Not Them

by BleedingRaindrops

Rating: everyone
Tags: Original Character, Slice of Life, Drama, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 7825

What if your entire life was a lie, and your only memories weren't yours? What would you do to find out who you are?

Have you ever thought that your entire life was a lie? What if you woke up one day to discover that your own memories did not belong to you? Where would you go? What would you do to find out who you really are?

These are not my stories. I am not them.

Published 2019-08-08 04:00:01 UTC
Last updated 2020-08-12 14:29:11 UTC

Dinner Date

Fancypants could hear glasses and dishes clicking on trays as Waiters rushed about the inside of the restaurant. He checked his watch. Odd that he did that, as it wasn’t really the time he was checking. He was right on time though, ten minutes to eight, and only two ponies ahead of him in line at the desk. His date, however, was not. He looked left and right down the cobblestone streets. No sign of her. The Waitress called the next pony in line, and now there was only one pony ahead of him.

Five minutes to eight. A tall, white pegasus mare wearing an extravagant and heavily sequined dress strode up to the restaurant. She folded her… wings? Fancypants blinked. No, just a flap of the dress. There was clearly a horn on her head. Ah, Lucidia. She had arrived.

Fancypants smiled and waved to her. She looked up, as though startled to see him, and then trotted boldly over.

“There you are. I was beginning to wonder if—”

“Name please,” The pony at the reservation desk called.

“Oh, yes, reservation for Fancypants, and date.”

“Right this way, sir.”

Fancypants held out a hoof. Lucidia took it and they followed as their server led them to a table near the back. The dining room was well lit with many chandeliers overhead, and dozens of candelabras along the wall, which was lined with red velvet and purple fan curtains.

She blushed as he helped her into her seat, and his chest swelled with pride. He hurried to sit across from her, though not so quickly as to sacrifice grace. The waiter brought them water and bread sticks, and moved to place their menus.

Fancypants gently stopped the waiter with a hoof. “Ah, I think I’ll have the usual carrot soup and daisies tonight. And you, my dear?” he asked, looking to the beautiful mare across the table.

She blinked, and said nothing for a moment, then blushed and put a hoof to her mouth. “Oh, um, I’ll have the same, thank you.” she ducked down in her seat a little, so Fancy leaned forward to reach a hoof gently toward her.

“Such taste in delicacy and decor, you are a diamond, Miss Lucidia.”

She smiled meekly until the waiter left, then seemed to relax a little. She gazed about at the chandeliers, as though seeing them for the first time. Fancy smiled and let her admire them for a moment before touching her hoof with his, drawing her attention back to him.

“I remember at the Gala you mentioned something about a family business in interior design. Could you tell me more about that?” he asked, leaning back in his seat. Her eyes widened and she put a hoof to her mouth.

“Oh, I um… just lights, I guess.” She giggled a bit. She looked up, smiling brightly. At last. “I designed these, actually.” She gestured up at the chandelier overhead.

Fancypants let out a surprised chuckle. “Really? Fascinating. And to think this restaurant is one of the oldest in Canterlot. They must have redone the lighting since it was built. How long have you been in business?”

Lucidia twirled her hoof for a moment looking up. “Oh about… I don’t remember, actually. Since I was a filly, I think?”

“You were in business as a filly?”

“Uh…” She floundered for a moment, as though she was having trouble finding the thought. “Well I mean it was my parents’—is, my parents’ um… business.” She swallowed, fanning herself with a hoof. “I’m sorry, I guess I’m just a bit nervous, this being our first dinner and all.”

Fancypants frowned. “Surely this isn’t your first dinner with someone else, Miss Lucidia?” Was it really? How could it be? With her beauty, he could not be the first to treat her to dinner.

She began fanning herself more rapidly, appearing more and more stressed by the moment, he went to reach for her hoof, when there was a shout from the front door. Fancypants flinched.

“What do you mean the name’s been crossed off?! Where is he?!” Fancypants turned to see what the commotion was and saw a white unicorn mare with a flowing dress looking about the restaurant, and taking a very aggressive posture with the Maitre’d. She locked eyes with him for a moment… and… Fancypants blinked. It was Lucidia. Wait, no. She was just across the table from him. Fancypants looked back at Lucidia across the table, but she had gotten up, and was hurrying away toward the restroom. He stood up to follow after her.

“Wait! Miss Lucidia, I…”

She stopped, briefly, as she reached the restroom door. There were tears in her eyes, and she looked… afraid. But of what? She mouthed a quick “I’m sorry” before ducking her head and rushing into the restroom. Wings appeared at her side in a flash of green as she vanished through the door.

He had not gone more than a step from his table. Deciding it was best not to follow her, he sat down, only to see Lucidia stomping toward him looking furious.

“Who was that?” She snapped as she reached the table.

Fancypants looked from Lucidia to the restroom and back to Lucidia several times. His mouth opened and closed but no words came out. Lucidia began tapping her hoof rapidly. Finally, he hung his head, gestured to the seat across from him, and let out a sigh.

