Chapters Sunburst was humouring her, which was both infuriating and comforting at the same time. Chartreuse strained, trying to feel something on the edges of her perception that she was certain wasn’t there. If she had been honest, she might have said that she had no idea what to feel for, but pride kept her struggle a silent one.
“Reach down, Chartreuse, reach deep down into the ground and try to touch the magic far below. It will give you strength and the further down you go, the purer the magic is. Once you connect to it, quantum thaumaturgical entanglement takes place, and you will become a conduit. Keep your eyes closed and try to imagine that your magic perception is like your barrel. With each breath you take, your barrel expands and contracts.”
Following these simple instructions, Chartreuse breathed.
“Now imagine your magic perception behaving the same way. With each breath, it expands, going further and further down into the earth. Breathe as deep as possible and hold it for as long as you can without breaking your concentration. Dim taught me how to do this and it has greatly enhanced both my strength and my abilities as a wizard. Breathe… just breathe.”
In the window of her mind, Chartreuse tried to imagine her magical perception as a physical thing, something that expanded and contracted. She even pictured the ground below in a cross section, an omnipotent view that allowed her to look at how far she was going down. It all seemed like hokey at the moment, but she wasn’t about to give up and disappoint her masters.
“Dim taught me simple, complex magic,” Sunburst continued in a low, droning voice. “Every unicorn is a natural-born physicist, even if we don’t realise it. We can touch photons, atoms, molecules. The tiniest elements of life are under our command. Many of us never fully realise what we can do, or what we are capable of, but my eyes have been opened.”
The words were calming, soothing, almost to the point of sleepiness.
“Dim taught me forcepoint magic. How to unzip molecular arrangements and then focus the energy released into precise, pinpoint strikes. Even though it seems like something of mind boggling complexity, and I believed that it was, at one point, but it is so simple. But it all starts with breathing and acting as a conduit for magic. The aether in the air is a poor fuel for magic, Chartreuse, and we want the purer aether that hasn’t risen to the surface just yet. Now breathe. ”
Chartreuse, almost drowsy, allowed her mind to wander a bit and when she let go, her breathing deepened. The heaviness of her eyelids was almost too much to bear. In this state, she had some small awareness of the unseen world around her, thanks in no small part to Dim, who taught her to feel what her eyes could not see. Nitrogen, oxygen, carbon dioxide, traces of methane, a hint of argon, and a considerable amount of water vapour; an abundant source of hydrogen, Dim’s favourite element. Pyrokinesis was really just molecular manipulation and making things vibrate until they became hot—or too hot, as the case may be. With but a thought, Dim could unzip water vapour in the air, collect the energy, gather the released hydrogen, compress everything into an excitable little ball of destruction, and then, Dim would let go.
It was a simple spell in theory but Chartreuse found it too complex to perform.
In what seemed like another life, in another city, Chartreuse had worked for Rarity. Under the tutelage of the famous fashionista, Chartreuse had been taught to approach magic as art, and she had learned much. From Rarity, she had learned creativity, beauty, and application, applying one’s self to a task and sticking to it. But Rarity had probably never reached down into the earth with an invisible force to tap into purer, better magic. This felt impossible, and had been for quite some time. At least frustration wasn’t devouring her mind today, and that was pleasant. This was pleasant. It was relaxing for once.
The eyes were the least useful organ . Her master’s voice—Dim’s voice—haunted her like a phantom. He believed that the eyes used up too much of the processing power of the brain and that a unicorn did their best with their eyes closed. It was a strange school of thought, and Chartreuse had no way of knowing if what he believed held a grain of truth or not.
The nose, on the other hoof, was a molecular organ that connected directly to the brain. By refocusing one’s magical senses and channeling them though the nose, one could—in theory—detect an entire unseen world. Breathing through her nose, Chartreuse focused on what she could smell right now, trying to detect the faintest scents.
Inhaling, she first noticed the feminine scent of her own perfume. It was something Fancy in origin, and she had balked at getting it at first, but Chalcedony and Nomination had talked her into it. It was more than just scented oil, the stuff fillies used to keep unwanted odours at bay, this stuff was complex and nuanced. It was impossible to even begin to describe what it smelled like, but it was fantastically good.
Sunburst smelled like sunshine, which is to say he smelled citrusy, with the hint of something exotic. It was his diet and her master ate a surplus of oranges each day. Losing herself just a little more, Chartreuse detected other things; the scent of burning wood, a hint of ozone, and the questionable scent of school lunch cooking in the nearby cafeteria. Some days it was… a bit more pleasant than other days, and today, something might have gone wrong with the lesson plan for the cooking class, who did all of the cooking for all of the students.
A nearby outdoor alchemy station reeked of wet dog and burning feathers, which was an awful stink, but it was far enough away that it didn’t quite overpower everything else. In a small brick building, a charcoal-maker was hard at work. The stench of urine came from a nearby tanner, along with other strange smells.
“Chartreuse…”
The sound of her master’s voice seemed distant now.
“Chartreuse, my most faithful student, if you could open up your eyes for a moment…”
Yes, his voice was distant now, and came from a strange place.
“Chartreuse Le Feu, of House Le Feu, open up your eyes, right now, this instant!”
It was hard to overcome her sleepy state and when Chartreuse did open her eyes, she found the world in disarray. Everything around her was floating; her master, Sunburst, a nearby park bench, several ponies, a crystalline planter filled with dirt but no plants, rocks, bugs, bits of grass, and even the water in the fountain was now an amorphous blob hovering in the air.
Whoops!
With awareness came disaster and everything came down in a hurry. Sunburst plopped down onto the grass with a pained grunt, while some, but not all of the other ponies tried to land upon their legs. The park bench came down with a clatter, the planter fell, then cracked, and the water poured back into the fountain with a tremendous splash. The planter and the water in particular had indeterminate weight to them and Chartreuse was enthralled by what she had done.
While all of this was quite impressive, it did not soothe the sting that she had failed.
Again.
Failure was a special rank stank all its own, and Chartreuse hated it.
Hated it.
“Expect good marks in telekinesis,” Sunburst muttered while he lifted his spectacles up off of the grass. “I’m seeing a whole lot of improvement there, Chartreuse. That’s impressive!”
“But that wasn’t today’s lesson!” she huffed in a manner that was as close to whining as she dared allow.
“Nevertheless, that was today’s result, and I shall grade accordingly.”
“But I failed!” This time, Chartreuse did whine, and she regretted it right away.
“Look here, young lady, I take my successes wherever and whenever I can find them.” Sunburst stood up, shook the grass off, and began to straighten out his cloak next. “Otherwise, I’d never get results at all with Flurry. A teacher must adapt to their students. I’ll let Dim and Shining Armor know that your telekinesis mastery is coming right along.”
“But conscious application—”
“Shush!” Sunburst’s voice was stern now and his demeanour had changed. “Go home, Chartreuse! I am going to celebrate this victory, and I am not going to let you take it away from me. I am going to feel good about myself and my accomplishments as a teacher. As for you , it isn’t your job to critique or even question how I get results. Now go home, sort yourself out, and no more sulking… not another word! Go!”
Biting her lip, there was nothing that she could do but comply.
The mailbox, a tiny miniature replica of the Crystal Empire Crystalline Tower Palace, had some mail in it. With a huff, Chartreuse stopped to collect the mail, and her frustrations came out as pouty, persnickety, piqued pants. Today hadn’t gone quite as planned, but then again, nopony plans for total and complete failure. But to be dismissed and sent away without being allowed to wheedle or make promises to do better?
Ugh!
Peering through her triangle shaped spectacles, she had a look at the mail that she had pulled out of the novelty mailbox that Nomination had insisted on them getting. It was tacky, it was chintzy, and even worse, it was intended for tourists. To have it here, in the Crystal Empire, on display among the crystal ponies…
Ugh!
There was a flier from the Casual-Tea of a Name Tearoom, which had a sale on boxed tins of tea: buy two, get one free. With their limited budget, that would have to be taken advantage of. Chalcedony had a letter from her penpal, Sumac Apple, addressed to Miss Chalcedony Cuddlesworth the LXVIII. Those two were entirely too silly for their own good. There was also a letter for Nomination. Curious, Nomination never got mail of any sort. Oh well, there was a first time for everything.
Pushing open the door, Chartreuse knew something had to be wrong, because her companions were here, at home, rather than at school. Ears pricking, she could hear them talking in the kitchen, one floor above. Now in a hurry, she crossed the room, stood on the launch pad and…
WHOOSH!
Twisting her body about, she slipped out of the burst of air that had propelled her upwards and landed in the kitchen. Chalcedony and Nomination were sitting at the dining table, and Nomination was holding an ice pack over his eye. Chalcedony herself appeared as though she had been in a scuffle, having both a fat lip and a swollen nose. Surely, her friends hadn’t fought, so Chartreuse wondered what had happened.
The ice pack turned out to be a package of frozen peas wrapped in a towel and Chartreuse had a better look at them when she closed the distance. Both of her friends were miserable, probably in pain, and neither had said hello. Sitting down on a padded stool, she tossed the mail down upon the table, leaned in, and rested her forelegs upon the table’s edge.
“Okay, spill the beans,” Chartreuse said to her companions. “What happened? Why aren’t you in school? Chalcedony, who hurt you?”
In response, Nomination squeaked, clicked a few times, and pressed the makeshift ice pack a little tighter against his eye, which was almost swollen shut. For the briefest of moments, Chartreuse wanted to burn things, but the anger was sorted away in a hurry. Chalcedony licked her lips, winced, and patted Nomination on his side with a few clumsy touches.
“Nomination tried asking out Snow Dust, a pegasus colt in our class, and Snow Dust took it as an assault upon his masculinity, I think. He got mad… real mad… and after calling poor Nom a cock-loving faggot, he bucked Nom in the eye. Well, I wasn’t having that…”
Shocked, Chartreuse covered her mouth with her hoof.
“I could see Snow Dust pretty good, because his wings glow a lot, and I jumped him. Next thing you know, Snow Dust, Mister Macho, Mister I Buck Faggots in the Face, he’s getting his plot handed to him by a blind filly, and he’s crying, and squealing, and he’s begging his buddies for help but they don’t want to get their plots kicked, so they’re all running away—”
“Why would you do this, Chalcedony?” Chartreuse demanded cutting in on Chalcedony while she still had a full head of steam.
“Because Nom won’t fight back! It goes against regulations!”
An exasperated huff slipped free and Chartreuse saw Chalcedony’s ears prick. Before her friend could say anything, before the blind filly could get started about what she had heard, Chartreuse said, “Chalcedony, what you did was wrong. What possessed you to behave in such a way?”
Sticking out both of her forelegs and waving them about, Chalcedony almost struck Nomination and would have, had he not ducked away. Then, perhaps because her anger had plateaued, she hollered, “Because I’m mad, okay? Poor Nom keeps getting rejected, stupid ice orcs invaded our home, and I am sick and tired of ponies thinking I am helpless because I’m blind! I wasn’t so helpless when I was punching Snow Dust in his stupid face! I’m pretty sure I ruined his good looks and I don’t feel bad about it!”
Still sitting, Chartreuse put the teakettle on to boil, turned on the burner, and began to gather all of the things necessary for tea, all while saying, “I am very disappointed with you, Chalcedony.”
“Yeah, well, I’m proud of me. I made a big dumb jock cry like a scaredy yearling.”
“Nomination, are you okay, mon frère? ” When the container of cream came down a bit too heavy and clunked, Chartreuse frowned and made a silent vow to do better, to practice this until it was perfect, and second nature, even if she was angry.
“No, I’m not okay. I have terrible taste in colts, apparently.” Dejected, the nocturnal pegasus leaned over and placed the bulk of his weight against Chalcedony, who didn’t seem to notice, not even in the slightest. “I can’t seem to catch a break. I go after the colts that catch my eye and almost all of them are, to a fault, horrible ponies. What does that say about me?”
Sympathising for her friend, Chartreuse nodded. “Well, most of the time, it is just rejection… rude rejection, on occasion… but I can’t believe that a fight happened—”
“Snow Dust is a Cloudsdale pegasus,” Chalcedony blurted out, “and you know how they are!”
“That’s enough!” Chartreuse banged her hoof down upon the table, causing everything atop of it to jump and clatter. “Am I a snob, Chalcedony? I’m from Canterlot! Am I?”
Chalcedony squirmed and looked down at the table, averting her eyes. “Sometimes—”
“Now is not the time for funny!” Chartreuse banged her hoof down, again, and just like before, everything on the table was bounced. “We are refined, good ponies, and we do not traffic in cruel, hurtful stereotypes. We are better than that. At least I am. I am beginning to have some doubts about you, Chalcedony.”
“No more fighting,” Nomination interjected, visibly wincing as he pressed his ice pack to his eye. “It’s against regulations.”
“I’m sick of those regulations, Nom!” Chalcedony’s swollen lips curled back from her teeth in a pained grimace. “Those stupid regulations make it so you can’t fight back! Ponies can hurt you, but you can’t hurt ponies!”
“They call us night terrors.” Nomination slumped over a bit more, whimpered, and shifted the makeshift ice pack around. “Ponies live in fear and terror of us. We are bigger, stronger, faster, we are superiour to them in every way. We must never, ever hurt them, no matter what they do to us. We must bear any and all abuse with good grace and gentleness, so that ponies might one day learn that we mean them no harm and that we only wish to protect them. For one of us to break the regulations, for one of us to bring harm to what we protect, it does a great disservice, as well as great harm, to all of us.”
“I’ve actually heard you practicing that in your room, Nom.” Chalcedony rolled her sightless, milky eyes, heaved a sigh, and then her anger escaped in the form of a lippy raspberry. “I’m sick of being helpless and I’m especially sick of poor Nom being helpless because of his stupid regulations. I’m disgusted.”
On the stove, the kettle made ‘I’m a kettle and I’m getting warmer’ noises but was not yet boiling. The table was still being set, with Chartreuse pulling bread out of the breadbox, along with jam and butter out of the icebox. Three plates were put down and Chartreuse tried not to think about how much Nomination enjoyed licking the plates clean before she washed them. Because of course he did. Nomination was a strange creature, of strange tastes, and peculiar manners. He wasn’t a pony, even though he sort of looked like one.
“Nomination, before I forget, you have a piece of mail.”
“Thank you, Chartreuse. I’ll look at it when my head doesn’t hurt so much.”
“Poor Nom, he can’t seem to find a colt that’s gay. Poor me, I can’t seem to find a colt willing to give a blind filly a chance. Somepony needs to give me a chance. I’m desperate and willing to engage in sexually risky behaviours. And poor Charty… she’s not even looking for a colt.”
“I am busy with my studies and my duties, thank you very much.” Peering through the lenses of her spectacles, Chartreuse gave her friend a stern look, even though her friend was incapable of seeing it. “Chalcedony, please do not make jokes about becoming a slattern.”
“Since when did you become my mom?”
“When was it that you started to act like a foal again?”
“Oh! Oh… oh… oh no, you went there. That’s mean. That’s not nice at all. What would Twilight Sparkle say?”
“Plenty, I’m sure. Shall we write her a letter explaining your recent behaviour and then ask what a proper friend would do in response?”
“You’re still going there, I see. Well, Nom, we have a Mom. It’s just us now, Nom. Just you and me. Charty has given up all notions of foalhood and has joined the ranks of the adults. We’ve lost her.”
“Well, Chalcy, I’d tell you to act your age, but you’re about a thousand years old—”
“OH NO YOU WENT THERE OF ALL PLACES!” Reaching out, Chalcedony clubbed the colt beside her by accident and then clutched at him with apologetic gentleness.
A series of clicks, pops, and squeals poured from Nomination, and then something that sounded like laughter, if laughter was being throttled into submission. After a while, Chalcedony began to giggle and when this continued for a time, Chartreuse allowed herself a wry smile, considering herself to be the victor of this little exchange.
“What kind of jam are we having?” Chalcedony asked.
Unscrewing the lid, Chartreuse replied, “Lavender and cucumber.”
“Not my favourite, but still pretty darn good.” The blind filly sighed, snuggled against Nomination beside her, and then remarked, “I still have a hard time with how common sweets are. I have trouble keeping track of just how many favourites I have. There are so many amazing flavours, all of which is better than flavourless runny gruel.”
“Get into a fight in school again and it’ll be flavourless runny gruel for supper.”
“Charty, you wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me. ”
“Nom, we’re in trouble, Nom. I’ve heard that voice before, Nom. Ice orcs screamed a lot and the world got real hot, Nom.”
“That’s because most of the world was on fire, Chalcedony.” Nomination pulled the ice pack away from his eye, wincing, and tried to blink his swollen eyelids a few times. Turning to look right at Chartreuse, he said, “I must confess… I was quite disturbed when you went outside to challenge the ice orcs around our tower and invited them to chomp your vivid yellow derrière. Never in my life had I ever seen anything quite like that.”
Without even thinking about it, Chartreuse began to butter three slices of bread at once, a feat that she would have found quite difficult even a short while ago, before she became an apprentice. For Chalcedony’s bread, extra butter was spread around the crust, otherwise the picky filly would eat the middle and leave the crust behind. For an orphan that once ate flavourless runny gruel, the blind filly sure had discriminating tastes now, and a fussier crystal pony one would be hard-pressed to find.
“I didn’t come here to be a soldier,” Chartreuse said, more to herself than to her friends. For a moment she hesitated, reminiscing, recalling everything that had happened, and the longer she thought about it, the more her ears drooped. “Those ice orcs were rude and I had to go sort them out. They arrive uninvited and start wrecking things after the Crystal Cotillion. Just rude! ”
“And when Dim takes you to deal with infestations of shadowlings and monsters under the bed?” Chalcedony suffered a visible shiver and huddled against Nomination while waiting for an answer.
“There’s been a real issue with darklings and shadowlings since the ice orc invasion.” Chartreuse’s response was almost absent-minded and her ears rose while she slathered jam on buttered bread. “Ponies are scared and these… monsters come along to feed upon their fears. I understand the way of things in a way that I never could before. Dim has shown me much. I am”—here, again she hesitated and her words faltered for a moment before she could continue—“not a soldier, but I will be a wizard one day, and I will be obligated to protect all around me from the unseen things that I have seen. That I can see? Oh drat it all, it sounds mad in hindsight.”
Chalcedony, who was now slumped over and shivering against Nomination said, “There are worse things than bed bugs…”
“And there are working wizards that will deal with impertinent uninvited guests. Be they ice orcs or monsters lurking beneath the bed, we working wizards will sort them out.”
“Charty, you’ve changed. Help me out, Nom. She’s changed, hasn’t she?”
After a string of clicky-pops, Nomination agreed by saying, “She has.”
As the kettle found its voice and began to whistle, Chartreuse gave her friends a wry smile and went to work to prepare the tea. All around her, the kitchen was alive with magic, and serving tea was one of many services a working wizard could provide. Looking after rough and tumble blind fillies was another, and setting the occasional ice orc on fire was not unheard of. Comfortable with herself and her friends once more, Chartreuse relaxed, settled in, and was determined to enjoy her tea.
Author's Note
When Chalcedony was done eating, Chartreuse placed the opened letter from Sumac down upon the table for the blind filly to read. The page appeared quite blank, but Sumac used transparent ink that was thaumaturgically charged and Chalcedony could see everything just fine. There was a squeal from the crystal pony, her front hooves drummed on the table, and then, having said nothing at all, she began devouring the written page of invisible words with her eyes.
It was a sight that made Chartreuse feel good about, well, everything.
Sumac seemed to be an exceptional friend, having gone so far as to create the illusion of Chalcedony having a great and exaggerated family lineage, when in reality she was an orphan. The letters, which came with great frequency, always had some ridiculous name or title, something worth laughing about. Chartreuse had even saved the envelope, having opened it with great care.
Chalcedony only had a few precious things that she held dear; some letters, some books written in magical ink, a magical photograph of the three of them together that she could see, and one of the broken halves of the Rainbow of Light. Chartreuse knew of the secret, and as Shining Armor’s apprentice, she was responsible for protecting it. The broken locket piece was cursed by King Sombra, consumed by shadow, and was wholly and totally invisible. It could only be touched by one capable of seeing it, and Chalcedony could see it, meaning that she could touch it. No one else in the Crystal Empire was capable of such a feat, and it seemed that not even Twilight Sparkle could catch a peek of what had once been the Moochik’s locket.
What purpose it might serve was unknown, but King Sombra’s curse was thwarted by a blind filly.
“I’m a failure of my species!” Nomination blurted out, startling both of his companions.
Chalcedony almost fell off of her padded stool, and would have, had Nomination not caught her. Chartreuse stared at her friend and began clucking her tongue, disapproving of what he had said. Around the perimeter, silence lurked, just waiting for the right moment to strike, to settle in, and cause as much discomfort as equinely possible.
“Violence makes me feel like throwing up,” Nomination continued, spilling his guts. “It’s not just Snow Dust… the idea that I might have to fight the ice orcs almost made me puke. I was so scared and jittery and I kept barfing just a little bit in my mouth. When the breeding registry finds out, I’ll be ruined. I won’t be suitable. I carry undesirable traits that are a weakness and weakness is the last thing my kind want if we are to become a viable species and not just the unstable hybrids that we are. I am completely and utterly worthless. On top of all of that, I’m gay. That alone is probably enough to get me tossed out of the breeding program. I really am a failure.”
Narrowing her eyes, Chartreuse glared at her best friend and constant companion through the spotless, flawlessly clean lenses of her triangular spectacles, holding him transfixed with her gaze. Lifting her teacup to her lips, she took a sip, swallowed, and then her eyes narrowed just a little bit more while Chalcedony—who appeared quite stricken—recovered her balance.
“Oh no… I’m blind, but even I can see the look on Charty’s face. Good luck, Nom.”
