“You look finished,” Idun said. “And you look like you may possibly want to be careful for a little while, at least until you get things under control. Discord?”
“I’ll get her home, no problem,” he replied. “And thank you again.”
“Yes, thank you,” Fluttershy managed to say before she was whisked away, back to her cottage.
She looked up at Discord. He wasn’t slumping anymore, but he looked an unusual mix of worried and happy.
“They seemed like nice, umm, centaurs,” she started.
“They are. On a cosmic level, they’re about the nicest spirits you could find.”
“Wouldn’t that make them your, you know, your first friends?”
“I wouldn’t say that. It’s a long story. I suppose I can call Bragi my friend now, yes, but Idun is different, always has been. No one ever calls Idun a friend, not really. Just like no one really calls me a friend.” He quickly perked up and clapped his claws together. “That is, until recently, of course.”
“Of course. I understand: centuries without friends and only a few years with them, it’s easy to forget. Umm, is it okay for me to look at myself in a mirror now?”
“Yes, yes.” He quickly summoned up a full-length mirror for her to look into. “Have a gander.” Something honked when he held the mirror up to her, but she ignored it.
“Oh, dear. I have antlers.” She reached up at her head to feel and, sure enough, she had an adorable little rack now. A branching one at that, like a pair of thick arcs resting on her head, with tines sticking out. She’d never had any deer with a rack like that in her sanctuary, but the shape looked vaguely familiar, so at least that was still natural.
“Hmm, yes, deer and a little bit of insect thrown in, if my eyes don’t deceive me. I remember seeing those wings on a colt once, in another world. They don’t look bad on you,” Discord noted.
“Thank you.” The wings were definitely not natural. They were solid translucent masses, almost like butterfly wings, but much pointier, the same triple tip shape as a maple leaf top, and green. They were also, upon close inspection, the source of the glitter Idun had fanned off. Fluttershy was thankful she wasn’t shedding anything.
Down below, something felt wrapped around her, but it wasn’t a bad sensation or look: she almost looked like she was wearing part of her first Gala dress. Her hide was marked by little strings of ivy, connected without biting into her skin. She tried focusing on the growths to make leaves open and close, then flowers. It worked as easily as flexing a muscle.
Licking her lips, she inspected how her mouth felt with the cleft. That was more familiar, very deer-like. Her nose was fluffy, though, which wasn’t. Deer had shiny smooth noses, not fluffy ones, with only a few exceptions. She didn’t know what all the exceptions were, but she knew they could be easily recognised by the nose. Moose was one, but her snout wasn’t big or broad enough to be a moose. As she’d anticipated, her tail was now also that of a deer.
She did a double take when she saw her cutie mark: it had been completely consumed by the fey magic. The three pink butterflies were still there, thankfully, but now they were sitting on a set of bright orange flowers with purple in their centre, and her haunches were adorned with a leaf pattern all the way down to her cannons. At least it gave her the illusion of wearing pants, she figured. Her ears looked deerish as well, at first glance, but she quickly corrected herself and realised they had more of a batty appearance, lacking the conical shape that separates horse ears from deer ones.
And of course, if she had taken on more deer traits, she could guess what the little pressure above her hooves was as well.
Dew claws. I have dew claws now.
On a whim, and noticing the dark brown colour, she tried to lick one.
Huh. Licorice wood.
“This isn’t so bad,” she said, admiring herself. “I was expecting to turn into more of a ferocious beast.”
“Careful, Fluttershy: you might still get to that part.”
“What happens now?” she asked.
“For starters, you’ll have to learn how to pretend to be a high fey to fool mother. Doing some typical faerie magic ought to help.”
“And how do I do that?”
“The low level stuff should be easy. It’s authoritative magic, so think something, but think it loud. Pretend you’re commanding the room to be clean.”
She nodded and faced the furniture. “Okay. Umm, room? Clean up, please.”
Discord shook his head. “Not like that. A room cannot clean up: the command is to become clean. You’re going to have to be careful with your words while you’re like this. Pretend you’re a Queen issuing a decree.”
Oh. Well, I suppose I did play Princess Celestia that one time. I could do something like that. She took a deep breath in and concentrated. “By my decree as archfey: become clean!”
Suddenly, violently, all the teacups and the kettle flung themselves into the sink for a quick bath, before floating over into the correct cupboards, which opened and closed without so much as a peep.
