//------------------------------// // Chapter 01: Good Morning, Goddess // Story: Not My Destiny // by Smayds //------------------------------// Not My Destiny by Smayds Chapter 1 - Good Morning, Goddess Groan. Twilight wasn't a morning pony - never had been, as a matter of fact. But on this particular day, she probably wouldn't be an afternoon pony either. Maybe an evening pony? What a night. Tossing and turning for hours, she just couldn't get comfortable no matter how she contorted herself. Some point after she'd finally dropped off, she must have got all twisted. Her body was full of cramps. Maybe she'd finally have to take Rarity up on her regular offers to visit the spa. Sure could do with a massage right about now. My back... She was far, far to sore to fall back to sleep. She was sure her joints actually creaked as she flopped out of her bed, hooves hitting the wooden floor of her bedroom with soft thuds. She arched her back in an effort to work the worst of the kinks out. OW! OW OW OW OW OW! Okay, enough stretching. Stretching could wait until after breakfast. Breakfast. Oh my. Breakfast. She was so hungry. She couldn't ever remember feeling this hungry before. She wobbled over to the nightstand, feeling around with her magic for her hairbrush. I'll just get this hair out of my eyes, then breakfast. Breakfast! The hairbrush cracked, the sound like a whip. Her head jerked up, hair flying out of her eyes. She was holding the pulverised remains of the carved wooden handle. She'd crushed it. The head dangled sadly in her telekinetic grip. Whuh... What? How did THAT happen? So HUNGRY! Augh. Forget my hair. I need breakfast. She glanced at the mirror to see her tremendous bed-head. Spike's gonna be laughing about this all week, the littl- The remains of the hairbrush fell to the floor. Her hunger fled. An icy ball of horror replaced the gnawing pains in the pit of her stomach. Her eyes had opened so wide, her eyelids stung. The pony staring back at her from the glass looked aghast, the mouth agape, the colour draining rapidly from its lavender face. Above the terrified eyes, sticking out of the rumpled mess of indigo mane, a horn protruded. It was half as long again as Twilight's horn, its tip needle-sharp. The spiral fluting glistened like mother-of-pearl, and small motes of light were winking in and out all around it. The pony in the mirror moved its eyes, just as Twilight did. Left, then right, the pinprick pupils shifted, as Twilight gazed at the ruffled feathers sticking every which way out of this strange and terrifying pony's wings. Twilight's heart stopped for a few beats. She didn't notice. She wasn't breathing. She didn't notice this either. For nearly a full minute she gaped at the shocking reflection, the trembling in her chest spreading throughout her entire body until her hooves rattled quietly against the floor. Then, suddenly, she tore her eyes away from the mirror, whirled around, and stared at her messy bed. Full of lavender feathers. She started to pass out. Her knees hit the floor, blackness crept into the edges of her vision, huge rolling waves of nausea pulsed through her. Her heart beat so fast and hard that it ached, the blood pumping through her ears sounded as loud as a train. She started breathing again, great, wracking gasps of air that burned through her throat and chest. "Spike..." she choked out. Come on, Twilight, get a grip. Just breathe. Breathe. That's it. Nice, deep, even breaths. Don't think. Just breathe. Breathe. Breathe. "Spike," she whispered. Breathe, damnit! Slow, steady, calming breaths. Good. That's it. One more, deep, hold it in, aaaaaaand... "SPIIIIIIIIIIIKE!" she yelled. "SPIKE SPIKE SPIKE SPIKE SPIIIIIIIIIIIKE!" The rushing sound that was filling her ears muffled the patter of quick feet running up the passage. She staggered to her hooves in a daze, lurched sideways, and fell out of her bed-loft with a shriek, collapsing in a heap on her main bedroom floor. The door opened. "Twilight? What's wrong? Twilight? Twilight! Did you fall? Are you hurt? Why are you covered in... feathers..." Twilight opened her eyes. Her vision was blurry, but she could make out Spike holding up a wing, near the tip. His eyes were dilating, then they rolled back into his head. Spike toppled gently over onto his back with a soft thump. This was far, far too much to deal with for one morning. Twilight felt her grip on reality finally snap, and as her head hit the wooden bedroom floor, she joined the little dragon in blissful unconsciousness.