“My apologies, Miss Lucidia. I believe I have fallen victim to a very clever ruse. I hope it has not put you off from having dinner with me this evening.” He looked up at her with a tight but calm smile, hoping that he appeared apologetic enough for her to stay.

Her glare hardened, then softened, and finally she stiffly lowered herself into the chair, glowering across the table at him. “I suppose I could give you another chance. I am hungry after all.” She crossed her hooves and looked sourly away. Fancy let out a sigh. With any luck the rest of the evening would be very uneventful.

The waiter arrived carrying their food, and Lucidia raised an eyebrow at him, but accepted the food without saying anything. She ate in silence until her soup was finished, then lifted her napkin to her lips with her magic, and looked up at him.

“You really don’t know who she was?”

He swallowed and shook his head. “I’m afraid not. But I think this will be a very interesting story to tell at the next party I attend.” He cleared his throat. “So then, why don’t you tell me about what you do? I heard you mention something about interior design at the gala.”

Lucidia smiled and lifted her glass to her lips, then began. “Well, when I was a filly I was always fascinated by chandeliers. I helped design the ones this restaurant installed last year, you know.”

Royal Ball

The soft hum of violin strings and the sweet scent of hydrangea filled the buzzing courtyard of Canterlot Castle’s lower halls. The hanging lanterns danced as a warm summer breeze drifted through the main ballroom. Spitfire leaned against the punch table and watched some activity on the far side of the fountain, where a group of Pegasi were gathered around an old stallion in a wool lined flight jacket.

He gesticulated mildly with his hooves as they all watched intently, some of them hovering slightly with a dazed expression. Spitfire smirked from the far side of the courtyard, picking up faint traces of the conversation. Another of his grandiose rescue stories. She wondered idly who it was about this time.

One of the pegasi around him—Fleetfoot, from the mane and distinctive wonderbolts uniform—shook her head and turned around, trotting gently over to join Spitfire at the punch bowl. She made a point of rolling her eyes and leaving them pointed back toward the storyteller before grabbing a cup and leaning toward the punch bowl. Spitfire got the ladle for her.

“Geez, Wind Rider never gives up with those silly stories of his. I swear, you’d think the guy makes them up for attention. I’d call him out but, I wasn’t there for this one.”

Spitfire raised an eyebrow as she returned the ladle to the bowl and took another sip of her own cup. “You don’t believe him?”

“Well, I would… “ Fleetfoot downed her whole cup and went for another, getting the ladle herself this time. “... but even joining up shortly before he retired, I know he didn’t get around nearly as much as he lets on. Did he seriously handle a runaway tornado all on his own once? The Wind Rider I knew just liked to sit in his office and polish old trophies. What’s up with that guy?”

Spitfire laughed, resting a wing on Fleetfoot’s back. “That one’s actually mostly true, though what he left out is that he also caused it, and he probably didn’t tell you it was well away from any residential areas that might have been in danger otherwise. But yeah, that was like, my first week on the team. Crazy story either way, but yeah, he likes to embellish a bit. We all, do, as you’re well aware.”

Spitfire fixed Fleetfoot with a piercing but friendly gaze, and the younger pegasus shrugged and downed another cup of punch.

“Which one is he telling this time, anyway?”

“Oh, something about rescuing a falling unicorn filly at last year’s Best Young Fliers Competition. You know, the one where you told me that Rainbow pony did a sonic Rainboom?”

Fleetfoot rolled her eyes again, but Spitfire narrowed hers. She’d performed at the preshow for that competition. In fact, she’d been one of the three wonderbolts who had—unsuccessfully—attempted to rescue the falling mare. Rainbow Dash had actually impressed her that day by saving all four of them. But the odd thing was that Wind Rider most definitely was not there. He hadn’t attended any of the Best Young Flier Competitions since his retirement.

Embellishment of something you were there for was one thing, but if Wind Rider was fishing for compliments with something he hadn’t done? Spitfire might need to say something. She trotted over to the circle of ponies, which had grown larger of course, since her initial interest. She pushed her way to the front and listened carefully.

“... and then the beast grabbed a waterjug the size of a building, and trapped us all against the mountainside, and began roasting us alive with its fiery breath. It was like something out of a nightmare.”

Spitfire recognized the tale of when a large purple dragon had been ransacking Ponyville, but Wind Rider hadn’t even been in the area, let alone trapped by the beast. It was after his retirement, and she’d sent Soarin, Blaze, and Surprise on that mission. With a snort, Spitfire stepped into the circle.

“I knew you liked to embellish the stories, Wind Rider, but don’t you have enough of your own without borrowing from Soarin’s private stash?”

She gave him a coy smile that offered a way out through banter, if he chose to take it. Not much to her surprise however, Wind Rider began sweating a bit, even stepping backward out of the circle a bit.

“Well, I erm… “ His irises flashed green for a brief moment, then returned to their original amber. Nopony but her seemed to notice

Spitfire heard nothing of what he mumbled next, as her gaze became fixed on his eyes.

