• Published 21st May 2012
  • 15,822 Views, 971 Comments

March to the Scaffold - Foxy Kimchi



A story inspired by Hector Berlioz's song Symphonie Fantastique, 4th movement.

  • ...
65
 971
 15,822

XIII: A Brick Pony and a Pale Pony

Mortar’s eyes shot open, revealing Luna’s night sky. Slowly, he stood and examined his surroundings. He easily recognized he was at the city park, regarding its bricked paths and distinct fountains. Some of it was his own hoofwork.

“What the hay happened?” he muttered to himself. Sitting down, he placed a forehoof on his head. Where am I, and what am I doing here? Don’t tell me I was drinking again. I thought I got that out of my system. Last time I did that was after I graduated from high school.

So why the hay am I here? The last thing I remember was doing a job from the palace on tower number four. I was working on that in the morning, and then—

Mortar’s body tensed. His eyes widened while his jaw slackened, and he looked up, seeing the tower he had been working on. The hole he needed to patch was still there. His breathing became frantic and erratic, his hoof shivering.

I fell. I remember falling. I was patching a hole, and then Silver came. She was mad at me and yelled at me. I tried to get to her, to run to her. I slipped out of my harness. I fell. The wind was howling in my ears and then...

Mortar scrambled onto his hooves, quickly turning around in place and looking over his body. “Then why I do I feel fine? I should be dead,” Mortar whispered as he stared into the sky.

“Is that it? Am I dead?” Mortar just sat there, staring into the sky as tears slowly formed in his eyes.

His ears pricked up as he heard a voice.

“Okay, so the next guy...how should I do this...? I mean, on the one hoof, he has a right to know, right? He may never get another chance to learn the truth, and really, I think he would want to know the whole story and everything. But on the other hoof, I don’t really know if it’s my place to say anything.”

Mortar turned his head. The voice was small, but that didn’t seem to be a matter of distance; the speaker just seemed to be soft-spoken. If only he could place where the voice was coming from...

“This was between Celestia and her, so she should be the one to tell him, right? But at this rate, I don’t even think she’ll get the chance. I... I feel like someone should tell him, but what if it makes things worse?”

For some reason, Mortar felt compelled to find the speaker. It almost felt instinctual. He turned around, trying to find the source and...

There was somepony there. Mortar almost couldn’t see him. The pony wore a cloak that seemed blacker than anything he had ever seen. He could just barely make out the bottom of the pony’s hooves and an unusual curved horn.

“Suppose this is it. What if, after this, there is nothing left? What if I make him feel horrible in his last moments? Is ignorance bliss? Would a pony want to know the truth, even if it meant sacrificing their happiness?”

The pony appeared to be speaking to himself. He occasionally paced from one spot to another. Mortar stood there, waiting to be noticed, but it seemed the cloaked pony was lost in his own world.

The cloaked pony sighed. “Then again, maybe—”

Mortar couldn’t stay quiet any longer. “Hey!”

The cloaked pony gasped and spun towards him. Mortar started to say something, but all that came out was a breathless shout at what he saw. A bleached skull protruded from below the pony’s hood, its eye sockets housing glowing red dots.

“You’re here?” the cloaked pony said, as if he couldn’t believe it. “But you’re not supposed... I—I mean usually, I need to...” The pony rubbed the back of his hood, giving the impression of embarrassment. “Oh dear,” it said.

Mortar couldn’t speak. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know where even to start.

The skeletal pony—despite lacking one—cleared his throat. “Well, this is a little awkward.”

“Wh... who...?”

The pony, for some strange reason, took a breath. “Well, no point in putting it off. I’m who you ponies call ‘The Pale Pony of Death,’ Mortar. But you can call me... um, Mort.”

Mortar blinked slowly, wrapping his mind around the information. “You... you’re Death?”

“No, not ‘Death.’ I’m as much Death as Celestia’s the Sun, or Luna’s the Moon. I’m a ‘shade.’ We’re more like... custodians, you could say.”

Mortar grasped his head. So much was happening. He was having trouble getting his thoughts together. He didn’t know what to ask first.

Actually, he knew exactly what to ask. He was just afraid he knew the answer already. “L-listen, Mr. Mort, sir...”

“Just Mort’s fine,” the shade said.

“Okay, Mort. Listen, am I... I mean, with you being here, does it mean that—” He swallowed a lump in his throat. “I’m dead?”

“Well, it’s complicated.” The shade sat next to Mortar, his hooves fidgeting at the ground. “See, when a pony has had a very close brush with death, their soul will ‘drift’ from the mortal body, in preparation for when the body dies. Sometimes, though, they’ll be aware of it and actually see from outside their body.”

“You’re talking about an out-of-body experience,” Mortar replied.

“Yes, exactly! The same thing is happening with you, though I have to say, it’s extremely rare for a soul to drift so far away from its body like yours has.”

“Does that mean I’m still alive, then?” he asked hopefully.

“That’s... also complicated,” the shade admitted. “To be completely honest with you, Mortar, I was actually on my way to see you. Right now, you’re stable, but that could change...”

“You’re saying ‘could,’ though,” Mortar said, jumping on the word, “not ‘will.’ Does that mean I still have a chance?”

“Well, yes, but—”

Mortar instantly jumped up, his ears perking. “Ha! I have a chance!”

“But it’s not as easy as it sounds,” Mort said uncomfortably.

“I don’t care! You said there is a chance! That’s all I need to hear! Oh, I can’t wait to see Silver again,” Mortar replied eagerly, jumping around on the spot. He stopped after a while, looking around. “So,” he said with a pause, “where is my body, exactly?”

“As of right now, Canterlot General Hospital. I’ll explain the situation when we get there; it’ll be easier to see first-hoof,” Mort answered as he floated away from Mortar. “Well, just follow me.”

Mortar quickly followed the floating shade, trotting next to him. Both exchanged awkward glances as they went. Even as Mort floated along, he could not help but look away, appearing nervous.

Finally, Mortar broke the silence. “So your name is... Mort?”

“Uh huh. Have had lots of titles over the years, but I always go by my name,” Mort replied as he perked up. “Why? Is something wrong?”

“No, no!” Mortar replied, waving his forehooves. “It is just that, well, let’s just say I did not expect that the Pale Pony of Death to be named... Mort.”

“Oh,” Mort replied, scratching the back of his skull. “Well, to be honest I get that a lot. I know when ponies think of the ‘Pale Pony of Death,’ I’m not the first thing that comes to mind. They expect something, well, more scary.

“Really, though, I prefer it this way. It makes my job a lot easier, and ponies feel more comfortable talking to me.”

“That makes sense, I guess,” Mortar replied with a shrug. “It does seem better to not be scared. So, Mort, what was that you were mumbling about earlier?”

The red dots in Mort’s eye sockets darted around. He gave a slight cough, pretending to clear his throat. “W-well, you see, the thing is, uh—oh look, we’re here!”