A broom came by and swept over the floor, pillows fluffed themselves, and then the still open windows let in a completely coincidental breeze that smelled of flowers and washed away most of the scent of animal feed.
“Thank you,” she said to the broom. “Now, what else do you need me to do?”
Discord held up his feline claw to his mouth, thinking. “You won’t able to lie tomorrow, but we can work around that. All you need to really do is make sure mother believes you’re my girlfriend. So, if she asks, repeat after me: when we first met, we fought each other. You’re a very respected nature spirit with ties to Celestia. You command wild and magical beasts that terrify mere mortals.”
“We fought each other when we first met. I’m a very respected nature spirit with ties to Celestia. I can command wild and magical beasts that terrify mere mortals.” She stifled a giggle as she said it. It felt exhilarating to say such things, to be deceptive without truly lying. It tickled her ears and soothed her throat.
That’s odd. I didn’t even notice my throat was aching until it stopped.
“Perfect. Half-truths are much more effective than lies, anyway.”
“I don’t know, Discord. We are-” Her voice cut off. “We-” Again her voice caught. The ache in her throat didn’t return, though, and that somehow felt stranger than the inability to say something untruthful.
“Told you.” He winked at her. “You can’t lie now: it’s a major handicap. But it also means mother won’t suspect anything.”
“Alright. But we’re still going to have to pretend. Oh, maybe I can go get some things for tea?”
He scratched his head. “I suppose that’s not a bad idea per se, but are you sure? Everything you’d get would smell of Ponyville. Mother would know it’s not fey-made.”
“So? We’re pretending I’m a fey living in Equestria, right? It would make sense that I drink from pony tea kettles and cups. Oh, and you could make your home look like I’ve been living there for a while, too,” she suggested. “Make it fey-friendly, but don’t do it like last time. Maybe you can keep it chaotic.”
“Ooh, that’s clever thought, actually. I’ll have to think, and get some extra opinions.”
A second Discord, this one wearing a vest and glasses, along with a pencil on his right ear, came walking by with blue paper under his shoulders. “Alright, fine, I’ll open up my schedule to help redecorate.”
“Problem solved,” said Discord. “I’ll leave you to it, then. Just give me a shout if you need me, and remember: no hard statements, no trying to lie, and don’t make any promises.”
“I know. And no iron or running water. Really, Discord, it’s almost like you don’t trust me,” Fluttershy said.
“Tell me about it,” said a second Fluttershy right next to her. “For someone so powerful, he sure is a worrywort.”
“It’s almost like all that magic drives him crazy,” said a third on her left.
“Eep!” Fluttershy flapped her green wings and flailed her front hooves around, making the duplicates disappear. “Okay, that was startling. That might take some getting used to.”
“Not been a fey for ten minutes and she’s already making duplicates of herself,” the second Discord said. His proud smile quickly turned into a worried wince. “That’s impressive, and concerning. She’s going to need to get her powers under control fast.”
“She will,” Discord stated. “Idun always goes the whole nine yards with her boons, and Fluttershy is more than deserving of them. You’re a strong mare, you can handle this kind of power. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some prepwork to do.”
With that, he vanished, taking his decorator clone with him.
Fluttershy sighed. She squinted, and all her windows closed at her mental command. That pressure in her throat, that residual ache, it softened and hardened at random, it seemed. Probably part of the transformation, she concluded. Turning to more pressing matters, nothing was on her immediate schedule for the day, so she could prepare. “Angel Bunny? I’ll be out in Ponyville for a little while. Be good while I’m gone.”
She walked over to the door, then stopped.
“I suppose I won’t get another chance to do this anytime soon. To Sweet Apple Acres!”
Her world went white, then the smell of falling leaves entered her nostrils. The smell filled her to her core, then popped her like a bubble.
Fluttershy appeared with the stiff wind of winter. Given that it was July, she felt somewhat confused, but decided to take it in stride and try a summer breeze later. She’d made it to the Apple family orchard in one piece and that’s all that mattered.
Nothing to worry about.
It’s just some extra magical power. You’ve had powerful magic running through you before, you can handle it.
I’m sure everypony will understand.
“Ahah! Gotcha!”
Something slammed into her from behind and grabbed her antlers. Then a net fell over both her and the weight. The weight felt vaguely filly-shaped, and for some reason Fluttershy felt a sudden urge to start hoarding breakfast cereal.
“I caught’im! I finally caught the Great Seedling!”
