The Stolen Child

by Thistle Charm

What Lies Beneath

Celestia was already awake and brushing her own pink mane when Flora walked into the room with clean sheets balanced on her flank. Flora nearly gave a yelp of surprise.

“Ah, m’lady! You gave me a scare,” she said, laughing. Flora pushed the pile of clean sheets onto the edge of the bed. With precise hooves and gentle teeth, she began changing the bed’s linens.

“Sorry, Flora. I could barely sleep; all I could think about is Luna.”

“M’wady, it’s been fowa days now. You need to sweep sometime!” Flora said, a sheet clenched in her teeth as she tucked it beneath the mattress of hay and down. Celestia looked in the mirror and smiled. The excitement was still coursing vibrantly in her veins. Four days was not enough time to really settle into the idea of being an elder sister!

Since the birth of Luna, Celestia’s anxiety had evaporated. A gentle green aura pulsed healthily and cheerily around her horn whenever she used her telekinesis. She was ready to begin studying under Master Equuleus within just a few days’ time. Even her mother’s somewhat cold behavior slid off Celestia’s jubilant grin. Besides, giving birth was a traumatic experience, even for one who had done so once already; her mother was likely stressed from having a newborn foal in the house again.

“How’s yer horn, m’lady?” Flora asked. Celestia lay the silver brush down at her dressing table. She looked at the bandage, still wrapped tight around the fractured spiral.

“Well, it doesn’t hurt nor bleed. And my magic has been quite easier to cast as of late. I think it’s fine, Flora.”

“Ya sure we shouldn’t tell yer mother?”

“She has enough to deal with, Flora. If anything, I can ask Master Equuleus about it in a few days,” Celestia said. Flora grinned and stood beside her charge. She gave a gentle nuzzle against the alabaster-sheen of Celestia’s clean coat.

Celestia smiled and felt the familiar surge of warmth in her heart. That warmth sparked and tingled until she felt it coiling in her horn. Although a servant, Flora Wheatley was always something a bit more. Before being her personal attendant, Flora was Celestia’s foalsitter and a mare that almost felt like a mother.

“You look fantastic, m’lady,” Flora said, sharing a glance in the mirror with Celestia. The two grinned before they parted. Flora continued tidying Celestia’s room while Celestia trotted across the hall into the nursery. Careful to not wake Luna, she fluttered her wings noiselessly above the crib. There the blue foal slept, curled into a neat ball beneath the woven family quilt -- the blanket had both her mother and father’s cutie marks on it, and had been the same blanket Celestia was wrapped in as a newborn.

“Good morning, Luna,” Celestia whispered. She lowered herself and just kissed the top of the tiny horn on Luna’s head. The foal wriggled and groaned. Celestia watched in amusement before flying off to get some breakfast from the kitchens.

Solaria Spark was nowhere to be found; when Celestia inquired one of the mare maids, they said she had gone off to speak with the Diurnal Unicorn Mages.

“And my father?”

“Sleeping; he returned not long ago from his post,” the maid replied. Celestia nodded in thanks. No parents? More play! She grinned as she thought about what things she might show Luna today. Maybe she would read her a book? Or maybe play with some of the newborn toys that her neighbors had brought over the day before...or maybe--

“Lady Celestia?”

Celestia pulled herself from her excited thoughts. She wiped the bits of oatmeal that were on her lips before speaking with the maid that addressed her.

“Yes?”

“There is a young colt at the front door asking for your audience.”

“A colt?” Celestia asked. She only knew a handful of colts from her time studying under Lieutenant Cyclone. Surely none of them were here to see her?

“Shall I tell him you are indisposed at the moment?” The maid offered.

“No, no; I’m finished with my oatmeal, thank you. I will speak with him myself. Did he say his name?”

“I believe he said it was Luke Hearthstings -- but to be honest, the colt spoke so excitedly I could hardly catch anything he said, m’lady,” the maid said.

Celestia laughed. “That’s quite alright; I’ll just see him myself.” Celestia walked out of the kitchen and through the gleaming dining hall. As she entered the foyer, however, she saw that the colt was already snuggling up to the hearth. An awful twang kept rising from him, like a glass being struck with a sharp branch.

“Excuse me!” Celestia called indignantly. The colt was a vibrant teal, with a mane that was a gentle seafoam-and-cream curl. He looked up from his seat by the fireplace and gave a dazzling, unashamed grin.

“Ah! You must be Celestia!”

“What do you mean by inviting yourself into my home? No one granted you audience,” she said quickly. Another twang struck her ears. She folded them back and winced; her wings flapped once in displeasure.

“Sorry about that, miss. Darn thing gets so out of tune in the winter,” he said. Celestia looked and noticed where the terrible sound was coming from: a lute, encompassed in a pleasant off-white glow that the colt was tuning, tightening and loosening the strings according to the sound. Seeing the instrument jogged Celestia’s memory.

“You-- you’re the colt from the Presentation!”

“Glad you remember me,” the colt winked. Celestia sighed indignantly, but a blush rose to her cheeks anyways. He let the lute float over to the side table. He stood onto his legs and gave an unusually deep bow to Celestia.