Leaning in, Chartreuse remembered what she had learned from her book, Princess Celestia’s Guide to Moody Mares, Sullen Stares, and Glowering Glares; Now With Full-Colour Plates. Right now, she applied every advanced method she had mastered in the mirror and she projected all of it at Nomination, who cringed in response.
When Chartreuse allowed her nostrils to flare, Nomination whimpered and hid behind his bag of frozen peas wrapped in a towel. The sound of Nomination’s whimpering proved to be too much, which caused Chartreuse to falter; the poor colt had endured a rough day and was in need of some comfort. While there was a new regulation in place about Nomination not degrading himself, the stern filly realised that she would have to let this infraction slip.
“Talk to me, mon frère. ”
“I’m having a lot of trouble with my self-worth right now,” Nomination confessed in the lowest of whispers, an almost inaudible hissing that required great care to hear. “I don’t deal well with rejection. It takes me to a bad place.”
After a moment of squirming he added, “It started after the ice orcs. I began to doubt if I could even protect my best friend, if the need arose, and I felt so ashamed. All that happened, and then today happened, and I’m not in love with myself right now.”
Armed only with her telekinesis, Chartreuse began to butter more bread while she studied her troubled friend. What might help poor Nomination—no, what Nomination needed —was some time with her former boss, Rarity. The fashionista would ply him with ice cream, work a good cry out of him, and would then do whatever it took to make the fabulousity come shining out of him, possibly even turning him into a sequined equine. Rarity was just that sort of unicorn.
When Chalcedony—who had a bad case of the squirmies—let out a shrill whimper, Chartreuse buttered her nose with a pinpoint flick of telekinesis. This caused the pale filly to go still, her milky, sightless eyes crossed, no doubt trying to focus on the spot of magic that she had seen, and then she began trying to lick the dab of butter off of her snoot with quick lashes of her tongue.
It was moments like this when Chartreuse adored Chalcedony the most.
From behind his makeshift ice pack of frozen peas wrapped in a towel, Nomination managed to mumble out a few words that he had to say. “Chartreuse, Chalcedony and I, we’re not as motivated as you.”
Raising her eyebrow, Chartreuse began smearing jam on the three slices of bread and was distracted by the sticky, clinging sensation detected by her telekinesis. Most unicorns used butter knives for butter and jam, but she had been forbidden by her teachers. Now, she had to harden her telekinesis enough for it to act like something solid, something like a butter knife. And she couldn’t get distracted by the tickles, the squishes, or any kind of grossness, because then what was hard would go soft with great haste. Sunburst had said that to unexpectedly go soft was to invite disaster, and then he had turned very, very orange all about the face.
When asked why he was so orange, his response was to somehow turn even oranger.
“Nom, maybe we should be a bit more motivated. I mean, you wanna be a chef. I have no idea what I’ll do. I don’t know what I can do. I’ll probably end up on the dole no matter what I do. That kinda kills my enthusiasm to try harder sometimes, but you don’t have an excuse. Charty just wants the best for us.”
“Chalcedony, I can’t take you seriously when you say, ‘Charty.’ I just can’t. And you know why.”
Shaking her head, Chartreuse served the food to her friends, cramming the slice of bread, butter and jam right into Chalcedony’s mouth when she began to say something, and placing Nomination’s down upon his plate. The pale crystal pony filly was glowing a bit brighter now, or maybe it was just a trick of the eyes.
It was a neat trick that crystal ponies glowed brighter in the presence of love.
Rather than eat, Nomination held his peas to his swollen eye with his his hoof while reaching out with his wings. Using this thumbs and his fleshy, grippy knuckles, he picked up the envelope, flipped it around to have a better look at the written side, and went still. After a few seconds, the envelope trembled in his grasp while his ears sank like bathtub battleships facing the mother of all waves.
“I can’t open this,” Nomination said in a voice that was both dry and squeaky.
“Why not?” Chartreuse asked while refilling her teacup.
“Just help me, Chartreuse, okay? Whatever this is, I can’t face it. Could you…”—the colt swallowed, a hard, violent sound, and he shrank down to become as small as possible—“please open this and read it to me?”
Such a strange colt… Chartreuse decided to humour her friend and snatched the letter from him. With a few well-practiced flicks of magic, one end of the envelope was opened—an end, not the top or bottom like some gallivanting, galloping anarchist like her father occasionally spoke of with great disgust—and once the envelope was opened the letter within was pulled out. Inside was a short trimmed scrap of military-grade paper, not an inch longer than it needed to be, it was the exact right size for the message it contained.
Adjusting her eyeglasses, Chartreuse read the message for Nomination to hear.
“Hatchling Eighty-eight, thirty-three, twenty-three, forty-four—Nomination.”
That was a strange way of starting a letter. Chartreuse didn’t mean to be rude, but a pause was required at this point. Something troubled her, but she had trouble putting her hoof down upon what it was. It was… it was… this was the coldest, most impersonal opening of a letter she had ever seen.
“I am coming for an inspection of both your living quarters and circumstances. Be prepared. Parental unit Eighty-eight, thirty-three, twenty-three, forty-three—the mare who laid your egg.”
The message on the trimmed down piece of paper went too far outside the bounds of normalcy and Chartreuse found her brain balking at what she had just read. Even worse, the teakettle was boiling again—had she forgotten to turn off the stove? No, as it turned out, because the teakettle was sitting on the table atop a hot pad and it was Nomination who was ready to pour.
Chalcedony’s ears were twitching as the sound increased in both pitch and volume, until she couldn’t take it anymore and had to cover her ears with her front hooves. Chartreuse found herself in a similar situation, was too shocked, too appalled by what she had seen in the letter—if it could even be called a letter—to do much of anything to react. Within seconds the sound was unbearable and Chartreuse began to worry for the structural integrity of the tableware.
“NOM!” Chalcedony cried while her eyes flooded with tears. “Don’t make me slap the squeak out of you, Nom!”
“Nomination!” Chartreuse made her voice sound as stern as possible. “Stop that at once!”
Much to her surprise, Nomination did go quiet, and she wished that he hadn’t, because the silence was far more alarming than his hissing squeak of distress. It occurred to her, Nomination was terrified beyond the scope of what she could understand, and she wasn’t sure how to comfort him. Applying logic, Chartreuse knew that it stood to reason that she needed information if she was going to help her stricken friend.
“Nomination”—she kept her voice as soft and soothing as possible—“this is some kind of regulation, isn’t it?”
After a moment, he nodded, but made no other sound, at least no sound at a pitch that could be heard.
“Something that probably looks bad to outsiders, but makes sense to you.”
Hesitant, Nomination shrugged.
Things began snapping into place for Chartreuse, little details that she could look back upon and examine in hindsight. It was her father’s gift, and some of it had rubbed off on her after his many hours of patient instruction. She had been raised in a semi-militaristic home, with her father part of the Day Watch, and she had endured a rigid foalhood with a great deal of reinforcement.
“This is the breeding program, the means that you came about.”
A soft sigh escaped Nomination, and he nodded.
“I’m sure that it is very complicated. I shall not cast judgments, Nomination. But if your mother is coming, we should prepare. Though I’m not keen on somepony coming into my home, inspecting it by their standards, and projecting those same standards upon my living space. I’ll not tolerate it. I’ve left home and embarked upon my career as a working wizard. I’ll not have some random adult come about and berate everything I’ve worked so hard for. If she is rude , she will be given a good what for and shown the door.”
Another shrill squeak of terror escaped Nomination and he shook his head from side to side. After a moment, he found his missing tongue. “One does not simply show the Major the door. I’m pretty sure that’s against regulations.”
“I am Chartreuse Le Feu, of House Le Feu, Bearer of the Flame of Chantico, I am Damoiselle Despoillier! My house, my regulations!”
“Yeah!” Chalcedony began pumping her hoof in the air and after a moment, she paused when nopony else seemed to be quite as stoked as she was. “Oh… my bad… I thought we had reached the point where we’re all cheered up and excited again. Sorry, I can wait.”
“At least my mother was affectionate in her message. That’s comforting.”
“What?” Chartreuse lifted the letter, if it could be called a letter, and gave it a once over. “I see nothing resembling affection here. This is the coldest, most impersonal message I have ever seen, and I’ve taken Shining Armor’s dictation for aristocratic houses that he doesn’t like. Help me, Nomination.”
“She used my name and she gave me a reminder that she laid my egg. That was sweet. It really stands out so it means a lot.”
Try as she might, Chartreuse didn’t see it. What she did see was her friends difficulty with affection. Nomination struggled with Chalcedony’s constant cuddling, groping, and other physical forms of affection. If a tiny reminder that his mother had laid his egg was sweet, then poor Nomination must be drowning in the affection shown to him by Chalcedony. Even worse, what did this mean for Nomination’s love life, a life that now, with this new knowledge, he seemed ill-prepared for?
Chartreuse now had a valuable understanding of her friend.
“Nom…” Chartreuse didn’t realise that she was using her friend’s nickname even as she said it. “Nom, this is why you’re so keen on studying the Twilight curriculum, isn’t it? You’ve had to learn to connect to ponies—to the others around you. A lot of things now make sense, Nom.”
“I am the first of my kind to be sent to a school not our own,” Nomination whispered and he pulled his ice pack away so that he might speak better. “At least, as far as I know. It made the Command angry that such a thing would even be suggested, because it is not our way. I’ve probably said too much already. My mother didn’t agree with me either, she opposed it, she thought it was a terrible idea, but she also engaged the Command in a battle so that I could be here. My mother put her own future on the line for a cause that she didn’t believe in. And so here I am. Please, keep that in mind when the Major comes.”
In stunned silence, Chartreuse nodded, but had no idea of how else to respond.
“I’m confused.” Chalcedony, her face sticky with jam, reached out for her companion with cautious, hesitant hooves. “I can’t see what is going on so I don’t know what I’m supposed to be feeling. This feels complicated.”
“Finish your tea, both of you. We’re going out. We need to purchase tea while it is on sale, and maybe some coffee too. In fact, we have shopping to do, and errands. We could all use a walk to sort us out and we can chat while we’re getting stuff done. Nomination, we’ll prepare for your mother’s visit and do our best to see you through it. All the more reason to make sure our home is in order.”
An unpleasant heaviness settled onto Chartreuse’s withers and she wondered how she was going to help her friend. All sorts of anxiety began to creep in, such as the dreadful idea of what if Nomination was taken away? What if this fight, this altercation, ended up having disproportionate consequences? She began to understand why her dear friend clung to his regulations with every action he did, his every breath. Nomination existed in a precarious position that she had trouble understanding—but now she had an inkling. Each violation of the regulations represented potential loss, a loss of everything he had, everything he held dear to him. An infraction of the regulations may very well represent the loss of his freedom, a truly awful thought.
If somepony came to collect poor Nomination, to take him from House Le Feu, he would not be relinquished without a fight. He belonged here and served as Chalcedony’s eyes. The ice orcs too, had threatened House Le Feu, and Chartreuse had been forced to step outside of her front door to deal with them, to protect her tower and the dear, treasured things held within. Chantico demanded that precious things be protected and Chartreuse had risen to face the challenge.
No, Chartreuse decided in silence, Nomination would not be taken.
Author's Note
Now, let's everybody rush to judgment as fast as possible!
Chalcedony might have been blind, but she wasn’t weak, and she made for a most excellent pack pony. The plush pale white filly had surprising strength, strength proportional to how much she was glowing at any given moment. She bore the load without complaint and performed well, but extra care had to be taken to ensure that she did not stumble or trip. As with everything else involving the blind filly, it was an exercise of trust.
In Canterlot, it was customary to hire a wagon or a sturdy pack pony on market days, and Chartreuse remembered that her mother, Remède, always went out of her way to be kind, thankful, and appreciative for whomever had been hired that day. She had always tipped well and as such, on market days, there was no shortage of bright-eyed, bushy-tailed earth ponies willing to take the job. Some of the noble families could afford to keep an earth pony or two on staff for jobs such as this one, but not Chartreuse’s. They were working class nobles and every saved coin mattered.
“There just had to be a sale on potatoes,” Chalcedony grumbled as she was lead along by Nomination. “Charty just had to be responsible… why can’t she ever pay full price for anything, Nom? I’m starting to think our friend is cheap!”
“Chalcedony, Chartreuse isn’t cheap. The condition she has is called frugality. We have to humour her illness and do our best to support her.”
Condition, eh? Illness? What a wisepony. Bringing up the rear, Chartreuse glared at the back of her friend’s head with a disturbed smirk.
“You know, Nomination… if Charty was to grip a penny with her plot cheeks and if you tried to take it away from her somehow, you’d end up with copper wire stretched as thin as spider silk. That’s what happens when you’re tight with money.”
Oh, that did it. That was just dirty. It was time for a lesson and not one in friendship. Chartreuse’s smirk now had a wicked air about it. She would show them the lethality of her frugality. “Nomination?”
“Yes, Chartreuse?”
“How much coin do you think we can make renting out our little potato hauler?”
“HEY! Not funny!”
The colt shook his head. “She can’t see, so not much, I’m afraid—”
“Guys, this isn’t funny.”
“But Nomination, the money saved on blinders…”
“Oh yeah—”
“S’NOT FUNNY!”
“Watch out, curb. Step down.”
“Thank you, Nom.”
“Don’t mention it.”
Sunburst awaited when the trio neared home and Chartreuse wondered how long her teacher had been waiting near the mailbox. Reading a book, he didn’t seem bored or even particularly bothered by waiting, and might have even enjoyed a chance to do nothing more than pleasurable reading. He looked to be quite happy, satisfied even, and seeing this, Chartreuse began to feel sulky once more about her earlier failure.
Looking up from his book, the vibrant orange unicorn assessed the situation and then said, “Shopping, I see. What do we have?”
“Mostly potatoes,” Chalcedony replied while her pace quickened so that she might hurry to Sunburst for inspection. A happy nickery-wicker could be heard as the crystal filly’s hooves clattered against the paving stones that lined the path.
“A fine and sensible choice,” Sunburst remarked in return. The sunlight glinted off of his glasses whilst his head tilted off to one side. “You know, buying a little junk food won’t hurt your marks in independent living studies. There is being sensible and then there is… nevermind.” Sighing, he shook his head, smiled, and braced himself for Chalcedony’s inevitable impact.
Even though she slowed, Chalcedony still almost bowled Sunburst over, and she pressed her face into his neck, nuzzling him with deep affection. Chartreuse, who came to a halt while watching, thought about Chalcedony’s relationship with Sunburst. There was a blurry, indistinct line between father figure and teacher. The affection on display suggested much, and it was heartwarming to witness.
“Your pretty face—”
Indignant, Chalcedony’s ears stood rigid and she stomped her sturdy hoof against the paved pathway. “Forget my pretty face, my friends loaded me down with potatoes and then made jokes about renting me out as a potato hauler!”
Before she could stop herself, Chartreuse burst out laughing.
Sunburst, looking stern, serious, and solemn, nodded. “Mmm-hmm. Very good. Discussing employment is important. The goal of independent living studies is to teach you how to be independent. Transportation of goods is vital to society. Would you limit yourself to potatoes or would you take on the transportation of other root vegetables?”
Sunburst had an odd way to pronounce the word, ‘vegetables, ’ being very drawn out with a hard focus on all of the consonants.
“I’m betrayed!” Chalcedony shuffled on her hooves, the load on her back shifted, and several of the tinned goods clunked against one another.
“About that little altercation in school today—”
“Oh, you mean the one where I delivered a hot fresh beat down to Snow Dust?”
Rolling his eyes, Sunburst sighed, then nodded. “Yeah, that one. You’ve been assigned to community service detail, which means that either Nomination or Chartreuse has also been assigned to community service detail, because you need a seeing eye pony. What you did was completely uncalled for, and now, because you have to be punished, one of your friends must now suffer with you. Take your pick.”
“Why not both?” Chalcedony replied without a second’s hesitation. “They wanted to rent me out as a potato hauler!”
“Hey!” Chartreuse interjected, and started to say more, but Sunburst cut her off.
“Sometimes, Chalcedony… sometimes I worry if I am making an adequate effort to reach you. You’re supposed to feel bad about getting one of your friends involved in your punishment… and you shouldn’t immediately see it as an opportunity for playful revenge. A life lesson is being taught here. What you do will affect your friends by virtue of who and what you are.”
Pulling away, Chalcedony almost appeared bashful now, and she began to make little hoofy kicks with her left front hoof against her right front hoof. “Nomination got bucked in the face. Look at him. He’s probably pretty messed up. I don’t wanna drag him into this, ‘cause that’d make me feel worse. As for Charty, it seems like she never has any free time ‘cause you and and Dim are mean and bury her in assignments. Don’t make me do this, Mister Meanpony.”
“Nevertheless,” Sunburst replied, “it must be done.”
“What about Snow Dust?”
“What about him?”
“Tell me, is he in trouble for what he did?” Chalcedony turned her milky, pinkish-white eyes upon her teacher and waited for a response. “Will he be doing community service detail?”
“Snow Dust faces a permanent expulsion hearing.” Sunburst cleared his throat, glanced down at the paved path for a moment, and when he spoke again his voice was quite low. “Princess Cadance has stern rules against bigotry and intolerance in her school. Snow Dust shows tremendous potential and has the makings for greatness… and chances are that he’s going to be expelled. He faces very different consequences, Chalcedony.”
“I really wanna gloat right now, but a part of me also feels bad.” Chalcedony continued her hoofy kicks and Nomination drew nearer to her side to comfort her.
“That is very honest of you, Chalcedony. That takes some courage to say.” Sunburst smiled, a warm sight, and he looked upon Chalcedony with such affection that it made Chartreuse’s heart begin to ache from the sight. “Violence is sometimes unavoidable, and Princess Cadance understands that altercations take place among juveniles. Intolerance and bigotry are traits in need of stamping out entirely and have no place in our enlightened society.”
“So… he said something in anger and his life is pretty much over, I guess.”
“Even his failure serves purpose,” Sunburst said in a reassuring voice to the now-downtrodden filly. “His slip of the tongue and his actions are now being used to instruct others. His classmates and peers will hopefully be more mindful in the future. With luck, this will cause attitudes and outlooks to shift. I am optimistic.”
“Can we please get Chalcedony inside so that we might relieve her of her burdens?” Nomination made a polite series of clicks to punctuate his words and he cast a meaningful glance in the direction of the door.
“I’m not even burdened at all,” Chalcedony huffed and when she moved to face Nomination, more tinned goods could be heard clunking. “This is nothing. I… I… I feel so loved… there’s been so much love lately that it is hard to control my strength, actually. Life has changed so much with the two of you around.”
Sunburst blinked several times, perhaps to clear his watery eyes. He sighed, cleared his throat, sighed again, and made a gesture at the front door. “Let’s get you inside, Chalcedony.” With a turn of his head, he faced Chartreuse, smiled, and added, “I have a message for you, by the way. You’ll be working with Dim tonight. Be prepared. Shadow detail.”
“Oh… goody…” Chartreuse could not help but note her lack of enthusiasm.
Getting good telekinetic exercise was important and putting away groceries was ideal. Chartreuse had the kitchen all to herself with nopony in the way, so she let fly. Nomination was down one floor with Sunburst and was talking about his mother. Chalcedony was one floor above, in the bedroom, doing whatever it was young fillies did alone in the bedroom when the tower had company. No doubt, she was up there having herself a good think.
Sixty pounds of potatoes was scarcely enough to last a few weeks for three hungry, growing foals, but Chartreuse was glad to have them. Nomination liked cooking with potatoes more than he did eating them, and his many experimentations kept them well-fed. The potato bin only had enough room for about forty pounds or so of potatoes, so she was now forced to find creative places to store the rest. Like Nomination, they had to be stored in a cool, dark place.
Tins of condensed milk were stacked just so in the cupboard, each with their label and logo facing forward. A supply of Grunhilda Griffoness’ All-Day-Breakfast-In-A-Tin were all for Nomination. A growing… whatever Nomination was, he needed lots of specialised proteins and this meant eating meat. Grunhilda Griffon’s All-Day-Breakfast-In-A-Tin was a nutritious meal of beans, sausages, gammon, and egg nuggets. Everything a carnivore needed for a full belly all morning and gas all afternoon.
Once, Chalcedony had tried to sample some and Chartreuse had been forced to put her hoof down.
Several famous Oddbody Family cheeses went into the cheese bin in the icebox and Chartreuse couldn’t wait to cut those later. Flour went into the flour bin, apples went into the crisper, bread went into the breadbox, tea and coffee went into the cupboard, and in no time at all, everything was stored in its proper place, as was proper.
The crackle of a phonograph from the bedroom above caused Chartreuse’s ears to prick and she stood frozen in the middle of the kitchen. A chilly terror crept up her spine, slinking from vertebra to vertebra with slow, torturous steps while she wondered if her companion was about to play that record. A near-silent prayer to Chantico was murmured, but her hopes were dashed to pieces when she heard the infectious buzzing of a bass guitar, heavy with distortion, accompanied by the warm, raspy sound of the hi-fi phonograph itself. The record had been played so much that it was already showing extensive signs of wear.
Before the singing started, Chartreuse’s face burned hot and when she blushed, her face took on a greenish cast, a peculiarity of her unique colouration. No. No… no! Life just wasn’t fair. How could this happen? Sunburst was about to hear… and then would judge what Chalcedony called ‘groovy’ music. Life was over and the nightmare was now in full motion.
From above, Chalcedony’s voice could be heard, belting out a song with more feeling than talent, but keeping up with the vocals on the record.
“I said what… what… in the butt—I said what what in the butt? I said what… what… you wanna rut—I said what what you wanna rut? I said rut… rut… in the butt—I said rut rut in the butt! I said what… what… bust a nut—I said what what bust a nut? Where? Right there in my butt!”
Chartreuse facehoofed, having heard this awful, awful song one too many times.