“What… was that?” She spoke aloud. His gaze locked with hers, and a look of worry—almost genuine fear—overtook his face.

“I—I’m not sure what you’re um...” He swallowed, fanning his face as he took a few more steps back. A green flash passed over his wings. They became translucent membranes—almost insect-like—for a brief moment, then flashed back to feathers.

Spitfire narrowed her eyes and took an aggressive stance. Her wings naturally opened, ready for action. All of the color drained from his face, and he began inching sideways toward the nearby corridor.

“I… I’m sorry, I have to—”

Spitfire dove on him, but he moved lithely just out of her reach. She grabbed at him and his body almost seemed to bend through her hooves like a noodle. He bolted around a corner and she whirled after him on her wings. But when she got around the corner there was just… nothing there. Spitfire found herself staring at a long empty corridor that even Windrider couldn’t have cleared in that time. She raced to the other end and opened the door, but there was nothing there either. He had gotten away.

As she turned back around, one of the Lunar guards emerged from the shadows, almost as if he had materialised from the wall itself. He didn’t say anything; he just stared expectantly at her.

"Did you see anypony come this way? An old stallion in a fleece coat? About two seconds ago?”

The guard shook his head, and turned around to walk away. Spitfire stomped her hoof and snorted, then turned and walked back toward the party. As much as she respected his talent, and was grateful he’d handed her the title as Captain of the Wonderbolts, she was frustratingly worried about him. One of these days, that old stallion was going to bite off more than he could chew.

After a few seconds to cool off, Spitfire stalked back to the main courtyard and headed for another cup of punch. What an evening.

Vanquishing Act

The bell over the door to Sugarcube corner jingled pleasantly as Starlight trotted out with a brown paper bag floating behind her, wrapped in a turquoise aura. Safely contained inside were a dozen tiny cupcakes, one of Pinkie’s new ideas; miniguffins, she'd called them. The size actually sort of surprised Starlight, given Pinkie’s penchant for bigger and more bombastic culinary concoctions. Starlight shook her head at the odd mental alliteration, and trotted through town, across the bridge near Town Hall, and out to the meadow where Trixie had parked her caravan, treats in tow.

They made a nice excuse to convince Trixie to take a break while setting up for her new act, not that Trixie would listen. Starlight rolled her eyes with a smile. Call in a crisis and Trixie would be the last mare on scene, but try to convince her to stop planning her next big performance for just one second… well, it was rather difficult to do, but Starlight had done the impossible before. The girl was a showmare, through and through, always perfecting her oldest acts, or thinking up new ones. Trixie always aimed to dazzle and amaze.

As Starlight approached the caravan, Starlight heard the sound of… laughter? Not that Trixie never laughed, but who or what would be causing it? More importantly, was what she didn’t hear: clanging, things being tossed about, minor explosions, and the shattering of Trixie’s famous magical dust cloud orbs. It was almost as though Trixie had stopped working on setting up for her next act later that week. But that was impossible.

Just as Starlight arrived at the back of the caravan, Trixie poked her head out, eyes shut with mirth.

“Oh you are a laugh, Starlight, but seriously, come in and help me get this costume right.”

Starlight frowned at Trixie as she trotted in, closing the door behind her while Trixie rushed to throw on what Starlight could only assume was some sort of celestial bear costume.

“Are you dressing up as an Ursa Major for your next act? Is this so you can pretend to be vanquished?”

Trixie, who had quickly posed as soon as she had the ridiculous thing on, slumped. “Oh come on, Starlight, you just told me this would be funny. Are you changing your mind again?”

Starlight squinted hard. Just told her?

“What are you talking about, Trixie. I just got back from Sugarcube Corner.”

Trixie rolled her eyes. “Yes, and then you asked me about the Ursa Major that I vanquished, and I told you the story I’d made up, and you agreed it would be funny if I dressed up as one on stage. We just had this conversation You were standing right out there!”

Starlight followed the direction of Trixie’s hoof, and nearly jumped when she actually saw movement outside the caravan. She hid her shock, and turned back to Trixie, putting on a fake smile.

“Right, right, yes, I just thought that… I was going to be the Ursa Major,” she lied.

Trixie blinked, then smiled. “Oh, well why didn’t you say so.” She slipped off the costume with… some difficulty, and held it out to Starlight, who held up her little paper bag of cupcakes defensively.

“Aaactually I thought maybe for now we could go look at the Ursa Major who lives nearby, to make sure the costume is right.”

Trixie held her mouth open, but didn’t respond.

“And meanwhile we could enjoy these new tiny cupcakes from Pinkie?”

Trixie shut her mouth, pondered it for a moment, then shrugged.

“Eh, it couldn’t hurt.” She dropped the costume and trotted forward, grabbing the bag from Starlight in her magic. Starlight turned and headed out ahead of her because the caravan was very small, but cast a quick glance around the side of it where the path hid it partially from view. Yes, there was definitely a pony there, but Starlight didn’t have time for a good look. She turned and followed Trixie along the path. Trixie was saying something that must have been funny, because she was also laughing, but Starlight didn’t quite hear it. She had her ears turned back toward the caravan.

