It’s still kinda weird stepping through the entrance to the subspace highway. To think that the space between realms takes you through a short tour of someone’s psyche... The first time I ever went through one of these magical constructs, it played out like a scene out of a horror film. It wasn’t as bad for the others, since they didn’t see that nightmarish Lyra thing, but still.

Thankfully, since Twilight went through the gateway first, the landscape I need cross is pulled from her mind, rather than mine. So when I cross into the artificial subspace highway, anchored between my old home and new, I find myself in the midst of what could easily be an Escher painting. Good thing, too. Who knows what mine would be right now?

“Look around you, Soren. What do you see?” my father’s voice echoes in the back of my mind as I plod down a twisting path that simply shouldn’t be.

“My home,” comes my unbidden answer, even as I follow behind Twilight.

Twilight pauses by a Gordian knot of geometric shapes to cast a furtive glance back at me, but says nothing.

The image of my mother appears before me, fear and rage on her face, even as it all becomes featureless. “How could this be your home?” she shrieks. “This is a place for humans! Are you a human?”

“No,” I murmur with a shake of my head. “I’m a pony no—”

“You’re an abomination to the Lord and all that is good!” My father appears, but he too losing his distinctiveness under my gaze. “You’re not a man, or a pony! You’re a monster!” Despite his lack of a face, I can see him sneer. “Even your little pony friend fears you. Just look around!”

Listening to the words of my father, I take in the area around me. There are plenty of me—some Lyra-me, bandaged and bloody, some childlike me—walking around the landscape. Some are marching on the ceiling and walls, while others are pacing on a looping set of stairs. The one thing they all have in common is that they are brandishing small knives or shards of obsidian.

All of them are staring daggers at both myself and Twilight.

“She’s terrified of you!” my father and mother chant in unison. “She should be! You nearly killed her not once, but twice.”

My vision twitches, and I’m suddenly on the ground in the middle of Ponyville, staring up with maddened glee at Twilight. She’s terror-stricken as she realizes that, with a mere nudge of magic, I could push the shard into her brain, killing her.

“That wasn’t my fault!” I cry, blinking and finding myself back in the subspace highway. “I was out of my mind!”

A rumble of dark laughter filled my ears, and when I blink again, I’m in the training field once more. I’m doing Twilight’s training exercise the day I got my cutie mark, straining my hardest to destroy her shield dome. Cracks are spreading across the surface.

My vision detaches from my body, and I watch powerless as the bolt of repurposed magic slams through Twilight’s barrier. When it happened originally, I couldn’t see just how close the bolt came to her head, but now, I can see every strand of mane it singes… but with a flicker of reality again, her entire head is gone, leaving just a cauterized stump where her neck ought to be.

“You weren’t out of your mind when this happened, now were you?” the dark voice asks. “It seems that even when you aren’t trying; you’re a danger.”

No… No, that would have been an accident. One I was responsible for, but I would not be the sole blame there! I shake my head and look to Twilight.

She’s not there.

I’m alone, and it’s not the subspace highway I’m in, now. It’s a pentagonal, obsidian room. I know the place, and with horror, I realize I’ve been here in a dream before. When Luna helped me make peace with Lyra’s memory imprint, this is where I came.

“She can’t help you either,” the voice says with a tone of smugness. Shadow begins to wrap around me. “But I can, if you’ll let me.”

A scream escapes my throat, and I am engulfed in darkness as I wake.

~ 2 ~

From atop my throne, er, a bookshelf in Twilight’s dormitory, I stare down at Twilight, Spike, and ‘Dad’. On the one hand, I kinda wanna start actually calling the prince that just to spite him and everypony else for making this decision without my input. On the other, calling a man that is pretty much only old enough to be my brother—at best—Dad or Daddy, even jokingly, creeps me out.

“Penny, get down here! You’re being ridiculous!” Twilight shouts. Not you too! Why does everypony call me that? “How did you even get up there?”

That’s actually a good question. I’d like to say I used my amazing catlike reflexes to climb the bookshelf, but… honestly? I probably accidentally blinked again. If a mare-child is having a tantrum—yes, this is exactly what it looks like—why shouldn’t she accidentally cast spells that put her in strange places? Pretty impressive, given the migraine and magical burnout I’m suffering, but still.

“How could you, Twilight?” I grumble, scowling down at her. “How could you just… let your own brother put his genetic material inside me like that? Without my consent!?”

When both siblings widen their eyes and I’m reminded that, yes, ponies can blush, I realize that my words could have a second meaning. Given my history, it could even come off as accusatory. Still.