To make matters worse, Sunburst’s voice could be heard from down below, and it was with great horror that Chartreuse realised that he was singing along with this dreadful, awful, horrible, no good song. Why? Why did life have to be this way? This had to be Starlight’s influence, because there was no way her wise instructor would seek something like this out on his own. Hearing her beloved, respected, genteel teacher singing—this song of all songs—was too much for poor Chartreuse to bear. With all hope crushed, with all optimism lost, with nothing left to live for, Chartreuse too, raised her voice to sing along…
Author's Note
That song...
Using a feather duster, Chartreuse removed nonexistent cobwebs from the tiny idol of Chantico, a strange dog-cat creature, and wondered if Chantico was ticklish. Though she hadn’t ever been particularly faithful, nor much of a religious pony, Chartreuse had been touched by Hearthfire. The experience had left her shaken, a changed pony, and for now, there was an odd amicable relationship with the idol, as well as its curious benefactor. Many in the Crystal Empire had one, and they had become quite popular as of late after the ice orcs.
This was an adult decision that she wasn’t sure if she was ready to fully dedicate herself to. Her mother and father were ponies of faith, something about the worship of candles, but they had never pressed it upon her, but rather had told her to find her own way. She had heard both her mother and her father recite a phrase during times of trouble, ‘It is better to light a candle than curse the darkness, ’ and Chartreuse could see the wisdom in this statement.
Perhaps when she was older, wiser, and more experienced, she might commit herself more.
“We need to get Charty a Fancy maid outfit.”
Ignoring Chalcedony, Chartreuse moved on to dust the bookshelf.
“I vaguely remember seeing something like that before I lost my sight. Sumac said that Pebble lost a bet and he made her wear a Fancy maid outfit for Nightmare Night, whatever that is. Anyhow, I bet Charty would be a stunner in a Fancy maid outfit.”
Snorting, Chartreuse ran the duster over the spines of the books in the shelf, cleaning them.
“Chalcedony—”
“Yeah, Nom?” the filly interrupted in a chirpy, excited voice.
“You make it hard to have gay thoughts. Now I want to see Chartreuse in a Fancy maid outfit, and I am almost certain that I shouldn’t be thinking that way. It is… perverse. There is now something wrong with my brain and it is all your fault.”
“Regulation violation?” Chalcedony asked while she leaned in against her companion.
“Indeed. Several, at least.” The colt coughed, squeaked, coughed again, and the sound of a page being turned could be heard. “We must finish our homework, Chalcedony. Let us return to the wisdom of Twilight and her benevolent teachings.”
With an annoyed tail flick, Chartreuse stepped onto the launcher and thought about the third floor, where she and Chalcedony slept. There was a whoosh, which tickled a bit, and she was shot upwards on the blast of air that had been conjured. When she was away from her companions, out of sight and in the privacy of her shared quarters, she began to giggle to herself, feeling special without understanding why. It was a good feeling though, and she allowed herself to revel in it as a reward for doing housework.
For every wizard that made a name for themselves, there were no doubt hundreds, maybe thousands who faced the daily grind. For every Vinyl Scratch, there was an endless parade of working class wizards just trying to make ends meet. Magical tinkerers, magical repairers, exterminators who removed various infestations of pests, this was a wizard’s lot in life. For every Great and Powerful Trixie Lulamoon that had great fame and prestige, there were also the unseen many wizardly janitors that cleaned up life’s myriad of messes, but never had a word of thanks.
Yet, some things on the job rang true no matter what one did as a wizard. There was always work to do, even if one had to roam about to find it. During the Great and Powerful Trixie Lulamoon’s wandering years, the esteemed and especially skilled Trixie had roamed the continent in a wagon, taking on odd jobs as a tinker, repairing all manner of magical things from abacuses, to cameras, malfunctioning magical-mechanical milking devices, and even zampognas, no doubt.
These were things that mattered. A wizard made the world work, for most of the world was magic, in some form or another. Not every job was glorious, but not every job had to be. Chartreuse, who very much wanted to be a wizard, saw some worth in a rather dreary, magically mundane future. Sure, she had aspirations of being a court wizard someday, perhaps, that was why she was here, after all, but she saw no shame in getting dirty and actually working as a wizard.
If her copy of the Big Book of Mighty & Important Wizards had taught her anything, it was that hard work and humble beginnings took one places. And Chartreuse knew that she was going places, though she had no idea where. For now, she was here, paying her dues as an apprentice, she was working hard to power through her humble beginnings so that she might join the ranks of working wizards everywhere.
Even if nopony ended up remembering her name, it was still a prestigious place to be.
After a short absence, Sunburst had returned and with him he had brought supper in the form of Istanbullian take-out. While there was a lot in the box, Chartreuse had a favourite; sarma. While it had a number of variations, she loved the version of sarma that was squash blossoms stuffed with rice and herbs. Other variations involved grape leaves or filo dough wrapped around a variety of fillings. There were other things, such as pilaki, kisir, and piyaz, as well as things she couldn’t quite remember.
Gathered around the table, this was a good time to be had.
“Sumac is coming back to the Crystal Empire,” Sunburst said to Chalcedony while he put more food upon her plate. “He’s coming for magic instruction and I think that I might be able to free up his schedule enough so that you and he can visit one another. But no more fights in school.”
“You wouldn’t do that to me,” Chalcedony replied, speaking around a mouthful of food.
Sunburst’s lips pressed tight together and Chartreuse watched him, trying to study her master’s face, trying to determine how stern he was at the moment. He had changed, Sunburst, there was something different about him since the ice orc invasion. It wasn’t that he had grown cold, nor hard, or anything quite like that, but he was different. He had moments, like now, where a certain sternness could be observed in his eyes. Being a hero did that to a pony, apparently, and there could be no doubt, Sunburst was a hero.
Of course, Sunburst had help, and there was a distinct possibility that she herself was a hero, but Chartreuse had only acted as a helper, an apprentice, and she had done her job, as was expected of her. Sunburst got the limelight that he so rightly deserved, though he had to share it with Spike the Dragon.
For Spike the Dragon, being a hero was as natural as breathing, but then again, so was setting things on fire. In that aspect, Spike and Dim shared something in common, as both were nature’s natural arsonists. While Chartreuse herself was also fire aligned, she was also polite and settings things—or others—on fire was rather rude. Rarity, who owned a very fashionable flamethrower that she kept beneath the counter in her Canterlot boutique, said that rudeness should be a last resort, what one fell back upon when being a lady had failed. Sometimes, a lady just had to burn things down, but Chartreuse wasn’t grown up enough to be a lady just yet.
“Chalcedony, your teachers tell me that your marks have improved. A few are even cautiously optimistic that you might turn over a new leaf.”
“I have better friends now,” Chalcedony replied, her mouth still full of food. “I told you, I told you, I was applying myself, all of myself, and giving it my best effort. The constant worry of not knowing when my current assistant of the moment might quit out or leave me made it hard to study or do much of anything, really.”
Sunburst nodded and levitating a napkin, he wiped Chalcedony’s muzzle. “Yes, it’s been hard for you. I’ll even go out on a limb and say that you might be right, but only if you can admit that sometimes you give up before you even try.”
Chartreuse’s head turned as though she was watching a tennis match, and she studied her companion’s face. For Chalcedony to admit when she was wrong was tough; she was a filly full of excuses and a long list of reasons for how she behaved. She seemed pained, her chewing had far less gusto, and she seemed somewhat bothered by having her muzzle wiped by Sunburst. If only she would wipe her muzzle on her own, though not on her foreleg.
“I have a right to quit,” Chalcedony whined while Sunburst rubbed her nose with the napkin. “My sight was lost. I’m not about to go stumbling blindly into things unless I absolutely have to. Nopony tells me what to do.”
Again, Chartreuse’s head turned because the ball was now in Sunburst’s court.
“Disabilities happen. Bad things happen. That’s no excuse to give up. Look, I have no idea how hard it is for you, but you can’t just quit.” Lifting his hoof, Sunburst gestured at both of Chalcedony’s companions. “See, things have worked out, exactly as I said they would. Sure, it took a while, and things were hard, but things did get better just like I told you that they would.”
“You also said that I would fall in love,” Chalcedony said, her voice cracking, and Chartreuse turned to look in her friend’s direction. “You’ve made an awful lot of promises and you keep telling me that things will work out, but this is the first time things have worked out. How am I s’posed to feel? Things haven’t worked out for me so far. I’m an orphan. I’ve felt the lash on my back, I’ve lived in irons and I’ve gone blind. So far, everything in my life that’s happened tells me that bad things are more likely to happen than good! Why should I just believe you?”
All of Chalcedony’s surface optimism that she displayed was now gone, revealing a far darker core. The bright, cheerful filly that Chartreuse called her friend had revealed herself as somepony else, and while there had been hints of darkness for a time now, Chalcedony was doing nothing to hide it, nothing at all. Still, she glowed, a radiant steady glow, a light that did not waver. For all of the darkness on display, Chalcedony’s inner light had quite a shine.
It made things confusing.
“I don’t wanna talk about it no more.” Chalcedony banged her hoof against the edge of the table, but not out of anger. “I just wanna eat.”
“Okay, Chalcedony, that’s fine,” was Sunburst’s patient reply.
With the brief flurry of drama over, Chartreuse returned to eating.
Sunburst’s patience, like his optimism, seemed endless. With the meal over, Chalcedony had insisted on going out with Sunburst in tow, but she had not said why, only that she had to get to the market square. Chartreuse was quite confused because they had already visited the market earlier, and she couldn’t think of a reason to go now, because everything was taken care of.
Nomination led the way, as he tended to do, because the crowds had a way of magically parting for him, which made it easier for Chalcedony, who followed just behind him, her ears focused on the sounds of the colt in front of her. Sunburst was just behind, following, his cape blowing in the breeze, and Chartreuse brought up the rear.
“When we get to the market, we need to go to the park in the back with the privacy hedge—”
“Oh no,” Sunburst groaned. “Not that. Anything but that.”
“No!” Chalcedony stomped her hoof but didn’t slow. “I’ve heard the other students talk about it—for some of them it is all they ever talk about and I want to be like them! You want me to live and do stuff like foals my own age, Sunburst!”
“But that,” Sunburst protested, “is vulgar. ”
“I have needs,” the blind filly said, her hooves clopping in perfect time with Nomination’s. “Everypony talks about it and I wanna do something that everypony my age says is normal!”
“Chalcedony—”
“We’re doing it!” the filly squeaked and Sunburst was silenced.
Chartreuse had no idea what ‘it’ was.
In the back of the market square, hidden within a secluded hedgerow was a tiny park that Chartreuse had never visited, but had walked past a great many times. Sunburst’s face was a new and exciting shade of orange and his white spot had a certain vivid pinkness to it. He hesitated near the entrance and Chartreuse could hear the sound of running water while Nomination stood sniffing the market air.
“The students call it a ‘pee pledge’ and I want all of us to take one together. If you can tolerate me, commit to me. Please, please do this for me. Maybe it’ll help me put my mind to rest. You too, Sunburst.”
“Starlight wants me to do this too but I told her no.” Sunburst squirmed, shaking his head from side to side, and cast disturbed glances at the arched entrance in the hedgerow. “I don’t understand this part of crystal pony culture.”
“It is just something we do and Spike was brave enough to let it happen,” Chalcedony replied. “The whole of the Empire cried when Emperor Shining Armor and Empress Cadance said no.”
“Said no to what?” Chartreuse asked.
In response, Chalcedony giggled.
Overcome with curiousity, Chartreuse did what she always did in these situations; she took the lead. Shoving Nomination aside, she passed through the entryway of the hedgerows, turned left, walked down a cobblestone path, turned right, stepped through an ornamental archway, and then froze in place as a ferocious blush consumed her face.
There was a statue of Spike here that was at least three yards tall. He stood in a noble pose, arms uplifted, a beatific smile upon his draconic face. But that was not where Chartreuse’s eyes were drawn, no, Chartreuse found herself staring at the two streams of water that formed a graceful arch—which Spike was peeing out. Two streams of water. Chartreuse’s face burned a bright shade of fluorescent green and she wished, that for just this once, that she hadn’t been quite so curious.
The sound of Chalcedony giggling behind her only made Chartreuse blush harder, but it was Nomination’s reaction that sent her over the edge and almost caused her to scream. Much to Chartreuse’s dismay, she heard Nomination say, “Some of us are born with Janus-organs. It is a most curious breeding deviation.”
Sunburst sighed, because of course he did, and then he stood there looking everywhere but at the Spike statue. After a cough, he said in a low voice, “Parents bring their newborns here and lay them on, uh, the, uh, um, the natural cradle that is formed. Pictures are taken. I’ve never understood it. There were almost riots after Flurry was born and Shining Armor and Cadance tried to avoid doing it. Skyla had pictures taken here too. I’ll never understand the ways of the crystal ponies.”
“Students come here to catch a drink for good luck on their exams,” Chalcedony said to her companions. “Crystal ponies come here to make their most sacred oaths. The pee pledge is one of our most sacred oaths. Long ago, there was a statue of Princess Amore, and we drank from that, but King Sombra smashed it to break our spirits.”
“Starlight wants to come here too.” Sunburst took off his glasses, which had fogged over, and now stood squinting at Chalcedony. “I don’t understand her either.”
“Mares are mysterious,” Chalcedony said in a knowing voice. “I need a pee pledge saying that we’ll stick together. For reassurance.”
“There’s nothing in the regulations about this.” Nomination was staring straight ahead, his eyes affixed on the smiling dragon’s midsection. “This is a straightforward application of friendship principles and brings to mind the story that Twilight tells of her witnessing the Apple Family reunion. She encountered a lot of strange customs and she didn’t understand a lot of what was going on, but she didn’t need to. She only needed to understand that it was important to Applejack. By understanding the importance and the value assigned to the event by her friend, Applejack, Twilight was able to overcome her disgust for earth pony mud wrestling and was even able to enjoy herself a little bit.”
“Okay”—somehow, Chartreuse found her courage and committed herself to this course of action—“everypony into the fountain. If we show that we’re here for Chalcedony, maybe she’ll try harder. She just needs a little something to believe in.” Like Sunburst, she pulled off her eyeglasses and now had to squint, but at least her spectacles would stay dry. Resolute, she led the way, all while wondering what her parents might think of this strange custom.
Muttering to himself, Sunburst trudged forwards, his goatee bobbed in the breeze while his jaw moved, and stepped over the basin edge into the water with a splash. Spike, his arms spread wide, seemed glad to have visitors. Nomination was the next to join, and using his wing, he guided Chalcedony along. She didn’t stumble when stepping over the tall basin edge, but she did gasp due to the chill of the water.
One stream of water was about six inches or so in front of Chartreuse’s face, the other was about a foot or so away and to her left. She was almost tipped over into the drink when Chalcedony plowed into her, and it seemed that fillies would be drinking from one stream while Sunburst and Nomination would drink from the other. Everything about this felt wrong , but there was also a giddy sense of fun, a clandestine thrill in doing something so shocking as a group.
“I, Chartreuse Le Feu, of House Le Feu, give my word to be a steadfast friend to Chalcedony.” As far as oaths went, it wasn’t bad, being quite straightforward and to the point. Closing her eyes, she opened her mouth and plunged forwards, knowing the stream of water awaited her. Around her, she could hear her companions doing the same, making their own oaths, and when the water struck her snoot she paused to allow it to flow into her mouth.
The water was as cold as it was humiliating, but it was a small price to pay for Chalcedony’s happiness. Something about this whole ritual felt dirty, but there was something to it, something that Chartreuse could not put her hoof on. Stepping back, she shook the water from her muzzle, then made the mistake of opening her eyes and looking up.
Spike was smiling down at her; never again would she be able to look him in the eye.
Author's Note
Nothing says bonding between friends like shared humiliation.
According to Chalcedony, the Bonds of Embarrassment , as they were known, were the strongest bonds of all, and one simply did not break them, lest one wished to experience a lifetime of unending embarrassment. The blind filly was happy now, but she also seemed to be a bit quiet and rather withdrawn, even though she was clinging to Chartreuse’s side. Still, something about her embrace was reserved, as she lacked her usual enthusiasm. Even worse, Chartreuse missed Chalcedony’s usual enthusiasm; she kept thinking the most troubling of thoughts about her friend and longed to feel her wandering touch whilst they cuddled on the couch together.
It was wrong , she knew it, but try as she might, she could not corral her thoughts.
Nomination’s voice was in good form tonight, sounding almost like a cheerful, inviting fire burning away in the grate, and each word was scented with just a hint of smoke. An open history book lay on the floor in front of him and he lay on the floor with his book with one foreleg pressed down upon it to keep it open. He read of the Solanum family, one of Equestria’s great families who were very much like the Apples or the Pies, that is to say they were ubiquitous. The family had direct bloodlines to Princess Celestia, were of great prominence, held immense importance in the Unicorn Range region, and were responsible for Equestria having an abundance of potatoes.
If everything tasted like potatoes, they were the ponies upon which the blame could be rested.
Chalcedony had the appearance of a crystalline body, she was even somewhat translucent at this point, so full of love was she, but this was more illusion than anything else. Still, there was something about her friend that Chartreuse found appealing and her stray thoughts wandered to strange places while Nomination read aloud. A crystal pony was a sort of love-lamp, of a kind; a kiss, some affection, some adoration and they would glow ever brighter. But what might they do when swept up in a whirlwind of amorous bliss? How might they glow during a heated moment of amatory exploration? They made for unique partners because one could see the effect that one was having during heated, enamored acts.
One could go racing for the glow…
“Did something or somepony just die?” Chalcedony blurted out.
“That was me, sorry. Istanbullian food—”
“Not you, Nom! No! Him! ” Chalcedony shivered, a violent shuddering reaction that made her teeth clatter. Then, quick as a flash, she was on her hooves, she bounded across the room, hit the launcher, and was shot upwards.
At that moment the door banged opened and the savage tundra wind appeared, causing the candles’ flames to flicker, sputter, and then disappear. The curtains flew in a gale and then He appeared, saying, “Don’t be afraid.”
Somehow, Nomination was gone too, though Chartreuse wasn’t sure how it had happened. His book lay on the floor, its pages flapping about, and the only thing left of Nomination was a few stray hairs. With her home now in some disorder, Chartreuse turned a stern glare upon the cause of this chaos and gave him a feminine sniff of disapproval.
“Master, your dramatic entrances are inapropos .”
“Night terrors should be braver,” the cloaked figure in the doorway replied, and then, at last, he shut the door behind him after the last of the candles blew itself out. The twinkle of round steel goggles glinted in Chartreuse’s horn light and the goatee that hung down from the cloaked figure’s chin was like a hole cut into the darkness.
With an annoyed flick of magic, Chartreuse relit the candles and was tempted to turn on the electric lights just to be a pest. She stood, lifted her saddlebags, and grabbed her hat off of the decorative end table while Dim was rummaging around in his own saddlebags. He pulled out a package, which he held out to her, and which she placed into her own saddlebags.
Then, Dim held out something else for her. “Here you go. A precise magical implement. I crafted it for you.”
Eyes narrowed, Chartreuse peered through her glasses, still annoyed, and from upstairs she could hear Chalcedony’s laboured breathing, which was a dreadful distraction. Her eyes traveled the length of the iron rod that Dim held and after a moment, she remarked, “That’s a fireplace poker.”
Clearing his throat, he replied, “To the untrained eye, perhaps. But this is aligned cold iron. It used to be a fireplace poker. I have since aligned the iron in such a way that it naturally conducts a positive thaumaton charge. Be mindful, my apprentice, it feels peculiar to hold.”
When she took the fireplace poker into her magical grip, she quickly discovered what her master had meant. It vibrated in the most curious way and the tip of it, the business end that was a bit pokey and had a hook protruding from the side of it, that end wanted to swing around to point at her. The thrum was pleasant, in an odd sort of way, and comforting.
“It took me forever to align each of the iron molecules into a face-centered cubic structure and then fill the void within with a positive salt-purified thaumaton. Be mindful, the end result should be potent. Non corporeal entities will be drawn into the material realm.”
Mindful of her surroundings, Chartreuse gave her poker an experimental swing and found it to her liking. “We have business to attend.”
“Yes we do,” Dim replied while he gestured at the door. “Let us be going.”
This felt good, walking through the streets, shrouded in the night. It was a kind if shivery pleasure, a heady rush, a feeling of power. Chartreuse knew how she looked with Dim, wearing her conical hat and her cloak. There was a sort of romance here, a difficult to define love of the moment, to be a wizard and walk the darkened streets without fear or hesitation.
Dim was smoking his pipe, as he was wont to do, and the scent of cloves and sweet cannabis trailed along behind him. Chartreuse walked beside him, as was expected of her, and though she was smaller she dared not lag behind, even by a single step, or else there would be a lecture. In general, lectures were to be avoided. There were many that claimed that Dim was a difficult teacher, a harsh teacher, but Dim was a fair instructor; all one had to do was obey his instructions wholly and completely. If one did that, there would be no lectures, no unpleasantness, no… one would be treated as an equal, and that was exhilarating. But to be treated as an equal, one had to keep up and not fall behind, even if it meant trotting double-time.
“You scared poor Chalcedony almost to death—”
“She wanted to be scared,” Dim replied before Chartreuse could finish. “Soon, my apprentice, the ponies of the day will be frightened of you as well. You will appear and they shall flee from you, as is proper.”
“Well, I should hope not,” Chartreuse huffed while she gave her master a sidelong glance. “I do not wish for that to be, what I want—”
“What I want is for you to be honest and not to lie to me,” Dim interjected, his voice as cold as the icy night air. “Do you need a reminder to keep an honest tongue?”
“Master, no, I do not.” Chartreuse lowered her head, but kept her pace up.
“You revel in the night. Were you not just taking pleasure in our outing? Your emotions betray you, my apprentice. Were you not just caught up in the glamour of what we do? This is not the behaviour of a pony of the day. Your eyes are filled with brightness and joy, and not terror and trepidation for the task ahead. Your very demeanour betrays you and this dishonesty does not become you.”
