friend of mine, as she has among all Queens, and now, for the first time since our discovery that love can preserve us, we Changelings feel... complete... content...

…

Words do not do it justice.

I thank you, for you too came to me in curiosity rather than anger. Please know this; Changelings may have had a past riddled with deceit, and even violence, but now we can put it behind us for the sake of a future where perhaps all can coexist. For once, perhaps, we too will have our own happily ever after, one we can share with others for eternity.

Play to Play, not Just to Win, so heard Pinstripe from the Djinn

“Oh, dat'z what I'm talkin' about!” Pinstripe exclaimed.

The young stallion had made it this far and wasn't about to let up any time soon. It'd been a month now since the Canterlot-born, Las Pegasus-raised pony came to Saddle Arabia, home of gambling halls that were world-renown. His magic aura levitating his cards, Pinstripe scanned over the table, the other poker players now a bit tense as the much younger player continued to best them. One of them, a much older, apparently middle-aged, gray-maned Arabian stallion watched the younger player beat the others, their cards falling to the table as the still-barely-a-colt won round after round.

Pinstripe had been to other gambling halls before in areas around the world. He didn't always win, true, but the young stallion had quite the ability to gamble. He'd nearly put off all else in the name of winning; his sole focus being to gain his winnings at the end of each match. Narrow-minded as he was, he'd managed to do quite well for himself.

“Anyone else?” Pinstripe asked. “Come on now, don't be shy!”

“Who's being shy?” the older pony replied, his Arabic-accented voice much louder than Pinstripe had expected.

“Alright, young colt, perhaps we should take this up a notch or two,” the Saddle Arabian grinned. “I'll start.”

The Arabian anted up.

Pinstripe followed suit.

They drew their cards, each putting on their most serious expressions.

“I'll raise,” Pinstripe grinned.

“I'll do the same,” his opponent replied.

They both placed their chips on the table.

The tension mounted in the room as the other, now defeated, players looked on, each making bets of their own as the two others waged a battle of nerve. Pinstripe's expression cooled a bit, as did the Arabian's, each one deeply concentrating on their next move.

Every gesture, every twitch of their muscles was a clue, a give-away to their true feelings, or a trap to lure their opponent in. Pinstripe knew this all too well, the stallion having quite the talent for all things card game related; his cutie mark wasn't a picture of a jack and an ace for nothing. From a young age he knew a thing or two about how to draw, when to hold, and how to look out for a stacked deck.

One thing he didn't have though was patience.

“Heh, try this; full house!” Pinstripe said, revealing his cards as his horn's glow faded.

To his confusion, the other stallion just laughed.

The Arabian's cards hit the table, revealing, of all things, a royal flush.

Pinstripe sighed as the chips, his chips, were slid over to his opponent, the other stallion taking in the cheers of the crowd.

“Of all the rottin'...” Pinstripe said, his Neighcago accent catching the ears of his opponent.

Gathering up his remaining chips, Pinstripe turned and left the table, cashing out as he retired to his hotel room for the night.

As he left, the middle-aged Arabian briefly laughed. There was something about his young opponent that made him think.

“Perhaps this one has some potential,” he thought.

Pinstripe turned and tossed in his bed.

“What the heck just happened?” He thought. “I had 'dat in the bag!”

Pinstripe thought on his failure for a while. He just didn't understand; the game had been going perfectly until that Saddle Arabian stallion showed up. What did he do wrong, where did he screw up?

“Must have been some trick he had,” Pinstripe eventually said after a bit of silence, “somethin' I don't know...”

“It's called patience, and a true love of the game,” an accented voice replied.

Pinstripe shot up quickly, the stallion eying the room around him as the Saddle Arabian voice echoed through the darkened hotel room.

“Who's there?!” He shouted. “Get out 'ere so help me, I'll-”

“Easy, now, easy,” the middle-aged Saddle Arabian replied, flicking the light on. “I meant no disrespect or ill will.”

“And yet you had 'da nerve to sneak up on somepony,” Pinstripe retorted. “Just what 'you doin' in my room anyway?”

“I merely had an offer to give to you. A chance to learn what I already know.”

“Really? An' I'm just supposed to believe you'd give it ta' me just like that?” Pinstripe questioned, his eyebrow raised.

“Take my word for it,” a mist began to envelope the taller stallion.