When they were around the bend, Starlight pretended to forget something and teleported back to the caravan. Twilight probably wouldn’t approve of lying to her friend, but Starlight needed to confirm her suspicions.

She appeared on the side of the caravan where she’d seen movement. The other pony jumped, startled, and a flash of green light obscured her. For a brief moment, there was a changeling in front of Starlight. But not in the new bright colors they’d recently adopted. This one was still jet black, and riddled with holes. A moment later, the pony was back and it was… Starlight.

Starlight Glimmer was staring at a perfect copy of herself, if perfect also meant crying and clearly distraught over something. But why? Why her? And why so sad? She tilted her head slightly, and her doppleganger flinched back covering her face and sobbing. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s alright.” Starlight stepped forward to hug the poor girl, but she gasped, then leapt away into the air. Green magic swirled around her again and she flew off on gossamer wings.

“Wait, no! Come back, it’s alright!” Starlight called after her, but the changeling had sped away over the trees.

Starlight stared after her for a moment, then sat down to think.

A changeling, and not a reformed one. Copying her. Why? And sad? Why did she apologize? Why did she run? Was she afraid of Starlight? No, but what about Twilight? Why was there a changeling that hadn’t been reformed? Starlight thought they had all been reformed at the downfall of Chrysalis. Had she hatched new? Each question became more and more puzzling.

Twilight needed to know. Starlight lit up her horn again, then glanced back over her shoulder where Trixie was probably waiting for her, and would probably be disappointed to go see the Ursa Major without her. Starlight hung her head.

“Sorry, Trixie.” she said, then vanished with a flash of turquoise.

Author's Note

Sorry for the long wait. College hit me like an Ursa Major.

Feather Brain

“Thanks for coming, see ya tomorrow!” called a cheery voice from the counter.

A basket of muffins blocked Derpy’s view of the line of ponies still waiting as she made her way to the door, and outside. Dinky would be home from school soon. Her first day back after winter wrap-up. A perfect occasion for some treats.

Derpy smiled to herself. Not that any day wasn’t great for some treats, but today was a special day. Pinkie Pie prefered cupcakes over muffins, but she always made them just the way Derpy liked anyway, and always with a pleasant surprise. Today’s surprise was an extra muffin at no extra charge. Pinkie knew how to keep ponies coming back.

The door jingled out Derpy’s exit and the bustling streets of Ponyville answered. The southern birds were singing sweetly in the trees, right where they should be. Derpy’s ears swiveled happily to listen. A conversation wafted in through the song, from around the corner. She followed it, and soon Cafe Hay came into view with its polka dot tables. A grey pegasus mare Derpy didn’t recognize with a blonde mane sat there, chatting with Cloud Breeze from work. She was wearing the same delivery uniform as Derpy wore. Ooh, maybe they were getting new help?

As Derpy got closer, she spotted the mare’s cutie mark.

Bubbles.

She squinted, trying to see if maybe she’d got it wrong, but no, that mare definitely had the same cutie mark. She should go say hi. This was sure to be a fun conversation. Derpy picked up to a trot and perked her ears for a clean spot to chime in.

“But when I got to the Lunar Sea, I still hadn’t found them. I was about to keep flying, but then Rainbow Dash swooped in and turned me around. Turns out I’d been heading west the whole time. Pretty crazy, right?”

“Hahaha, you feather brain! Thank goodness Rainbow Dash was on the case. I know I couldn’t’ have caught you.”

A mare they needed Rainbow Dash to catch? Derpy definitely needed to get to know this girl.

“She nearly didn’t, you know.” It was nearly inaudible.

“Wait, what?” Cloud Breeze rubbed his ear. “I definitely misheard that. It sounded like you said Rainbow Dash, the fastest pony in Equestria, nearly didn’t catch you. I know you’re fast, Derps, but you’re not—”

Quickly gathering lift before she was spotted, Derpy alighted the roof of the cafe and waited there with an ear poised for the mare’s next words.

“Oh she’s not quite as fast as everypony thinks. If she hadn’t called out so loudly, I wouldn’t have known to turn around so she could catch up to me. I might have even found out what’s beyond the edge of the map.”

Wow. That was correct.

Cloud Breeze laughed. “Oh, you crack me up, Derps. You could write a book with all these stories you tell. Next you’ll be telling me you saved Princess Twilight from the Storm King.”

The mare’s ears twitched, and she fanned herself with a hoof. “Well, um…”

“Listen, Derps. I’ve got to get back and close up. Seriously though, you should write a book. I’d read it.”

Derpy ducked as he flew over her head, then looked back down to the mare below her. She breathed in deeply, as though drinking an aroma, but probably not a good one because she scrunched her face a moment later, and shook her head, then slumped off of the hay stool and trod slowly away.