“I get that having my body literally attacking itself for earning my cutie mark is bad and would likely have killed me if the seizures didn’t first,” I continue, pretending I didn’t accidentally imply Shiny did improper things to me. “But you could’ve at least forced me into lucidity to get my permission first!”

Yes, I’m being ridiculous. I know that. They had to make a decision that would save my life. It doesn’t make me any happier, though. Like… they could’ve chosen any random pony’s DNA to stabilize me. Why use genes from the pony whose sister I tried to kill?

“For fuck sake, I’m basically your daughter now!” I point a hoof at Shining Armor. “How’s Cadance going to feel knowing she now has a stepdaughter by technicality? Oh god, and your parents! What’s your mother going to think knowing that she’s technically a grandmother now?”

The thought of being loathed or gushed over—depending on reactions—scares me almost as much as the thought of dying. I don’t like attention most of the time. Sure, it’d be nice to have ‘family’ here in Equestria, but I was just recently disowned! It’s too fucking quick to just get written into someone else’s life! And why did it have to be Twilight’s family!?

As I start thinking myself in circles, I realize that I’m having a panic attack. It might be the fact that I’m uncharacteristically dizzy, or the fact that I’m under so much stress, or the fact that I may have started hyperventilating a number of minutes ago, but something clues me in. Oh wait, no. That’s just me falling off the bookcase.

Color me surprised when it’s not Twilight or Spike that stop my fall, but a great white stallion instead. Sure, he somehow manages to snag me by the scruff of my neck with his magic, but he caught me, right?

“Why?” I ask, wiping tears from my eyes. “Why do you keep helping me?”

Still holding me by the scruff of my neck, he carries me over and drops me gently onto a small pillow. Looking down at me with doubtful eyes, he lets out a sigh. “I don’t know why.” His answer draws a surprised sound from Twilight, who probably expected her BBBFF to have a noble reason ready and rehearsed. “I’d like to think that it was the right thing to do, that I helped you because it’s what any pony would do, but…

“You’re not like other ponies,” he says firmly. “You have a disturbing propensity for violence that you can just… turn off. Your mind is sharp in a number of ways, and that scares me, because it makes you an unknown. You could just as easily have become an enemy.”

I raise an eyebrow, not following his train of thought.

“You could’ve run the day you woke up in your own body again—fled to the farthest reaches of the world, and nopony would ever find you if you didn’t want them to.” He surprises me by gently brushing a hoof through my mane. Even more surprising, I find myself reflexively leaning into the touch, like some sort of cat. “Instead, you were horrified enough by what you’d done that you, knowing who I was, confessed in search of penance. You try to act with honor.”

I bob my head at that. That much makes sense. “And why use your genes instead of somepony else? Even the doctor could’ve been the donor.”

He smiles, but there’s guilt on his face. “Let’s just say that some ponies in the guard weren’t exactly impressed that I was having you watched, despite being cleared...” He turns to Twilight and begins walking away. “At least with you effectively being a blood relative, I can have you watched without as much scrutiny.”

The corner of his mouth twitches, as though to strangle a grin. “You’ve got talent. Imagine how strong you might become with our bloodline running through you,” he says with a laugh as he nods toward Twilight. “Besides, with your cutie mark, I thought it’d be amusing.”

I look down at my bandaged flank. I’ve seen the mark that would’ve killed me, and I kinda see his humor. His mark is an navy kite shield with a magenta star crest, topped by three stars. My mark is an navy kite shield shattered into four large pieces, a silver drop of water emblazoned across the whole.

“The Prince of Shields takes the Breaker Maiden as his own,” I finally muse aloud as he reaches the door. “Sounds like you just want to see what I can do, too.” It brings a smile to my face. Kinda Goku-esque in a way; like he just wants a challenge. “Just don’t expect me to call you Daddy.”

~ 2 ~

The next few weeks so goes by really slowly for me. Twilight is gone along with the princesses on a trip to Ponyville so that Lyra can finally introduce the show to them. Maybe, between those three, somepony might figure out how the existence of Friendship is Magic is even possible, or how Lyra even came into possession of the laptop in the first place.

Ideally, I might’ve gone along with her, but I know for a fact that I’m still not wanted in Ponyville right now. Not after the stunt I pulled. Better I take the time to continue my exercise and studies than to get into a fight when I can barely use intentional magic at all. Besides, the wounds are still too fresh.

So that’s what I do.

While I’m still recovering from magical burnout, most of my magic related studies are theory-based, rather than practical. I’m starting to understand things more, so the number of spell books that allow me to read their contents has increased by a fair margin. While I won’t be able to do too much, I’ll be able to read about more than just prestidigitation and light spells, which I still need an opportunity to practice. Elemental spells seem like a good place to start. Hehehe… fire.