Pinstripe sat back in awe as the other equine went through a shocking metamorphosis. In an instant the Arabian stallion's rear legs had vanished, forming into a smoky mist. A golden belt sat at his mid section where mist met flesh, and his mane was now tied back, similarly to how his tail had been.

“My word, as a Djinn!” The Arabian Stallion spoke, his voice now much more powerful.

Pinstripe gasped. He was no scholar, but certain did know a thing or two about Saddle Arabian folklore. Djinn were powerful spirits, not to be trifled with in the slightest. They were said to be as dangerous on the battlefield as a whole army, and even more dangerous in the gambling hall a masters of deception.

“Well, what say you, young colt?” the Djinn asked as Pinstripe composed himself. “A game between us, merely for sport. I sense a bit of potential in you. Before tonight I had no idea such a young pony could gamble and play on the level of a young Djinn, ha ha!”

“A-alright, I'll play a game,” Pinstripe said, his voice still stammering a bit.

The last thing he'd want to do is annoy a spirit this powerful, and what did he stand to lose anyway? If anything, he stood to gain quite a bit.

“Perfect!” the Djinn replied, “Let us begin!”

In a flash of smoke and fire the two vanished, reappearing later in a rather extravagant gambling hall of the Djinn's own design. Pinstripe marveled at the sandstone pillars supporting the room, the mosaic tiles lining the floor and walls, and the golden plating hanging from the ceiling above. In front of him was a velvet-lined table, the Djinn sitting in front of him and already shuffling the deck.

“I'll start this show,” he grinned, dealing out the cards to Pinstripe and himself as the deck floated in mid air.

Pinstripe's horn lit up, the stallion's cards hovering in front of him as the game began.

“No chips or nothin', huh?” Pinstripe murmured.

“Correct!” the Djinn announced.

Pinstripe's ears perked up, not aware that the Djinn had such excellent hearing.

“To play as I do you must learn two lessons this night; patience, and a love of the game!”

“Right, right, er... love of the game and all that,” Pinstripe thought.

The two analyzed each other for a while as the game drew on, Pinstripe eventually making the first move.

“I'll call,” he said.

“Are you sure?” The Djinn grinned.

“Yeah, yeah, I'm sure.”

The Djinn dropped his cards on the table.

A full house.

Pinstripe winced as he lowered his own cards; two pairs hit the table, two aces and two fours.

“Try again,” the Djinn said, already shuffling the deck.

“Gotta stay focused... patience, patience...” Pinstripe thought as the cards were passed out again.

Several rounds went by, Pinstripe losing many of them. The Djinn watched carefully as his opponent struggled to keep his focus, the losses stacking up on Pinstripe's mind as time went by. Eventually enough was enough; Pinstripe groaned slightly and sighed, ending the round with a fold.

“Just how do 'ya do it?” Pinstripe asked, his head lowered. “How do 'ya keep focused when you're losin' so much?”

“Heh, well for starters I rarely lose,” the Djinn chuckled, “but as I've said before; I win because I have patience and a love of the game. I don't go out trying to win all the time, nor do I play for wealth or fame. I merely play for the sake of doing so. That is my secret, young colt; do not play for prizes, play for the sake of playing.”

Pinstripe thought on the Djinn's words for a moment, the spirit's advice finally sinking in. Pinstripe sighed before lifting up the deck himself, shuffling it as he set it up for the next game.

“Alright then,” he grinned, “let's just play to play.”

“That's the spirit!” the Djinn smiled.

For the rest of that night, the two played on, Pinstripe even beating the Djinn a few times as they went. By morning, the two, even the Djinn himself, were tired, exhausted from a night of fun. In another flash of fire and smoke, Pinstripe found himself back in his hotel room, surprised that his acquaintance had left without saying a word.

The young stallion noticed something as he started to fall asleep, the item illuminated by the sun rising up in the morning sky. On the night stand next to him was a note from the Djinn:

“I hope you had fun, young colt; I know I did. Thank you for the games, and remember what has been told to you; play to play, not to for winnings or fame.”

Pinstripe smiled.

For the rest of his stay in Saddle Arabia, Pinstripe did quite well for himself. He bet low in the gambling hall, or not bet at all, doing his best to stave off the allure of profit and glory. Instead he played for fun, like the Djinn had said, and found himself having the time of his life, and gaining a few kind remarks for doing so. He met with the Djinn again as well, the spirit once more disguised as a normal Saddle Arabian citizen. In all, Pinstripe learned his lesson; he should not play for the sake of money or fame, but merely to enjoy himself. After all, what good is a game if you're enjoying it?