Derpy looked down at her muffins, then back at the mare, then grabbed the basket and took flight.

“You went North the year aft—WHA!”

The two mares stumbled as Derpy misjudged her distance from the other girl. She shook her head, and focused just one eye on her, trying to make out if she was hurt. Pretty soon, they wouldn’t let her deliver mail either, and she’d be stuck behind the desk.

The other mare stared back with both eyes. Both of her eyes. Derpy’s eyes. No, wait. Derpy blinked. For a moment, the other mare’s eyes had been bright green, but now they were the same gold they’d always been.

‘I’m s—”

“You can use my stories if you want.”

The other mare might have turned to stone if not for the color in her mane. But even that disappeared for a moment, replaced by a weird green fire. It reminded Derpy of the changelings in Canterlot two years back.

This mare couldn’t have been one of those awful changelings, though, even if they had changed their ways. This poor girl looked just like Twilight had, the day Derpy took the petrification spell meant for her. She had barely made it in time. Maybe she could help this girl too.

“I don’t mind, really.” She reached down, and plucked a muffin from the basket, holding it out. “Go ahead. Have one.”

The ice broke, and the other mare dropped her head low. “I’m sorry. I thought maybe I was me this time.” She took the muffin, and then green flames covered her body and… wow, she really was a changeling. Her gossamer wings started buzzing, and swiss cheese legs left the ground.

“Wait! You don’t have to go!” Derpy quickly called as the changeling girl took flight. “Just stay inside during feather flu season and you can be the fast—OOF ” Derpy sailed after her, closing the distance quickly, but she overshot her, and lost sight of her as the whole world became green flames, and then Derpy was caught between the branches of a tree by the Everfree.

Not again.

“I’m sorry. I’m not you.”

Derpy’s ears swiveled to find the source of the voice, just as the muffin basket landed neatly below her.

“I’m sorry.”

She heard the retreating sound of insect wings, but she couldn’t follow anyway. Speed was useless if you couldn’t fly straight. Once again, she was good and stuck. Hopefully Dinky would understand, and they could still enjoy their day, once she got free.

She looked down at the basket of muffins, minus one, and smiled. Maybe Pinkie’s gift could make one extra smile today. Derpy really hoped so.

Green is the Rose

The bell over the door chimed pleasantly as a light turquoise earth pony with a light violet mane in a frilled aquamarine dress cantered in off of the street, and into the dazzling interior of Manehattan’s latest fashion boutique. Plumeria looked up at the twinkling of cleverly placed gemstones, the sloping racks, and the odd order to the color schemes that seemed to present a sense of both organization and spontaneity. The chill autumn breeze accompanied her briefly before the door closed behind her with a second jingle of the bell.

A cream earth pony with a cerulean mane looked up from the counter and walked gracefully out to greet her. “Hello, and welcome to ‘Rarity For You’. Can I assist you with anything today, Miss?”

Plumeria let out a short exhale and smiled warmly at the mare coming to greet her. “Coco Pommel, I wondered where you’d gotten to. After that scandal with Suri at Fashion Week we all thought you’d left town."

The cream mare in front of her gave a cordial smile; a subtle quiver in her tail betrayed how excited she truly was. Yet she wore a pained smirk. “You… recognize me?”

Plumeria laughed. “O-hoh Coco, my dear, don’t think I didn’t notice the true genius behind that awful fraud Polomare’s designs. True art grows from the passions of its artisan, and Suri never had a creative thread in her career. She had many of the big wigs fooled, but I know a stifling weed when I spot one.” She gave a charming wink, and Coco blushed.

“I… didn’t realize anyone but Miss Rarity had noticed.”

“Nonsense. After what you pulled off with the Summer Harvest Festival, how could anypony not notice you?”

Coco bowed her head, clearly to hide further blushing. The girl truly had a talent for handling stress with grace. She might have even fooled less keen eyes.

“Can I help you with anything, Miss?”

Ah, yes. A point for Miss Pommel.

“You can, actually. I’ll be hosting a large garden party at the west side park later this month, and I simply must have one of your latest designs. Do you have anything that can reflect the beauty of a rose garden without blending into it?”

A pause. Coco brought a hoof to her chin for a moment, then placed it down again. “You know, I think we might, hold on, while I check in the back.”

The cream mare disappeared around a corner, and Plumeria took a step or two, just to peer. Coco was back a moment later, holding a few folds of fabric and some wax sheets. Curious, It certainly didn’t look like a dress. Plumeria tilted her head and stepped closer with a stern expression as Coco laid the odd assortment out on the counter.

“Is this… a dress…. You’re presenting?”

“Well, yes and no. Rarity hasn’t actually approved this one yet, which is why it’s not on the racks, but since you said you wanted one of our latest designs, I thought you might enjoy an early look at it. Would it suit your needs?” Coco laid the fabric gently on the counter and arranged the different colors in loosely the arrangement described on the wax sheets. Those she laid flat with a few felt-bottomed gemstone weights.

