Waking up has become harder and harder each morning.
It feels like his body is made of lead. So heavy. Too heavy. He can barely open his eyes. In fact, he can’t. His eyelids refuse to budge as he tries to open his eyes. Did he stay up too late last night? He can’t remember. Nothing but blurs, colours twisting past his vision. Sensations and sounds all muffled to nothing more but background noise he can’t grasp. Nothing stays as solid as the weight of his own body holding him down.
“Wake up, my love.”
The beautiful tones of that voice does just that. Immediately he feels awake, a warmth washing through him and the weight of his body no longer feel so crushing. Finally, after another light struggle, he can tear his eyelids apart and blink away the sleep. He surely must go to bed much earlier. Or is he just coming down with something? Should he see somepony? A frown crosses his faces as he is hit by an odd dread, a conviction that he indeed need to see somepony. He needs help. But… for what?
A soft giggle once again washes him over with warmth, flooding away whatever feelings of dread he had, forgetting the fleeting thoughts.
With a smile the stallion finally begins to sit up. Although feeling warm and awake, he still feel rather heavy. A bit sore. Like he has been lying in bed for too long, yet his mind feels like he hasn’t rested enough. With a yawn he scratches himself until his eyes lands upon the most beautiful sight in the world. No worries in his mind now he can look at her.
The mare, the most beautiful mare ever to enter his life. And to never exit it. Whatever had he done to deserve this angel by his side? Whatever it is, it must been something incredible for such a reward.
She stretches her slender body on their shared double bed, her long mane flooding over her back and down her sides, golden like a hayfield in the sun turned to liquid gold. Was she always blond?
He blinks at the odd question in his mind, the thought forgotten right after as she turns her head to catch his eyes. He can do nothing but smile like the fool he is near such a nymph.
“Finally awake are we?” she giggles once again.
“I don’t understand why my body is so heavy. What did I forget?” he blubs out without thinking. Once again blinking in confusion at his choice of words. But… what did he forget? Why can’t he remember yesterday?
The mare besides him sighs dramatically, rolling her eyes. “I told you it would be hard on you to drop your caffeine addiction just like that. This will take days before you adjust to it.” She gave him another of her diamond smiles.
“Oh,” was all he could reply. That made sense. Right? Of course it did. She said so, who is he to doubt the love of his life.
“Now, come on, silly. Time to get up. I’ll get breakfast ready for you!” With that she rolls out of bed, clearly feeling far more spry and rested than he does.
All he can do is try to follow. His attempt to roll off the bed ending far less gracefully than hers, but at least he managed to save himself from dropping to the floor. Ungracefully. But not unpleasant bumps onto the floor for this guy!
With this small victory in his pocket he finally got up, his stomach rumbling. Breakfast sounded about right. He stumbles towards the kitchen through the home he slowly begins to recognize. How bad was his coffee addiction if he needs time to recognize his own home? His head still feels as heavy as his body did moments ago. Hopefully the caffeine will soon have washed out of his body so he can feel like a normal, functional pony again.
In the kitchen he finds her, this beautiful mare. She has already put her long mane up in a knot, keeping it out of the way. Waiting for him by the table, seems like she either works fast or he really took a long time just to make it to the kitchen. As he sits down on his chair she has already a bowl ready, pushing it over to him.
Her beautiful eyes, those glittering sapphires catching his, stares firmly at him. “I made you oatmeal. It is oatmeal,” she tells him. “Eat up.”
Looking down he sees she’s right. A bowl of oatmeal, fresh and ready. Just what his rumbling belly needs, and he begins to eat. Definitely oatmeal, that’s how it tastes.
First after he finishes his meal does he notice she has no bowl of her own. She just sits there, watching him eat.
“Are you not having anything?” he asks after swallowing the last bite from his bowl. He ate up as told to; pretty much licked the bowl clean for its soft gooey content. Her laughter is like a summer day.
“I already ate, silly. You took so long with your shower again.”
Shower? Did he shower on his way down to the kitchen? Down? Did he walk any stairs? Why is all that just a blur… he doesn’t understand, a frown starting to form. Until her eyes catches his once again, his worries washing away. She said so; of course he took a shower before joining her in the kitchen.
“I’m sorry, I really can’t seem to wake up without my coffee,” he mumbles apologetic.
“Don’t worry, it’ll come. Have some tea.”
She pushes a mug towards him, just how she handed him his bowl. “I made you honey tea. It is honey tea. Drink up.”
As told he picks up the mug and drinks. Must be a good replacement for the coffee habit he is kicking. Or else she wouldn’t give it to him. She only ever wanted him the very best. His nymph, his nurse.
The smile he is rewarded with after finishing his tea is like both the moon and sun has risen together to shine upon him. His little goddess among mortals.
“Now, let’s get to work!” she says cheerfully.
“Work?”
“Silly, remember your new job? You are going to teach at the local school soon.”
“Oh, right, of course.” That’s right, he’s a teacher. He always wanted to be a teacher, to help shape the little fillies and colts into the bright minded ponies they’ll grow up to be. He has had a few assisting jobs but this time he’ll become a real teacher with full responsibility for a class of his own.
“It’s still… it’s still summer break,” he mumbles. Yes, it’s still summer, he remembers that now. Encouraged by her eager nodding, making him feel proud of remembering more things on his own now.
“Yes, and we need to get back to practice!”
“Right, right… yes. I won’t be supervised this time. I… have to make sure I can do this right, memorize it all and answer any questions right. Right.”