A Foal and the Midnight Alicorn

Foals can be cute, playful, and energetic.

They can also be annoying.

This was a lesson Nightmare Moon was figuring out all too quickly.

No sooner than she had returned to Equestria after a millennium of being banished to the moon, HER moon, than she found herself beset by an ingorant, innocent interloper. She had waited for so long to return, so long to seek revenge, and so long to take back the land that had scorned and shunned her unfairly for so long... she had waited and waited until the prison that hold her finally allowed her release... so long had she waited, oh so very long. She had returned to her former home, imprisoned the sister who had locked her away, made a grand, elegant appearance in front of her treacherous subjects, and locked the world in the perpetual grasp of night time...

And now this.

And so she sat, a flat, yet annoyed, expression on her face.

A foal sitting on her back.

She didn't even see where the little colt had come from. All that she knew was that suddenly, after teleporting back to the ruins of her castle home in the Everfree forest, after telling off that student her sister had taken under her wing, she stood tall in the castle wreckage, planning and scheming the remainder of her vengeance when suddenly she heard a snoring coming from behind her. Nightmare turned around multiple times, nearly spinning in place as she looked for its source, and then, after thinking that her mind had been tricking her, she craned her neck around, spying the foal fast asleep on her back.

Furious at first for how the little colt dared to trespass upon her person, Nightmare tried to shake him off, attempting to wrench the foal free from her back with all her magic. To her shock, the foal remained, latched onto her pelt as if glued in place.

“What sorcery is this?” She'd hissed in frustration. “A tiny foal, able to resist mine own arcane fury?!”

The colt merely snored.

The midnight alicorn's gaze seethed with anger, Nightmare Moon trying her best to dislodge the foal that had somehow stuck himself to her back. She rolled about on the ground, scraped herself up against a stone pillar, even flew up to a great height, intentionally diving down and landing flat on her back at full speed.

After her last attempt at that, the alicorn found herself with quite a fierce headache; even godlike creatures from Equestria could only take a sky dive into pure stone so many times.

At first she smiled a wicked grin, the snoring having stopped.

“Ha ha!” she cackled. “At last, We are free of that interloping foal, Our strength has saved Us from that--”

The alicorn found her speech interrupted as a gentle yawn sounded from behind her. Eyes wide with disbelief, the midnight controller of the moon looked behind her, finding the foal still firmly affixed to her back with not even a single scratch on his velvet-like coat.

“How can this be?” She softly, quickly muttered, eyes still wide in shock.

The foal stirred, his big, youthful eyes opening slowly.

He smiled at her as he looked upon her armor-clad form.

“Soft...” he murmured, once more lying down on her back.

“What?” she replied, an eyebrow raised.

“You,” the colt said, nuzzling the alicorn. “Soft fur...”

“Hmph... You know not to whom you speak.” Nightmare snorted.

“Fuzzy...” the colt went on.

“Bah,” Nightmare replied sharply looking away from the foal, “you know nothing of me. The royal pelt is far superior to mere common... fuzz...”

“Still nice...” the colt muttered, promptly falling asleep once more.

“Nice, hm?” Nightmare whispered. “It has been far too long since anypony has deemed me to be so.”

The colt resumed his snoring, rather loudly for someone so young.

“And yet,” Nightmare grimmaced, “BE GONE!”

The roar of her regal, royal Canterlot voice echoed outward through the ruined castle, loose stones shaking in place as they rattled about.

And yet still the foal remained.

Nightmare slumped slightly, the alicorn sitting down firmly on the stone floor. She was quite vexed, and somewhat impressed at the feat this nigh-indestructible foal had managed.

And so we find her where the tale began, stuck in her ruined home, foal seemingly glued to her back.

And she was still far from pleased.

“Foal,” she eventually said, a sarcastic twinge to her voice, “how long do you plan on remaining atop my back?”

The foal stirred, the colt's eyes eventually meeting her's.

“I dunno...” he sleepily replied, rubbing his eyes. “You seemed nice when you appeared before. Your fur is nice and soft too.”

“As you've said,” Nightmare interrupted.

The foal recoiled slightly, calming down after a few seconds.