“Pardon me. I am Lute Heartstrings, son of Maestro Heartstrings,” he said, relishing in the pronunciation of his own name. Celestia coughed before giving a little bow.

“I’m Lady Celestia, daughter of Sun Mage Solaria Spark,” she said. Lute grinned before looking the alicorn up and down curiously.

“You’re rather rude,” Celestia stated bluntly.

“And you’re rather interesting,” Lute said, mimicking her regal-toned voice. He sat down in front of the hearth and brought the lute back to his side, proceeding to tune the instrument as though Celestia had never come over in the first place.

“For a unicorn of noble birth, you’re not very, well, very--”

“Polite? Polished? Preened?” Lute offered each word. Before Celestia could continue, he gave a joyful whinny. He clapped his front hooves together and then closed his eyes.

“What are you d--” Celestia was interrupted as he plucked the first string. The sound was heavenly, and echoed in the large stone foyer. It did not die, so much as fade until it was too soft to hear but still strong enough to be felt. Celestia sat beside Lute and watched as he played. His once haughty and confident face was concentrated entirely on the lute now. He played a slow arpeggio, before he played a crescendo into a beautiful melody. It was played on a bright, major key, warming the ear and settling into one’s chest like an embrace.

As the song finished, each note became less distinct, slurring into long, drawn phrases until the majesty of the piece de-crescendoed into a harmonious vibrato chord. Lute sighed deeply, as if he had not breathed throughout the entire song. Celestia’s frustration with the colt was melted away by the beauty of his playing.

“What was that song?”

“Vernal Pastures No. 2 in C,” Lute said.

“That was beautiful,” Celestia said. She looked to his flank and noticed an image of a Lute there. She smiled; it certainly was a talent, and a very accurate cutie mark. Lute began to just play around on the strings, pulling together phrases or notes without particular thought or reason.

“You didn’t come here just to play a sweet song, did you?” Celestia asked.

“No, but I will in the future if you’d like,” he said. Celestia blushed and did not answer. He smiled and looked at the white alicorn playfully.

“I’m actually here to let you know that your first apprenticeship training will begin tomorrow morning.”

“Wait-- that must mean you are--”

“Indeed, I am your fellow apprentice under Master Equuleus,” he said. He flicked a curl of his mane of of his golden eyes before settling his lute back into a saddlebag that he had left on the floor.

“You know, you should have said that in the first place,” Celestia said. Lute put the saddlebag onto his side and began to walk to the main doors. Celestia followed him curiously.

“If I did that, I wouldn’t have been able to play a song for you, now would I?”

“What?”

“If I just finished with my message that quickly, I wouldn’t have been able to play for you,” he explained. He opened the doors with a push of his magic before turning back to Celestia.

“I wanted to spend a little time with my future fellow apprentice,” he said, “and see what kind of filly she was, besides a ludicrously powerful filly.” At this, Celestia blushed, still embarrassed by the entire fiasco of the purification spell at the Presentation (even if it meant she had been taken up by Master Equuleus herself). Lute bowed once more, and Celestia did the same.

“I shall see you tomorrow then, Celestia,” he said. With that, he began to canter down the cobblestoned street. Celestia watched the teal unicorn go. She laughed; he was arrogant, but who was to say that confidence was unwarranted? From how he played, he sounded just as professional as the musicians that performed at the Canterlot Symphony Hall. Celestia shut the door with her own magic. In a now quiet manor, she heard a familiar newborn giggle upstairs.

“Luna!” Celestia beamed. She flew up to the nursery to find one of the maids putting Luna on the ground with several toys.

“Little Luna!” Celestia grinned. Her sister giggled, and Celestia hunkered down on the floor to play with the foal.

Later that night...

The pleasant dreams were gone.

The past four nights had been wonderful, filled with galloping in marigold fields with Luna, flying in a starlit sky, or enjoying a picnic of candies and chocolates with her family on a cloud. But now, as Celestia slept in her freshly made bed, a nightmare had hold.

Celestia was walking in the Everfree Forest. Alone. So incredibly alone. The light of the moon was weak, unable to penetrate the thick canopy of the wild and untamed trees. In the distance, timberwolves howled. Her heart skipped several beats as she panicked. Would the pack try to find her again? Again...how long had she been out here in the forest? Months? No...years.

Celestia was alone in the forest for years. Her stomach growled and clawed for nourishment, but only a few berries or clovers found themselves edible here in a forest of anarchy.

A buzzing suddenly filled Celestia’s ears. It was soft, but grew louder and fiercer. There was chittering; the noise was so close, the howls of the timberwolves echoed as though acres away. They were coming again. Not again; had they not done enough? Imprisoned her, chained her to this devilish forest -- and here they came once more to feed.

Celestia was galloping hard, but with little food her legs were weak. She tripped on a thick knotted root. She fell, rocks scratching her face and chest. Her pink mane was disheveled and knotted, hooves cracked and legs caked with dried blood. The buzzing was upon her. It slowed and stopped. She heard the hoof beats of her captors hit the ground. They were chittering excitedly again, their gossamer wings buzzing with hunger.