The accent matched the weight. “Umm, Apple Bloom? It’s me, Fluttershy.”
“Wait, what?” Apple Bloom wiggled the antlers. “But I just saw you blink in out of thin air. How do I know this ain’t some trick?”
“Apple Bloom! What did I tell you about catchin’ ponies in a net?!” Applejack yelled as she came running out of a nearby chicken coop.
“Don’t catch no one you ain’t plannin’ to kill or marry,” Apple Bloom droned.
“That’s right. Unless it’s a critter or a relative, then relocatin’s an option, too. So no catching Fluttershy, either!”
“But look at her: I thought it was the Great Seedling! Ain’t there some exemption in the rulebook for that?”
Applejack rolled her eyes and got the net off. “We’ll see. And how do you even get yourself under your own net?”
“On purpose, of course: it’s standard practice for catching faerie folk and the like.”
“That is correct,” Fluttershy said. “I’m not sure why, though?”
“Of course it is. So uh, Fluttershy?” Applejack raised an eyebrow, confused. “If that is you, say something only you would know.”
Fluttershy blinked and thought. The command felt off, somehow, strange. She felt an instinctual urge building up to make Applejack regret asking for it. It rattled her, because Applejack was her friend, of course, she’d never want to hurt her feelings. “Umm… we almost lost our voices to the Kirin.”
“Anypony eavesdroppin’ long enough would know that,” Apple Bloom argued.
That urge got stronger then, and she stifled a giggle when another thought popped up. “Well, they wouldn’t know Applejack tried to make friends with a lovely golden brown Kirin, before she found out that one just so happened to be-”
“Okay, okay!” Applejack interrupted. “That’s something only you’d know, never mind, that’s definitely the real Fluttershy.” She looked her over again, up and down. “So are ya okay, then? Are you a deer now or what? Is there some emergency I need to know about?”
“Yes, no, and no.” Fluttershy thought for a moment. “In that order. No emergency you need to know about.”
Applejack leered at Fluttershy, in that particular way she reserved for fraudsters, hucksters, and over-enthusiastic adepts of the arcane arts. “But there is an emergency.”
“Sort of,” Fluttershy admitted.
“Just not one I should know about.”
“Um, yes. I’m sure I can handle it without you knowing the details.” Fluttershy suppressed a squeal of joy at the omission.
“Uhuh. And this emergency requires you to be all foresty because...”
“Oh, that’s exactly the part you don’t really need to know about. It’s just something between me and a friend.”
“Wait, what?” Applejack took her hat off and fanned herself, presumably to cool her brain at all this logical thinking. “A friend asked you to turn into this?”
Fluttershy’s mind raced. The words she sought got tangled up in half-truths and omissions before she could think to utter them. Her throat felt great, at least. “No, they didn’t ask, but I volunteered. In fact, I had to insist a little.”
“Consarnit, Fluttershy, speak up and speak plainly already, you don’t have to be all vague about it now!” Applejack aggressively donned her hat again. “How’d you turn into this thing? What even are ya?”
She sighed. “I am kind of, sort of an archfey now.”
“Ooh, ooh, I read about those!” Apple Bloom exclaimed. “They’re nature spirits, kinda like the Great Seedling, except stronger.”
“That’s correct. I may have possibly eaten a magic apple to make me like this for three days.”
Applejack blinked. “Stronger than the Great Seedling? How much stronger? Like one of the Princesses or stronger than that?”
“I’m pretty sure they’re supposed to be, well, like Tirek strong, or Discord strong,” Apple Bloom replied.
“So a lot stronger, then,” Applejack said. “Well, that clears that up, at least. And you’re sure it’ll only last for three days?”
“I was told that it’s for three days only, and that is long enough for me.”
“Long enough to do what?”
“To…” she swallowed her first response. “To, umm, help out a friend with some very troubling family situations.”
Applejack smirked when she realised. “Ah. Discord did this.”
“You could say he had a helping hand in it, yes.”
“Okay, keep your secrets, I won’t pry. As long as you’re fine with it, ain’t my place to judge. But what do you need from me, then?”
“Some Zap Apple Jam would be lovely, if you can still spare any, that is,” Fluttershy said.
Applejack gestured behind her and led the way. “Follow me, I reckon we’ve got some jars in the cellar, still.”
“That would be perfect.” Fluttershy followed a respectable two paces behind, still carrying the little faerie catcher on her back.
“Does this mean I don’t get to have our crops blessed?” Apple Bloom asked with a whine.