Lips pressing together, Chartreuse contained her emotions and held back her reply, lest she say something out of place, a word misspoken due to errant emotion. It was almost as if she was transparent and her master could see right through her. Times like this were the times when he was his most terrifying, because it seemed as though he could peer into her very soul. It was impossible to keep secrets from him.
“Though it is nice to have a little fun once in a while, we must never abuse this innate fear that the ponies of the day have of us, my apprentice. This is the natural order of things. We represent the fear of the unknown. They fear us in the same way they fear what we will face tonight. This is a sacred fear, for it drives them into the light and keeps them there. By keeping them in the light, we keep them from the dark that might devour them. We save them from themselves. Where most would be at home, secure in their beds, we roam these streets in search of prey.”
Once upon a time, a sweet little filly by the name of Chartreuse had been a pony that rather liked being secure in her bed, venturing out during the day to go to school and to work in a fashionable boutique when school was finished. Oh, she was no stranger to violence, having grown up in Canterlot with the endless siege of the rats, but Dim had just pointed out one of his dreadful facts , one of the many reasons why so many disliked him. Now, that sweet little filly, she was out after dark, searching for trouble. Chartreuse was actually out on the prowl, preparing to fight monsters found beneath the bed.
At some point not that long ago, the world had turned topsy-turvy.
“Come, my apprentice, we are almost at our destination.”
This family had done quite well for themselves and their home reflected that. The tower was a good size, had a carriage house constructed of wood beside it, and everything had already been repaired after the recent unpleasantness involving the ice orcs. A low wall surrounded their property and it seemed as though every light in the tower was on.
It was strange, having to do this at night. During the day, shadowlings were insubstantial, intangible, and very nearly impossible to interact with. It was said that alicorn level magic could affect them, but alicorn level magic was rather rare. At night, they grew stronger, but also manifested more into material reality, meaning that, with the right magical training, one could interact with them. For a unicorn though, it meant facing these imps when they were at their most dangerous and posed the greatest threat.
Before Dim could reach the door, it opened and a crystal unicorn mare poked her head out. Each breath she took was visible, shooting out of her nostrils in great snorts, and the expression upon her face suggested that she was tired—as well as troubled. Dim paused, lifted his hat in greeting, and then dropped it back down upon his head.
“I’m so glad to see you,” the mare said, her voice cracking. “Do come inside. Come in out of the cold. I’ve been anxiously awaiting your arrival.”
Tilting her head back, Chartreuse looked up at the upper windows and then suffered an involuntary shiver. This house was unclean. A jumble of emotions assailed her as she approached and she worked to pull herself together before Dim took notice. If he did—and he just might—he would berate her right in front of these ponies, which would be awful. Gritting her teeth, she tucked her tail between her legs and screwed her courage to the sticking place.
The two foals were miserable, their faces pinched with terror, worry, and fatigue. Looking down at them, Chartreuse saw herself, the pony that she once was… a pony she was no longer sure existed. The colt, a crystal pegasus just like his father, was younger and smaller than his sister, but was still somehow the protective one of the pair. His sister, a crystal unicorn like her mother, was weeping with fear—fear which the shadowlings feasted upon and grew strong.
While Dim spoke in low tones to the father, Chartreuse pulled out the package that Dim had given her earlier, when he had arrived, and from this package she pulled four cookies. Special cookies, formulated by Dim himself, cookies loaded with herbal tranquilisers and mood boosters. Holding them up in the air with her magic, she waved them around, trying to entice the two foals.
“Be brave for me, and I’ll give you these cookies,” she said to the pair.
The colt stiffened, his wings fluttered, and his fuzzy little ears pricked. No glow could be seen coming from him, not even a slight glimmer, and Chartreuse knew this was a bad sign. These rude little imps were disrupting the magic of the Crystal Empire by messing with the ponies that generated the magic. Rude little imps would be dealt with in due time.
Alas, the filly had no bravery, but clung to her brother and shivered.
Lowering the cookies, she gave them to the foals while Dim continued his questioning. Every hair along her spine beneath her cloak stood up, but rather than just be terrified, which she most definitely was, Chartreuse also had an unladylike amount of anger. Why, if she strained, she could almost hear Rarity’s voice whispering in her ear, reminding her that a lady held her temper—until she didn’t.
“Eat these,” Chartreuse said to the foals. “Share them. Two each. Don’t be greedy, or I’ll tweak your ears.”
“We’ve been hearing them under our bed,” the mare said to Dim, embarrassed.
Lifting her head, Chartreuse took stock of everything she knew. Most adults convinced themselves that monsters beneath the bed didn’t exist, and as such, most adults were poor targets to feed upon. For an adult to succumb and become vulnerable to shadowlings, well, that was a bad sign, and Chartreuse knew it. Looking upwards at the ceiling, Chartreuse’s unicorn senses told her to run away, and fast.
Controlling her fear, Chartreuse stayed rooted to the spot while allowing her anger to override her fear. The pony that had once taken so much pleasure in the day died just a little more and the pony that took secret pleasure in the allure of the night gained some strength. Chartreuse had some vague awareness that she stood at some threshold, some barrier, and that going forwards meant never being able to go back.
“Is it safe for her to be here?” the pegasus stallion asked in a voice left raspy by fear and exhaustion.
“Mine apprentice?” Dim removed his hat, put his pipe away, and cast a sneering glance in Chartreuse’s general direction. “Mine apprentice is very safety coloured. Look at her and tell me that is not the colour of safety. We are the ones in danger, for we do not have the colour of safety.”
Blinking, the pegasus stallion appeared to be quite confused by what Dim had said.
“In fact, because I am so poorly protected, I’ll be sending mine apprentice to the above floors… alone. Those foals have been ensorcelled and are in need of an examination.” Dim smiled, and it was a sight that caused the blood to curdle like milk left out in Princess Celestia’s sun.
“Are… you sure that’s safe?” the mare asked.
Before Dim could respond, Chartreuse stepped up and spoke for herself. Whipping out her iron implement, she held it out for inspection and said, “I can handle myself. I’m armed.”
“That’s a fireplace poker,” the pegasus stallion said while he stared at the iron implement held aloft by Chartreuse.
“To the untrained eye.” Chartreuse found a little more of her courage, and Rarity’s voice offered some comfort, as well as a bit of showmareship. “This is aligned cold iron. A weapon of superiour enchantment created by my master. Shadowlings are imps, a subspecies of mephits, which are a type of infernal demon. All demons bear a severe allergy to iron, and this iron has been purified.”
Backing away, the crystal pegasus did not argue, but his eyes remained on the iron bludgeon that Chartreuse bore. The mare too, backed away, and then sidled closer to her husband. Dim was snickering now, rather rude , really, but Dim was Dim and not much could be done about him. Chartreuse was ready and was positive that she could take whatever might be lurking beneath the bed.
“Wait… before you go…”
It dawned upon Chartreuse that she alone could hear Dim’s voice right now and she could sense his magic upon her ears.
“You do not have to go up and face them alone. A choice awaits you, Chartreuse, a choice like the one you made when you chose to follow me out onto the tundra to take the fight to the ice orcs and rescue Flurry. This choice, once made, will have severe repercussions. You will lose more of what you once were and what you are becoming will gain strength. There may be no going back for you. If you choose to not go up there alone, I swear, I will not think any less of you. You were born of light, do not be so hasty to give in to the allure of darkness.”
Chartreuse—a filly that hadn’t even had a chance to sort out her sexual orientation, but had some painful awareness of her attraction to Chalcedony—now had the task of looking deep into her soul, an on the spot check of everything she was, as well as everything she would be. This was unexpected, and she was caught off guard. This was an on the job hazard that she was ill-prepared for.
“You tred a dangerous path, Chartreuse,” Dim said, his voice a whisper within her ears. “When you followed me onto the tundra, that was your first steps into the damnation of the night. When you fight with monsters, it leaves a stain upon the soul, Chartreuse, a stain that cannot be removed. It cannot be scrubbed away. This stain is a brand… it’s like a cutie mark, but it can’t be seen… by most. It sets you apart and leaves you different. You become the unspoken other. To fight monsters, you must first become more like them and make their strengths your own.”
Chartreuse swallowed and felt a cold sweat bead up along her neck.
“It will consume you… it will shred your soul and lay it to waste… but it will also make you stronger. Such is the price of strength, the price of power. Not even Celestia is immune and she only pretends to walk in the light, for the sake of the day dwellers. She lives a painful lie, appearing white and pure so that the ponies of the day might know peace and feel secure, but she and her sister are one and the same. Wait for me, and do not so carelessly give yourself over to the night, my beloved pupil.”
Tea or coffee? Colts or fillies? Night or day? The painful questions of life. Gnawing her lip, Chartreuse could feel the pressure. No matter what others might say, think, or believe, Dim had a sense of kindness, he could even be gentle, but he kept it secreted away. Even Nomination had some doubts about himself and gave voice to them from time to time. Right now, Chartreuse was feeling her companion’s angst, and it was now her own.
During the ice orc invasion, Flurry had been captured after some great act of stupidity. Dim had been tasked with recovering her, and others had joined him. Sunburst had gone with, but not because he wanted to, no, poor Sunburst honestly had no real choice in the matter. He went because he had to do so and though terrified, he had done his duty. Chartreuse had gone because she wanted to go. How could she not? Dim and Sunburst both were going into danger… and she had followed them. She had followed them into a swarming sea of tens of thousands of ice orcs. She had followed them into absolute and utter madness. Sunburst was a hero because he had overcome his terror to do the right thing, and Dim was a monster because he did it for the sake of the fight. Dim only needed a reason, an excuse, a justification no matter how flimsy it might be, and he would set the world ablaze.
Rarity’s voice suggested setting hoof onto the tundra had been an act of insanity…
And Chartreuse, in a moment of great pain, admitted to herself that she had a crush upon her former employer. For all she knew, her crush on the fabulous fashionista Rarity might have made her gay, but she had no understanding of how these things worked. Everything was just a jumbled, confusing sense of attraction, just as the night had its own glamour and allure. No more delusions, no more denial, it was time to face life on her own terms… and make a choice.
“I don’t know how this ends,” Chartreuse said to her master while she tightened her telekinetic grip on the iron fireplace poker. “But I wish to be a wizard. For me to do that, I feel that I must go up there alone and see what I am capable of. If you coddle me, I’ll never find out what I’m made of.”
Dim sighed, then said, “Very well then. We all face the damnation of the dark in our own fashion. Go then, my apprentice, and find your harrowing glory.”
Armed with her wits, her courage, and a fireplace poker, Chartreuse set off to find herself.
Author's Note
If a character says something, and believes in it hard enough, does that make it true?
This tower was big enough and spacious enough to have proper stairs, even if they were narrow, steep, and curved. Each of the risers that rose between the treads of the stairs had a mild enchantment to it, and lit with a soft glow when weight was applied to the step. It was the sort of pleasant thing that made one feel at home, a cosy, welcomed feeling of safety. But this home wasn’t safe; much of the Crystal Empire wasn’t safe for that matter. Because of its past, it was vulnerable to shadow infestations, a quirk of location and geography.
Shadows were always lurking, from the smallest hamlets to the largest metropolises, they were a constant threat, parasites that fed on ponies. Being a highly magical species meant that you had highly magical emotions that highly magical parasites loved to feed upon. Ponies, one of the most magical of species, were also one of the most vulnerable, with all manner of monsters evolved and adapted to feed upon them. Sunburst was already sharing his encyclopedic knowledge of parasitic bestiaries with her while Dim was teaching her how to deal with them. If only ponies knew and understood just how well her instructors worked together, how much respect they had for one another, and how close they were as friends.
At the top of the stairs, Chartreuse waited, her fireplace poker at the ready, and every muscle in her body twitched. She should’ve taken a nap today, like a responsible pony, because it had been a long day and she was now tired, which meant that she was not at her best going into this situation. This floor was a kitchen, as was typical in tower homes, and it had a spacious, spread out dining area.
She looked about, her eyes taking everything in, and noticed that the fruit bowl on the oval wooden table was filled with mouldering, rotten fruit. Blinking once, she saw that the fruit was now fresh again, which left her feeling somewhat unsettled. Visual hallucinations were never a good sign and she was all too aware of her own fear, which she fought to bring under control. Her horn told her that something was up, and she could feel a faint tug on the aligned iron fireplace poker; it wanted to point in another direction rather than at her.
This was a scene that had played out an infinite number of times, in an infinite number of cities, throughout an infinite number of circumstances. A wizard came into a dwelling to do the job of extermination, to cleanse the house of parasites. Not every wizard became a soldier, or a knight, no; some had far humbler aspirations, far more attainable goals. In these simple, humble jobs, Chartreuse found some attraction to Chantico and her ever-growing stable of Firekeepers.
A unicorn’s job was to keep the fires lit, to defend against the supernatural, and to be a boon to all—this was the view of the Firekeepers. Dim had told her the stories of the unicorns of old, going from house to house to keep the fires lit, to hold the darkness at bay, and banishing what might lurk in the darkness. Where Dim found romance in the tales of the knights of old, Chartreuse found allure in the working class wizards of old and of the modern day as well.
Crossing the kitchen floor, she approached the stairs that led upwards…
While making her way through the library and recreation room, Chartreuse heard a skittering from up above. That had to be an illusion, as shadowlings never skittered unless they wanted to be heard. They were stealthy, more shadow than substance, and it could be said that even their shadow was more of a suggestion.
There was magic here, fresh magic, and Chartreuse knew that much of what she had seen around here had been recently repaired with spells. So much had been damaged by the ice orcs. Hearing a muted ‘clunk,’ she whipped her head around and saw a billiard ball rolling along on a bumper pool table. A superstitious pony might call this place haunted, but a more accurate, more scientifically correct term was infested. Try as she might, Chartreuse could not swallow the hard lump in her throat. The billiard ball bounced off of the felted edge and continued rolling for a time before it came to an abrupt, unnatural stop.
“That’s very rude ,” she said to whatever might be listening. “Trying to scare a filly. By happenstance, I have the means to sort you out, I do.” While she spoke, the billiard ball began to spin in place, doing so with enough speed that it became blurry. “Fine, be that way. I’m coming up the stairs to sort you out.”
With a feminine huff of agitation, she did just that.
One hoof in front of the other, one step at a time, Chartreuse made her way upwards, singing out a comforting song in the sort of creaky voice that could only come from a terrified adolescent. “The old grey mare, she kicked on the whiffletree, kicked on the whiffletree, kicked on the whiffletree, the old grey mare, she kicked on the whiffletree, many long years ago.”
Even though the lights were on, it was darker up here, somehow, in some weird way.
Upon reaching the landing, Chartreuse halted and took stock of her surroundings. Something made her horn itch and the tugging on the iron fireplace poker was stronger now. It was colder up here, and while perhaps the family kept the bedrooms cooler for sleep, Chartreuse was convinced that the chill in the air was supernatural. Little blurts of sound could be heard on the edges of her hearing, but she couldn’t make out what they might be. When she breathed, her nostrils crinkled because the air both smelt and tasted foul. Whatever this was, it was strong enough to mess with all six of her senses.
Eyes darting to and fro, she progressed, pushing forward, pressing ahead even with her terror. From behind a door, something laughed, an obscene, perverse tittering that caused chills to go shooting up and down her spine. This was worse than one of Quiet Dark’s scary books, one of her mane-raising bedtime tales of terror. Chartreuse thought about the odd filly and was curious about how she might react to this situation, because she enjoyed being scared.
But then again, she was a Dark .
When she pushed open the door, she could feel eyes upon her. Beyond the door was a room for foals and she paused to look about. There was a bed perfect for fillies with fine bed curtains around it and there was a cabinet bed that was popular with some pegasus ponies. A soft night light glowed from within the cabinet bed, but the light seemed off somehow. Rather than a warm, inviting glow, the light was wan, yellow, and something about it seemed diseased.
Stuffed animals and dolls were piled upon every surface and Chartreuse was unsettled by the many lifeless eyes that seemed to be watching her every move. Two dolls, one of Empress Cadance and the other of Emperor Shining Armor stood snoot to snoot. Somepony had made them kiss. Blocks covered the floor and upon closer inspection, a trail of them led into the room like breadcrumbs.
Looking down, Chartreuse saw a fawn and a bright red ‘F’ on the first block, and on the second she saw a unicorn, but the letter was obscured, facing the floor. The third block had a blue crab, and the fourth block had a cat… or perhaps a kitten. The fifth block was a yak and a bright yellow ‘Y’ could be seen. As for the sixth, Chartreuse saw an octopus, and the seventh, an umber hulk.
Trembling, rage overcame poor Chartreuse, who let out an indignant squeal and then shrieked, “Rude! ”
All around her, she heard tittering, which seemed to be coming from the stuffed animals. Things rattled and bumped, stuff moved, and from beneath the curtained bed, there was an unpleasant moist sound, like a very loud slug slithering about. She was quite sweaty now, actually sweating in the freezing air, and this could not be mistaken for glowing. Rarity would have much to say about her condition, and about all of this as well.
“I am Lady Le Feu and I will not be addressed in such a manner!” Snorting, she stomped her hooves for good measure and readied her fireplace poker. “Come out! Show yourself! Take what is coming to you!”
Much to her surprise, something did come out. Beneath the bed, a shadow moved, and then she saw it, something that seemed to glisten in the glittery light cast by her horn. Chartreuse waited, her teeth clenched, and her eyes burned with her sense of outrage. What emerged from beneath the bed was difficult to look at, difficult to see, and had a wibble to it, because it was never meant to be looked at.
Chartreuse thought it was a slug at first, but it was too long for that, and it wasn’t a snake either. No, it was phallic , in fact, it very much looked like a stallion’s—AHEM!—and it was crawling along the floor like an inchworm, making obscene wiggles as it bunched up to push itself along. It was shocking, and it was horrifying, and to most fillies, it was a reason to faint—why the very sight of a slithering phallic under-the-bed monster was pure nightmare fuel…
But Chartreuse was not most fillies.
“UNCOUTH!” she cried while she brandished her iron bludgeon at the phallic horror.
Raising the fireplace poker high, Chartreuse then brought it down with a snarl and smashed the disembodied reproductive organ that had dared to offend her. There was a wet splat, a gooshy sound that defied all description, and unnerving laughter erupted all around her, including a rather perverse, “Rheeheehee!” that echoed within her fuzzy ears, which burned with great embarrassment.
The iron did its job, pulling the creature into the material realm, and also did it great harm. Its body collapsed into a puddle of black goo that bubbled like sticky tar, releasing foul fumes with each bursting blorp. Reaching into her saddlebag, Chartreuse pulled out a collection jar, unscrewed the lid, and gave the smooshed shadowling a pouty death-glare.
“You!” she breathed, incensed, “you’re going out into the sun on the morn! I shall watch you burn!”
Disgusted, she hardened her telekinesis, focused her will, and began to scoop up the remains of the creature from the floor, feeling sickened for having touched the unnatural abomination. Into the jar it went, where it continued to bubble and a faint keening sound could be heard among the burbles. The injuries caused by iron had to sting. Grimacing, feeling unclean, Chartreuse screwed the lid back on.
“Easy peasy—OOF!”
The unladylike sound was knocked out of her by the sudden impact of the cabinet bed, which had been flung across the room. Her glasses flew in one direction, the fireplace poker in another, and the glass collection jar clattered to the floor. Taken down, Chartreuse saw stars in her vision and she couldn’t tell up from down. The cabinet bed was made from wood, had substantial weight, and had been hurled with great force.
Chartreuse was now full of the stupids and overhead, she saw a flock of circling alicorns, a most curious phenomenon. There were quite a few, but it was impossible to count them, because they kept going in and out of focus. One flew down, a pretty one of black, grey, bespeckled, and silver, and he hovered right in front of her nose.
“Don’t yous goes takin’ that from no spooky house! Get up! Give it a ‘Why I oughta! ’ Don’t just lay there like a bum!”
Then, like a popping soap bubble, the curious alicorn of encouraging recovery was gone, departing with a squeak very much like a squeezed rubber duckie. Chartreuse blinked, trying to clear her head, and it slowly dawned upon her that she was laying on her side. Was anything broken? She couldn’t tell. Everything hurt though, but in particular, her left foreleg seemed frozen, which was odd.
Chartreuse’s brain telegraphed for the rest of her body to get moving, but nothing wanted to respond. She could almost feel the beep beep beeps travelling along her nerves, jolting them, and the curious cold in her foreleg grew unbearable. With great effort, she was able to angle her head, look down, and glance at her leg. It seemed dull somehow, as if it had lost its colour or was somehow a little less than real.
“Stop hitting yourself!” a shrill voice cried and a second later, Chartreuse’s hoof smashed into her vulnerable lips.
A flood of coppery liquid filled her mouth, more stars filled her vision, and her groin muscles all clenched from the searing agony that bloomed over her tender muzzle. It was so bad that it robbed her of breath, left her lungs empty, and her vision took on a strange, grainy tint.
“Stop hitting yourself!” Again, her own hoof smashed into her mouth, somehow causing even more pain than before, and cruel disembodied laughter could be heard all around her. “Stop hitting yourself!” The third impact took Chartreuse to places she was not aware had existed, and she could feel that her lip had torn this time, crushed between her hard hoof and her bottom teeth.
“Stop hitting yourself!”—BAM! —“Hey, stop hitting yourself!”—BAM! —“Stop that! Stop hitting yourself!”—BAM!
At some point, Chartreuse lost track of the blows, her lower lip had shredded itself against her teeth, and her nostrils were clogged with blood. The tiny spark of life that remained in her brain told her that she was killing herself, blow by blow, she was almost certainly killing herself.
“Silly pony, stop hitting yourself!”—BAM!
Howling laughter swirled around her, as something found this downright hysterical. The lifeless eyes of the stuffed toys and dolls watched as she bludgeoned herself over and over, her hoof smashing into her muzzle repeatedly, without mercy.