“A-and that purple pony said something about you m-making the night time and stars and moon and such... and that you were really stuck on the moon for a really, really long time...”

“Yes, what of it?” the alicorn glared.

“W-well, I like the night time,” the colt continued. “The stars and moon look so pretty, and they seem even better now that you're here.”

“Well,” Nightmare said, her tone more relaxed, “at long last, one who can comprehend true majesty. Do make yourself at home in the darkness, foal; it will never leave, not EVER. If others cannot appreciate my work, I will forever hold the night in its place until they learn to keep themselves in their own!”

Nightmare quickly turned her head away, the two not speaking for several moments until the foal, curious as foals are, eventually spoke.

“How's anypony gonna eat?” he asked.

“What?” the midnight alicorn responded.

“Night is nice, but plants need sun to grow. No plants, no food,” he went on.

“Then they all shall starve,” Nightmare growled in response.

“Then there wouldn't be anypony left,” the foal said. “It'd be like being locked up on the moon all over again, oh, unless there was somepony up there too.”

Nightmare trembled a bit, a tear going down her face as she remembered the pain of a thousand years of isolation. Her anger building, the midnight alicorn was forced to a conclusion she really didn't want to even consider; would her night time bring about the end of all life on this world? Would this planet become as empty and lonely as her moon?

Would it become nothing more than another empty prison, only this time one filled with skeletons and graves, mementos of a lost opportunity?

Nearly an hour passed, the foal growing somewhat upset as he watched Nightmare cry softly to herself. Eventually he released his grip on her back, the foal sliding down her wing and crawling up to her side.

“Maybe if you put the sun back,” he said, “ponies would like you.”

Nightmare looked at him, wiping the tears away.

“No,” she replied, a slight tremble to her voice, “they would despise me. They would rally against me, my sister, Celestia, there to lead them.”

“I don't think so,” the foal said. “I think they'd probably understand if you just told them how upset you are.”

“Nopony would ever do that,” Nightmare hissed. “They would would seek revenge upon Us for daring to lock away their beloved Princess of the sun.”

“You think they would?”

Nightmare nodded.

“Hmm...” the foal thought, his mind still young, but rather clever. “Then maybe ask your sister not to do that... revenge... stuff...”

Although his vocabulary was still rather limited.

“You jest,” Nightmare replied. “We have imprisoned Celestia in another realm. Freeing her would surely just invite her wrath.”

“But she's your sister,” the foal said. “She's gotta still care about you, at least a little.”

“And if not?”

“Then... Um...” the foal stammered. “Um... Oh! I'll ask her really, really nicely not to hurt anypony! That should--”

“How naive,” Nightmare groaned.

The foal slumped down, not understanding the word “naive” but still loosely getting its meaning.

“Ugh...” Nightmare sighed, rolling her eyes, “No harm meant, foal. And... your love of the night is... appreciated. It is unfortunate though that you do not yet understand such matters. It is far too complex for the young mind.”

“Grown-up ponies can be so stupid,” the foal muttered, somewhat aggravated.

“Excuse me?” Nightmare asked.

“Hrrmmm... Grown-up ponies make all these dumb rules and stuff and don't tell anypony else what they mean!” the foal sounded rather cross. “Why tell us colts and fillies to do good stuff if you grown-ups just go ahead and do bad stuff anyway?! It's stupid!”

Nightmare was taken aback slightly by the foal's forwardness. Never in thousands of years had the night time alicorn ever come across a foal so brazen. Nightmare felt as though she should be mad; after all, how dare a young foal speak out in such a way against a Princess of Equestria.

And yet... he might have a point.

“And my name isn't 'foal',” he went on, less loud now but still quite annoyed, “it's Sunny Day.”

Nightmare couldn't help but laugh slightly at the irony.

“Oh, the irony,” the alicorn chuckled, “a foal named for the day seeking refuge with the night.”

The foal, Sunny Day, grumbled slightly.

“Take no offense, please,” Nightmare said, “We mean you no insult; it merely amuses Us.”

Sunny Day just frowned.

“If you're sorry,” he said, looking her straight in the eye, “then bring your sister back.”

“Setting ultimatums now?” Nightmare raised an eye. “My my, you are brave. Not many would be so daring around Us.”

“If she tries to be a meany and hurt you, I'll stop her for you!” the foal said.