“Apple Bloom, Fluttershy is not the Great Seedling. Let her go already, she can’t do crop blessings.” Applejack opened a trapdoor by the barn and went down.
The words hit Fluttershy to her core. Her stomach knotted, to the point she stayed out of the basement.
This is Applejack’s home. This is her domain. I don’t have any authority here. Is that why I feel weaker?
“Well now, that’s not entirely true,” she said to the filly, her words flowing forth before she could catch them. “I do have some new magic now. And you did catch me, so why don’t we agree you get a request, but not a wish. You know, something within reason?”
Apple Bloom hopped off. “What could we get, then? Ooh, I know: how about a little upgrade to our clubhouse? It’s been getting a mite crowded ever since Scootaloo decided to sublet the place for the Rainbow Dash fanclub, not to mention Sweetie Belle usin’ it for rejected script storage, and she sure does get a lot of rejections.”
“Hang on now, sis,” Applejack came up from the basement with two jars on her back. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to use magic to spruce up your clubhouse just like that. Didn’t you have that surplus of magic wands still lying about in there?”
Apple Bloom grinned. “Oh yeah, we did get a couple cutie mark discoveries after that last civil war re-enactment.”
“Uhuh: two in duelling, one in animal handling, and fifteen in first aid, not to mention your latest trip to court. Honestly, Apple Bloom, your criminal record’s startin’ to look like a stamp collection with all the restraining orders you get.”
“Hey, that Unicorn judge was clearly biased against Earth ponies. How was I supposed to know that pumpkin was gonna explode?” Apple Bloom asked.
“By checking the amount of fireworks you stuffed in it before y’all used it for target practice. And maybe not using Wands of Fireball without having a proper license in the first place.”
The filly stomped a hoof on the ground. “I told ya: I checked the laws for artifact use, and there was no mention of needin’ any sorta license.”
“You used the Applecorky lawbook, Apple Bloom! Ponyville’s got different laws!” Applejack argued.
Apple Bloom grumbled. “Ain’t my fault Twilight put the wrong lawbook in front of me. That kinda thing don’t belong in local court anyway: it ought to be federal. And what does it even matter? We have a really good lawyer.”
“Yeah, top notch, with all the practice you give him.” Applejack rolled her eyes before turning to Fluttershy. “Fluttershy, just don’t go usin’ magic on that clubhouse while there’s magic wands in there, you hear?” Applejack gave her the jars, and Fluttershy paid in bits that she only now realised she’d left at home. Regardless, they appeared from between her split hooves without a second thought. She even noticed the dirt smudge on one fiver she’d dropped near the honey stand last Tuesday.
“I promi-” She shuddered. The weight of an anvil fell on her head. She blinked and flicked her fluffy bat ears. “I promise I won’t use my new powers on the clubhouse while there are any magic wands in there.”
Applejack furrowed her brow. “Or magic staves.”
The added rule felt like a slap in her face.
“Or magic quarterstaffs.”
That one was a kick to her gut. She never did apologise to Rainbow Dash for that one time around the dragon migration, she realised.
“Or any rods, neither.”
Fluttershy gestured with her hoof, exposing her wooden dew claws and pointing them like a wand, and a little vine wrapped around Applejack’s mouth, binding it shut. “Tell you what, Applejack, I’ll come by the day after tomorrow, and if Apple Bloom has cleaned up everything magical in the clubhouse, and only if, I promise I will fix it up just the way she likes it, permanently, nothing that will disappear when I’m back to normal. These powers only last three days, so it’ll have to be done by then or it won’t be done at all. Deal?”
Applejack blinked twice, confused by the sudden foliage snaring her mouth, but nodded.
“Perfect.”
Fluttershy turned to walk away, and felt another odd weight on her. This time it was a gentle tug on her right hind hoof, like a ball and chain.
Right. Be careful making promises or deals. But that wasn’t so bad. I can do this.
Another gesture, and the vine disappeared.
She flicked her ears back as she left, her senses heightened for any gossip behind her back. She didn’t recall being warned about that, but she had to admit such a thing did make sense for fey creatures to do.
“What do you think she’s gonna do?” she heard Apple Bloom ask.
“I don’t know, and I think I don’t wanna know. At least she’s showing some restraint using her magic.”
Fluttershy snickered.
Restraint. That’s hilarious.
After a quick stop back home, Fluttershy decided to fly to Sugarcube Corner, both to avoid making a spectacle of her magic and to get some practice with her new wings.