Mortar turned his head, seeing the entrance to the hospital. The prospect of getting back to his body made him giddy. He dashed through the entrance.

Mort let out a small sigh of relief as he followed Mortar into the entrance, careful not to touch anypony as he floated around them. He finally caught up to Mortar, who was waving a hoof in front of the receptionist.

“So they really can’t see me?” Mortar asked surprised as he continued to wave his hoof.

“No, and before you ask, yes, you can walk through them, and they won’t notice anything. Don’t be too surprised; you’re not the first to ask that. It’s quite common,” Mort answered as he floated around. “Well, come on now. We still need to get to where your body is.”

Mortar stopped waving his hoof and followed the floating shade. He raised an eyebrow upon noticing that Mort was floating near the ceiling, putting extra distance between himself and other ponies when they walked by.

“Hey, Mort, any reason why you are way up there? I mean, can’t you just go right through them like me?” Mortar asked, demonstrating his point with a passing nurse.

Mort looked down at Mortar. “Well, yes, I could, but I would really rather not.”

“Why?”

“Well...” Mort scratched his chin in thought. “Do you remember what happened when you fell, exactly? What was going through your mind, I mean?”

“Oh...” Mortar said as his ears dropped down. “I remember part of it, but I saw my life flash before my eyes. It was not pleasant.”

“Well, that sort of happens if we pass through creatures. They’re sensitive to our presence, even if they don’t know it. If we so much as touch them, they could become acutely aware of their own mortality. Most of the time if anyone’s ever had an existential crisis, it’s because they got too close to me or another shade. So it just seems polite to avoid it when possible.”

“I guess that makes sense. Boy, that does not sound pleasant,” Mortar replied.

“It really isn’t. Luckily, though, those moments are usually brief, and soon forgotten.” Mort stopped next to a door and descended, landing on his hooves. “Well, here’s your room. Now, before we enter I need to warn you that what we’re going to see isn’t very pretty.”

Mortar nodded grimly.

“Ready?”

“Yes,” Mortar replied, gulping. Bracing himself, he walked through the door with Mort.


Mortar and Mort entered the room, Mortar’s ear flicking as he heard the soft hum of the machines. Quickly turning his head, he spotted the bed his body was on. He stood there, mouth agape. That is me, yet I am right here.

Mortar walked slowly to the bed, getting a better glimpse at his own body. When it came into view, he stopped, his body shivering. He fell down on his haunches, turning his head away.

His body was battered, bruised, and broken. His mane was gone and replaced with a crown of bloodied bandages, and there was a tube shoved down his throat. Numerous IVs and other needles were stuck in his legs.

“What in Equestria happened to me?” he softly asked, still unable to look at his body.

Mort quietly sat next to Mortar, fidgeting a little bit. “Well, you took a really nasty fall.”

“I know that,” Mortar quickly responded, “but what happened to my body, exactly?”

“Oh, that. Well, so far, it is a fractured skull, a punctured lung, a shattered pelvis, a ruptured spleen, broken hind legs, numerous broken ribs, and about a dozen other, smaller injuries,” Mort answered, as if reciting from a list.

“Then how am I still alive?” Mortar asked dejectedly, turning and looking at Mort.

“Well,” Mort said, “a lot of it has to do with you being an earth pony. Earth ponies are made of heartier stuff than unicorns and pegasi. In fact, I’d say most of the ponies that survive horrendous accidents like this tend to be earth ponies. This would definitely be in the top three worst injuries I’ve ever seen. Don’t ask about the others, though; you really do not want to know.”

“Oh, I see,” Mortar said, squirming a little. Slowly, he got up and walked towards his body, wanting a better look. His eyes drifted from cast to tube, mentally linking everything to what the shade had listed. He saw his hindlegs, and thought about long distances he’s had to walk, and the heavy material he’s had to carry. He looked at his shaved head, recalling nights when he had to think long and hard about how to best approach a project, and how sometimes it required delicate and precise hoofwork.

He walked closer. “So how exactly do I get into my bo—oof!”

Mortar reeled back, rubbing his nose as he ran into something. “What the hay?” Shaking his head, he looked to see what he ran into. Squinting, he saw a glass-like panel around his body.

“That’s why I wanted to show you first before explaining,” Mort said, walking over beside him. “That’s the barrier between your soul and your body. If you want to enter your body again, you’re going to have to force your way through it.”

Mortar looked at it, barely able to make it out. Placing a hoof on it, he pushed, feeling the barrier bend inwards slightly. “That’s it?” he asked, looking at Mort.

“I wish it was, but there’s a catch of sorts. The moment any part of you passes that barrier, it will be in sync with your body. What that means is that whatever your body is feeling, you’ll feel it too. So the more of you that manages to pass through, the more injuries you’re going to feel, and by the looks of it, you have a lot of painful—looking ones,” Mort replied grimly.

“Oh,” Mortar replied, his ears dropping down. “And if I fail?”

“So long as your body’s alive, you can just try again, and as many times as you want. But...”

“But?”

Mort dug a hoof into the floor, as much as an intangible creature could, anyway. “Well, if you can’t make it time, or if, for whatever reason, you just choose to quit, then I’m here to permanently sever the connection between your soul and body, thus ending your life.”

Mortar gulped, remembering that Mort had said earlier. “You said you were on my way to see me. Does that mean...?”

Mort nodded sadly. “I’m sorry, you don’t have all night to do this. I’d give it until sunrise, maybe sooner. If you can’t join with your body again in that time...”

Mortar nodded, swallowing hard. “And if I do fail...what is after life?”

“I don’t know,” Mort said, not meeting Mortar's gaze. “I’m a shade. I only ferry souls from the world of the living to their final resting place. I don’t know what happens afterward.”

“Can you help me, then?”

Mort shook his head, his tone one of regret. “I’m sorry, even if I were allowed, there’s nothing I could do that would make this easier. All I can do is answer questions, give encouragement, and offer moral support. Beyond that...” He shrugged helplessly.

Mortar nodded in grim understanding. He placed a hoof on the barrier, pushing experimentally. “So whatever part of me passes, I will feel what my body is feeling?”

“Yes.”

Exhaling, Mortar pressed a hoof against the barrier. Putting more force into it, he could feel the barrier bend inwards slightly. Grunting, he put his entire body weight into it. His hoof slipped through.

“YAARRGGHHH!” Mortar howled in pain as he ripped his foreleg out, tears in his eyes. He panted, “W—what was that?”

“Fractured metacarpal bone in your right foreleg.”

Mortar looked at him panting, his eyes wide with disbelief. He gulped looking at his body. “T—this is going to be harder than I thought.”


Between each attempt, Mort would vanish, saying he had to attend to other ponies. The first time he was only gone a few minutes, as the ponies were in Canterlot. The second time he had been gone almost an hour, these ponies far out in Equestria. Mortar knew he was running out of time, even without looking for the sunrise. His body seemed to get weaker as the night went on, looking paler bit by bit.