Nightmare couldn't help but laugh. This foal was either very brave, very foolhardy, or very, very stupid. No ordinary pony could ever survive the wrath of an alicorn.

Then again, he did manage to somehow survive hers.

“It's been a thousand years anyway,” the colt went on. “All those bad ponies who hurt you a long time ago are gone now. There are nice ones now who like the night time.”

Nightmare thought to herself for a few minutes, pondering the foal's words over and over again. Perhaps the foal, even if only a little bit, was right.

Reluctantly, the midnight alicorn's magic lit up the room, the entire stone area glowing with a purple and blue haze. With a flash of light visible from even beyond the castle walls, a tall, regal alicorn appeared, her coat a pure white with broad wings, a majestic horn atop her head, a sun-shaped mark on her flank, and a mane and tail made of a flowing rainbow.

She looked at the two, softly at the colt and more sternly at the other alicorn.

“Luna,” she spoke, sounding more sad than angry.

“Celestia,” Nightmare replied with a nod.

Several minutes passed, a loud creaking noise soon filling the room as massive wooden doors swung open. Six mares galloped in, concern on their faces as they made their way up to the two alicorns and their young companion.

“Princess Celestia!” The purple one nearly cried, overjoyed to see her teacher once more.

“Twilight,” the Princess of the sun replied, smiling upon her student. “I see you took my advice. These would be your new friends, I take it?”

The others bowed, relieved to see their Princess unharmed.

“Hey,” Sunny Day piped up, “what about our deal?”

The others looked at the foal, they, too, shocked that someone so young would talk to a Princess in that way.

“It's alright, everypony,” the solar Princess said, “he speaks the truth, we do have a deal, and yes, I agree to it. My sister is not to be punished for her actions as long as you, Twilight, and her friends, help her learn how valuable friendship can be, and that even though there were those long ago who would look down upon her, those days are long gone.”

Celestia sat down next to her sister, close enough so that only she could hear.

“And you'll find, dear sister, that there are plenty who would love to be called your friend.”

Nightmare nodded, a tear of joy this time forming in her eye.

Years went by. Twilight and her friends grew closer, eventually culminating in Twilight's ascension to alicorn-hood herself. Nightmare kept her tall, black-coated form; a memento of the past, but also as a symbol of her own personal growth, although still responding to “Luna” as well as “Nightmare Moon”. The foal, Sunny Day, eventually grew, becoming a strong stallion and part of Nightmare's personal guard, the two still remaining close friends.

One day though, or rather evening, Nightmare couldn't help but ask her night guard captain one question that had lingered on her mind for a very, very long time.

“Captain Day,” she asked.

“Yes, my Princess?” Sunny Day responded.

“Don't worry, Sunny Day; no formalities for now,” Nightmare smiled.

“Okay,” the guard captain said with a small laugh, “what is it, Nightmare?”

“When we first met,” the alicorn asked, “how did you hold on to me so tightly? And, even, well... survive?”

“Well,” Sunny Day grinned, “my mother and father always did tell me I was stronger than most colts.”

Nightmare looked slightly confused.

“In short, I have no idea,” he laughed.

The two laughed a bit after that, each soon returning to their official duties. Friends can come from everywhere, and age is not necessarily a boundary for it. And take care as well; you'd be surprised just how knowledgeable someone younger than you can be.

Also, foals can be annoying, but also quite friendly.

The Guard and Queen, Or, Why One Should Not Overfeed Changelings

Light Rune was about as energetic as ever. The stallion part of the Canterlot Arcane Guard, had just gotten home from his shift, lifting the rather heavy armor all Canterlot guards wore off his back, haphazardly dropping it on the floor near his house's entrance as he ran upstairs. The pony stopped half way up, moving around a few small items he'd hidden a special little parcel in.

“Let's see... where is it, where is it,” Rune muttered. “Ah ha! There!”

The guard pony lifted the box upward, dusting it off. He smiled to himself, remembering all the extra hours he'd registered for in order to save up for this little beauty. Long hours of listening to the shouting of drill sergeants and captains, mountains upon mountains of extra paperwork... all for the contents of this little box.

The stallion slowly lifted its velvet-lined lid open, revealing a folding hoof ring. It was gold-lined and bent backwards at the sides, the piece of jewelry adjustable as to fit over even the most petite of mare's fetlocks. In its center was an enchanted gemstone, the gem enchanted to grow brighter and brighter the more the lucky mare's lover cared for her. Engraved on the back was a brief message; “Even a treasure as pure as this pales in compare to the mare it rests upon”.