Nopony really batted an eye at her new form as she went across town. She wasn’t sure if she felt relieved or worried by that fact.
Pinkie Pie noticed, though, and immediately greeted Fluttershy with a gasp. “Fluttershy! You look amazing! Did you go to Manehattan to get a new look? Ooh, is there a new exchange student in Twilight’s school? Did you find that green gooey magic Rarity used that one time and we never really tracked down and we really maybe should before it turns you all crazy like it did her?”
“Umm, no, nothing like that,” Fluttershy replied. “Any of that.”
“Ooh. So did Apple Bloom have a misfire with all those wands she’s stocking, then?”
“Impossible,” came a voice in the corner. “Every wand I delivered was labelled as child-proof, and only went up to challenge level three. Transmutation magic starts at level five for wands, or four for rods, for which I do not have the license to deliver. Besides, clearly your friend here is a fey, not a transmuted pony. The specular reflection in the wings is a dead giveaway.”
She had heard of him before, and met him around town on a few occasions, but hearing Mudbriar speak so plainly and with such authority on a topic tickled the archfey’s senses. It was calming, somehow, but also intimidating. That was a mix of emotions Fluttershy wasn’t used to, at least when she wasn’t around Rainbow Dash.
“Yes,” she said, haltingly. “I think I should be an archfey now. That’s why I look a little different.”
“I’ll say. Nice antlers,” Pinkie blinked, before gasping again. “Wait, are you a boy deer now, too? Do I get to throw another ‘Mare becoming a stallion’ party?”
“What do you mean ‘another’ one?” Mudbriar asked, stirring his tea. From the looks of it, he was sipping licorice tea, and taking his time enjoying a type of cake Fluttershy hadn’t seen around Ponyville yet, something with a lot of thin branches in it for some reason. “Is this a common occurrence in Ponyville?”
“More common than you might think,” Fluttershy replied. “Twilight Sparkle, in the past, that is, may have gotten a little too, umm, excited when she did her experiments from time to time.”
“Ah. A lack of restraint in magic experimentation. Not too surprising.”
“Oh no, I’m very sure restraint was always involved in her experiments,” Fluttershy noted. “Especially the ones for transmutation. But I don’t think she ever did anything like that permanently. And she doesn’t come by to continue her research much anymore.”
“Then why the parties?”
“Because Pinkie Pie,” Fluttershy replied.
“Of course.”
“Well, are you a boy deer?” Pinkie asked.
Fluttershy looked herself over, if only to double-check. “I don’t think so. I’m not sure I’d know if I was. My voice is still the same, but the antlers do feel a little strange, I suppose.”
“Technically, judging from the shape up front, those are reindeer antlers. It is normal for the females of that species to have a so-called rack. Although you are wearing it several months out of season.” Mudbriar rubbed his chin. “On the other hoof, fey creatures are known to behave outside of established rules of nature and time. The wings are clearly pure fey, the tail is cervine like the antlers, but a different species.”
“I think that means ‘no’ then, Pinkie.”
“So are you getting married to a deer? Are you taking a trip to Caneighda? Are you gonna talk to moose? Do you need me to make a mousse? Because I know where you can get a mousse moose, isn’t that funny?” On and on Pinkie went, showering Fluttershy with questions.
The noise didn’t bother her so much as the words did. Question, question, random remark, question, more randomness. The words pressed at her mind, overwhelming her, tightening their grip on her throat.
“No, no, that really won’t be nece-Pinkie...” Fluttershy threw her head back and let out a grunt.
“Honestly, I’m starting to feel like I’m talking to myself,” said a second Fluttershy on her left.
“I know,” said another Fluttershy on her right. “We really should do something about that.”
“Why not indulge the poor dear?” Said the left one. “She’s so curious and excited, who knows when she’ll get to see something like this again?”
“I know,” said the right one, smiling impishly. “That won’t be until Saturday next week, at least.”
Pinkie gasped, for a third time. “Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh, did you go to the Mirror Pool? Where’s the real Fluttershy?”
“We’re all the real Fluttershy, Pinkie,” they said in unison.
“Hmm, fey twinning, very interesting.” Mudbriar took another long sip of his licorice tea. “I’ve never seen it channelled by a living creature before, but it does look familiar, if a bit rough around the edges.”
“What do you mean, ‘rough?’” The rightmost Fluttershy asked. “I am an archfey, nothing about my magic is rough.”