He was now on his third attempt. Sweat dripped down Mortar’s face; he panted, fighting back tears. Luckily, his left foreleg did not have any serious injuries, and it was easy to make it through. Unfortunately, his head was in much worse shape. His nose was bleeding, and he felt dizzy. He felt a searing pain in the back of his head from his fractured skull, and his vision became fuzzy. His body and the bed it lay on looked like one giant blur. Crying out in pain, he planted both his forehooves on the ground, forcing his way through. Slowly he got his neck past, grunting loudly.

Mortar screamed out in agony as he got his chest in. His legs buckled and failed under him, and he hit the ground. He gagged and coughed up blood, writhing in pain. “Mort,” he cried, struggling to form the words. “Pull me out!”

Mort’s horn glowed, wrapping Mortar in telekinesis and yanking him out. Mortar coughed, clutching his sides. Though he was no longer in pain, he could remember it. He wiped at the blood around his mouth, watching it disappear a moment later. He had been told it wasn't real, just a result of him still feeling like he could be harmed, even if it wasn't technically possible now.

He curled up, clutching his sides. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he began to cry. “I—I don’t know if I can do this, Mort. It is too much.” He continued to sob. “H—how is this even possible?”

Mort looked down at his hooves nervously. “Very few ponies have been able to recover from such injuries like this. In each case, they willed themselves to hang on, usually by focusing on what is very important in life—whether it be their dreams, loved ones, or unsettled grudges.”

“Grudges?”

The shade shrugged, seeming a little embarrassed. “I admit it's not the most admirable reason, but it has worked. I'm afraid your chances of success were low to start with. There's a reason not many ponies are able to make it. If you want to live again, you need to find something you’re willing to fight for.”

Mortar took a deep, unsteady breath, and got back on his hooves. “Well, then the choice is easy: I have to get back to my body. I want to—no, I need to see Silver again. She seemed mad at me on the tower, and I need to correct that. I love her. I want a life and possibly a family with her. No matter how hard it is, I have to do it. Why should I quit now?”

“Exactly! Why should you?” Mort said enthusiastically. “Silver Skip is a lovely pony, and I’m sure you two would make a great couple! You have absolutely no reason not to go back! None whatsoever.”

Mortar stared oddly at the cloaked skeleton. Something about the shade's exuberance had ringed hollow. “Mort, do you know something I don’t?”

Mort glanced left and right nervously. “Um, well, there are probably lots of things I know. I’ve been around for—”

“No,” Mortar said, cutting him off. “Do you know something about Silver?”

“Uh...she’s a pony you really like?”

Mortar looked at him flatly. “Mort, having lived here in Canterlot and dealing with my fair share of scammers and cheapskates, I can tell when somepony’s lying to me.”

Mort coughed, tugging at his collar. “I’m...I’m really not—”

“Then how is it you know her full name, when I’ve only called her Silver since we’ve met?” Mortar stepped forward, his face inches from Mort. “You said you’re supposed to answer my questions, so answer me this: what are you hiding about Silver?”

“Nothing!” he insisted.

“Wait...back at the park, you said you wondering what to do about the 'next guy', and a little while ago you said you were going to me next...”

Mort didn't say a word, but he could hear him gulping.

“This has something to do with what you were talking about at the park, doesn’t it?” he asked. “What’s going on between Silver and Celestia? Is there something wrong with her?” A fear suddenly seized him. “Is she dying? Is that why you’re not saying anything? You’re afraid I won’t go back if she wasn’t there?”

“She’s not dying!” Mort said.

“Then...then is she hiding something from me?” His thoughts focused on her cutie mark, and what they typically represented. Theater. Acting. The idea made him feel ill. “She’s not lying about who she is, is she?”

“Not...technically, no,” he said uncertainly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he demanded. “And why would Celestia be involved? She’s not...some kind of spy for her, is she?” It sounded ridiculous even as he said it, but he couldn’t think of another reason at the moment why she would meet with Celestia and be so secretive. Maybe if he had more time to think...

“Look,” Mort grumbled, “I’m telling you everything’s fine! She’s not spying, she’s not dying, and she’s certainly not Chrysalis!” He crossed his forelegs, as if to say, ‘I’m done.’

Mortar stared at him. “I never said she was Chrysalis. Why would you...”

Mortar trailed off. Compared to normal ponies, it was harder to tell what Mort was thinking, what with the lack of flesh and blood. Still, there were still some similarities if you know what to look for. Like how his body had just stiffened, or how his eyes now held a spark of panic in them. The kind of things a pony would do if they had just blurted out something they shouldn’t have.

Then the full implications hit Mortar. His jaw dropped and his right eye began to twitch. Mort’s awkward, guilty silence only seemed to confirm it.

“I-I didn’t mean Chrysalis,” he said. “What I meant was changeling--no, I meant Queen--NO, I meant...” The pony shade moaned miserably and buried his skull in both hooves, defeated.

Mortar’s breathing became erratic. “Y—you are telling me that Silver Skip is actually Queen Chrysalis, the very same one that attacked Canterlot barely a month ago?”

“I...guess the cat’s out of the bag.” Mort plopped down on his bony haunches, giving Mortar an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, but...yes. Silver Skip and Chrysalis are one and the same.”

“Then we have to do something about this!” Mortar shouted as he jumped up. “We have to warn somebody! Equestria is still in danger! Oh no, the changeling queen must have kidnapped the real Silver! H—how could I have fallen for her?” He rushed forward, shaking Mort fiercely. “Quick, we have to do something right now! We can worry about me later. We need to warn the princesses! Find the real Silver! Do something before--”

Mortar!

The pony froze. The pony shade freed himself from his grip, straightening out his cloak. He let out a deep sigh.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to raise my voice,” he said, making sure his skull was still on straight. “Listen, there’s no need to panic. Princess Celestia and Princess Luna already know.”

“They do?” Mortar breathed a sigh of relief. “Do you know if they’ve stopped Chrysalis? Did they find Silver yet? Is she okay?”

Mort hesitated. “That’s...tricky.”

“Tricky?” he said in disbelief.

“What I mean is that they know where Silver is, and she is okay, but...”

“But what?” Mortar was losing his patience. He was angry, desperate, and it seemed the only one who what was happening was remaining, figuratively speaking, tight-lipped. “Can you please stop speaking in riddles and just tell me what's going on?! I'm begging you!”

Mort seemed to stare at him for a long while.

He sighed loudly. “Okay, do you remember the day when they captured Chrysalis and brought her to Canterlot?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Please, just work with me. Do you remember what happened?

“Of course I do. I did not see it personally, because I was working at the time, but I did see the crowd and commotion it was causing. It was in the news and everything! There was a huge celebration all over the city! How in Equestria did she escape?”