In an act of desperation, she ignited her magic, reached out while somehow thinking of iron, and when her hoof smashed into her face yet again she almost succumbed to the encroaching darkness that threatened to devour her, the lightless void that would be her undoing. The laughter seemed distant now and the sound of a million bees filled her ears. Her telekinesis touched something cold, something hard, and just before her hoof could smash into her mouth once more, she brought the fireplace poker down upon her own foreleg with all of the force she could muster.
Skin sizzled like hot oil in a pan and this pain—an entirely new volume of suffering waiting to be read—snapped her to her senses. This pain was quite unlike any other, and smoke rose in curls from where the cold iron pressed into her flesh. Bellowing, wickering, she pressed the iron down harder in an attempt to reach deeper, applying as much pressure as she could, and black smoke billowed from around the spot of contact.
Tendrils of congealed goo lept forth from her possessed leg, trying to flee, but she grabbed them in her telekinesis. Slippery though they were, as damaging to the mind as they were to seize, Chartreuse fought back against her fading consciousness while trying to maintain her grip upon them. Bringing the poker to bear, she snagged the eldritch tentacles of black goo which like sticky strands of taffy, were stretched and wrapped around the cold iron. Tapping into her rage, she set the shadowling ablaze, hoping to hurt it in the same way she had been hurt.
Holding the fireplace poker aloft, Chartreuse somehow rose to her hooves, her knees wobbling and banging together. Had she been lifted somehow? How was she standing? She had no idea. Her iron implement was bent and her left foreleg was still smoking, though the flesh was curiously unburned. A vile stench now filled the room, the foul miasma of charred shadowling umbraplasm.
In her telekinesis, the iron fireplace poker burst into vivid pink flames and she thought to herself, It’s happening again! This had happened before, when the ice orcs had invaded, and she had gone out to defend her home and her friends. She had gone outside to face impossible odds—a certain death if ever there was one—but the pink flames had sustained her long enough to shield the tower, her friends, and herself until help had arrived.
It consumed her now, revitalising her, easing some of her pain, and she could feel her flesh knitting back together. Whatever this was, it was miraculous, wondrous, and she would endure almost any suffering to feel this rapturous sensation that overtook her now. Strength returned to her limbs and much of her anguish diminished.
Shadow will not claim one of my Precious Ones. Arise, and do my bidding, Chartreuse Le Feu, for I have spared you from a fate worse than death.
The disembodied voice thundered through the bedroom and left strange buzzing echoes like secretive spectral bees in Chartreuse’s ears. All around her was a fiery pink nimbus its gentle warmth returned feeling to her frozen left foreleg. Though her lips were still injured, they were no longer mangled as they once were, and she was forced to endure the curious sensation of several of her teeth wiggling, burrowing down into her gums to secure themselves once more.
Chartreuse Le Feu, daughter of Remède, her mother, and Pasteur Le Feu, her father, was now righteously indignant. For the second time, the curious pink fire had surrounded her, and just like the first time, it had given her the strength she needed to go on. Though her body still ached, though bloody drool still poured from her mouth and bloody snot dribbled from her nostrils, Chartreuse Le Feu was back in the fight.
One was left. Consumed by pink fire, Chartreuse was all too aware of its presence, and it offended her. Lifting her crooked fireplace poker, she stalked ahead towards a chest of toys, determined to face her final enemy. Warm blood pumped though her heart and down her left leg, banishing the freezing cold, warming the unwanted deathly chill. To die while possessed by shadowlings was to become a shade… or worse. A dreadful fate had been averted and Dim had been spared from having to battle her revived shadow-possessed corpse.
For this, Chartreuse was grateful.
With a snarl, she flung open the lid to the toy chest and swirling darkness awaited her inside. Something foul lurked, something insidious and blasphemous to the light. Hearing the scrape of wood against stone, Chartreuse raised a kite shield shaped barrier of hardened telekinesis just in time to stop the incoming cabinet bed, which struck with terrific force. This wasn’t her special shield, which was almost impervious and durable, no, this was just a barrier spell, the very reason why she had to practice to harden her telekinesis. The kite shield manifestation had been taught to her by Shining Armor himself.
The other bed was flung, then more things were hurled. A tornado of toys buffeted her and she couldn’t block them all. She didn’t dare raise her special shield, her signature special spell, because doing so would cause more harm than good. Books, dolls, and toys formed a chaotic swirl around her, and the tiny pink Empress Cadance flapped her wings while trying to kick Chartreuse in the face.
“Let me go and I’ll give you power unimaginable,” a slimy, detestable voice promised from within the roiling darkness of the toy chest.
“I think not,” Chartreuse replied, her words slurred by her injured, battered lips. “I do not bargain with uncouth creatures.”
Raising her poker, she smashed the Empress Cadance doll away from her and then poked the end of the iron impaler down into the toy chest. There was a hissing fizzle, like a bottle of soda being opened, followed by a truly feculent and putrescent stench that came wafting out. In agony, the shadowling screeched and then flew up out of the toy chest, its gross, indescribable body half-in and half-out of material reality. It struggled to take shape, to find something that would shock or horrify Chartreuse, but she was well past the point of being scared.
Reality unzipped mid-air, right before Chartreuse’s eyes, and beyond the rift she saw something that mortal eyes weren’t quite meant to see, which left her confused and disoriented. Though she would never be able to describe what she had seen, she knew full well what it was, and she knew that her prey intended to escape.
“NO!” Moving with a speed that surprised her, Chartreuse brought her poker down upon the escaping imp and caught him a glancing blow. “NO!” she growled, her bloody lips curling back, baring her bloody teeth, and before the clobbered shadowling could hit the floor, she struck him again midair. “NO!” This time, when she struck him, he went flying into the wall and collided with a wet, gooey splat that left a stain of improbable impossibility upon material reality. Like some lewd, rude inkspot, the shape it formed was just offensive , but Chartreuse was done looking away.
With an incomprehensible sound, reality zipped itself back up and the portal to Tartarus vanished.
For the final time, she brought her fireplace poker down upon the offending shadowling, and then, snarling in bloody, grotesque triumph, she set it ablaze. Foul smoke rose and she retreated, stepping back, still holding her fearsome weapon that was wreathed in pink flames, just as she was also. As the shadowling died, the lights seemed to grow a little brighter, the chill in the air dissipated, and the stifling sensation of evil departed.
“Rude!” Chartreuse stomped her left front hoof, which still felt peculiar, but her rage wasn’t spent. “Uncouth! Just uncouth! ”
The last of the shadowling turned to ash upon the floor, foul black ash that would need a vigourous scrubbing and decontamination magic. Everything was a mess, the room was a disaster zone, but everything felt serene and peaceful. Weakness deadened her limbs and the pink nimbus around her began to fade, the flames extinuishing. More of the pain returned and as the flames subsided, Chartreuse realised that she was pretty messed up.
“What is going on?”
The words were like two pieces of parchment being rubbed together, dry crackly words, and Chartreuse stumbled when she tried to turn about. Dim stood in the doorway and she guessed that behind his goggles, his eyes were probably darting around the room. She was a bit more wobbly than she would have liked to be, and would have liked for her master to have seen her in a moment of proud triumph—but Chartreuse was too much of a mess for that.
“I felt a rift to Tartarus open…” Dim’s words were little more than a whisper. “Forgive me, Chartreuse, for I have gravely misjudged this situation. Things were far worse than my initial assessment. Why didn’t you call for help, foolish filly?”
With a clatter of metal against stone, the fireplace poker landed upon the floor and Chartreuse, woozy from her injuries, would have joined it had Dim not caught her. His telekinesis was mature, strong, somehow terrifying and comforting at the same time, just like one of her father’s hugs. While she was held aloft in a muted amber glow, pink aetherfire lifted up her glasses, repaired them, and then tucked them into a hidden pocket beneath her cloak.
The glass collection jar was also lifted, and Dim began to examine it. “You fetched me a sample—”
“No!” Chartreuse blurted out, and she shook her head while bloody drool trickled down to the floor.
“No?” Dim’s face, what could be seen of it, remained impassive. “You would deny your master?”
“That one is going into the light… he… it… it offended me!”
This brought a dreadful smirk to her master’s face, and Chartreuse, now held aloft, took comfort in the sardonic expression. Now the pink glow was moving on to other things and Chartreuse’s pain-addled brain marvelled at how Dim could manipulate two separate streams of magic. His eyes, his eyes were the key. Beds were righted, books flew back onto shelves, toys were put away, a twister of organisation consumed the room to put everything back in order.
Dim even cleaned up the imp residue and ashes, though she felt bad for not doing her part to clean up. The glass collection jar was stuffed into her saddlebags and her hat was picked up from off the floor where it had fallen. In that, she had failed; a wizard had to be mindful of their hat and she knew that she would be catching a lecture from Dim later. A hat was all about responsibility; if a wizard couldn’t keep track of their hat and be responsible for it, then how could they possibly be responsible for bigger, better, more important, more meaningful things?
“Whatever happened here,” he began, and his voice was like leaves blowing in winter’s harsh wind, “this will stay with you. You saw things. Did you look into the portal?”
For a moment, perhaps because of pain, she considered lying, but then thought better of it. When she gave Dim a faint nod of acknowledgement, she saw a sorrowful expression upon his face, what little of it that she could see without her glasses. A sad sigh was heard and then she listened to the steady patter of her own bloody slobber trickling down upon the floor in great, fat droplets.
“I was careless, as I tend to be,” Dim murmured and his voice was almost inaudible. “This was supposed to be just dangerous enough to be a test… nothing more. Cadance is going to give me the reaming I so rightfully deserve. Blackbird too. I am going to have a bad day.”
“I wizarded!” Chartreuse blurted out as the stupids crept into her brain. The pink flames were gone, her adrenaline was fading, and the pain was rapidly overcoming her senses. “I wizarded real good! I wizarded them to death.”
“You show curious signs of possession—”
“I had to stop hitting myself.” Chartreuse lifted up her left front hoof, which was bloodstained. “Chantico set me on fire again.”
“Did she now?” There was a great deal of interest in Dim’s voice, even if his face showed no sign of it.
“It’s gone now. My brain no worky. I’m sad.”
“I bet you are. Let’s get you looked at, Chartreuse.”
“But I wanna go home!” she whined, doing so as much as she dared.
“After you get examined, perhaps…”
The bitter night air made her face sting, but also numbed it, so she couldn’t feel much of anything. What stung even worse though was the fact that Dim was carrying her, as if she was some foal that was up way past their bedtime. Anger and resentment burned within Chartreuse’s breast, and though quite feeble, she put up quite a struggle. There was no way that she was going to make this easy.
Dim coughed, a dreadful, whooping sound, and Chartreuse went still for a moment while he recovered. When the coughing did not cease, she grew even more worried, and even worse, she felt helpless. Deep inside of him, she could hear it, the grating, barking, sucking consumptive cough, and hearing it was somehow scarier than facing the shadowlings all alone.
“Put me down!” Chartreuse demanded while she put up a token struggle.
“Is there a problem?” a distant voice asked and then a great shining light appeared in the darkness.
Dim hacked a little more then managed to wheeze out, “Go about your way, Constable.”
“Prince Dim, I did not realise—”
“I am not a prince of this realm,” Dim gasped out in supreme annoyance. “Away with you!”
The crystal unicorn, bedecked in resplendent armor, ignored Dim’s request and continued to approach, his horn glowing like a beacon. “Just doing my job… in the dead of the night somepony is hauling a filly around and she’s hollering to be put down. This is why I hate the night… I hate it. All of the weird stuff happens at night and I’m stuck dealing with it. All of the worst stuff happens at night.”
Chartreuse listened as Dim seethed and wheezed.
“You’re bleeding… I can see it in your beard—”
“I am in need of another healing!” Dim snapped. “Mind your own business, Constable.”
“How about I carry this filly for you?” the constable offered.
“I can walk—”
“No you can’t!” Dim coughed out the words and then hawked up a wad of bloody phlegm, which he then spat out. “She needs to be seen by a doctor… ugh, my failures multiply this night. I’ve been delaying the healing because it takes me out of commission for a while.” Here, he paused, coughed, and spat again. “I’m too weak to teleport that far. Your help would be appreciated, Constable.”
“Of course.” There was a clunk from the constable’s armor as he snapped to attention.
“You shouldn’t hate the night,” Dim said in a reedy, wheezing whine to the constable. “Some of us have no choice but to embrace it.”
“And some of us have no choice but to work in it,” the constable replied. “If I had my druthers, I’d never leave the barracks at night. I’m scared of the dark, as any reasonable pony of sane mind should be. I can’t even imagine why the two of you would be out at this unalicornly hour.”
Shaking his head, Dim coughed a bit and made a gesture with his hoof. “I pity you.”
Though dulled with pain, Chartreuse’s mind seized upon this moment and after a bit of difficult thinking, she knew that she pitied the constable too. He was a pony of the day, forced to work the night, and being what he was, he was blind to all of the wonder, beauty, and majesty around him. Like other ponies of the day, he was blind at night. Chartreuse realised that she wasn’t blind—she saw the attraction of the night.
In her current state, it was far too confusing a thought and she longed to be home…
Author's Note
You gotta admit, it will look good on the résumé.
“Chartreuse…”
The voice saying her name was unfamiliar, or was it? It was hard to tell. In her bed, Chartreuse stirred and when she approached wakefulness, her consciousness begged with her to remain asleep. With awareness came pain, dreadful pain, her body was stiff and achy, almost as if she had some debilitating flu. In particular, her left foreleg had some mighty unpleasant sensations that she wasn’t ready to sort out.
“Chartreuse, you must forgive me, but I wish to speak with you. My time is precious and limited. I have only but a moment that I can spare to converse with you, for I am exhausted after my nightly labours and the duties expected of me.”
Too-warm pillows were just the worst and as Chartreuse’s mind roused itself from slumber, she knew that her pillow needed a good turning over. Her body was warm—far too warm in some places, the hot, achy places that seemed to have their own heartbeats. Warmth brought about by pain was the worst sort of warmth that Chartreuse could think of. Her jaw was stiff, her teeth hurt, and she gained a keen awareness of the three stitches in the corner of her mouth.
Opening her eyes, which was quite a difficult task, really, she saw blue, too much blue. “Princess Luna!”
Thrashing about, she tried to get out of bed, which sent shooting, stabbing pains through her body. It was enough to make her see stars though, and before she could get out of the bed to give the visiting princess her due, a powerful force held Chartreuse down, almost smothering her. Even pinned down, she struggled to rise, to get out of her bed so that she might get down upon the floor and prostrate herself before the Night Lady, as was proper.
“Hold still. ” The words carried magical compulsion and Chartreuse was powerless to resist them. “You really are obtuse! What is to be done with you?”
Whimpering, Chartreuse went still and then was overcome by all of the pain in her body. This made her wiggle a bit more, even though she tried to stay still, and she curled up into a fetal position when the agony overwhelmed her. Princess Luna’s kind face remained in her vision though, and a great deal of emotion could be seen manifesting in a myriad of expressions.
“I came to congratulate you on a job well done,” Princess Luna said in the softest, most soothing of whispers. “And to check on you. You saw things… truly dreadful things… and for a time, you were possessed.”
Right away, the reminder proved to be too much and the entirety of Chartreuse’s body revolted. A slithering disembodied reproductive organ came to mind, but beyond that, past the shape and form it took, was the creature itself. She had seen them. With her own eyes, she had looked upon them. A soft sob escaped her swollen lips and she curled even tighter into the fetal position while Princess Luna looked on.
And then, Chartreuse remembered that she had gazed into Tartarus itself.
It proved to be too much, it was all too much. The pink fire was gone, and with it the protection it had offered, the cheerful warmth that had sustained her. What she had seen was too awful to be remembered, but it remained somehow in the corner of her mind’s eye, offering horrifying, teasing glimpses of the great and mysterious unknown, a realm beyond mortal comprehension.
Even worse were the memories of it being inside of her, a deeper and far more terrifying realisation of the metaphorical form that one of the imps had taken. One of the imps had gone beyond merely taking the shape of what scared her—she had been violated and once inside of her body, the dreadful shadowling had abused her, molested her . The knowledge of it now, in the golden light of morning was almost too much to bear, and when Chartreuse squeezed her eyes shut, tears came out in a flood, somehow pushing past the floodgates that were her eyelids.
“My beloved little pony, I am truly sorry that you came to have this intimate understanding of the nature of evil.” There was immense warmth and sincerity in Princess Luna’s voice, but also sorrow and regret. “What you faced, they took on your worst fears… the fears of most fillies your age… those who are in transition and cannot bear to face the painful embarrassment of sorting everything out. This is a time when you are at your most vulnerable, and your fears were exploited.”
Try as she might, Chartreuse could not contain her sobs, and blubbered even as the princess stood watching.
“Dim is grieving your loss and he is taking this hard. He is a foolish little pony, but he is dear to me because of his faults. He insists that you were not ready for such a test, but he is wrong, Chartreuse… he is wrong. Were you not ready, I do believe that you might have died. The very fact that you lived, for whatever reason, is testament to your readiness. Dim will see this in time, but do allow him his foolish sentiments.”
Feathers, warm and soft, tickled Chartreuse’s ears, and she took comfort in the soft, reassuring touch. Princess Luna’s words had a ring of truth to them. Sure, the pink flames had come once again to bolster her, but Chartreuse knew that she was a worthy vessel for said flames… otherwise, they would not have come. In this, she took comfort, and a bit of pride. Sniffling, snuffling, the sobs subsided a bit and Chartreuse felt her face being wiped with the corner of her blanket. Still, she wept.
“This happened at a time when you are most vulnerable, and it is a fear that I understand, truly I do. It will hurt for a time, but make no mistake, you will heal, and you will grow strong. Already, you show great potential. You are a bold filly, Chartreuse. You boldly came to the Crystal Empire, you boldly sought out one of the most powerful ponies in all of Equestria, you boldly requested that Emperor Shining Armor of the Crystal Empire be your master, and you boldly thought of him as a unicorn, separating him from his role as Emperor. Last night, you boldly went up the stairs, alone I might add, and you boldly faced an evil that was waiting, prepared, and ready for you. Whereupon your arrival at the chosen battlefield, you boldly delivered the most savage ass-whuppin you could muster.”
So shocked was poor Chartreuse by Princess Luna’s words that she ceased to weep.
“If you do nothing else for the entirety of your life, you have established yourself as being bold , Chartreuse. Sadly, the bold do not deal with boredom well and typically become disturbers of the peace. Such will likely be your fate.”
“Oh no,” Chartreuse whined, “I would never be a disturber of the peace, that would be… uncouth.”
“Your claim is dubious and leaves me with great doubt,” Princess Luna deadpanned.
“Will the light fade for me?” Chartreuse asked, baring her heart to the Princess of the Night.
“You have been listening to Dim.”
“He is my master, if I did not listen to him, he would scold me, and his scoldings are dreadful.”
“As well they should be.” Princess Luna maintained her deadpan but her expression softened as her extreme exhaustion crept over her features. “Dim has some pessimistic viewpoints… it isn’t that things are black and white for him, because they are not, but he suffers from a wounded mind. As I am sure you have realised by now, Dim is totally, thoroughly, completely grey in his nature and he seeks justification. For Dim, those who join the night are those who are like him—morally grey without being evil. This is what he believes , and he is a fervent believer, because it eases his isolation and his loneliness.”
“You did not answer my question, but you did an excellent job of diverting my attention.” Tears trickled down as Chartreuse found the strength to raise her head from her pillow. It felt as though she had been struck by a train, and the truth wasn’t far off. “Shining Armor is a dutiful instructor, though his lessons are brief.”
“The appeal of the light doesn’t have to fade.” Princess Luna sighed out the words and sounded rather defeated. “There are those who tread between night and day. Princess Twilight Sparkle lives up to her name and she walks a very difficult path. Prince Gosling too, makes a valiant effort to find a balance, for my sake, and it makes his life one of great difficulty.”
“There is something you’re not telling me.”
“Still bold, Chartreuse.” Princess Luna’s eyes flashed and her folded wings flapped once against her sides. “In time, it will grow very difficult for you. The more you embrace certain things, the unknown mysterious things that are triggers for foolish superstition, the more the ponies of the day will reject you. You will become like the very things that they don’t understand, the things that they fear, you will become a representation of the unknown to them. This was my undoing, but it doesn’t have to be this way for you. Become a wizard. Perform alchemy. Root yourself in what is known, what is comforting, and what is familiar.”
With great sadness, Chartreuse saw the truth of things. “We both know that I won’t do that, Princess Luna. Not after last night. Knowing what is out there, what lurks in the night, I cannot in good conscience turn away. After what was done to me… after having that… thing inside of me, violating me and controlling my flesh… I will keep going up the stairs, alone if necessary, and I will seek these things out to destroy them.”
“Then yes,” Princess Luna began, “the light will fade for you. For you to fight these creatures, you must become like they are.” The Night Lady sighed, a weary sound, and gave a sorrowful shake of her head. “I have left you a book, it rests upon your table just beneath your eyeglasses. It is a book for a privileged few, a grimoire of powerful knowledge for those who take up the call to battle. The knowledge within can be used for great evil… but it can also be used to combat evil. After your actions last night, you have shown that you can be trusted.”
“What is the book?” Chartreuse asked.
“You shall see soon enough,” Princess Luna replied, her words both tired and teasing. “I need rest and so do you. Be well, Chartreuse the Bold, and may your courage be equal to the vividity of your colouration.”
“Thank you.” She lifted her head a little more and then Chartreuse looked Princess Luna in the eye, a bold move. “I will prove worthy of your trust, Princess Luna.”