If anypony had been standing in the room they instantly would have gotten what the stallion was up to. Upstairs, Light Rune's destination, was a mare about his age. She had white fur with a purple mane and tail, a horn on her head, and a mark on her flank depicting a star with butterfly wings. He'd known her for several years now, the guard sensing a connection between them shortly after they began seeing each other. They had similar interests in magic and the arcane, similar tastes in how they kept their home, and even the little mannerisms they had also felt to fall right into sync with one another.

“Oh, please... Oh, please, please don't say 'no',” the Light Rune thought, holding back a few tears.

Another thing he loved about her; whenever he felt even the slightest bit insecure, whenever anything went wrong, she would help him calm down, never expecting anything in return but friendship and affection; it was almost as if she survived on it somehow.

Light Rune finished his trek up the winding staircase, stopping as he approached a thick oak door. He creaked it open, the wooden door swinging wide with a slight squeaking noise. Light Rune felt a lump in his throat as he gazed into the bedroom, the mare of his dreams turning to face him as he entered.

He felt stiff as he slowly walked toward her, hiding the ring box behind his mane. She had a gentle smile on her face that the stallion beginning to worry; he knew that smile and knew it well.

She was up to something, or rather knew something he didn't.

“How's it going, Rune?” the mare asked, a sway in her step as she trotted up to him.

“U-ursula, hi,” Light Rune said, looking the mare directly in the eye.

Ursula. She had such an unusual name, but there was something about it that made her seem all the better to him.

“U-um, w-well,” Rune stammered, his face going red. “I-I w-wanted to ask y-you something, I mean...”

“Rune,” Ursula said, looking at him through half-lidded eyes, “just show it to me.”

“H-huh?!” The stallion was surprised. “How did you...”

Ursula rolled her eyes, latching onto the box with her magic. She shook it free of his mane, brushing the few shed strands of hair off the velvet-lined case. The mare's eyes glimmered Light Rune's magic gripped the lid, opening the box and revealing a the dazzling engagement ring.

“U-ursula,” Light Rune asked, the stallion half dazed by love, “w-w-will you...”

He never got a chance to finish. Ursula grabbed onto him, lifting the surprised stallion up as she hugged him tightly, ring firmly attached to her hoof.

“Does this answer your question?” she teased, hugging him tightly. “You know, you always were terrible at hiding things.”

The two smiled, embracing each other even as they went to bed for the night, dreams of wedding bells in their minds.

Several weeks passed, the two preparing for what both hoped would be one of the happiest days of their lives. Ursula had already had a gown made, and Light Rune prepared his best dress uniform. Taking notice of the guard, who, during his career, had served faithfully to their principality, the alicorn Princesses of the sun and moon, Celestia and Luna, volunteered to oversee the wedding personally, the two offering to have the whole arrangement done in a private chapel several miles from Canterlot's walls in the small village that Light Rune had grown up in.

The two were has overjoyed as ever, the night before their wedding one of complete bliss, and on the joyous day itself, the two promptly made their way down the isle, stood before the two Princesses, and made their vows, sealing the deal with a tight hug and loving kiss. As they made their way out, the sun had already begun to lower the alicorn sisters already having to resume their royal duties that kept the world going. Ursula and Light Rune proceeded into the sunset, a chariot drawn by some of the very guard ponies that the stallion had served under pulling them towards a quaint cabin in the nearby peace of the forest, the two soon spending their first night together as husband and wife...

You didn't think this story was over yet, did you?

Not too long after they had arrived did they proceed to bed; it had gotten quite late, nearly eleven in the evening. As they settled down for the night, overjoyed as ever, the two clung to each other tightly, the two equine lovers embracing each other as they planned on doing for the rest of their lives together.

“This day was just perfect,” Ursula said, nuzzling her husband.

“I think so too,” Light Rune replied.

“Although I can't help but think that I might have gotten the better end of things,” Ursula went on. “I mean, you got a mare, sure, but I got the best stallion in all Equestria.”

“No, that'd be my line, just swap the words 'mare' and 'stallion' around,” Light Rune chuckled.

The two laughed for a moment, feeling sleep drifting over them.

“Good night, Rune,” Ursula said, feeling her eyes starting to close.