“Well, she never really escaped to begin with,” Mort answered. “Did anypony actually know what happened to her afterward?”

Mortar hesitated. “Now that you mentioned it, no, not really. All the palace told us was that she was taken care of, and there was nothing to worry about.”

“They were telling the truth, technically. She was taken care of, just not in the way most ponies would expect,” replied Mort.

“What do you mean?”

“Well...” Mort rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Hmm, the principle is similar, so maybe...?” He extended a bony hoof towards Mortar. “If you grab my hoof, I think I can show you what I saw.”

Mortar looked around nervously, rubbing a hoof on his leg. “I am not going to die or something if I touch you, right? I heard stories that if the Pale Pony touches you, you drop dead...”

“What the—no!” Mort exclaimed as he shook his head. “That’s just some myth! Really, I don’t know who keeps coming up with these stories. I don’t try and cause death, that would be a horrible thing to do!” The skeleton shuddered, his bones rattling.

“Hehe, sorry ’bout that,” Mortar answered as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Not used to all of this.” Reaching out his limb, Mortar grabbed Mort’s hoof.


Mortar gasped as he was suddenly floating in mid-air with Mort next to him. He was no longer in the hospital room, but now floating above the throne room of Princess Celestia and Luna. He tried to open his mouth and speak, but no sound came out. Mortar looked over to Mort, panicking.

Mort, however, just pointed downward with his hoof. Mortar followed his hoof, his eyes widening at what he saw. He saw none other than Princess Celestia and Princess Luna sitting on their thrones with Captain of the Guard Shining Armor and some other high-ranking pony. They appeared to be speaking, but Mortar was unable to hear anything. His eyes drifted towards what the four ponies were staring at.

His eyes widened as he saw what they were looking at. In the center of the room lay a bound Chrysalis. He moved to get a better look, staring directly at her. Mortar looked into her eyes, gasping as he realized they were Silver Skip’s eyes. Except for the snake-like slitted pupils, the color and everything else was the same. The same determination and stubbornness he saw in Silver were right there in her eyes.

Chrysalis’ eye twitched slightly. Looking behind him, Mortar saw both Celestia and Luna talk. He saw them get up and walk towards her while she puffed out her chest in attempt to look brace. Even in her defiance, Mortar can see her tremble slightly. Princess Celestia and Princess Luna stood a couple meters away from Chrysalis. In return, Chrysalis steadied herself by exhaling and closing her eyes, bracing herself as their horns began to glow in unison.

The magic continued, filling the room with a bright light. Mortar gasped as he watched Chrysalis’ horn slowly begin to crumble. Chrysalis’ eyes opened, looking up to see what was on falling on her face. Instead of the defiant, evil queen, Mortar saw a pony terrified and scared. This was not the monster he thought he had heard about, who was demonized and portrayed as evil by everypony—this was a pony who was alone in the world. Chrysalis looked around, seeing her horn and wings falling off. She panicked, bucking wildly in her restraints. Black flakes from her body began to float off. The glow coming from the princesses’ horns brightened. Chrysalis gave a last shout, both fear and defiance in her eyes. The light shone even brighter. Mortar covered his eyes with a hoof, unable to stand the intensity.

When the light faded and his vision returned, Mortar no longer saw Queen Chrysalis. Instead, there lay Silver Skip, the pony that he loved. She was unconscious, a look of exhaustion on her face. Celestia’s horn glowed again, removing the bindings on Silver’s body. Lifting her up with her magic, she proceeded to take her away.


All of a sudden, the vision blurred and faded away. Mortar was standing in the hospital room, the soft hum of the machines again in his ears. Blinking and shaking his head, he spoke, “So Princess Celestia and Luna turned Chrysalis into a pony? Into...Silver Skip?”

“Well, yes and no,” Mort replied as he dropped his hoof. “It's a long story, but...okay, the very first changeling happened to be a pony who used some dark magic to gain the powers she wanted. She then spawned minions and created a heir. Essentially, the leader of the changelings has always been a pony surrounded with dark magic. Celestia and Luna removed it, leaving the original pony body behind.”

“But why did they spare her?” Mortar asked, confused. “I mean, there was so much anger towards her after the attack.”

Mort rubbed the back of his skull. “It’s not my place to say, but I do know that Celestia abhors the very idea of killing; she would rather love than hate. She’s been like that as long as I can remember. Also, Chrysalis’ invasion wasn’t exactly as clear-cut as it appeared to be. See, changelings have been around for a very long time. You remember the story of the founding of Equestria? Before that, there was distrust and fear among the three races. Changelings existed during that time. They were able to feed due to the lack of communication. To make sure they were not discovered among the individual tribes, they usually killed their victims. They used the fear and mistrust to place the blame on other tribes.

“However, once the three tribes united and founded Equestria, and communication was established, they were soon discovered. Once they were known, Equestria launched a counterstrike against them. The ponies soon drove them away, thinking that they were extinct. The changelings were then buried in history, because they were considered to represent the disharmony that once existed between the tribes.

“Still, the changelings managed to survive. They went underground, scraping out an existence. They could barely gather enough love to survive, and had to feed on other beings. This continued throughout the years, and the changeling numbers only dwindled. Then, Chrysalis became the Queen. There was only one hive left with a small number of changelings at her command. At that point, they were on the verge of extinction. Chrysalis then took a gamble—she infiltrated Equestria and managed to take the form of Princess Cadence. Her original plan was to steal only a small amount of love just to survive.

“But once she felt the love Shining Armor had, it ensnared her. This was someone who had survived on what was essentially scraps her entire life, only to stumble upon an endless buffet. She couldn’t help but gorge on it. So Chrysalis did exactly that, and as her power grew, so did her ambition and pride. She wanted more, so she planned on taking over Equestria. But her hubris was her downfall.

“It’s a grey area, really. I think Celestia found her motives not to be out of hate or malice but out of survival. She just went about it the wrong way. So, upon seeing a being who had been alone for her whole life and never knew anything about relationships, Celestia spared her. Removing her magic was the only way that she could ensure the safety of Equestria and show mercy. I think she was hoping that she could show how wonderful love and friendship are.”

“So wouldn’t she want revenge or something? I mean, if Silver Skip is Chrysalis, she seems too proud not to. How do I know if she cares for me or is just using me?” Mortar asked.

“This is why I didn't want to say anything,” Mort said sadly. “If I had just kept my big mouth shut...”

“No,” Mortar said, shaking his head. “Don't blame yourself.”

Mort looked surprised. “You're...not mad I hid it from you?”

Mortar shrugged. “If it were me, I would have said so right out. I think a pony should know everything, but...I think I can sympathize with you.” He hovered a hoof over the barrier, and pressed forward. He was not surprised to see it didn't go in nearly as far as before. “You really want me to live, don't you?”

“Of course!” Mort sat beside him, looking at Mortar's body with him. “Life's absolutely wonderful, I think. You can make so many friends, do so many things, see so many places...” There almost seemed to be a deep wistfulness in his tone.