Plumeria leaned close over the designs. Rarity certainly was a creative girl. In some ways it reminded her of the ball gown worn by Miss Fluttershy at the Grand Galloping Gala in Canterlot two summers back. And yet it moved with its own twists and curls, leaving spaces for gemstones to bedazzle it. One could almost see the petals she intended to create. My my, such an imagination, that girl. She glanced at the colors, then back at her own flank. Not bad. Not bad at all. She stepped back and smiled ad Coco.

“Well I certainly like the potential. I’d love to commission a reimagining of it. Is Miss Rarity in?”

Coco’s expression fell, just slightly. But she forced a smile back up, then politely shook her head “Miss Rarity only stops in once a month, as she lives all the way in Ponyville. She does have a visit scheduled today, but she’s not expected until later.”

Plumeria’s eyes widened. “So you run this whole store yourself?” She looked about incredulously. The whole place had Rarity’s personal flair to it. Coco was a brilliant girl, but to think that Rarity trusted her to actually run the store. Well, perhaps she wasn’t the only artisan with keen eyes. She saw the subtle shift in the way Coco looked out at the racks. Pride, but also nervousness. The kind you would find in anypony who was asked to look over somepony else’s belongings. Coco didn’t own these designs, she merely sold them and managed stock. But the free spirited energy with which she’d presented the rose petal dress…

“Miss Rarity didn’t design this dress, did she?”

“Huh?” Coco gasped, and jerked her head back in Plumeria’s direction. Her eyes flicked momentarily to the counter and… yes, there it was.

“You did.”

The deep red that washed over Coco’s face told the tale her lips could not. Yes indeed. No wonder Rarity would need to approve the design. It was not her own, but her newest Store Manager’s. Rarity had found a like minded artisan. A proper protege. Plumeria nodded slowly.

“Well, in that case I’ll take it.”

“Wait, what? You mean…. But, it’s not…?”

“You’re not selling a very good image of a professional artist, Miss Pommel.” Plumeria allowed a stern chide to flavor her response.

Coco responded as expected. She swallowed. Nodded. Stood up straight. Let out a breath which returned her face to normal, and walked with near perfect poise behind the counter, pulling out a small stack of paper.

“Yes of course. Normally an alterations order such as this would cost about 80 bits, but given the unfinished nature of the dress anyway—”

“Don’t sell yourself short, dear. This is the first of your designs, is it not?”

Coco paused, looked down at the dress, and ignored the color rising in her cheeks again. “I… yes. It is my first official, Rarity For You, design.”

“Well then you can't sell it at a discount! Are you mad?” Plumeria set her hoof down hard. “I won’t allow it. A dress such as this is not only one of a kind, it is the premier of an upcoming fashion prodigy.”

Coco’s face turned even more red.

“I insist on paying for an article of prestige. What is Miss Rarity charging for her most recent signature ensemble?”

“I-I-u-ummmm…” Coco’s eyes seemed to be staring at nothing, and while her mouth opened and closed several more times, no further sounds escaped. Plumeria gave a small frown

“I see. Well, perhaps I will need to wait until—”

The bell over the door chimed pleasantly as a white unicorn with a deep Violet mane coiffed in long cascading curls, cantered in off the street. Plumeria turned to face her and smiled.

“Ah, Miss Rarity, at last, I was just…” Plumeria trailed off. Beside Rarity trotted a cream colored earth pony mare with a cerulean mane and…

Plumeria’s entire head swiveled with blinding speed as she looked back and forth between the two identical mares at either end of the store.

“Ah, good to see you-WHA-HA-HAA!” Rarity, exclaimed. Her eyes darted much more gracefully between the two Cocos. “What. Is…”

“No.”

All eyes turned to the Coco behind the counter. All embarrassment or excitement or even her ripe cream color had drained from the shriveling mare. A look of shock, and despair paled her face. Her head shook slightly, mimicking the green pinpricks of her eyes.

“No, no no. I…”

Her breathing became ragged, and tears welled in her eyes. She stepped backward, disappearing toward the back of the store and crouching lower with each step. Plumeria stepped cautiously after her. The two mares at the door followed as well. Everypony was silent, save for the crying mare.

“No!” She choked, sobbing now, with a river of tears. “I… I thought I was me.”

Her form flickered, for an instant, a pair of gossamer wings sat atop her barrel, then they were gone. Plumeria’s eyes widened.

“I really thought I was me this time. I… I got everything right.”

Her eyes darted around the store. Plumeria easily recognized the look of a frightened creature looking for an escape. She turned and ushered Rarity and Coco away from the door. They obliged silently, still mostly frozen in shock, then Plumeria turned back to the quivering, sobbing, flickering mare behind the counter.

She was fully seated on the floor now, head rested on her hooves, staring down with blank, pinpoint green eyes. A low wail carried out from her mouth, and grew in intensity.

“I got it right. I got it all right. It’s not… I d-don’t... it’s not fair. It’s not… I was meeee!”