The exercises my guard shadow puts me through, on the other hand, are a bit difficult when my bandaged hind-end limits my range of movement. As I am, I probably won’t be dressed up in armor any time soon—it’s ludicrous to think they’d even make plate mail in a foal’s size—but learning to maneuver like this would give me a good gist of what it’s like to move in armor.

To that end, he has me running sprints between two points with a weighted saddle-bag draped over my back, dodging stunning spells—though why he keeps screaming “Dodge!” is beyond me—and practicing bucking. Each day, I’m moving a bit better, but I end each night with a bit more soreness. Going to bed tired is fine; waking up sore? Not so much.

So, for two weeks, it’s a routine. I wake, bathe, eat, study, exercise, eat, and go to bed exhausted. I’d love it if I had access to a hot-spring, but this routine is good. It’s normal. I love it.

Eventually, I check in with the doctor that’s been caring for me during my last few hospital stints. A few check-ups and tests, and I’m cleared to start using my horn again, albeit with the express instruction to, and I quote, “Not do whatever idiotic thing you did to burn yourself out that badly again.”

Maybe Twilight was onto something with the reading, or perhaps magic works similar to Saiyan physiology, and the closer a unicorn gets to complete magical burnout, the more powerful they grow, but it’s kinda amazing. Light and prestidigitation come much easier than I expect. Before long, I’m conjuring up tiny pony figurines or images on my hoof, even if they only last as long as the spell is channeled.

I guarantee that I tried to convince my watcher to teach me a stunning spell so that I can do a bit of target practice—I am getting restless here, after all—but he seems to think my mentor should give permission. He’s probably just being condescending because I look like a foal. But hey; if I get into trouble that could be prevented with a stunner, the resulting mess wouldn’t be entirely my fault.

Towards the end of week three, Twilight returns. There’s a look about her as if she has questions but is too afraid to ask. Honestly I can’t be sure whether she’s concerned about my mental state for having been watching a show intended for little girls, or if she just doesn’t know what to do with me. I completed the workload she’d left me. Lacking instruction on the magical front, I may or may not be looking at things that may still be a bit complicated for me to pull off.

Still. It’s nice not being alone in the tower again. Besides eating with the castle servants—I certainly ain’t about to dine with the princesses—and my training, there hasn’t been anybody to really talk to. I mean, I could go outside the castle grounds, but it’s kinda scary, y’know?

Imagine my surprise and displeasure when, before the dawn the fifth day after Twilight returns from Ponyville, I’m woken by none other than Shining Armor. As is expected of a half-asleep pony the size of a child, particularly one being woken by someone they’re blood-related to, I respond like a child. “Nnnn, five more minutes.”

Somehow, the sudden use of magic to overturn my mattress and send me sprawling shouldn’t surprise me as much as it does. He just stands there in his polished namesake, looking down at me as somepony might something unpleasant. It’s not until I’m up on my hooves and shaking the sleep out of my head that he speaks.

“So, you want to join the guard, Silver?” he asks in a firm tone. “You think you have what it takes?” He smirks. “You’re going to have to show me that you have even a fraction. Being a guardspony means being able to push yourself in any situation, regardless of your discomfort or physical state.”

I cross my eyes and glance up at my bandaged horn, and then look back to my flank. Neither feels as bad as they did the day after I earned my mark, but I definitely wouldn’t want to try anything more than levitation for a while yet.

“It is currently zero four hundred hours.” He points to the window, indicating the still-dark sky. “You have until zero five hundred to get cleaned, report to the mess hall, and join Eta Squad for breakfast. Sergeant Revelry will have further orders for you.”

Just hearing his name draws up the memory of all the dodging practice the stallion’s been putting me through. It shouldn’t be reflexive this quickly, but merely imagining the word “Dodge!” in his voice has me primed to move. Alas, when it’s move or get dropped like a sack of doorknobs, you chose the former nine times out of ten.

I nod, wiping at my eyes with a hoof, and then stop to think. After a moment, I bring that hoof up in salute, and answer him, “Sir, yes sir!”

“Dismissed!” he replies with the barest trace of a smile as I spin on my hoof and book it for the shower.

By now, I’m used to bathing myself as a pony with or without magic, but I definitely prefer being able to rub the shampoo in with a sponge I’m levitating rather than holding with a hoof. There’s something soothing about hot water cascading down my body and coat, and it’s easy to lose track of time.