“See you in the morning, Ursula,” Light Rune said. “Dear, I promise, if you thought we were in love today, just you wait; I'll make sure you'll always have enough love to fill a sea with.”

The stallion promptly fell asleep, snuffing out the light he fell, almost immediately, into a deep, deep slumber.

Ursula, however, didn't, the mare's eyes stretching open wide in an instant.

“Wait,” she muttered, “how much?”

The next morning came, but instead of sounding with the joyous laughter of newlyweds, a loud scream could be heard coming from the cabin.

Light Rune was in a panic, the stallion finding himself stuck to... something... something green. It was large and soft, the eldritch object having the texture of rubber sheets. A thick gel surrounded the bottom of the slimy, oblong thing, the goo holding fast to Light Rune's fur. Inside of the blob was something dark, stirring around, writhing, as it slowly rose up and down as if it were a giant, sleeping slug.

“What in the pits of Tartarus is this?!” the trapped stallion yelled, eyes still wide.

“A cocoon,” female voice echoed through his head.

“What?” he said aloud, recognizing the voice. “Ursula, is that you?! Where are you?! What's going on?!”

There was a long pause.

“Next to you,” she telepathically said.

The stallion looked through the cocoon's translucent membrane, a set of eyes staring back. The shape was alien and strange but the expression was all too familiar.

“Ursula?”

The cocooned being nodded.

“W-what is this?” Light Rune muttered, still dazed and stunned. “Who did this to you?”

“Well,” Ursula replied, a tiny half-formed laugh drifting through both their minds as her horn lit up, “technically you did.”

The stallion just rested there, confused and puzzled.

“You promised me enough love to fill a sea,” she went on, “well... this is what happens when you feed a Changeling mare that much love at once; it makes us, well, start our metamorphosis.”

“Metamorphosis?” the stallion muttered.

“Into Queens.”

Light Rune felt himself go limp, the guard pony startled, stunned, and flabbergasted.

“How long have you been doing this? Where is she?” he quietly said, feeling his confusion turn to anger.

The unhatched Queen didn't respond, looking away from him as his voice grew in volume.

“Where is she?! Where?! Where is my wife?!” Light Rune roared.

It's no secret that Light Rune had been one of the ones present in Canterlot during the Changeling invasion. He remembered being chased by the flying, insect-like equinoids, of running in terror, afraid of their strange, acidic-green magic.

He'd stifled that fear, especially after meeting Ursula, but now the stallion felt all that fear come back, boiling over now as pure anger.

“She's right here,” the Queen said, her thoughts ringing out in the stallion's mind.

“What?! What do you mean 'right here'?”

“I didn't take her place,” Ursula spoke, her voice regaining some amount of her usual strength. “I AM her; there was no 'original', no mare who went missing, not even a single female pony who looked like that. That form you knew was an illusion all my own.”

“S-so that's it?” Light Rune spoke, half crying now as his vision of a happy life seemed to fall away right in front of him. “I w-was just being used to feed a Changeling, just like Captain Armor was?!”

“No!” Ursula's words coming out as a telepathic shriek. “No! That's not it at all. Please, Rune, I need you to believe me; I never once wanted, or even thought about using you.”

The Queen's horn lit up, the stallion's eyes going wide as Ursula's own memories flowed through his mind. In the haze of this magic-induced dream, the stallion saw, through Ursula's eyes, all the times they'd spent with each other. There first ride on a Ferris Wheel at the Canterlot Carnival, the first time they'd gone for dinner at a local restaurant down the road from Light Rune's house, and the day when the guard stallion had invited the disguised Changeling into his home to stay, hoping for the day when their love had grown to the point it had now. He felt her emotions, what she had felt, during that time, and how deeply she felt towards him. Not to his surprise, she'd kept at least half of it hidden from him, projecting the deep affection as mere happiness with a stubborn streak here and there.

“That sounds like something she'd do,” he thought.

As the dream went on, the mare's image began to change, morphing into the jet-black, insect-like form of a Changeling; this was Ursula's true form. Light Rune cringed a bit, remembering how a similar shape had attacked him not more than a few years ago. Looking on, he saw the insectoid form slowly become enveloped in a thick, green slime, growing and growing as it did until it resembled the shape that it did now, one bright, green eye looking out at him from behind a translucent, rubber-like wall.

With a flash of green light, the stallion awoke, once more looking at his cocooned bride.