Mortar sighed. “I'm not even sure about that anymore...”

Mort looked at him, confused. “Huh?”

“Look at me, Mort,” he said, gesturing at his body. “I've seen condemned buildings in better shape than me! Even if I do get back in my body, will I ever be able to build again? Will I even be able to walk? Am I just going to become an invalid, and a complete burden to somepony else...?” He hung head his morosely. “There's just...there is just so much I am not certain of anymore.”

Mort hummed thoughtfully. “Well, I don't think there's anyway around it.”

“Huh?” Mortar watched the pony shade get up and walk into the center of the room. “Where are you going?”

“Nowhere, I'm just making a call.” He raised his head, and for a moment his horn glowed, emitting an eerie, green light.

Mortar got up and stood beside him. “Who could you be calling for now?”

“Someone who will definitely know Silver better than either of us,” he said.

Mortar stared at him. “But...who could know more than you?”

“There are lots of shades, Mortar,” he said, as the glow faded. “Shades for birds, and dogs, and insects, and fish. Shades for ponies, for dragons, for griffons...” He gave a meaningful look to Mortar. “Shades for changelings.”

Mortar's mouth dropped a little. “You're...you're calling one of them to come here? Now?

“You don't have anything to worry about,” Mort said. “She isn't evil or anything, but...” He shrugged helplessly. “Well, you'll see.”

They waited. The occasional beep from the machines and the ticking of the clock filled the room. Mortar blinked, about to question Mort further, when a feminine voice called out. “Why hello there, boys."

Then all of a sudden a familiar voice came from above. What can I do for you?”

“Ahhh!” Mort yelled as he jumped. “Forma! Why do you always have to scare me like that?”

Mortar looked up and gasped. There, floating above Mort, was another Mort, or something that looked and sounded exactly like him. It floated down and landed next its double.

Mortar rubbed his eyes, staring in disbelief. Had he taken his eyes off when the second Mort came down, he couldn't have told them apart. What made it even worse was that they were mimicking each other. The slightest twitch or fidget, the way one Mort looked nervously between the double and Mortar, was perfectly mirrored by the other.

Finally, the Mort on the right facehooved. “Forma, why is it that every time we meet, you always copy me?”

The other burst out in laughter. That it did so it Mort's voice was somehow unsettling. “Why? Because you're way too much fun to sneak up on. It is always so cute to see you so nervous and on-edge when you know I'm coming.”

“B—but it's always so weird when you do it. Can’t you be someone or something else when we meet?”

Mortar just sat there dumbfounded, mouth agape. He blinked again and gasped loudly. Before him, with her nebulous mane, stood Princess Luna.

“P—Princess Luna!” Mortar blurted, quickly bowing down.

“Forma!” Mort shouted. “I—I didn’t mean that!”

“Rise, subject!” Forma shouted, towering over the kneeling Mortar. She stood there, a look as hard as steel on her face. Suddenly she fluttered her wings, laughing. “Oh you ponies are so funny! So timid and easy to scare!”

She landed next to Mort, draping a wing over him. “What's wrong, Mort? Does our form displease you?” Forma bellowed in the royal Canterlot dialect. Her voice dropped to a whisper, her muzzle next to where Mort’s ear would be. “I thought you would love this form, especially with Luna’s sexy rear...”

Mort jumped on the spot, scrabbling away from the doppelganger. “H—how could you say such a thing?!” he said, sounding...well, mortified.

“See?” Forma said as she jumped up, her form instantly changing into a griffon. “I love seeing your skittish reactions. They’re just so much fun to watch. Now why would The Pale Pony of Death need lil’ ol’ me?”

Mort gave a heavy sigh, rubbing his temple. “Well, it is about Mortar over here.”

Mortar finally found his voice. “Mort, what is this?” he blurted out, staring at the griffon in front of him. “You said you were summoning the changeling shade, not...whatever this is!”

“Ah, but I am the changeling shade, little pony. But why stick with one form when I can be anything I want?” In quick succession, the shade transformed from one thing into another, from creatures, to trees, to rocks, and once into something that defied description, because it seemed to contained several, more dimensions than ponies were used to.

The shade stopped, taking on the form of a royal guard unicorn. Forma looked over Mortar with a quizzical eye. “Mort, why haven't you reaped him yet?” she finally said. “Isn't he due?”

“I was getting to that,” Mort interrupted. “Forma, this here is Mortar, who is technically not dead yet. He's the same pony that has been with Chrysalis the past month.”

Mortar blinked, and now standing before him was a massive wolf.

Forma looked down, a massive and toothy grin on her face. “This is that pony? Well, well, well, befriending the enemy I see.”

“Forma,” Mort sighed “Shouldn't you know this? You are the shade of the changelings!”

“My bad, I didn't notice it right away,” Forma said nonchalantly, scratching her ears. “A lot of these ponies look the same, you know. You ever notice that? I swear they have literal copies of themselves everywhere.”

“We're getting off topic,” Mort said. “Look, thank you very much for coming out here, Forma, but we kinda have a problem. Mortar here is facing a dilemma at the moment.”

“Ah, I see!” Forma exclaimed, her form changing from a wolf to a blue-haired unicorn, who wore a suit and monocle. A file appeared out of nowhere, and she started to use it on her hooves. “Well, it's not like I have much left to do now, anyway. I had just finished reaping a changeling soul that was way past her due date. Been following her for centuries now.” Forma examined her hoof, adjusting the monocle. “So, how can I help?”

“Is it true?” Mortar asked, looking between Mort and Forma. “Is it true you know Silver?”

“Did you not just hear me? I am the changeling shade,” Forma said, her form becoming that of a changeling. “I have been watching them from the very beginning. But I must say, Chrysalis, or Silver as you know her, is by far the most interesting and personally my favorite out of all the changelings. I know I really shouldn't pick favorites, but I just couldn't help myself.” She spun and was suddenly a tall, earth pony mare, with a blue mane a white top-hat. She posed, exclaiming, “That girl is sensational!

“Forma!” Mort said loudly. He cleared his throat and looked around nervously. “Um, sorry. Look, Forma, we do not have much time left. Mortar here is trying to get back into his body, and as we know, there is not that big a time frame for that. He has tried very hard, but he is having doubts. Since you are the closest with Chrysalis out of all of us, we want to know what she thinks of Mortar here.”

“And why is that?” Forma said, looking over at Mortar.

“Because,” Mortar interrupted, “I am trying to get back to my body, but it is just so painful. I just learned what Silver really is. Who she really is. How can I push myself if I don’t even know she cares for me?”

Forma’s shape shifted and grew into a form familiar to any pony in Equestria. Nightmare Moon stood before him, glaring at him with teal slit eyes.

“Pathetic...” Forma said sternly. “Utterly pathetic.”

“Forma!” Mort shouted. “There is no need for that kind of talk!”