She buried her face in her hooves and simply screamed down at the ground. Her cream coat flickered to jet black, then to cream, then black again. Holes appeared in her limbs, and green gossamer wings flickered stronger with each flash. Plumeria stepped lightly closer, reaching out a hoof to touch the sobbing mare’s snout.

“It’s not FAIR!” She lashed out, suddenly, swatting aside Plumeria’s hoof, and leaping up over the counter. Plumeria ducked as the stricken mare flew overhead with buzzing wings, before landing with barely a sound and all but melting through the door. The bell didn’t even chime as she cracked it slightly and slipped through, disappearing down the street.

Plumeria stared slack-jawed after her. A changeling. She looked at Rarity and Coco Pommel, similarly transfixed. Plumeria swallowed, and rapped on the counter loudly enough to catch their attention. Both mares turned to her, still stunned.

Plumeria pointed to the unfinished dress on the counter. “I have to go, but I want that dress. I’ll be back to discuss price and terms. Good day.”

Then she raced out after the fleeing black streak.

Drunk on a Train

Flintlock raised the frothing mug to his lips and dunked it back, gulping the cold liquid slightly faster than it spilled down his neck, and ignoring the holes it had to be burning in his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut to shake away the dizziness, and slammed the now empty mug back down on the counter next to five others. Or… where there were five others? Four? It didn’t matter. A hoof reached out from behind the counter to swipe all of the remaining mugs, just as the train lurched sideways, and Flintlock almost lost his dinner.

“Bart… tender!” he called out, slumping forward onto the counter. The wood countertop was surprisingly comfortable. Really smooth, totally clean of drinks. Just flat enough to lay your head on. Yeah, really nice. He smiled and laid his head down over his hooves on the countertop. That made him a bit nauseous—probably the train again—but his head was getting heavy, and the bartender was chatting with his friends anyway.

The bartender looked up from their conversation, and made their way over to him, meanwhile, somewhere, the car door opened, and a moment later somepony filled the empty space next to flintlock.

“Tall Cider please?

Flintlock swung his head around to observe the new pony, and promptly fell off his stool. He laughed. The other pony laughed. A hoof reached down and he let the other pony haul him up. And smoother than the whiskey in his mug, he was back on the stool like it never happened.

Which of course left the fact that the pony he was staring at shouldn’t be there. Flintlock rubbed his eyes a few times, even shook his head, after which the other pony put a hand on his shoulder, and tipped his stool so that all four legs were back on the ground.

“Wow, good save as always, Pants”

The other pony, a dark grey Earth Pony, clad in polished gold armor bearing the solar crest, and who was too well muscled to be anypony else, chuckled a familiar deep baritone.

“Maybe if you wouldn’t drink so much, I wouldn’t need to save you so much.” He pulled Flintlock into a tight hug, then waved to the bartender, who had already refilled Flintlock’s whiskey and gone back to her friends. She rolled her eyes and trotted over again with a smile.

“Sorry, Flint, I’m gonna have to cut you off. It’s late and your friend here is the only thing holding you up.” Her voice was like honey on velvet. Wait, that would just make a mess, right?

Pants laughed at that. A good deep throated laugh that Flintlock could feel in his chest. Or maybe that was just his own heart beating.

“Don’t worry, he’s safe with me. We go way back, Flint and I.”

Flintlock giggled, almost more than was necessary. “Yeah, dude, what’s it been, twenty years since that battle in the… where was it again?”

“Uh… you forgot?”

“Duh, why do you think I drink so much. To forget…” Flintlock stopped laughing, then slowly looked down. He couldn’t remember what he’d come here to forget, and yet, he didn’t feel happy about it either.

A deep heaviness filled his chest, and when he looked up at Pants, it only grew heavier.

“Whyd’d you l-leave?”

“Hm?” The larger stallion had hopped off the stool, and was helping Flintlock down off of his own. He tilted his head slightly. “Just hitting the sack, Flint. It’s late, and we gotta be up so we can get off the train in the morning.”

“Not… that.” Flint grumbled. He put his hooves on the floor, and found that the train was moving far too much for him to maintain his balance. Pants must have noticed too, since he quickly held out a hoof to steady Flint, who grunted his thanks.

Their booth arrived much faster than Flint had expected, but he wasn’t going to complain. He just sat on the bunk and stared across at Pants, who seemed content to sleep on the floor.

“Why’dyou leave, Pants?”

“Still not sure what you—”

“You’nnnow perfec-ly well wadd-I…” Flint started to yell, then trailed off. Snowflakes tickled his snout, drifting on the soft breeze that swept through the mountain pass. Thick Snowdrifts rushed beneath his hooves, muffling his rapid hooffalls as he rushed toward a writhing mass of talons and feathers.

‘Get off him! Get off him, you bastards!’
A shrill cry ripped from his throat that he never heard, something tore at his hide that he never felt. A spear flew that he’d never thrown. Bodies fell that he never saw.