“It...” he muttered, “was real?”

“Every single word and moment,” Ursula softly reassured.

The two remained silent for a time, Light Rune taking all that he had seen into his mind. Ursula didn't breathe a word either, the Queen waiting for the stallion to reply. Ursula, still the stubborn being she was, would never admit it, but for the first time in a long, long while she was truly afraid of losing the one being, other than her own mother and siblings, who truly loved her, and made her feel not just compelled, but eager to return those feelings without question.

“This,” Light Rune eventually said, “will take some getting used to.”

Ursula's ears twitched, eyes still wide in anticipation.

“So,” she said, fighting back the tears, “does this mean... you'll... still stay with me?”

“Well, first off,” the guard said, “keep your disguise when we're out and about in public, but from now on, I want to see you as you, not some dreamed-up imaginary mare that never really existed at all.”

Ursula nodded, the cocoon bulging slightly as her head shifted up and down.

“But other than that,” Light Rune said, fighting back a tear of his own, “the time we spent together was real, and I did promise you a sea of love, did I not?”

Ursula felt tears of joy well up inside as her lover nuzzled the side of her cocoon.

“So,” the Changeling sobbed, no longer able to hold it back, “still together?”

“Still together,” the guard went on, “still friends, still lovers, and you, Queen Ursula, are still my wife, and I still love you ever so much.”

Ursula sobbed as her own joy matched that of her partner, their love, for a moment in turmoil, now stronger than ever. The dam had burst.

So did the cocoon.

With a loud squelch, a pile of green goo flew all over the room, the guard stallion's eyes going wide as he found usual white coat covered in a sticky green mess. Climbing his way out of his viscous prison, he did the only thing a noble, strong, stallion of a guard pony would do.

“EEEEWWWWWW, GET IT OFF, GET IT OFF, IT'S STICKY AND... AND... YUCK!” Light Rune yelled, flailing about like a filly who'd gotten herself covered in mud.

Next to him, a now fully-matured Changeling Queen did her best to stifle a laugh.

Shivering slightly, Light Rune looked at his wife, the Queen still coated in a thin layer of her own metamorphic goo. He chuckled slightly, wiping a bit from her muzzle as she smiled at him, Ursula now standing as tall as Princess Celestia.

“This,” he grinned, “will definitely take some getting used to.”

And get used to it he did. After spending the day cleaning up the mess the Changeling's overnight metamorphosis had caused, the two, Ursula once again disguised, made their way back to Light Rune's home in Canterlot, the pair being very, very careful not to let their new secret loose to the public. Eventually the two perfected this rhythm, keeping everything perfectly concealed. Their affection for one another grew even more, their love soon a legitimate rival for even the positively divine romance between Princess Cadence and Prince Shining Armor.

As per usual in the morning, Light Rune would don his regal guard armor and head out the door, less he conjure the wrath of his sergeant.

“I'm heading out now!” He called to his still-sleepy wife. “See you when I get home tonight!”

“See you later, Rune!” Ursula called back, maintaining her disguise until the door had shut.

As the wooden door closed, a flash of green light surrounded the mare, Ursula once more in her natural Changeling form. Brushing a blue lock of mane from her eye, the Queen headed downstairs, noticing the rather good breakfast her husband had left for her. With a happy smile, she ate her meal, overjoyed at just how things had gone in such a short time. Not long ago she was a mere Changeling, out on her own, away from her Hive and Swarm, and now the happy wife of a Canterlot guard, the two loving each other as deeply as anypony could.

As she finished her meal, Ursula noticed something, a small letter left by the kitchen counter.

“Hi, love,” Light Rune had written, “sorry I didn't get to give a proper hello this morning. I know, it's no way that a guard pony should behave, so I did my best to make this meal with as much love as I could, about as much as anypony could possibly fit into one. I'll see you when I get home, my dear. Your loving husband, Light Rune.”

Any other mare would have let out a sigh of happiness at the letter, and admittedly Ursula was happy, but the Changeling Queen's eyes went wide as she read the note, the small piece of paper falling to the floor as the Queen thought the words over.

“H-how much?” she said aloud. “Oh dear...”

Ursula began to feel an odd sensation inside her belly as the love her lover had indeed somehow managed to infuse into the meal began to seep through her.

“I-I hope Rune doesn't mind the idea of foals...” she thought, “or Changeling nymphs... one or two.... thousand...”