“Quiet!” Forma roared out, silencing Mort. “You called me, and I will deal with it as I see fit. And you, Mortar, how weak you are to quit now. Here I thought you loved her—I guess you really don’t.”

“That is not true!” Mortar retorted. “I did love her! I...I do love her! She was the first mare that made me really happy! I desperately want to be with her, to spend my life with her!”

“Then tell me, darling,” Forma continued, her form changing into that of a white unicorn mare with a very stylish mane and a trio of diamonds for a cutie mark. “I am curious to know why you love her. You must have found her quite the charmer.”

“Charmer...?” Mortar bit his lip, uncertain how to proceed. “I...I wouldn’t exactly describe her as charming. Sometimes, she seems a little haughty, if anything.”

“Then she must have been a super fun party pony?” Forma exclaimed, her form now a pink pony with three balloons as a cutie mark. “Took you to the hippest joints, danced the night away with you?”

He chuckled, albeit uncomfortably. “Well I wouldn’t consider myself a party-goer; I grew out of that phase. We did have fun, but we never really went anywhere “hip” or the like.”

Now a purple unicorn that Mortar knew was Princess Celestia’s personal student said, “Well, then perhaps her intellect must’ve impressed you? Thought it’d be nice to have an intelligent marefriend, do all the heavy thinking?”

“Oh, well...yes, I don’t doubt she’s intelligent, but to be honest, I’ve needed to help her figure things out quite a few times.”

“Ah reckon that she must be a very strong pony, then!” Forma exclaimed, now an orange pony with apples as a cutie mark and a light brown stetson hat. “Helped you with your work and chores?”

He shrugged. “Not...exactly. I do most of the heavy lifting, I think.”

Forma then changed into a blue pegasus with a rainbow-colored mane. “Then she must be exciting to be around? Gets to be the center of attention, make you feel important?”

“Well, she does become the center of attention sometimes, but I’m usually apologizing for her afterward.” He shuffled his forehooves, looking embarrassed. “Though I do I feel important when she’s around.”

“Then she must be very kind and sweet,” Forma said softly as a yellow pegasus with a long pink mane and tail. “And you can make her do what you want.”

At this, Mortar just stared at her, completely baffled. “I’m sorry, I’m a little confused. Are we sure we’re talking about the same pony?”

You’re confused?” Forma’s coat turned gray, and now she was a walleyed pegasus, with bubbles for a cutie mark. “What about me? I mean, here you are, saying you love her, but I don’t see why! She’s not fancy, or fun, or super smart, or strong, or exciting, or even very nice! Why would you love a pony like that?”

“I...well, I really don’t know,” he admitted. “I mean she can be downright abusive, haughty, and to be perfectly honest, a bitch sometimes. That and she tends to have a violent streak when she does not get her way. Yet,” he paused for a moment, his eyes distant. “It’s just...she is so reclusive at times, and never wants to show her true feelings. It is like she is constantly wearing a mask. But when I am with her, I feel like that mask slowly begins to crack. Sometimes I could get a genuine smile out of her, maybe even make her laugh a little. And she...she’s just so beautiful when she does. And her personality’s so strong, like she won’t ever take anything lying down. Sure, that makes her a little bossy, but I actually love that about her. She just...” He trailed off, searching for the words. “She completes me, makes me feel content. And someday...maybe I could make her feel the same way.”

“Well, one thing’s for sure.” The gray pegasus suddenly grew in size, and Mortar froze as he watched her transform into Chrysalis. “For somepony who has years of experience in seducing others, she’s going about it in a very funny way, don’t you think?

Mortar stared at her, a smile slowly growing on his face. “It is kinda ridiculous, isn’t it?” The smile disappeared. “But I’m right, aren’t it? She is hiding something, but it’s not just her identity. It’s something deeper, isn’t it?”

Forma shook her head, for the first time looking a little sad. “You have absolutely no idea the life Chrysalis had, the struggles she had to face from day one. Have you ever been so hungry that it hurt? That you can feel your stomach eating your own body? You saw how thin she looked when you first met her.” She transformed, and Mortar gasped when he was looking at Silver Skip, just as she was when he first laid eyes on her. “Tell me, when is the last time you seen a pony this thin looking anywhere in Equestria? She has been starving since the day she was born, fighting everyday to make an existence.

“But really...” She suddenly grew in size, and for a moment it looked like she was transforming into Chrysalis again. But this time there were no holes in her hooves wings. The carapace seemed heavier and strong, and malevolent, red eyes peered down at him. “She has suffered things that you simply cannot fathom.”

He felt there was some hidden meaning to the form, but he couldn’t discern it. Not now. He looked away from the large shade and back at his body. He walked over to it, once again taking in all the injuries he had suffered.

“If I made it back, but I couldn’t work again...couldn’t walk again...would should stay with me?”

“Are you now afraid she’d leave?” Forma asked, transforming into Celestia. Mortar wasn’t surprised anymore.

“Not quite,” he said. “I’m afraid...I don’t want to burden her. I don’t want her to waste years of her life just trying to take care of me.”

Forma looked up and down his body, frowning. “Yes, I’m afraid your recovery is completely dependant on the skill of the doctor.”

“So you don’t know what’ll happen,” he said.

After a long silence, Mort finally spoke. “We can predict the future to an extent, Mortar, but it’s not far reaching, nor is it always perfect.”

“Perhaps you’ll never walk again, and need somepony to stay with you,” Forma said, suddenly taking the form of a brown earth pony, who had an hourglass for a cutie mark. “Perhaps it’ll be too much for Silver to see you like this, and she’ll leave you. Perhaps being alive at all will be enough, and she’ll stay by your side for the rest of your days. Perhaps you make a full recovery, but eventually the two of you drift apart. Or perhaps you don’t, and you have children...”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I think what’s she trying to say is that the future is, and always will be, uncertain,” Mort explained, standing beside her. “There is one thing we do know, however—if you don’t try, then all of those futures, good and bad, are closed out forever.”

“Exactly.” Forma changed again, and this time Mortar was looking at his own double, only he wore a determined expression. “The only surefire way to know your future is to seize it for yourself, and make it your own. It’s up to you to take that plunge. For better or worse.”

Mortar sat there, looking both at Forma and Mort. Mort was looking at him hopefully.

“You’re right,” Mortar said as he stood. “Thank you.”

“You know what you need to do,” Forma said. She backed away, clearing a path for Mortar.

Mortar stared at his body. His hoof began to quiver as his breathing quickened. Quickly, he closed his eyes and exhaled, calming himself.

“You can do it, Mortar!” Mort exclaimed. “Just believe in yourself. Dig deep for your inner will.”

Again, Mortar walked to the barrier. He remembered the pain he had to brace himself for, and he began to pant, trying to steady his nerves.

“All right,” he whispered.