As Flintlock reached the carnage, a frozen mountainside faded to reveal the warm interior of a train, lit dimly by a single lantern on the wall. Across from him was a pony who did not exist, Clad in armor that bore every scar its bearer couldn’t. His throat tightened up, and before the floor could catch him he was being squeezed by a mountain of muscle who was only a memory.

He could not hear himself cry, he only knew that he did. He could not feel his tears, but knew that they fell. Time did not exist. There was only this moment. This memory. This pain. All that whiskey for nothing.

“Y-you’re not real.”

“Flint, you’re drunk”

“No, I’m not,” Flint snapped, squirming to escape the larger pony’s grip. “You’re not real. You can’t be. You can’t be here!”

“And why not?”

“Because you died!” The hooves holding Flint vanished, and he collapsed onto the ground. He rolled over and sat up limply. Staring at his hooves. Old bloodstains made their way into his vision on them.

“I… I watched....”

The armor made some soft grinding sounds as its inhabitant shifted.

“Flint. What’s going on?”

Flint didn’t answer. He just stared at his hooves, wishing away what was not there, cursing himself for having picked this train. He should have left the day sooner, or later, or not gone at all. Maybe then Pants wouldn’t have…

Flint’s eyes narrowed, and he looked up slowly. Sitting across the floor from him was a dark grey stallion wearing golden armor that bore dents and scratches and long gashes in sets of threes, and a single round dent, just broken through the thick metal, where the chestplate connected with the shoulder. The stallion beneath, bearing none of the same scars. And yet, the more Flint looked, the more they seemed to appear. Perhaps he was drunk, but then...

“What’sss your name?” he asked the stallion in armor, who rolled his eyes.

“Pants, duh. You idiot. You drank so much you forgot your best friend.”

“I know that, dumbass. I mmean your real name. The one I nnever call you.”

“Uh… what? Dude, how much did you drink?”

“Answer the quession, Panzer!”

The soft, cheerfully confused expression his companion had been wearing faded, replaced by stern anger, then frustration, then defeat. His head slumped.

“I… I don’t—”

“Ironside. His name was Ironside. He wassnew to our unit. He was *MY* responsibility!” Flint’s voice broke several times, as new tears he could feel began to fall.

“The kid was stronger than a yak, quicker’n a fox. Always putting himsself in the way of danger. The griffons called him Der Panzer, and I called him Pants as a joke! And I let those feathery bastards k—” His words were cut off by another crying fit. Flint collapsed on the floor, sobbing and sputtering into the thin carpet.

Whatever was sitting across from him, it wasn’t Ironside. It wavered, and with a flash of green magic the grey coat was replaced by black chitin. It was only for a moment, then the larger stallion was back, but Flint had seen it. Changeling. Deceptive little devils. Their whole colony had raided Canterlot the year prior. And here he was, alone with one.

Fatigue threatened to quench the fire building in his legs, and Flintlock hung his head, staring at the floor between him and the changeling.

“Who are you?”

It was said without energy. Flint surprised even himself. There was no malice, or pain in the voice. Just sheer exhaustion, at a memory he’d held onto for far too long, and would probably continue to carry for the rest of his life.

The changeling didn’t answer at first. It sat mostly still, though tongues of green flame raced over its body in repeating cycles. Flint couldn’t tell if he was getting drunker or more sober. He glanced at the clock. 2am. The bar had closed at midnight. And he was no closer to an answer. Finally, in a voice that sounded far too much like a filly holding back tears, the creature spoke.

“I… don’t know.”

Flint’s head snapped up, eyes wide, ears forward. Where before there had been a massive stallion, now there was a mare. Young, but definitely an adult. Her body was jet black, and riddled with the same swiss cheese holes they’d been taught about since that day. On her back were a pair of translucent wings, also riddled with small holes, and on her head was a smooth curved horn. Her mane was the same shade of green as her eyes, which were already overflowing with tears. Could changelings even cry?

Obviously they could.

And more than that—Flint was pretty sure he was going to need more whiskey after this—the blasted thing had the audacity to look scared. Scared of what? Scared of him?!

Flint snorted, maybe it had better be.

“Go,” he said, in as neutral a tone as he could. He looked back down at the floor.

“I—I’m sorry. I just wanted—”

“GO!” He repeated, loudly enough to cause a ringing sound from the windows.

There was a pause, as though the pathetic creature hadn’t heard him. But Flint had no more patience left

“GET OUTTA HERE YOU LITTLE BA—”

Flint made to dive on top of the little devil, but was stopped as he tripped over his own hooves. The changeling slipped lithely around him and dove at the window. A soft “I’m sorry” was heard before it smashed through the glass and disappeared into the night. Flint landed face first onto the floor, and laid there crying and screaming into the carpet for the next hour or so, before finally passing out.

Flintlock arrived in Ponyville the next morning, awoken by the conductor, and a splitting headache.He stumbled off the train, receiving a few concerned looks from the conductor, and collapsed against the station wall. He remembered very little of the previous night’s events, and he had a strong feeling it was better that way. Good old whiskey. Nature’s brain bleach.