That said, I’m out of the shower and dry with plenty of time to spare. This time, I don’t even bother to put bandages over my burned flank or slightly-scorched horn. I don’t know what Shining or the Sergeant have planned for me, but if it’s anything like I’m imagining—possibly shadowing the Sergeant’s squad on patrol—it’ll be better to have full range of movement.

Finding my way to the mess hall takes a bit more time than I’d have liked, but it’s surprising that it’s not hard to find the Sergeant in the mess. Even though I’ve never seen him without the armor enchantments, a pale green unicorn with a short cropped purple mane somehow… fits.

Now, you gotta understand. Out in public, a small pony like me doesn’t draw any looks. Just a foal, ponies might think. Here though, in the middle of the most guards I’ve ever seen in one place, however I draw a lot of looks.

I can even imagine two separate streams of thought making its way through the ranks. If the whispers are any indication, some of the ponies that witnessed my practice with Twilight are present, so that’s one stream of consciousness out of the way. The other obvious choice is “Is this foal lost?”

Who cares about what they think, though? I put all of it aside and make my way straight for the table headed by Revelry. With a salute and a gentle clomp of my hooves, I state as loud as is appropriate as possible for the mess, “Silver Penance reporting per Captain Shining Armor’s orders, Sergeant.”

One of the ponies at the table, a bat pony mare, snorts. “D’ja pick that name yerself, FNG?” she brushes a red-streaked section of navy mane out of her eyes. Something about her accent strikes me as familiar. Not Scottish or Irish… Newfoundland? No...

Her expression shifts into disgust when I give a halting nod. “Ye say it with a sense of duty, like it’s yer purpose or summat. Some fuckin’ presumptuous, ain’t ye?”

“Cool it, Eve.” Another, a pegasus who looks like he could bench press a steel beam twice his size, speaks up. “You read the same dossier the rest of us did. Ain’t been a pony more than a month, lost it all, an’ look at her now.”

A third nods. “Not saying she chose her name to give her purpose, but if she has something to work towards, what’s the harm?”

The bat horse, Eve—is that short for something?—scoffs. “Sure, the wee urchin’s all cutesy ‘I’m Silver Penance, I wanna help ponies!’ now,” she replies, banging a hoof down on the table, “but how’s about when she’s fucked half the guard and decided her penance is up? She gonna keep playin’ nice, or she gonna turn on us like she did the Cap’n’s sister?”

I’m not sure what’s the worst part of any of what she just said. I mean, yeah, implying I plan on sleeping my way up the ranks is pretty fucking out-there for somepony who’s had sex all of once, and not even in her own body. Using the lowest moment in my life to make a dig at me, though?

Even as my ears reflexively fold back and my eyes water, I look the mare in the eyes with as much malice as I can muster. “What’s your problem? Why in the hell would I go and fuck half the guard, b’y?” I inwardly cringe as a bit of old Cape Breton twang slips into my voice. Is it because she reminds me of those years I spent there? Am I mimicking her mannerisms just to mock her? “Nah. Lookin’ at you, ain’t worked out so well, seein’ as yer still a fuckin’ squaddie.”

I point a hoof at her and smirk. “‘sides, I’m small’n’tight; they’d probably be lookin’ to move on’ up from yer loose’n’baggy cunt.” I turn away, making an effort to lose the accent. “I respect myself too much for that.”

If not for the fact that the buff pegasus practically seizes her by one of her withers, I’m pretty sure I’d be picking my teeth off of the mess hall floor right about now. Her teal eyes are alight with… something, and it’s not hard to imagine them practically glowing with demonic fervor.

After but a few minutes of absolute silence in the mess, Eve snorts and looks away. Situation… defused? Okay, maybe not, but I could swear that the corner of her mouth is struggling not to turn up.

With that out of the way with, the sergeant quickly introduces me to the rest of Eta. The bit—er, bat is Master Corporal Evening Script. The pegasus that came to my defense is Corporal Strongwind. Besides that, there’s a bookish earth pony, Private Specks, and another pegasus, Private Stonefeather.

“Silver here is going to be working with us for the next month,” Revelry says, giving Eve a warning look. “She’ll be training with us, eating with us, and going on patrols with us five days a week, dawn to dusk.”

Eve is practically beaming at this news, and for some reason, I imagine that I’m in for a world of hurt if she ever gets her hooves on me.

“She’ll also be bunking with us on those days she’s with us.” He looks to me, and adds. “Go grab some chow, rook. We may be instructed to treat you like a foal ride-along in public, but everywhere else you’ll be treated like any other guard. Got something special in mind for you today.”

Author's Note

For the next few chapters, they will be posted weekly on Thursdays until my backlog of chapters is gone.