Bowing, the Night Lady then turned around, let out a fillyish laugh, and vanished down the hole in the floor. Chartreuse blinked a few times, her eyes still stinging from her tears, and maybe, perhaps from the light as well. She pulled her right foreleg free from beneath the blankets, wiped her face with it, and decided that she needed a shower, or maybe a hot bath. Afterwards, she would fix a meal, some tea, and check out her new book. That would be fine.
For now, while it lasted, she would cherish the light and all it gave her.
On the stove, the kettle fussed as it began to warm and beside it, upon another burner, some tinned soup was heating in a saucepan. Chartreuse hadn’t even paid attention to what it was, only that it was rather orange coming out of the tin. So distracted was she that she failed to notice the delightful smell when the tin had been cracked open.
She had the house all to herself, at least for now, with her companions attending their classes. Sitting at the table, she reached out with her telekinesis and gave the soup a good stirring. Content that all was well, Chartreuse lifted the book that Princess Luna had left for her, which was heavy in a manner most disturbing.
Of course, it didn’t help that the book was bound in leather of all things.
There was nothing on the cover, nothing on the spine, just a plain cover that couldn’t decide if it was faded black or weathered grey. The book stunk of magic, resisted being held, and didn’t seem keen on being opened. Chartreuse was forced to engage a contest of wills and after a brief struggle, was the victor.
Inside, on the very first plate she found the words, Ex Libris Exorcista .
These words were very difficult to look at, because they moved, shifted, and played tricks on her eyes in much the same way that the shadowlings had. Chartreuse, a clever filly, realised that by forcing herself to look directly at the unknowable eldritch horrors, she had opened her eyes—forcibly it could be said—and now, as a direct consequence, she could see the words scribed in this grimoire.
She thought of the shadowling still trapped in glass, and savoured the time spent waiting. When she was ready, she would go outside, perhaps after some lunch, but for right now there was a book that was rather sulky about her having a look at it. What curious ink had penned these words that it rejected light and sight?
When her left foreleg brushed up against the book, there was a curious sensation, a peculiar buzzy tingle that was almost uncomfortable. A few pages in, she found a folded up sheet of parchment with her name upon it. Curious, she unfolded it, gave it a shake, and adjusted her glasses so that she might see the tiny letters better.
Dearest Bold Filly,
You opened the book as I knew you would and no doubt, you have already begun your clever observations. Perhaps I could interest you in an ancient calling, one that has fallen out of favour but there is great need for. Last night, you were possessed; this is a unique condition that is almost always fatal. Few survive it, and those that do gain magical resistance. Some go on to survive the next possession, and the next, gaining valuable, precious resistance. As you no doubt have already figured out, the circumstances to gain this invaluable resistance are quite unique.
The book is written in shadowling ink, the squeezed, distilled essence of imps. By learning to read it, by gaining command over it, you will also learn how to look upon them and gain command over them. Your eyes have been opened, Bold One, and great mysteries have been revealed to you. If the book gives you too much trouble, do give it a smack with your purged limb, which has now transmogrified to become an anathema to fell and infernal creatures. You purified your own limb with iron, which is something that even one such as I cannot even begin to imagine; the pain must have been excruciating, the very essence of nightmares. It causes me to shiver when I think of it.
I assure you, any sounds, cries, whimpers, and or howls of pain are illusions, as I sincerely doubt the book can feel any sensation, though that is a matter of scholarly debate. It was crafted with ancient magics and each word, each letter was written with pen tipped with cold iron.
At some point, Bold One, you will be fitted with iron shoes.
Best of luck with your righteous smiting,
Luna, Princess of the Night.
“Exorcist,” Chartreuse said to herself, saying as if it were a fancy dress that she tried on for size. Eyes narrowing, she looked down at her left forelimb, trying to make sense of what had been done to it, and all she could think of was just how close she had come to transitioning into shadehood. The memory of the iron pressing into her flesh and the ensuing pain was almost too much to bear and when her eyes welled up with tears, she clutched her weird limb to her barrel.
It had been violated. She had been violated. No, she knew that she should not treat her violated limb as a separate entity, it was still her. Cradling her leg, she gave it a hug and thinked reassuring thinks at it, to let it know that she still loved it. The warm smell of saffron, squash, and beans filled the kitchen, and though Chartreuse could not be certain, it seemed as though her limb was responding to the warm, positive affection, as well as the cosy mood.
“You and I,” she said to her leg in the warmest, most affectionate tone she could muster, “you and I, we’re going to be just fine.” Her stitched lip was stinging now and she was in need of something to soothe the pain. Yes, her limb had tried to kill her, but it could be forgiven.
Folding up her precious letter, Chartreuse hugged it to her chest along with her weirded limb. It felt good to be trusted, to be Shining Armor’s apprentice, and to have both Sunburst and Dim as her teachers. She was grateful for her friends too, Chalcedony, who was dear to her for obvious reason, and Nomination, who understood the burden, the weight of nobility.
Chartreuse knew that if she could face the shadowlings, certainly she could face Nomination’s mother…
Author's Note
What is this? Unreliable narration in my story? Dim said something that might have varying degrees of truth to it?
In the midst of tea and a few chocolate biscuits, Chartreuse found her calm once more. While the horrors of the previous night were still with her, she regained her outward composure. Nibbling on a biscuit, she took stock of what she believed to be true. She rather liked tea, and probably had a preference for it, but rather enjoyed coffee and the enjoyment of one did not exclude her from the other. Fillies held a certain alluring attraction, especially white ones with plush, inviting curves along with alluring feminine voices, and while she enjoyed looking at them a great deal, there was nothing stopping her from looking at colts—later perhaps, when she was ready. Chartreuse knew that she owed it to herself to explore her options and be fully aware of her choices.
As for night or day, she would continue to walk in the day for as long as was possible, for as long as the ponies of the day would welcome her, and then, perhaps, she might go quietly into the night. But there was a long time between now and then, with a multitude of factors, not to mention the fact that life had funny plans of its own, often enough. For now, it was enough to be bold and see what life had to offer.
The truth had to be told to Chalcedony, she owed that to her friend, and perhaps telling Rarity the truth would be best as well. If she kept secrets, shameful secrets, if she kept skeletons in her closet as the old creepy saying went, then any encounters with shadowlings in the future might go badly. Why, if one of them ever took the form of Chalcedony, or even Rarity, and she had to strike them down, well, one might hesitate and that would be disastrous.
Seized with a brilliant idea, Chartreuse decided to bake brownies to make herself feel better.
The whole of the tower was filled with the aroma of something almost exotic and foreign. Chartreuse, in a fit of inspiration, had added some of the spicy chai powder to the brownie mix, not knowing the outcome. Now, her pan of brownies was cooling atop the stove, and her home smelled wonderful, just wonderful. Chalcedony and Nomination hadn’t been sent home early today, and that was a good sign.
But they would be home any time now and Chartreuse was anxious to see them.
There were things to tell them; important things, life-changing things, things that had to be said. Nomination had to be pushed into the light, so that he wouldn’t live a lie. Chalcedony had to be told the truth. The house had to be cleaned up and be put in order before Nomination’s mother showed up, which meant that there was a lot to do with very little time to do it. Nomination in particular, really needed to be sorted out so that he would be in a good condition to face the Major when she arrived.
Surely, the Major would appreciate cleanliness.
And if not… the Major could shove off.
“Chartreuse…” Chalcedony’s shock and surprise was such that she used her friend’s full name. “Your leg, it’s all glowy… and you… you’re a bit glowyer than you were. Is that a word, glowyer? I mean, you’re not super-bright, but you’re glowy-er, I guess?”
Eyes moistening a bit, Chartreuse looked down at her left foreleg but really couldn’t see much of anything that was different. She inhaled, lifted her head to look at her friends once more, and then saw that Nomination was sniffing, no doubt trying to figure out what she had baked by what he could smell.
“Shining Armor brought you home last night,” Chalcedony continued and her voice grew extra-squeaky. “You were completely out of it and I was freaked out and worried about you but Shining Armor said that you were fine but I was scared and worried and so he tucked you into bed and then he told me a bedtime story to calm me down and then when I felt better he tucked me into bed, he kissed me goodnight, and then he kissed you goodnight, and then after that, he was gone.” Now breathing hard, the blind filly sucked in some much needed wind.
Chartreuse could remember nothing of coming home and could only barely remember getting her lip stitched. But coming home? She had no memory of that and when she thought of Emperor Shining Armor—her master—tucking her into bed, she blushed so hard that it made her injured face ache.
“Shining Armor has really awful bedtime stories,” Chalcedony gasped. “The one he told last night was about a sister and a brother getting abandoned in the woods and they find a cottage made of sweets and it seemed really awesome right up until the part where the kindly old zebra mare reveals herself as an evil enchantress and the two foals shove her into her own preheated four hundred and fifty degree oven. Awful!”
“I feel that having the kindly old zebra mare revealing herself as an evil enchantress is culturally insensitive,” Nomination remarked while shaking his head in disapproval. “Chartreuse, are you well? Emperor Shining Armor told us that you delivered a righteous smiting last night and that you slew demons. Is this true? Or was the Emperor… exaggerating?”
Put on the spot, Chartreuse wasn’t sure how to respond. Her master had boasted about her, and this almost caused a squeal of joy to escape. Somehow maintaining her calm, she shrugged. “Last night I faced three shadowlings. Well-fed shadowlings. On my own. Things didn’t quite go as planned, but I managed.”
“That’s terrifying.” Nomination shoved Chalcedony aside so that he could pass and he strode over to where Chartreuse stood. “There is something different about you, Chartreuse. You… you are not the pony that you were yesterday. My senses warn me that you are a potential danger.”
“Perhaps I am,” Chartreuse replied. Dismayed by what her friend had said, her thoughts raced with ideas about how the night claimed ponies, and how the light might fade for her. Was this a sign? Had she transitioned? What did this mean? “There is tea in the kitchen, and I baked brownies. Nomination, Chalcedony… we need to talk. I need to talk… actually, and you need to listen. We have some house cleaning to do.”
It felt different now, preparing her friend’s tea. She was older somehow, Chartreuse was, or perhaps she had reached some plateau of maturity ahead of them. Maybe the change had been there for a while… maybe the change had started when she had boldly gone out the door to face the ice orcs and save their home. Perhaps it started out as so gradual of a change that Chartreuse had failed to notice it.
Was this how it would be? Would she not notice how the light would fade a little each day? The prospect was terrifying. Now she was freaking out about it and she was disappointed with herself for doing so. It was something that she would have to straighten out and make peace with. She knew of the dangers of outgrowing one’s friends, to drift apart with age, but this… this was something that she could barely comprehend.
“Chalcedony, I owe you a confession.”
“What’s that?” the blind filly asked while sniffing at the brownie that Chartreuse had plopped down upon a small, octogonal plate in front of her.
No mincing words. No dancing around the issue. Only honesty. Give the shadowlings nothing to work with. “Chalcedony, I find you attractive and I have a crush on you. Sometimes, when you cuddle with me, I want to feel you up or be felt up by you.”
Lifting her head, Chalcedony squinted at Chartreuse, almost as if she was trying to see. Nomination made strange sounds, echolocative noises of distress, and he too stopped what he was doing to look at Chartreuse. In strained silence, Chalcedony grew pinker, her ears most of all, and she pressed both of her front hooves together against her barrel.
“Snuggle time just got weird,” she squeaked.
“I’m sorry,” Chartreuse said in a very matter-of-fact way and she wondered how much she should say. How much to explain? “I am considering a career path where keeping secrets would be detrimental. Last night, one of my own secretive shames placed me in grave danger. Imps don’t play nice.”
“Charty, don’t take this wrong, but I don’t wanna be in lesbians with you.” Chalcedony had progressed well beyond pink, and was now exploring red territory. “That kinda stuff weirds me out, Charty. I can’t help it and please don’t think I’m mean. It’s fine for other ponies, but I wanna have foals. I can’t be in lesbians with you, but we can be friends, alright?”
Hearing these words, Chartreuse could not help but feel a little disappointed, but this was expected. Crushes crushed. Just as she was about to say something—she had to say something because she owed Chalcedony that—Nomination made an interjection.
“I had impure thoughts about you wearing a Fancy maid outfit!” he blurted out. “It got so bad that I had to go to the little colt’s room and wait for it to pass. I’m so sorry, Chartreuse, for thinking of you this way! I promise to behave! I promise! Sorry Charty, but you’re kind of coltish in the way that you’re so domineering and aggressive and it is really confusing to me sometimes!”
The tension of the moment was broken by Chalcedony’s good-natured giggling and Chartreuse had never been happier to hear the joyful sound. Now, she too, was embarrassed, but also curiously flustered by Nomination’s admission. So she was coltish? That was new, something she hadn’t noticed about herself. The laughter somehow made everything better, as laughter was prone to do.
“Nomination,” Chartreuse began, still laughing. “You must come into the day, Nomination.”
“I don’t follow,” the colt replied as his ears fell into a curious pose of submission.
“Nomination, I have taken my first steps towards the night, and I must say, the night does not suit you. Come into the day, Nomination. You owe your mother the truth when she comes to visit. You must tell her of your pacifism, of how you like domineering and aggressive colts, and your feelings about not being suitable for the breeding program.” No laughter accompanied Chartreuse’s words now, only a stern hardness.
“But I can’t,” he replied in a panicked squeak that ended all of Chalcedony’s laughter. “All my mother’s hard work… laying my egg… having me… I can’t destroy that! I can’t! I feel so ashamed!”
“Come into the day.” Chartreuse’s voice was gentle, but also commanding. “You owe your mother the truth, Nomination. It doesn’t mean that she failed, it just means that she got unexpected results. Come into the day, Nomination. Be a chef… be the artist that you long to be. For you to be a cook, a chef, you must be around the ponies you wish to serve. This means a transition, and you know it. Grow a pair of balls, Nomination.”
Licking his lips, the colt looked down into his teacup, squirming, and his folded wings fluttered against his sides. Beside him, Chalcedony appeared confused, having gone from laughter to awkward silence. In silence, the blind filly chomped her brownie and the colt agonised over his inner-struggle.
With her mouth full of brownie, Chalcedony managed to say, “My friends got weird on me. At least I’m still the same. I hate when things get weird.”
When Nomination did not reply, Chartreuse turned the full power of her stare upon him for his own good, and his uncomfortable squirming intensified as he shrank way from her, stricken by her glower-power. In doing this, Chartreuse had a profound realisation that set her mind abuzz; she loved these ponies, both of them. It wasn’t a crush, or romantic love, but something else entirely, something deep and profound. Whatever it was, it was the sort of love that would survive a crush and would remain steadfast when her infatuation with Chalcedony passed.
“Tomorrow is the weekend and your mother will probably arrive in the morning” Chartreuse gave her tea an absent minded stir with her spoon and kept her stern gaze affixed upon her target. “I will have this house sorted out and ready for her arrival.”
“Chocolates and cheeses, Chartreuse, you slay a few demons and now you’re all ball-bustery,” Chalcedony said around a mouthful of gooey chocolate brownie. “I mean, I don’t think you’re wrong, but not all of us are as driven as you. We’re ponies, not problems just waiting to be sorted out by your fearsome sense of organisation—”
“No, Chalcedony, she’s right.” Reaching out, Nomination patted the blind filly beside him with his hoof. “I need to embrace the day if I want to be happy, whatever that means. Her words have a ring of truth to them. I can’t have the acceptance that I crave if I keep hiding. For my own sake, I must expose myself for what I am… and that means facing my mother.”
“So the night terror is going to become a day terror that isn’t very scary and… and… I don’t even know what Charty is becoming but she’s going into the night and now she’s got a weird glowy leg and… nothing makes sense right now. Am I the only normal pony here? I just want to fall in love and start a family. I’m surrounded by weirdos.”
Nomination, who was always cheerful, always upbeat, except for all those times he wasn’t, now seemed subdued. Still staring into his teacup, he used his wing and clawed thumb to break off a polite piece of brownie, which he then slipped into his mouth in dejected silence.
“Princess Luna gave me a pep talk—”
“Princess Luna?” Nomination lifted his head and his ears stood up with such force that the tufted ends quivered. “She was here? In our home? The Night Lady was here?”
Chalcedony swallowed her brownie, reached out for her friend, found him, and gave him a hard poke. “Nom, you better not start squealing!”
“She told me the truth I needed to hear.” Chartreuse paused, trying to remember everything that Princess Luna had to say, and recalled that the Princess of the Night had used coarse language. “I am pretty messed up from last night and I might just randomly burst into tears or something. The experience has left me emotional, but I took comfort in one thing, and that was the truth. I saw the truth and I will not run from it, but embrace it, and for the sake of my future, this is why I told the truth about my feelings to you, Chalcedony. I feel like there is so much more I want to say, but I don’t know the words.”
“And this is why Nom has to tell the truth? Because you did?” Chalcedony’s face now had an uncharacteristic sameness to it and her milky pinkish-white eyes had a strange appearance of wisdom to them. “You think because it helped you that it will help Nom?”
“Yes.” For lack of better words, this was all Chartreuse had to say.
“Then I have a confession too,” Chalcedony said to her companions, and she stared down at the table while looking very ashamed. “I’m not as comfortable with Nom being gay as I let on. Making love is for making foals… I feel bad about this, but this is how I am, and I guess it has to do with the times I come from… I dunno… I guess… I try not to think about it too much.”
She sighed, deflated, and continued, “I keep having these thoughts, I keep thinking that if somehow, if I could just get Nom into the right situation, I could straighten him out. I could make him have… uh… sex… for the… uh, right reasons and that he could be normal again. Whatever normal is, I don’t even know. But… uh… um… well, in those moments when I can get a little time to myself, I’ve rubbed one out thinking about it and it is a fantasy that always gets me heated. Hot to uh, trot. It gets me worked up like nothing else does.”
Nomination had gone very still, and did not move.
“I don’t wanna be a bigot,” Chalcedony whined and she turned her head away to sightlessly gaze in the direction of the stove. “So confusing. I’ve been hating myself for a while now and feeling ashamed. I feel guilty for rubbing one out and getting off on it. The wrongness of it is a turn on. This is all Charty’s fault because she wanted to play Truth or Dare. It’s a stupid game.”
“Is this… is this why you attacked Snow Dust?” Nomination asked while he reached out and touched Chalcedony upon her shoulder with his hoof.
“I dunno!” Chalcedony whined while she tried to twist away from her friend’s touch. “He did what he did and then I thought about what I’ve done, and then I got angry and yeah… maybe… maybe I did take it out on him, but he deserved it! I still ain’t sorry!”
So this was why the independent living program didn’t allow for coed cohabitation. It felt as though everything was unravelling and Chartreuse felt a vague sense of worry. Could friendship survive the truth? Chalcedony was sniffling now, almost crying, and her fight-battered face somehow looked all the worse for wear when she was on the verge of tears. Nomination too, suffered in much the same way, and his swollen shiner was more pronounced somehow. As for herself, Chartreuse couldn’t even begin to imagine how bad her battered, swollen, misshapen face might look at the moment—or to make things even worse, she couldn’t imagine what the Major might see upon her arrival.
Perhaps frustrated by Chalcedony shrugging away, Nomination became a bit more aggressive; after turning his body to the side, he reached out with both forelegs and his wings. Chalcedony squealed when she was seized, and even tried to get away, but Nomination would not be denied. Kicking and squeaking, the blind filly was pulled into a tight embrace and then was just held while she struggled.
After a time, the crystal filly went still, closed her eyes, and allowed her friend to hold her.
“Are we still friends?” Chartreuse asked, feeling very troubled and insecure.
“Of course,” Nomination replied without a single eyeblink’s worth of hesitation. “We took the pee pledge.”
“But that was for Chalcy.”
“I took it for all of us,” Nomination admitted.
“The Major is coming…” The way that the blind filly said this was as if she was announcing the second coming of Evil King Sombra. Reaching with her foreleg, she snaked it around Nomination’s, which held her tight. “We need to have a plan… we need to come together… we have to protect Nom’s right to choose. I asked all of you to take the pee pledge for me, and so I need to be a better friend. Nomination isn’t allowed to fight back, so maybe the Major isn’t either, and if she gets nasty maybe we can bite her ankles or something, I don’t know.”
“That’s not much of a plan, Chalcedony.”
“Well, Charty, I’ll have you know I’m not much of a planner. I’m the potato hauler, remember?”
“I don’t want to pick a fight with the Major… my mother, I mean. I can’t. Just the idea of fighting… of arguing… of any sort of conflict makes me feel sick. I don’t know how she’s going to react, but I can’t imagine it being good. She loves me, but impossible standards, you know?”
“Nom—”
“I am destroying my mother’s whole career. She stared down the Command for me… even though she didn’t agree with what I was doing, and said that maybe I could cook in the guard or something. She fought for ways to justify what I was doing. She fought for me. I leave home and start noticing other colts and even worse, the very idea of violence makes me sick to my stomach… my poor mother is going to have to deal with everypony whispering that her son is defective and the Command is going to come down hard on her. Maybe… just maybe we shouldn’t be thinking of how to fight her, but of how to comfort her. Everything she’s worked for ends with me. The sequence of numbers of successful, viable offspring ends with me.”
“Nomination—”
“The sequence ends with Eighty-eight, thirty-three, twenty-three, forty-four. Everything that was viable ended with Eighty-eight, thirty-three, twenty-three, forty-three. They put sequences that end on the Wall. It’s a big wall, I’ve seen it, and dead or dud sequences are put up on display. Some end in violence, and those are marked. Those are remembered as heroes. On the other side of the Wall though, those are duds. Psychopathic offspring, undesirable traits, unwanted traits… once those manifest, the sequence ends to remove the instability. You do not continue to breed instability into viable stock lines.”
Squirming, Chalcedony turned about to face the colt holding her and she gave him a reassuring friendly pat. “Just start over, Nomination, just start over. That’s what I’m doing. Parents? Maybe I’ve met them, maybe I haven’t. Everything is a mess. That’s why it is so important for me to start a family, Nom… everything got messed up and now there’s just me. I’ll be the first, and by golly, that’s important. Many years from now, my descendents will look back and see that it all started with me. You might be gay, but you can still do the same. All sequences have to begin somewhere, Nom. You get to be a first and that’s special.”