“Oh, I mean no offence. Twinning is indeed meant to produce a perfect copy. Yours, however, lack the sparkle in their wings.” He pointed at the green wings of all three. “Classic sign of imperfect replication: only the original has the source of the magic. Minor duplicates are only good as decoys. Perfect duplicates can cast spells on their own.”
Much to Fluttershy’s dismay, she had to admit only she sparkled, while her duplicates did not. “You know how this magic works?”
“Wands, staves, any type of magical sticks, really, are generally enchanted and replicated in the same manner, so technically I do. This is the first time I’ve seen it on a stick that could talk.” He took a bite from his cake. It smelled heavily of vanilla, even at that distance. “That is, not counting the one time I ran into a Kirin with what I could only assume was a speech impediment, but that was clearly a statistical anomaly. I’m still waiting on the Canterlot Academy Department of Magical Anatomy to decide whether Kirin forehead appendages count as sticks.”
“I thought those were horns?” said the right Fluttershy.
“With that branching and ring pattern? Hardly. Although it could be symbiotic, but I’d need another sample to be sure. The Kirin I asked was unable to voice any consent on the matter, so all I ever got was an imprint.”
Pinkie Pie’s ‘quiet’ dam finally burst. “Wait, wait, wait! Fluttershy, are you telling me you can do magic now?” She leaned over the counter so hard her eyes bulged.
“I suppose, yes. I haven’t tried much, though.”
“Ooh, ooh! Can you do that orange frog spell Twilight did that one time?” Pinkie Pie put an orange in front of her.
Fluttershy looked at her duplicates. They both shrugged.
“Might as well,” said the left one.
“Okay. I decree: orange frog!” She felt the energy jump up from her throat into her antlers, where it swirled and built until it launched at the orange. The thing sprouted legs, hopped around, then opened its citrusy mouth to croak.
“Technically, that’s a tangerine,” Mudbriar said.
“He does have a point,” said the right Fluttershy. “You only added the legs. You can change it to an orange, easy enough.”
Another command, a mental one this time, and the tangerine frog became a full orange. Her breath caught again, that dull ache in her throat popping up at such a random time.
“Thank you. It’s important to be specific in these things, as I’m sure you’ll agree.” Mudbriar nodded at the duplicate.
“Of course. One must be specific in matters of magic,” said the duplicate. “Wouldn’t want to end up with a flooded bathroom and a floor full of splinters.”
“Exactly,” Mudbriar said, smiling before shaking his head wistfully. “Such a waste of perfectly good sticks, that was.”
“Oh, what about making things fly?” Pinkie Pie asked. “Can you turn off gravity like Discord?”
“Good question. Can I?” Fluttershy asked herself.
The left herself nodded, the right one tapped her chin. “I’m pretty sure that would require spellwork, which we don’t have. You can try calling out the name of the spell, though. I think it’s ‘Reverse gravity.’”
“If you say so. Reverse gravity!”
All at once, Sugarcube Corner felt like it was falling. Pinkie floated, Mudbriar rose up from his seat, and confections threatened to become airborne.
Fluttershy breathed a sigh of relief. Her throat felt better again.
I wonder if it’s when I cast a big spell.
She squinted, and dispelled the effect.
Mudbriar landed with a dull ‘plop’ on his rear, and continued his teatime treat. “Technically that doesn’t turn off gravity, it only weakens it, and presumably it only weakens the gravity of one object in particular, namely the floor. But that is the proper name of the spell, yes. You’d get a seven out of ten for that in Canterlot.”
“Only seven?” asked the left duplicate. “Why not ten?”
“Canterlot academic rules: one point subtracted for shouting the spell instead of thinking it, one point for not thinking it in a dead language. And if it’s not a language Unicorns killed purely for the purpose of magic, you’d lose that last point, too.”
“Meh, fair enough,” said the right duplicate.
“And what about summoning? Can you make a 400 hooves tall platypus bear with pink horns and silver wings?”
“Oh please, red horns and golden wings only,” the left one quickly replied. “I have standards.”
“Really?” said the real Fluttershy.
“Don’t mind her, she’s joking,” said the right one. “Pink horns and silver wings, coming up. Right?”
Fluttershy closed her eyes and concentrated. Power built up, the image of the conjuration took on weight and reality.
Missus Cake came in, her blue coat covered in splotches of flour. “I really don’t want to be rude, but we do have customers that need to get their orders. So, if you don’t mind?”