The timber wolves howled again, and she could hear their vicious gnashing. Their paws snapped and cricked as they ran. Her captors hissed, voices syncing in an unearthly chord. The timber wolf pack reciprocated with burly growls. Celestia cowered on the ground, legs aching. Her wings were at her side, uselessly weak and tattered by twigs, angered parasprite swarms, and wolves. She listened to the sounds of fighting; the gnashing, the claws, the hissing, the growling. She felt the air buzz with the magic of her captors. The ground shook as they shot themselves angrily at the timber wolves.

The pack, humiliated and injured, fell back into shadow. Celestia weakly got onto her legs and turned to face her captors.

There they stood -- the two fey ponies. Their fangs were chipped from frenzied feeding, and legs hollowed like the driftwood. Their slick, taut bodies were blacker than a new moon night. What unnerved Celestia the most, though, were their eyes. Their eyes were an iridescent blue that unraveled you as you stared at them.

“Please, just let me go,” she asked. Tears streaked her cheeks, once white but now brown with dirt and mud.

“We cannot,” one of her captors said. Their ribs were sharp against their sides, and horns curved to a tapered point.
Cuts from the claws of the timber wolves ripped their flanks, and one bled from a reopened scar over its eye.

“Please, no more,” she plead. She collapsed onto her hind legs.

“We are hungry,” the two fey ponies said in eerie unison.

“I am, too,” she cried.

“We will feed you, daughter,” one captor said. When she looked up, she saw the beautiful radiance of her mother, Solaria Spark.

“M-mother?” She asked. No; it was a trick, again. But beside her was the strong Nubulis, wings large and protective. They approached their daughter and embraced her. She sobbed into her mother’s tri-colored braid. Her heart filled with warmth.

She opened her eyes. Her parents were gone -- it was the blackness and hunger of the fey ponies. They buzzed and chittered.

Her heart hollowed into ice.

“Ahh!” Celestia flapped her wings in fright and leapt from her bed. She was gasping, eyes wet with tears and body freezing despite having several blankets. She settled back down, catching her breath. Her horn was aching, pulsing. She heard Luna crying in the nursery.

Celestia opened her door. She caught the sight of her mother’s flank as Solaria went into the nursery. Celestia soundlessly walked into the hall and peered into Luna’s room. There, Solaria curled herself on the floor, nestling the crying Luna against her flank. Solaria smiled and nuzzled her foal.

“Calm, Luna,” Solaria whispered, “I will protect you. I shall always protect you; I promise never to fail you, never to leave you, never to lose you.” Solaria nuzzled Luna again and began to hum a Canterlot lullaby. The foal yawned and settled against the comfort of her mother’s flank.

Celestia returned to her room and closed the door. Failed? It sounded as though her mother had failed before...she sounded as if she was making a promise to fix a mistake. But what mistake?

Celestia winced as her horn ached once more. Despite the sharp pains, her magic was still working fluidly. She lit a candle on her dressing table. Peering into the mirror, she undid the bandage with her telekinesis.

“Eww!” Celestia whispered. It looked as though a flap of the pearly horn peeled down, hanging like a flake from the wound. Celestia touched it with her hoof, and it fell off gently. She gasped. Looking back up, she saw no blood -- just more black. She touched the wound with her hoof again, and more of the pearly covering of her horn fell to reveal a pitch black horn beneath.

Celestia’s heart was pounding. The sound filled her ears like the anxious beating of a war drum. She began rubbing the white of her horn away quickly, purposefully. What was this! It wasn’t a cut or a wound!

In place of her spiraled white horn was a gnarled, crooked rising black horn. As she stared at the grotesque angled protrusion, a crack slithered down her face and along the bangs of her pink mane. Celestia was breathing quickly, terrified. A piece of her white coat peeled down on her forehead. Still, no blood. Why no blood?

Celestia used her telekinesis to peel her coat away. In great sheets, her white fur fell to the floor and clung to the edge of her dressing table. Her pink mane fell out in bunches, spiraling down like stray pieces of straw. All along her legs pooled scraps of her white pelt and pink mane, peeling as easily as old bubbled paint. Her green magic ripped strips of her skin off as she hastily tried to end the ever-growing slit that had begun at her horn. She began sobbing as she noticed the piles of hair and skin and fur on the ground, now joined by feathers as she shook her wings.
Looking back up in the mirror was a monster.

When she blinked, even the lavender of her eyes was gone.

Long tendrils of dank blue-moss hair clung around a jagged black horn and sharp green eyes that seemed to glow in the dim bedroom. Thin gossamer wings clung to her side, strong ribs pressing out beneath her chest and holes lining her legs and hooves as though an insect had eaten pieces of her body but left the rest.

Celestia couldn’t breath. She looked in the mirror, then back to the heap of fur, feathers, and hair on the floor. What was once her was there, in that pile, and now she was...she was...

Celestia collapsed. Was this a nightmare too? It had to be...it had to be...she couldn’t be one of those fey ponies who had captured her in that nightmare...no...it was all just a nightmare...

She sobbed amongst strips of her old white coat and beautiful pink mane. Her wings buzzed in anguish. She felt dizzy as she looked at the scraps of her old body, and passed out.

The ache in her horn was gone.