Ears sagging, the colt did not reply, but Chartreuse saw some truth in the blind filly’s words. It was a big complicated issue with no easy answers and Chartreuse could see the bigger picture; Nomination’s journey would be very much like her own, with tiny steps at first, followed by meaningful action. It started with his mother and trying to be good, inviting hosts while also protecting Nomination.
Tomorrow, if the Major did indeed arrive, would be a hard, hard day.
Author's Note
It comes to an end rather soon...
Also:
Casual-Tea of a Name felt like it should be far more crowded, but it was hardly busy at all. The morning was bitter, the first really bitterly cold day of the coming season, and Chartreuse could only guess that ponies had stayed home. Being a Canterlot pony, she didn’t find it all that bad, as Canterlot could suffer sub-zero temperatures even during the height of summer, if the weather felt like being moody.
The only thing colder than the day itself was Chalcedony’s attitude towards the Major.
Blind though she might be, Chalcedony stared at the Major, a wide, almost unblinking stare that was unsettling, if not downright uncanny. Chartreuse had cottoned onto why the blind filly was so openly hostile to Nomination’s mother; the crystal filly wanted a family more than anything and the Major had committed the unpardonable sin of being a bad mother .
Even worse, the stare seemed to be working, because the Major would not meet Chalcedony’s piercing gaze. Nomination was quite uncomfortable, and sitting between his mother and his friend, he squirmed a great deal while Chalcedony stared past him. The situation seemed bad, bleak, and felt as though it could devolve into actual violence if something were to set it off.
Chartreuse saw a side of her friend that she was uncomfortable with.
“I wanna know why,” Chalcedony said in icy tones, her first time speaking since their arrival.
“Why what?” the Major replied, knowing that she was the one being addressed.
“Why. You know why. Don’t you dare play stupid with me. Nom is my friend and he deserves better.”
Chartreuse’s stomach was now a butterfly gladiatorial arena and she could feel them in there, fighting one another to the death. Facing a bedroom full of shadowlings would be preferable to this. Getting lectured by Dim would be far more pleasant than this, even if he was in one of his fouler moods. Dim at his worst could at least be counted on to be informative, clear, and concise. This? This just felt murky.
“Major—OW! Chalcedony!” Having just been smacked by the blind filly, Nomination turned to look at her while rubbing his foreleg.
“She’s your Mom, Nom. Say it.”
Chartreuse’s eyes darted left, towards the Major, then right, towards Chalcedony, and then back to the left again. Poor Nomination appeared to be sweating in the middle. Even more curious, Chalcedony was glowing now, her radiance having manifested after smacking the poor colt on his leg and demanding that he call the Major ‘Mom.’ Perhaps this attitude was compelled by magic? Maybe Chalcedony wasn’t entirely to blame for her behaviour? It was fascinating to observe, but also terrible.
“She is my Mom, and I’ve said it in the past.” Nomination kept his voice down, but there was a hardness to it now that alarmed Chartreuse. “Major can also be affectionate.”
Jaw muscles clenching, Chalcedony shook her head from side to side, disagreeing.
“Look, things are different for a reason, okay?” Leaning against the table’s edge, the Major now turned to look right at Chalcedony, or appeared to be through her dark sunglasses. “You are an outsider and there are a great deal of facts that you are ignorant of. But things are the way they are for sound, logical reasons. I appreciate that you are a good friend to my son, but I grow weary of your impertinence.”
“So then, help me to understand so I can be a better friend to your son. Put up or shut up. Grow a pair of teats, tell me what is going on, or you can just fronk off.” Reaching out, Chalcedony slipped her forelegs around the colt beside her and pulled him away from his mother.
“This is stuff I’m going to have to explain to Nomination anyway at some point.” The Major sighed, defeated, and she hunched over the table. “I’ll give you a sitrep, just give me some time to sort everything out first, because there is a lot to try and go over to make an outsider understand. And given the nature of how things have changed regarding recent developments, it is probably for the best if you do understand a little of what is going on so that you can help my son.”
“That’s fair.” With these words, Chalcedony backed down and ceased to stare. Still holding her friend, she slumped over a bit, returning to being her more typical self, laid back and easy going.
Taking up a spoon, the Major went to prepare her tea and then froze, her spoon unmoving. This got Chartreuse’s attention and after a moment of study, the quick-minded filly had the reason sorted out. It became rather obvious that this mare had not prepared tea before, and might not have had tea before, because it was a complex social ritual. Therefore, it stood to reason that the Major might not understand the complexities.
“Allow me,” Chartreuse said while she pulled the spoon away from the Major. “How do you like your tea?”
“I have no idea,” the Major replied. “The table is so covered in… stuff. Things. How does a pony keep track of all of this… detritus?”
“We’ll keep it basic then.” Just like that, Chartreuse was a Canterlot pony once more, she became Rarity’s assistant , a filly with poise, grace, and fine manners. “A little cream, a little sugar, and maybe we’ll try different things to see what you like. If you like sweets, I recommend the eclairs.” She pointed at some pastries with the spoon she held. “There are also teacakes that aren’t quite as sweet.”
A hot cuppa was prepared in no time at all and then Chartreuse marvelled at the Major’s illusion. Dextrous primaries took the cup, held it, and she gave it a sniff, which made her nostrils flare. The glasses were an extraordinary trinket, practically a crown jewel of enchanted artifacts. Chartreuse felt that a wizard should have an appreciation of these things, because somepony had gone through an immense amount of effort to make this item.
No doubt, the Major had a grasping thumb and a central knuckle just like Nomination did, but the illusion was such that it appeared that she had agile, prehensile pegasus feathers. The complexity of it all was mind boggling and it reminded Chartreuse that her craft took many forms. Sunburst combined magic and knowledge. Dim combined magic and alchemy. Shining Armor used statecraft and command enhanced by helpful magic. Some enchanter had poured their soul along with their tremendous knowledge of illusion into a pair of sunglasses.
What would be her calling card?
What would she be known for?
Before her attention span was gone completely, Chartreuse tried to start up a conversation. “So my father works with the military, does he?”
“Sort of,” the Major grunted while sniffing her tea. “I can’t talk too much about it. There is a partnership of sorts, a spirit of cooperation. Your father works with the Wardens of Canterlot and there are times when certain cases spill over into the military. Inspector Le Feu is a hound… once he begins a case, it is all over for the perpetrator. It is only a matter of time before he gets his suspect. He will sniff them out and then sometimes, his suspects have valuable knowledge or information that is necessary for us to retrieve. Your father doesn’t take every case offered to him, but once he does take a case, results are guaranteed. He is the only pony I know with a one-hundred percent success rate.”
“But he does so by being selective about the cases he takes?” Chartreuse thought about her father’s methodical, over-cautious nature.
“Your father seems to know who can be caught and who can’t. Some criminals, you waste resources going after them, and they remain elusive. I don’t know how your father does it, to be honest. It’s like a gift.” The Major took a sip of tea, made a weird face, and then tried another sip. “Bleh, boiled weed water with lactations of lesser hooved mammals.”
Eyes darting to Nomination, Chartreuse saw that he was calming down, and she hoped that he was collecting his thoughts. He had a lot to tell the Major, his mother, and Chartreuse intended to make certain that he would be heard. But she would do it in a nice way, at least compared to Chalcedony.
Like her father, Chartreuse had found a fight that she knew she could win.
Across the table, Nomination began helping Chalcedony with her tea and was unaware when his mother turned to watch him. A careful caretaker, Nomination knew the routine and performed every step without cutting corners or hurrying. It was kindness put in action and a testament to his generous nature. For Chartreuse, it was comforting that his mother noticed.
Seeing the Major peer around her son to watch what he was doing was heartwarming.
“Nomination was raised in a communal nursery?” Chartreuse asked while she helped herself to an eclair.
“I was away,” the Major replied, her voice low, unsteady. “Sometimes for weeks or months at a time. When I was injured and reconstructed, I did not see Nomination for over a year.”
“And his father?” Chartreuse wondered what the injury was, but did not pry.
“He remains on the front lines in Zebrabwe, thwarting the Great Enemy. There he will remain until such a time that he is utterly and completely destroyed, or the Great Enemy has fallen.” The Major’s head turned for a moment and Chartreuse found herself being looked at.
After swallowing a nibble of eclair, Chartreuse said, “Though he was raised in very different circumstances, Nomination is a compassionate pony, quick to help others, and I have complete trust in him as my housemate. He was allowed to be Chalcedony’s assistant because of his dependable, trustworthy nature. Surely you can see the goodness in your son, the evidence of which being that he stays with us.”
“I am proud, and it makes what I have to do far easier, Miss Le Feu.”
Eyebrows furrowing, Chartreuse wondered what the Major meant by that, but did not press the issue, trusting that things would be sorted out soon enough. Like her father, she decided to pace her prey and allow things to happen. Content enough with the situation, she nibbled once more upon her sweet, sugary treat, and like the Major, watched as Nomination worked.
“Nomination… how… did… how did you learn all of this? Our caste was never one for social graces. I mean, we eat out of communal troughs and we forgo everything that isn’t vital or necessary. I am bewildered, but you seem quite comfortable. How is it that you have adapted?”
Caste? Chartreuse’s ears pricked whilst she wolfed down the remains of her eclair, an act that she was oblivious of. The always-hungry, ravenous, sweet-loving filly hidden within her was released, let go in a moment of distraction, and another eclair was lifted from the tray. She watched as Nomination finished, guided Chalcedony’s hoof to her teacup, and then he turned to face his mother.
“I had to embarrass myself and ask for help,” he said, his voice distressed and squeaky. “Instead of dividing and conquering the enemy, I seperated my problems into manageable groups and tackled them one by one. Finding myself in enemy territory that was outwardly hostile to me, I adapted and kept a low profile. Your lessons benefited me.”
“I never understood you, Nomination.” The Major’s voice was husky and little more than a raspy whisper while she spoke to her son. “You hoarded your choco-rations. The Command was certain that it was your draconic nature manifesting, and they worried. Our caste was meant to be free of possessions, our purpose was to weed out the greed that sometimes plagues our kind. But you… you just wanted to save your choco-rations for when you had your berry rations, so that you might combine them. All of us thought you were so strange, and we spoke of you and your strange quirks at length. Most of us did so fondly.”
“Mother…” Nomination breathed the word and he began to shake his head. “Mother, I feel that what I am about to say will only make it harder for you to understand me. I am ill-suited to continue the breeding program, as I cannot meet its objectives. “I…”—the colt paused, searching for the right words, and he stared down at the table, unable to look at his mother—“I cannot deal with violence, mother. It makes me ill. Queasy. Sick to my stomach. Also…”
At the moment, Nomination did indeed, look rather queasy, and gurgles could be heard emanating from his stomach. Chartreuse worried for him and wondered if he could keep going. Chalcedony was lapping up tea from her cup, but her ears were pivoted in Nomination’s direction.
“Mother, I’m pretty sure that I’m gay. I mean, I’m still sorting it all out, and there are confusing moments, like Chartreuse in a Fancy maid outfit, but I have an overwhelming attraction to colts. I am aware that these traits are undesirable, and I am so sorry, Mother. The sequence, your sequence, it ends with me. I am sorry for having done this to you.”
Author's Note
I think one more, but I am not sure. Possible epilogue too.
The encroaching silence was defeated on its approach by the sound of running water, faint voices, the clink-clink of spoons against the sides of porcelain cups, the distant chuckle of a server, and Chalcedony’s lapping tongue. For her part, the major showed no sign of reaction, and Chartreuse knew that the cloak of illusion could be expressive, so she was holding back—or perhaps she didn’t know how to react.
“I found myself with these two fillies… they were my first friends. They proved to me that the Twilight curriculum is correct and that friendship science works. I was starting to worry and wonder if it just wouldn’t work for me because of what I was.” The colt shook his head from side to side while searching his heart for more words and he rested his right foreleg on the table before him. “Twilight couldn’t be wrong, so I threw myself into my studies and forced myself to believe that it would work once I met the right friends. Now, here I am. I’ve adapted and gained acceptance.”
“I’ve told him to embrace the day,” Chartreuse said, doing her best to be polite.
“Yes, and Mother, Chartreuse is right. I don’t want to be a night terror. There is so much to see and do… so much beauty in the world… there are all these wonderful ponies and other creatures… and I want to be like them. I want to walk among them and share their lives. What good is my art if nopony enjoys it?”
Sipping her tea, the Major grimaced, licked her lips, and then sat in silence.
Nomination seemed to be out of words, and so he too, lifted up his teacup, which trembled in his grasp, almost sloshing tea over the side. To Chartreuse, as an observer, Nomination and his mother could not be more different, there was some great divide between them, and in seeing this, she saw the truth of Dim’s words; there was indeed a night and a day, a separation. While perhaps the gap wasn’t as bad as Dim made it out to be, she could not deny its existence. Right now, Nomination and his mother struggled with communication across that impossible barrier and in observing this, a dreadful prickle of fear manifested in Chartreuse’s own heart.
She thought of her father, an inspector of the Day Watch, and it occurred to her that while he was much beloved and respected, he didn’t appear to have many friends. He was considered strange, unnerving, ponies didn’t want to invite him to parties. Why? Chartreuse’s father had sent Aunt Fleur into a tizzy when he arrived unannounced at Chartreuse’s cute-ceañera and the adults had treated him rather coldly, now that she looked back upon it in hindsight. Yet the Major seemed to hold him in such high regard.
There was something here, a realisation or an epiphany perhaps, but Chartreuse wasn’t sure what it was. Crossing the threshold here promised pain and a point of no return, she was certain of it, connecting the dots would be unpleasant. She retreated from her thoughts so that she could focus upon Nomination and his mother instead.
“This was not the success we were expecting.”
The Major’s words were cryptic and Chartreuse struggled with them. So did Nomination for that matter, and even Chalcedony stopped lapping up her tea. Confused, the colt’s mouth fell open and with some dismay, Chartreuse too, realised that she was slack jawed. What had come out of the Major’s mouth was… bonkers.
“What?” Nomination sounded as confused as Chartreuse felt.
“This was not the anticipated outcome.” Reaching out her hoof, the Major touched her son, a tender moment to witness, and then she just sat there with her hoof resting upon him. “I had such high hopes for you, but this exceeds my expectations. You’ve exceeded my expectations.”
Shaking his head, Nomination looked down at his mother’s hoof. “I am confused…”
“A new sequence will be started,” the Major said in a low voice that held a faint tremour to it. “Even if you are homosexual, there are ways around that. A result has been achieved, and we can begin anew.”
“Major, I am lost. Sitrep request. Stat.”
“I had fears that we were stagnating,” the Major continued and she pulled her hoof away. “Stagnation is not stability. I had concerns that our uniformity was hindering growth and development. Because of my opinions, I faced some ostracisation. Then you came along, Nomination. You hatched and you were a little weirdo almost right from the start. Not a one of us quite knew what to make of you. We observed, and we waited.”
“Wait.” Chalcedony lifted her head, then turned in Nomination’s direction. “Does Nom have a belly button?”
“No… I don’t.” Nomination was now even more confused and he began making distressed whimpers.
“Nomination, our castes are really control groups. We’re martial. We live a rigid, regimental lifestyle, communal, and all of our regulations strictly enforce our behaviour.” The Major put down her teacup, wiped her muzzle with her foreleg, and looked her son in the eye. “Other castes follow different ways, different rules. They are different control groups with different objectives. Different goals and desired outcomes.”
Intrigued, Chartreuse slurped her tea and then hissed when the hot liquid made her stitches sting. Nomination was part of a massive science experiment! And he appeared to be a successful anomaly of some sort. Nom-Nom, the Nomination Anomaly. She was going to have to share this thought with Chalcedony, but later, when this was over.
“Nomination… we can’t be soldiers forever… and that was the goal of other castes… other control groups. Slow introduction to society over time. For our species to survive, we must integrate. In the past, there’s been a few promising souls, but they always went into society after service, after fulfilling their purpose. There are so few of us and every one of us is needed to play our parts. There is so much I want to explain but I don’t know how.”
Ears falling, Nomination appeared to shut down. Still, and now quiet, he stared down at the table, unresponsive. His unswollen eye was half-open, or maybe it was half-closed, and he pulled his front hooves together in front of him, clutching at himself for reasons unknown to Chartreuse. His breathing slowed, becoming shallower, until it seemed that he wasn’t breathing at all.
“We can’t all be soldiers and Wardens,” the Major said, almost whispering to her son. “Princess Cadance tells me that you show extraordinary promise to be a chef. She tells me that you are charismatic, beloved by your teachers, and that you have exceptional drive.” Her voice dropped even lower, becoming almost inaudible, and Chartreuse had to struggle to listen. “At some point, when we integrate, we’ll have to become tradesponies. We’ll need art and culture. If we can’t fit in, if we can’t adapt to society, then all of our hard work and effort to become a viable, stable species will have been for naught.”
Reaching out, Chalcedony felt around for Nomination, found his foreleg, and with an insistent tug, pulled it to her. In silence, she held it, hugging it to her barrel, and after a moment she began to stroke it. Chalcedony was Chalcedony and this was how she did things, how she handled things. Chartreuse found it endearing and reaching out, she gave her filly friend a light, affectionate pat.
“You are trusted with a vulnerable blind filly…” Still a whisper, the Major’s voice had trouble being heard over the ambient noise of the tearoom around them. “This is something that society will notice. Word has reached Command, which is why I was sent out to inspect and assess. Nomination, there is talk among the Elders… not just the Command, but our Elders , and when I go back and make my report, I am almost certain about the outcome.”
“And that is?” Nomination asked, his ears rising to a splayed out, sideways position.
“Nomination, there is already a great deal of talk about making you the ambassador for our species… our tribe. You are young, certainly, but that is an asset. Princess Cadance’s school can prepare you for this calling. You have the candor and the charisma to do truly great things. The Elders are already conversing about having you as our public face. It is a great honour. But with the recent acquisition of info, your aversion to violence, I see a chance to start a new sequence. It is time for us to transition into becoming capable civilians.”
“You wanted me to cook in the guard—”
“Nomination, I wanted to prepare you for how things might have turned out. I was trying to protect you from getting your hopes up. I did not wish to see your tender heart get crushed. At the time, I did not know what would be allowed. There is so much you still don’t know. I had to put up a fight for you, Nomination, just for you to be sent to this school. There was so much that just wasn’t known at that point.” Lifting up her cup, the Major emptied it in one gulp and then sat in silence, staring at her son.
A dutiful soldier at this moment, Nomination nodded, then replied, “I understand.”
Again, the silence seemed to lurk and whole seconds passed with nothing being said. Nomination seemed lost in thought, no doubt trying to reassemble his entire worldview. The Major too, seemed given over to contemplation, and Chartreuse could feel the silence building like unwanted pressure. This was a tough situation; it wasn’t that the Major had lied to her son, not exactly, but he was only now starting to learn the truth, which had been withheld from him.
“What are the other groups like?” Chalcedony, brimming with curiousity and a desire to know things such as if Nomination had a belly button, had asked another question. “Other castes? If all of you are soldiers, what do the other groups do? What else is there?”
Nomination’s mother seemed surprised by this and leaning forwards, she peered around her son to look at the blind filly. “I know very little. Hearsay, mostly. Things I’ve heard from others as secondhoof information. I know of one colony in Lulamoon Hollow that are patriarchal hunter-gatherers. Their behaviour is modeled on wolves… the moon wolves of Lulamoon Hollow. They are relatively recent… a new sequence built upon previous successes.”
“How is this even possible?” Chalcedony asked, bewildered. “I mean, the time involved. Whole lives have to pass to see what happens.”
“When you live as long as the Royal Pony Sisters, you can afford to assist in the evolution of a developing species. Equestria’s story is our story. For over a thousand years, we’ve progressed, a series of sequences, and we have seen great progress. We have gone from geased brutes who posed a danger to all, to trusted servants that can be left with blind fillies with no fear nor worry.”
“I suppose that when you live that long, you need a way to pass the time,” Chartreuse remarked while she poured more tea. “A hobby. Something to occupy oneself to keep the boredom away.” Without being asked, she poured more tea for the Major, added a bit of extra sugar to hide the taste of boiled weed water, and then topped off the cup with more than a bit of heavy cream.
“Nomination… I had such hopes and dreams for you. I suppose every mother does. After I passed your egg, I spent so much time with my head in the clouds that I received a reprimand and had to be disciplined for failing to be attentive to my duties. At one point, it got so bad that I was evaluated and it was determined that my instabilities would pass. I suppose they did, because I buried myself in my work, but I still had moments of occasional fancy and I would have to report myself, as per regulations.”
“That’s awful,” Chalcedony murmured while still clutching her friend’s leg to her barrel. “Is all that really necessary?”
It wasn’t the Major who responded, but Nomination. “When striving for a result, the integrity of the experiment matters. This goes beyond me, beyond my mother, beyond any one of us. I can see that now. It’s like making a soufflé… if you fail to follow the instructions perfectly, you end up with something not a soufflé. Soufflé creation is an exercise in failure, doing the same thing over and over again, until achieving the desired results. I can’t make one yet, but one day, I will. I just have to stick to the instructions. Perfection is possible.”
“I still don’t get it.” The blind filly shook her head, let out a dejected huff, and then snorted. “Don’t need to get it either, I guess. It’s just one of those things, like astrophysics or quantum cosmology, things I just don’t understand.”