She nods again, smiling brilliantly, as she gets up from her seat. He follows her eagerly.
They are in the living room now, turned into a makeshift classroom. Complete with a chalkboard and posters with diagrams. She walks over to sit on the one chair for his, currently, sole student. With a little desk and papers with notes on from past classes.
All this work to help him, putting all this together to practice with him until they are both sure he’ll be perfect. For the foals. For his dream to help shape the future of… of… Equestria. Why did he felt blurry about that? Oh no, hopefully he would feel better in time of first school day. Can’t be confused and forgetful when teaching.
He stumbles a bit on his way to the chalkboard but makes it there without any incidents. He takes a moment to look over the board, reading old notes from the last lesson to remind him where they are now.
Last time was math it seems. He picks up a sponge to wipe the board clean. Today’s lesson is… history. Yes. History.
The lesson begins as he makes notes on the board while talking. He has to keep things simple for the foals yet still making sure they learn and their horizon broadens. To understand how much there is to understand and learn from history of ponykind, how it shaped society as we know it today.
He feels no confusion this time, no hesitation. He has studied every bit of any subject matters a foal could need to learn, he is only doing this to better his performance.
And his student is just perfect. His nymph, his nurse, his goddess. As beautiful as ever she sits her little table, taking notes. Raising her hoof to ask questions any foal might ask, to ask like a pony who hadn’t already learned these facts. She plays the role so perfectly.
Perhaps he plays his part perfectly as well. At times it feels like he has more eyes on him than just hers. Like he truly is standing before a full classroom of foals. Watching, listening, observing. He is really getting into his role.
Role.
Play.
His hoof starts to shake as he writes on the chalkboard. Making his writing shaky. So many eyes on him, drilling into his back. Why is it suddenly so hard to breath? He never had direct performance anxiety before.
They are not alone. He is not alone. But he used to be. The memory of spending his days by himself, so focused on studying he never spend enough time with other ponies to find a partner. Passing by a mare one day, so beautiful he got tongue tied and never talked to her. His goddess, forever out of reach. Just a stranger in the crowd.
The school he worked at so hard, his work and dream. Those lovely foals. He never had found a partner, he had dedicated himself to his dream. He would bring up foals through the classroom, it was a simple life but he lived it with peace in his heart.
What was her name?
This unknown mare in the crowd. This mare sitting behind him now. Her eyes on his back as he stood frozen. Those many eyes staring as well. So many sapphire eyes. He had never caught enough of her in the crowd to really remember her eye colour.
He stood frozen. The blurs of memories again swarming his mind.
“My love?”
Her voice. A voice. Breaking through to him. He must answer. What’s her name?
“What’s her name?”
Did he say that out loud? She doesn’t answer. He is focused on the chalkboard. The room is cold. Damp. There’s no sound of chirping birds outside, all his quiet. It suddenly feels so isolated. His hooves are not standing on a carpet or a wooden floor. He doesn’t look down to confirm.
He hears noises now. No creaking of floorboards, no chirping birds, no foals playing outside, no wind rustling through leaves outside. Clicking, scratching.
He’s not alone.
His body feels so heavy again, the warmth fading away, the energy that kept him going disappearing. He has been standing frozen in the same pose for what feels like forever, the piece of chalk cracking against the board. He follows the broken piece’s drop to the floor. The stone ground where it lands audibly.
Finally he starts to turn around. He can’t stand like this forever; he has to move his body.
There she is. Sitting at her desk, a golden haired mare, a fantasy come true. There is no livingroom, no warming sun coming through the window, no window either. Stone floor, stone walls, stone ceiling. Green. Lots of green, it provides light, a faint glow.
He keeps his eyes locked on hers, he can’t get himself to look further, he can’t look at the other figures filling the cave. Those dark figures, those many, many sapphire eyes. His own eyes pleadingly locked onto hers.
“I-I can’t… no more… I can’t…”
“Goodnight, my love.”
The words said clearly, no longer carrying that warmth and affection her voice has carried since he woke up. The effect is still the same. He obeys.
The stallion collapses onto the cold ground, eyes rolling back as he falls. Nothing to catch him or soften his fall, he is out cold before the impact.
The figures move in, prodding and sniffing the unconscious stallion, before he’s picked up onto the back of one of the them to be carried to his bed. Anything soft scrapped together to create enough of an illusion when he is awake, thinking he is laying on a real mattress that doesn’t exist.
The mare sighs, a flash of green flames erupting around her, burning away the illusion to reveal the black, hardened skin underneath.
This one had been a good one. A teacher eagerly passing on his knowledge to prepare the brood for pony interaction. The more they knew, the more skills they earned such as reading and writing, only made the illusion function better.
But everypony had their limits. Even keeping the illusions simple, it took its toll on the mind. As well as the body from living in a cave without natural sunlight for so long, repeating the same day. Surviving on what minimum they could give him, convincing him it was real food. Nutritious enough, but it is hard to keep a pony convinced they are eating anything but goo with a simple basic build.
This one was spent. He won’t last much longer. He’ll be moved soon enough, to be harvested instead and left an empty husk. Can’t use his mind anymore when it falls apart.
The Hive would find a replacement soon enough. A loner with a simple life easy to replicate, motivating them with the loving support of a perfect partner.
Author's Note
Inspired by a discussion about changeling habits and illusion abilities, I had to create this short tale for the sake of it.
Written in one setting to get it out of my head. Do let me know what you think of it.