Pushing with his right hoof, he again slowly forced his way through the barrier. His body jerked and spasmed as he felt the fracture. Grunting through his teeth, he continued onward. Getting one hoof in, he began to work on his other. Again, his left foreleg was easier to make it through.

Working both forelegs in, he braced himself again, knowing that it was only the beginning. Closing his eyes, he began to force his head in. His legs buckled as he cried out in pain, struggling to keep his footing. Panting and sweating hard, he tried to focus. He felt a searing pain on the back of his head.

Grunting hard, he slowly continued to force his way through. He legs buckled and cried out in pain as he got his chest through. He fell to the ground as he jerked around.

“D—do you need me to pull you out?” Mort asked nervously, jumping on his hooves.

“No!” Mortar cried out. Panting hard, he slowly crawled his way forward.

“Silver, I am coming,” Mortar said to himself over and over as he continued.

Slowly, he got more of his body through, each inch begetting more intense pain. As he got his pelvis through, he screamed out as his body thrashed uncontrollably. Mortar’s vision blurred, and his body convulsed with pain. “Silver!” he cried out in intense agony. Digging his forehooves in the ground, and even using his head, Mortar gave one final jerk as he pulled the rest of his body through.

“Hmm, looks like he did have the guts to do it after all,” Forma said as she stood over Mortar, her form changing to that of Silver Skip.

Mortar looked up, his vision blurring and fading. “S—Silver, is that you?” he gasped.

Forma grinned. “Not quite, but you will see her soon enough.”

“Wow, you did it, Mortar!” Mort exclaimed as he stood next to Forma. “You actually did it! Oh Celestia and Luna will be so happy, too.”

Mortar squinted, his vision darkening as he tried to make out the two forms ahead of them. He was hurting, but he could not remember why. “W—who are you?” he weakly said.

“Looks like his soul is bonding to his body,” Mort said to Forma. He looked down at Mort, giving a gentle smile, or as close as a skeleton can. “Congratulations, Mortar. You did it. I do hope that we won’t be meeting again for a very long time.”

“Good luck, lover boy,” Forma said, winking at him. “You’re going to need it. She is a feisty one.”

Mortar’s eyelids were heavy, the forms in front of him now becoming nothing more than obscured shadows. “W—what?” he groaned.

Unable to keep his eyes open, he let his head hit the bed as he blacked out.


Mortar’s eyelids began to flicker. Slowly and painfully, he opened his eyes, staring at a dark room. His body felt like it was on fire as he let out a muffled cry. He thrashed around on the bed, knocking off the wires that covered his body. Mortar tried to cough, but he felt something in his throat. Now aware of the intruding endotracheal tube, he gagged. He quickly grabbed it with his forehooves and pulled it out as fast as he could. Grunting, he was surprised just how long the tube was.

There was a loud beeping around him. He panted, every breath bringing pain. But he could breathe. Mortar Brick was alive and awake.

Where am I? he thought as he looked around his room. I was falling. Silver was mad at me. I should be dead, but here I am. I can feel pain in all my limbs. It hurts—but I am breathing on my own.

The door opened quickly, and a nurse barged in with a nervous look on her face. Her eyes widened as she saw Mortar thrashing around on his bed. “Sweet Celestia, he is awake,” she whispered. She turned towards the door and shouted, “Doctor! Doctor, I need help in Mortar’s room! He is awake! Quick, I need morphine now!” She rushed to Mortar and attempted to hold him down. “Mortar, sir, please calm down. You’re going to be okay. Relax. The doctor will be here soon.”

“It hurts,” he grunted loudly.

“I know,” the nurse replied, “Just hold on; help is on the way.”


Mortar groaned through the air mask he was wearing. The morphine made the pain bearable. Still, the pain irritated him, and he wanted to get rid of it. Slowly turning his head to the side, he reached out with a forehoof and pressed the button on the morphine dispenser next to him. Unfortunately, the machine did not respond.

“Come on, you stupid machine, give me what I want,” he cried, weakly pressing the button again.

“I am afraid that is not going to work, Mr. Brick. The machine will only release a dose of morphine every couple of hours,” said a unicorn, entering the room. He was wearing a white coat, and there was a stethoscope around his neck. “Morphine, while great at reducing pain, is highly addictive, so we have to take precautions.”

Mortar tiredly turned his head to face the unicorn.

“Just relax, Mortar. I am Dr. Goodheart, and I am your personal doctor,” The unicorn brought a chair next to Mortar's bed and sat down next to the earth pony, taking a brief glimpse at the machines next to the bed before turning back to Mortar. “Well, your vitals are stable, and everything seems to be in order.”

“That’s good,” Mortar said, panting.

“Yes, it is. To be quite frank, I have no idea how you got out of the coma you were in; the signs were not good. You earth ponies are made of some hearty stuff, though. That was a nasty fall, and you were only out for a couple of days. With some physical therapy, you will be back on your hooves in no time!” Dr. Goodheart said with enthusiasm.

“R—really?”

“Indeed! When we first got you, well, it was not pretty. But with extensive surgery and restoration magic, we managed to bring you back and keep you alive.”

“Will I walk again?” Mortar asked nervously.

“Ah, yes, you will. Like I said, you earth ponies are made of some tough material. We had to basically rebuild your pelvis. But yes, with enough physical therapy you will be able to walk, though maybe with a limp. We need to see how you progress first,” Dr. Goodheart replied.

“Another thing, Doctor,” Mortar said as his eyes darted around nervously.

“Yes?”

“Is everything down there working?” Mortar asked nervously.

“Um, yes. As I said, we fixed your pelvis, and you can walk,” Dr. Goodheart replied confusedly.

“No, I mean down there,” Mortar said, looking away.

“Oh. OH! Yes, everything is fine. If you want to start a family, you do have that ability,” Dr. Goodheart chuckled.

“Thank the stars. I was nervous there,” Mortar sighed.

“Well, I will be back in while; I need to check on my other patients. Just rest for now, Mortar,” Dr. Goodheart said as he got up.

“Before you go, Doctor, one last thing,” Mortar said.

“Yes?”

“Can I have some more morphine?” Mortar asked, looking with pleading eyes.

“Nice try, Mr. Brick,” the doctor replied, laughing. “You have a long list of things to recover from; we don’t need to add an addiction to that. Besides, what would that pretty li’l mare of yours say if she found out that you were addicted to morphine?”

“Wait! Silver is here?” Mortar exclaimed, grunting and struggling to get up.

“Whoa! Easy there, son. Just lie back down. Yes, she was here a while ago, but she left after visiting hours were over,” Dr. Goodheart replied. “I must say you have one feisty mare there.”

“Yeah, she gets a little temperamental—wait, how do you know that?” Mortar asked, grunting as he lay back down.

“Well, when you first arrived here, she was right behind us. When we took you to the operating room for surgery, she demanded that she come too. When the security guard said it was not permitted, she punched him. I must say, for a small thing, she packs a punch. It took quite a few security guards to settle her down,” Dr. Goodheart answered, chuckling a little.