“Nomination, today, this day, I will give you your birthright. Eighty-eight, the first numbers in the sequence. Our bloodline goes back eighty-eight generations, almost one thousand years. Thirty-three is our colony number, we are the thirty-third colony, though there are now only eleven in existence. Twenty-three is the number of desired outcomes or successful results in those eighty-eight generations. This number is seen as very, very good. And you, Hatchling Forty-Four, are the forty-fourth in our specific control group, those of us born from eggs. Forty-Four is an unheard of number in continued sequences, and it is a hopeful number that tells us we near stability.”
“These numbers have meaning?” Nomination’s ears fell, then rose, and then the colt shuddered. “I had no idea… I… those numbers… I need a moment, please.”
“Will Nomination be the twenty-fourth desirable outcome in that sequence?” Chartreuse, a clever filly, cottoned onto the meaning of the numbers and she had to hold back her rising excitement. “I mean, you’ve had twenty-three so far, and now there is Nomination, so the sequence advances a number there, right?”
“I hope so,” the Major replied, her voice scratchy, huskier than it was. “That part of the sequence hasn’t budged in a while. It is why I worried about stagnation, even though it wasn’t my place to worry. Number twenty-three was one of us getting a destiny mark, and that was decades ago. Generations ago. But it was seen as a sign that our caste, our control group was retaining equine traits. It was a momentous occasion, but then all progress seemed to stop.”
“Whatwe’reseeinghereisamultigenerationalscientificresult!” Chartreuse lost control of her inner squirrely fan-filly and she began to bounce up and down upon her seat. “Nominationisapositiveresult!”
“Wouldn’t you need a new colony number if Nomination is a fresh start?” Chalcedony clung to her friend’s leg even tighter, and showed no signs of letting go.
“I guess”—the Major shrugged—“there is a lot I don’t know yet.” She drank some of her tea, made a face, and then drank a little more. “Nomination, your success will only add to your duties. So much will be expected of you. I’m worried, even though it is against regulations for me to do so. When you got your destiny mark, I worried a great deal about the outcome. Most of us never see one. I certainly didn’t, and neither did your father. But you… there seems to be a plan for you. You’ve been chosen.”
Turning her head, Chalcedony batted her eyelashes in Nomination’s general direction and continued stroking his foreleg. “You know, Nom… you and I could do our own science experiment. We could make crystal night terrors—”
At this, Nomination let out a shrill piping sound that filled the tearoom.
“—and we could see what happens. You know, for the sake of scientific curiousity. We could dress Charty up in a Fancy maid outfit if it will help you to make a donation.”
“Chalcedony—”
“Charty, I have needs! ”
There was a clunk and a splash when the Major dropped her teacup and then for one tense moment, it appeared as though the unassuming mare might explode. Her face reddened, her nostrils flared, and being a pegasus, she appeared to puff out, almost doubling in size. Then, without warning, she exploded. Mouth opening wide, she brayed with laughter while her spilled tea soaked into the tablecloth.
“My mother is laughing.” Nomination blinked a few times and gave his mother a quizzical sidelong glance.
Rolling her eyes at Chalcedony, a futile gesture if ever there was one, Chartreuse began to clean up the mess. She cast a spot remover, which got rid of the spilled tea and the stain, and then set the cup upright. In no time at all, she filled the cup again, then added cream and sugar. She thought about smacking the blind filly with her cap, but then thought better of it. At least the Major was laughing.
Still laughing, but saying nothing, Gloaming Gardenia pulled her son into a clumsy hug. Oh, he resisted, trying to pull away, but his mother was a hulking brute hiding in a demure disguise, and would not be refused. It was a sort of hug, the sort of hug that one might make if somehow they had no idea what they were doing. Reluctantly, Chalcedony let go of Nomination’s foreleg so that his mother could have all of him.
Chartreuse, feeling all warm and gushy inside, witnessed what she felt was another success; Nomination’s mother kissed him. It was a clumsy, awkward peck, but it carried with it the hope of an entire species. Nomination was their champion—their nomination. From him, a new sequence would begin, and with it, new successes. And she was a part of that. She, Shining Armor’s apprentice, her own future so bright and promising, she would have a hoof in the establishment of a species.
Through fate or some strange quirk, she had ended up as Nomination’s friend, just as her father was acquainted with the Major. Surely, this had meaning and was a sign of something greater. But what? What came next? Some other beginning had ended, and now, here at the end, there was a fresh new beginning waiting to be begun. Blushing, still gushing, she turned and looked off in a different direction at nothing in particular, just so that Nomination and his mother could have a moment to themselves.
“I’m glad that I was here to see this,” the Major said, whispering to her son. “I’m glad I’m here with you. Before the winter’s solstice, I’ll be leaving for Zebrabwe. This will be a permanent assignment, Nomination. You have an amazing future ahead of you. Make me proud.”
“Mother, I will, I give you my word.”
Now, happiness was bittersweet and Chartreuse turned to look at Nomination and his mother once more, knowing that this might very well be the last time they saw one another. A twinge of homesickness crept into her thoughts while also gnawing upon her heart; she missed her parents, she missed Canterlot, and part of her wanted to go home. But like Major Gloaming Gardenia, she had duties; while not as severe, and certainly not as vital nor important, they were duties that could not be shirked.
They all had to make sacrifices.
The future was made of all things sacrificed, of all things given, and Major Gloaming Gardenia had sent her best Nomination forward to act in her stead. It was, perhaps, the most important thing any mother could give, and to give up all that she had so freely and without reservation, Chartreuse found herself thinking that Gloaming Gardenia was a good mom. That first impression that had come with the letter had been a poor one, granted, but things were clearer now.
Major Gloaming Gardenia’s war involved the survival of the entire world, while her son’s coming struggle was for the survival of his species. These were creatures uniquely suited for war, for battle, though both would have very different fights. Chartreuse, not a soldier, had found another fight, another worthy cause to devote herself to. With Nomination’s mother being sent elsewhere, somepony had to step up to take her place, and Chartreuse knew that she would be that pony.
‘Twas a noble cause and she had been raised with noblesse oblige in mind.
“I love you…” Gloaming Gardenia’s admission was husky and almost inaudible. “Remember me. Remember me. ”
“I’ll never forget you.” The floodgates opened and Nomination was weeping now. “I love you back.”
“Keep the sequence going, Nomination. Whatever it takes. Whatever form it takes. Please.”
“I will, I give you my word.”
Though the visit had only just begun, a goodbye had already been said; such was the way of things. When they were done here, they had a stop to make before going home. A pledge had to be made, the most sacred of all pledges among the crystal ponies. Chartreuse would see to it. Afterwards, they would go home together, and spend time with Gloaming Gardenia until whenever it was that she had to depart. Perhaps Nomination could fix his mother a nice meal… they had plenty of potatoes.
Reaching across the table, Chartreuse grabbed Chalcedony’s fetlock and held on tight.
Author's Note
This is the end... for now.
The next story is tentatively called Canterlot Nights .
In the cold hour just after dawn, Chartreuse shivered in the bitter tundra wind and knew that winter would soon be on its way. The Crystal Heart could only do so much for so long to protect the Crystal Empire from the weather, and soon, like so many other things, it would go into a time of hibernation so that it might recharge. At least, that is how she understood its processes.
She was not alone, but had her friends with her for this solemn moment. Chalcedony and Nomination stood together, both of them huddled under a shared heavy blanket. Neither of them quite understood the importance of what was being done, but Chartreuse knew that she had their support anyway.
Facing east, Chartreuse watched as the sky caught fire with pink, orange, and golden flames. Her mane, unbraided and loose, whipped around her face and neck, tossed about by the tundra gusts. The wretched cold gnawed at her and her stitched lip bore the worst of it, but she would not have it any other way. Pain only added to the moment, gave it meaning, and bolstered the solemn mood.
“Princess Celestia,” she began while she watched the resplendent dawn, “I give you your due. Here is my offering to you.” Reaching into her saddlebag, she pulled out the glass containment jar and then held it up over her head. In moments, the black amorphous mass within ignited and brilliant white-transparent flames could be seen inside of the glass.
After a moment of exposure, the containment jar shattered and Chartreuse avoided the falling debris with a quick stumbling retreat. Ashes, still blazing with white-transparent flames, swirled in the wind like snowflakes while tiny slivers of glass plummeted straight down. It was gone, the shadowling that had so grossly offended her was gone, consumed by Princess Celestia’s purifying light.
When the tears came, they burned in the most brutal way, the moisture allowing the cruel cold to permeate her face and sink into her skull like savage spear points. The pain did not dissuade her, if anything it buoyed her spirits, and she found strength in it.
“At the end of a long night, I will come out into your glorious dawn and I will be cleansed of shadow. I will remember your sun and keep it sacred in my heart. Though I may go into lightless places, I will take comfort and draw strength from knowing that the sun will rise. If my hunts are successful, you will receive your due.”
Across the Crystal Empire, the sun spread its golden rays and Chartreuse basked in all the majesty it had to offer.
Extra coal had been dumped into the pot-bellied stove and now the parlour was a warm, cosy place with the sort of heat that radiated its way deep into muscle and bone. Coal was one expense they didn’t have to worry about, nor wood, as the palace staff made certain that the bins were kept full. Wind could be heard moaning around the front door, an unwanted, unwelcome guest seeking entry, and denied entry, hung around to mope.
Chalcedony and Nomination were sitting on the horrendous pink paisley brocade couch, still wrapped in their shared blanket, clinging to one another, enjoying the warmth. Chartreuse however, stood looking at the bookshelf, at the small idol of Chantico carved from pink stone. No great decision had been made, no choice had been decided, but what had been determined was that the idol would continue to be dusted—tickled with the feather duster—and might even be shown a bit of reverence when Chartreuse felt like it. Particularly when nopony was looking.
She had decided upon a career, but everything else was uncertain. Nothing else was written in stone, not yet. Many important decisions had to be made, but those would be made later, with maturity and understanding. Chartreuse decided that she was a filly to be courted; that is to say that, if Chantico, or anybody else for that matter, wanted her devotion, they were free to come calling—but Chartreuse would not be obligated until she was ready. If someone, or somepony wanted a follower, they could come, bearing gifts as was proper. It was a non-standard approach, but it was Chartreuse’s approach, and she stood by her convictions.
“I will be a wizard,” Chartreuse said to herself in a muted voice while she thought back to the day when she met Chalcedony and Nomination. After arriving in the Crystal Empire and becoming Shining Armor’s apprentice, she had been left with the awful feeling of not knowing what came next. Now, just as it had once been, there was a distant, far-off goal, a direction. Getting from here to there would be quite a journey.
Before, she had Rarity to teach her the skills needed for success. Now, everything that she had learned from Rarity would be put to use along with the teachings of Sunburst, Dim, and Shining Armor. They would help her navigate the difficult and possibly even treacherous means of getting from here to there. She had passed the test though, and she trusted Princess Luna’s wisdom on the issue. Now it was time to prove her worth and achieve greatness, but that was hard to do when one’s stomach was growling, like hers was right now, this minute.
“Nomination, would you please fix us some breakfast?” Chartreuse asked of her colt companion. “We have a long day ahead of us. Let us face it with a full stomach.”
“I’d love to,” he replied, his head nodding. “It’d take my mind off my troubles.”
“Nomelettes?” Chalcedony looked hopeful and maybe even a little silly.
At this, Nomination groaned, but offered no other response.
When Chartreuse dried the last of the dishes, she let out a relieved sigh. The kitchen was clean again and she put the plate—now dry—back into the cupboard with its fellow plates. A steaming cup of coffee hovered near her head, a precious cup of coffee made from a blend imported from Zebrabwe. It was earthen, a little bitter, a little nutty, and had curious chocolate notes hidden within its depths with maybe a hint of banana.
Sitting in a chair, Chalcedony clutched her adorable little pot belly, rubbing it, patting it, and grumbling about eating too much. The well-fed filly was growing a little pudgier, filling out in all of the right places as fillies tended to do before maturity twisted their bodies into grotesque shapes, distorted, gangly, gawky mistakes, until at last the body figured out an adult form that was suitable. Sometimes though, through cruel or unfortunate happenstance, the body failed to find an ideal form and one was stuck with one of nature’s creative experimentations.
Which, if bad luck persisted, would be passed along to one’s offspring. Joy!
While Chalcedony contemplated her pot belly, Nomination was writing in his food journal, carefully detailing everything he had done while fixing breakfast; his methods, his ingredients, the quality of said ingredients, and the end results. He wrote with his tongue lolled out, his eyes narrowed, and ears angled over his face, all indicators of supreme concentration. Nomination approached his work as an eager scientist on the verge of some great discovery.
It was, for Chartreuse, one of his most admirable traits.
“All my pudge is just behind my ribs and I want it to go to my backside,” Chalcedony whined. “I want a big bottom with big, wide, foal-birthing hips and the sort of butt one could get stuck in, like quicksand in those pulp novels.”
Hearing the sound of Nomination’s pen clattering upon the table caused Chartreuse’s ears to prick.
“The butt is like a door to a house, and you want it to be inviting.” Chalcedony lifted her head, blinked a few times, and her enthusiasm came out as a series of eager nods. “You want potential mates to look at it and say, ‘That’s a place I want to come inside!’ So I need to make my butt inviting somehow. I need it to stand out in a crowd. Nomination, are there any foods guaranteed to make a fat bottom? I tried drinking gallons of buttermilk like I read in a book, but all that did was give me gas and that wasn’t inviting at all. The backdoor kept blowing open.”
It was painful, the way the corner of Chartreuse’s eye began twitching and tugging on the swollen contours of her face. Everything that Chalcedony had said… everything was fraught with double meaning and innuendo—and the filly seemed oblivious to it. The things that Chalcedony said; Chartreuse wasn’t sure how their friendship survived sometimes.
“When I still had my sight, I read a bunch of books on being attractive and how to be a good breeder. I’m blind now… and sometimes I wonder, can I still be a good mom if I can’t see what I’m doing? It worries me. I’ve spent so much time daydreaming about the future that I want that I can’t imagine it not happening and what do I do if I can’t be a mom? I honestly can’t think of what else to do with my life no matter how much career counseling I get. And I worry… I worry… I mean, I might be able to get pregnant, it’s not hard to get pregnant, but how do I get a mate to stay with me? I’m blind. I worry sometimes and I start to get sad.”
“Chalcedony,” Nomination began, but before he could continue he was cut off.
“I’m probably going to end up alone and being an alone blind mom is gonna be hard.”
Chartreuse too, made the attempt: “Chalcedony—”
“I’ll probably have a social worker take my foals away for neglect. And then what? What do I do? If I want this to work, I have to find a mate and then I’ll have to do anything and everything I can to please him so he’ll stick around and do all of the extra work it takes and when I get like this I can see my whole life unravelling before my very eyes. I’ll have to be one of those ‘Yes dear’ wives I used to read about in magazines. I thought they were stupid. Ugh, this is what stress does to me. It makes me see into the future and I don’t like what I see. Stress.”
Just as Nomination was about to make another attempt at comforting the blind filly clutching her pot belly, there was a knock from the front door down below…
Nomination seemed utterly useless at this point and was hiding his face behind his membranous wings while whimpering. Chalcedony had sent herself into a downward spiral of despair at the worst possible moment, just when having the cheerful, outgoing filly would have been an asset. Now, she was, at best, a liability. Casting a final glance around the parlour, Chartreuse made her way to the front door while thinking that the couch looked a bit spotty, perhaps.
Taking a deep breath, Chartreuse yanked open the front door and was ill-prepared for what she saw. Deflating, she stared at the pony standing on the walk. A pegasus mare, small, white, unassuming; was there a delivery that had been forgotten about? This wasn’t the pony she expected to have arrive at her door.
“Major.” With a gasp, Nomination overcame his anxiety and snapped to attention, standing rigid and stiff, his martial bearing manifesting.
Chartreuse blinked a few times in surprise, but could not comprehend how this mare could be the Major. “Hello? Where are my manners… do come in, Major.”
“Major Gloaming Gardenia,” Nomination barked out the words in an ear-rending shout. “My housemates, Chalcedony, the crystal pony, and Chartreuse Le Feu, of House Le Feu.”
“At ease, Nomination,” the small white pegasus mare replied while she turned to face Chartreuse. “I know your father, Miss Le Feu. Inspector Le Feu has long been a friend and trusted ally to our kind. His name carries immense respect when spoken by our kind. I am honoured that you would keep Nomination as your companion.”
Caught off guard, Chartreuse had no idea how to respond. Was this flattery? No, it couldn’t be, Nomination wasn’t one for flattery, so this was something else, something sincere. Retreating a step, she replied, “Thank you… Nomination is very dear to me.”
Reaching out her wing, the Major removed her sunglasses and the parlour seemed to shrink. The white pegasus darkened, turning a sooty purple-black and in seconds she towered over the three companions, looming enormously over them. She was now scalier, shaggier, and leagues more terrifying. Chartreuse developed a crick in her neck from looking up.
The Major’s neck had a larger circumference than Chartreuse’s whole body.
It was difficult not to sneeze when the powerful scent of the Major’s sulphurous musk overtook the small living space and Chartreuse’s eyes began to water. There was something wrong with the Major’s smile, as all of her teeth appeared to have been replaced with stainless steel. One eye was gone and in its place was a steel plate held in place by screws. Just looking at it made Chartreuse’s bladder clench.
“All three of you appear to have been in altercations,” the Major said and before Nomination could say anything, she held out her wing to silence him. “I know about the fight in school, but Miss Le Feu was not present for that particular character building scuffle. Tell me, Miss Le Feu, why is your pretty face so marred?”
After several attempts to make words happen, Chartreuse failed to respond.
It was Chalcedony who came to Chartreuse’s rescue. “Oh, Charty went and picked a fight with three demons and she beat two to death with a fireplace poker and the third one, he got burned up in the sun this morning while Charty was trying to act all grown up and serious. Now she’s got a glowy leg and she’s acting weird.”
At this, the Major’s stainless steel teeth clicked together and then vanished behind her thick, leathery lips. Chartreuse realised that she was being studied and then, after a moment, she felt something in her mind, a curious presence that intruded, but was gentle. For a second, her emotions went all haywire, but then everything was calm again… and she felt better. The terror fled from her, not just the terror of the Major, but the lurking fear of her encounter too.
“Miss Le Feu… you are very much like your father, who may very well be the most tenacious constable that has ever lived. In my many years of knowing him, I have never known him to fail, not even once. His impeccable record speaks for itself, and it has to, because I’ve never heard your father boast. You and he are of a similar mind.”
“Thank you,” Chartreuse murmured while her heart began to slow its frenzied thumping against her ribs.
“Nomination, I am most pleased to see that you can be trusted with these two fillies, especially the blind one. There is much that needs to discussed between you and I.” The Major slipped her glasses back on and once more, she was small and unassuming again. I have come with orders from Command and you need to be made aware of the new situation.”
Standing rigid, Nomination replied, “Major, there are things which I need to tell you as well. Things you need to be made aware of.”
“Before we begin,” Chartreuse interjected, “how about we go to a place where we can all be comfortable? I know of a tearoom where we can all settle in and have a pleasant time. Yes, all of us. I’m sorry to intrude, but Nomination is quite uncomfortable with what he is about to do, and we’re sticking together.”
“Very well, Imp Smasher,” the unassuming white pegasus mare replied while a smirk made a slow march across her muzzle.
“You never hugged poor Nom.” Chalcedony’s voice was almost an angry squeak now. “You never hugged him, or kissed him, or anything… what sorta sorry excuse for a mom are you?”
A dropping pin could most certainly be heard, were it to happen at this moment. Nomination, frozen, stared straight ahead, unmoving, and Chartreuse noticed a seeming chill in the air, as if somepony had left the front door open. The swish of Chalcedony’s tail could be heard, along with a snort, and then the blind filly began tapping her hoof against the floor.
At that moment, Chartreuse truly loved Chalcedony…
“No wonder Nomination wanted to leave home—”
“Chalcedony, please…” Nomination’s tone towards his friend was one of pleading. “Technically, I was raised in a barracks and a communal nursery, but this doesn’t need to be discussed right now.”
“I’m blind, but even I could do a better job at parenting.”
“Chalcedony, please—”
“NO! This is upsetting!” The blind filly stomped her hoof down upon the floor. “What’s wrong with you, lady?”
Staring at the crystal pony filly, the Major said nothing in return. Oh, things had started off well enough, but had taken a dreadful turn. Chartreuse wasn’t sure what to do. Now, Chalcedony was offended and the hot-tempered filly tended to say exactly what was on her mind because her common sense filter was nonexistent.
“Whatta bitch!”
“Chalcedony!” Chartreuse blurted out.
“Tell me I’m wrong!” Chalcedony demanded.
“You are!”
“Nom’s mom is a stone-cold bitch.”
A distressed whimper escaped from Nomination, and the Major’s head jerked off to one side in a manner that froze Chartreuse’s blood. It was the way that dragons, or manticores, or great big terrible beasties suddenly looked at things, and it was terrifying. Chartreuse was about to say something, to apologise for her friend’s behaviour, but she was shoved aside by the Major, who went to her son’s side.
“You are troubled.” The Major’s words were not a question, but a statement. “You have grown emotional since leaving home… so much so that your emotions now seem to rule you. Why?”
At this moment, Chartreuse could feel the awkwardness radiating from the poor colt, and she pitied him his situation. His mother had chosen this moment to strip his soul bare, it seemed, and Nomination, being the dutiful son he was, would answer, no matter how awful it might be. As bad as it was, at least Chalcedony was quiet now.
“I like having feelings, okay?” the colt blurted out. “Sometimes I even cry!”
Recoiling, it was almost as if the Major had been struck. Then, with slow hesitation, she extended a wing, stepped closer, and wrapped it around her son’s neck. The two of them stood there and it felt wrong to look at them, but Chartreuse could not turn away. Her father too, was gruff, but he had his moments of affection. What she was seeing right now appeared to be a first-time attempt, and it made her mind reel just thinking about it.
They would leave for the tearoom soon enough, but for now, Nomination and his mother needed a moment to get reacquainted.
Author's Note
Almost done...