“Wow, that is the second time she has punched somepony,” Mortar said, laughing a little. “The pony she punched, he’s okay, I hope?”

“Oh, yes. Nothing but his pride was hurt. We gave him an ice pack, but he will have a shiner for a while.”

“Well, I am sorry for the trouble she caused,” Mortar said.

“It is fine, really. When most ponies see a loved one hurt or sick, they do get very emotional. Silver also tends to get violent. It is not the first time something like this has happened.”

“At least that is all she did,” said Mortar with a short laugh.

“Not exactly. There was one more less-violent outburst she had. When we told her we could not wake you up, she got angry. She threatened the entire staff with endless suffering if we did not do what she demanded. Luckily, security was ready and held her back from hurting anypony, including herself.”

Mortar’s eyes widened. “Really? She did all that for me?” he said through the breathing mask.

“Ah yes, a very lively mare. You are a lucky stallion to have somepony like that.”

“Wow,” Mortar replied as his eyelids felt heavy. “That is a good feeling. Well, I am feeling tired right now, Doc.”

“Yes, I imagine you are tired. I’ll leave right away.” Dr. Goodheart said as he opened the door. “Sorry, just one last thing—do you have any connection with the Princesses?”

“No,” Mortar answered. “Why?” he asked, closing his eyes and beginning to drift to sleep.

“Just wondering, is all. I’ll see you soon. Good night, Mortar,” Dr. Goodheart said as he closed the door behind him.


Chrysalis, now accepting her life as Silver Skip, walked down the hospital hallway with a saddlebag to have her daily meeting with Mortar. Her face was calm and stoic, a mask of strength. Even though Mortar was in a coma, Silver would not miss her daily meal with him. After work, she would bring both her and Mortar’s dinner. She remained hopeful that he would pull through, despite everypony else saying he wouldn’t.

As she continued on her way, she noticed a security guard wearing sunglasses. She recognized him as the one she had given a black eye. She trotted next to him and jumped at him. The guard jumped back, stumbling on his hooves. Wearing a smirk of satisfaction, she continued on her way. At least she could still inspire some fear when she wanted too.

After walking down a couple more hallways, she stopped in front of Mortar’s room. Her mask dropped with her shoulders, a depressed look on her face. Just seeing Mortar lie there motionless ate at her every single time. But she had to do it—she had to support him in every way possible. Bracing herself, she opened to the door.

“Come on, just give me some more!” Mortar whined, slamming his hoof over the button of the morphine dispenser.

Silver stood there, her heart pounding in her chest. Her hooves began to shake as she saw the sight before her. There was Mortar, awake and moving on his own. She blinked and rubbed her eyes, expecting the illusion to go away. But it didn’t, and Mortar continued to complain at the machine next to him, unaware of Silver. She took a shaky step forward, swallowing the lump in her throat as her eyes began to water.

“M—Mortar?” Silver said, surprised.

Mortar weakly turned his head, taking the breathing mask off with a hoof. “H—hey, Silver, how are ya doing?” he groaned.

Silver bit her bottom lip, sniffing as she felt tears rolling down her face. She couldn’t hold it any longer; she broke out into a run towards Mortar, crying.

She grabbed Mortar and embraced him, tears flowing from her eyes, “Mortar, I am sorry, so, so sorry. Please forgive me! I did not mean it!”

Mortar gave a cry of pain as soon as he was hugged. “Too rough!”

“Sorry!” Silver sniffed as she loosened her grip.

Panting, Mortar relaxed as he lay back down. He reached out with a hoof, stroking Silver’s back and trying to calm her.

Silver continued to cry, sobbing hard as tears continued to flow. She hated that for the second time in her life she was crying and was unable to stop. Worse was that she did not want to stop, it just felt so relieving to let her emotions out. Finally after a couple of minutes she stopped, only letting the occasional sob as Mortar rubbed her back.

“H—hey, it’s fine. So you are not mad at me?” Mortar weakly said.

Silver stared at him, not even sure how to answer. Silver tried words, but the reality of the situation completely stole them away. She knew she would have traded her kingdom twice for this, and yet only after waiting, Mortar was with her and would stay with her. Her only regret then was that she did not have the words to express her gladness.

Thus she found there was only one way. Without any thought, her hooves still around him, she tilted her head ever so slightly. Leaning in closer and without delay, her lips met his. Mortar, at first, gave a slight flinch, clearly not expecting that, but then she felt him wrap his own forelegs around her neck, pulling her closer.

Silver lost herself, not in the feeling of it, but it was as if she was telling him all about her struggles agonies and he was gladly listening was eager ears. If a picture was worth a thousand words, then for her, a kiss must have been a billion. In this moment all those fears, obligations, and past failures were completely insignificant and forever lost. In her heart she felt before that she had wronged him, but now his forgiveness was being voiced in a way words never could.

An eternity passed as she poured out her affection and relief, but sooner or later, the two had to break the kiss. Both sucked in much needed air and panted. “Wow, Silver,” Mortar said through a breath. “That was…”

She found her voice and finished the sentence. “…amazing.” Her hoof on her chest, she could feel her heart pounding...

That was different. I have kissed many ponies before, but this was different. Is this what Celestia meant by relationships? This feels nice. I can live with this.

“Mortar, I am sorry. This was my fault. I have been alone for most of my life. I thought relationships were weakness; the idea of sharing oneself disturbed me. But then I met you, and everything changed. Mortar, I have a past that I now want to forget. I want to start a new life, and more importantly, I want to start it with you. Can you give me another chance?”

Mortar stared at her, eyes wide. He reached up with a hoof and beckoned her to come closer. As she stood next to him, he placed a hoof across her cheek, wiping away the tears. “It was an accident, Silver. I would like nothing more than to be with you. I fell for you, both figuratively and I guess now literally,” he chuckled. “Now wipe away that look on your face. Everything is going to be fine.”

Silver sniffed, wiping her eyes with a hoof. “Thank you,” she replied, genuinely smiling.

“Besides, you look like a mess right now,” Mortar remarked.

Silver face hardened, and she glared at him. In a flash, she moved her head and nipped Mortar’s nose.

“Ow! Sheesh, I was only making a joke,” Mortar whined as he rubbed his nose.

“If you tell anyone about this, or how I cried I will personally make sure you stay in that bed!” Silver huffed, glaring at Mortar. After a second, her expression softened into a gentle smile.

“I would not have it any other way,” Mortar replied, smiling back.

Author's Note:

Mort and Forma belong to AnonymousMaterials. Mort is from the amazing story Mort Takes a Holiday. If you have not read it, then please go read such a great story regardless.

Special thanks to my editors
Spabble
Ponysopher
Letedwend

And a special thanks to AnonymousMaterials for not only letting me use his fantastic characters, but also helping me edit this chapter, and the one before this.