Only now did Fluttershy realise she’d turned off gravity in someone else’s home.
Wait. I can do that on someone else’s domain? How does that work?
“Technically, she was ordering something before Pinkie Pie interrupted her,” Mudbriar clarified.
“That’s fine, dearie. What would you like, then?” Missus Cake asked.
“Right. I’d like, umm...” she shook her head. “I wa-wa...” She shook it again. Her tongue felt numb, her antlers heavy all of a sudden.
“And that would be authoritative depletion, another classic weakness of fey creatures,” Mudbriar explained. "Too much exertion of authority from different sources in a small timeframe, it numbs the vocal chords temporarily, especially the untrained ones."
“Really? I wasn’t told about that,” Fluttershy said in a more hushed whisper than usual, even by her standards.
“You wouldn't be. It’s not a fey weakness, specifically. It’s a phenomenon inherent to all magical creatures that use that particular type of magic, which fey happen to have the greatest overlap with. Barking out a list of what you desire should still work.”
Fluttershy took a big gulp of air in. Her duplicates took a step back, before she barked out her entire order in one go. “One teacake platter, four dishes of donuts, six scones, and the tropical fruit mix, now!” She gasped. “Oh, I mean… please? Sorry, I’m still getting used to this.”
Missus Cake waved away the remark and went to get the order. “Don’t worry about it, dear. You’re obviously going through a difficult transition, and we’re all very supportive here, even if those changes come with some mood swings.”
“I’m pretty sure I won’t be turning into a stallion,” said the left Fluttershy.
“Of course not, dear, not with that lovely rack.”
“Not a buck, either. I hope,” said the right one.
“That’s fine, too, dearie, you call yourself whatever you feel like. That’ll be fifteen bits, please.”
Fluttershy quickly paid her dues, collected her things, and teleported out before Pinkie could distract her.
“That goes in the fridge.” She strode confidently into her kitchen and put away the treats. “Okay. I think I’m getting the hang of this new magic. It’s going just fine.”
She looked around.
“No duplicates this time. Good.”
Angel Bunny came up to her, tugging at the vines connected to her skin.
“It’s okay, Angel Bunny, I won’t forget you. And this doesn’t hurt at all, see? Watch this.” She closed her eyes, and with a mere thought she teleported all the food she needed to the few animals in her care, including a slice of carrot for Angel. Most of her patients were in her house now, with the lion’s share of her long-term charges having left the sanctuary a few weeks earlier. She reminded herself there was only one critter at the sanctuary she really needed to worry about, but that one had been mostly taken care of already, and she was expecting a visit from an expert later to help settle on a course of treatment.
Don’t forget about Priscilla and you’ll be fine.
Everything is fine.
“Perfect. I have plenty of time left. Alone. With my thoughts.”
“You know, you could consider a spa visit.”
“Just to clean up and relax before visiting.”
Fluttershy jumped. Angel Bunny nearly choked on his carrot piece.
“Ugh, why do you two keep showing up?” Fluttershy asked. “Am I splitting myself on accident now?”
The two other Fluttershies grinned and started speaking like a hive mind. It made the original feel left out, and oddly nostalgic as a result.
“Maybe.”
“You might be.”
“It’s a very real possibility.”
“But we might also be the result of you not being born with a horn.”
“And not knowing how to control your magic very well.”
“Which is a shame.”
“Because you might have more fun that way.”
“On the other hoof,” said the one on the left. “We could be some trick Discord’s mother is playing on you because she knows what you’re going to try and do.”
“Or we might be the result of some head trauma you suffered recently.”
“Most likely something involving the Cutie Mark Crusaders.”
“Or Rainbow Dash.”
“Or Pinkie Pie.”
“Or jumping at the sight of your own shadow.”
Fluttershy pressed a hoof to her forehead. “Girls, this is not helping. I need to get this under control. I can’t just twin myself and have you two talking about whatever is on your mind. This is important, for Discord, for my friend. For our friend.”
The left one rolled her eyes. “You know, the last option is that we’re simply the natural result of you becoming a fey.”
The right one nodded. “You heard Mudbriar: this sort of magic is typical for our kind. It’s natural for things like trees to split off and become new organisms. No reason to think your magic doesn’t work the same way.”
“I understand that, but I still need to keep it under control.”
“You’re the one who’s letting happen, Fluttershy. Maybe you shouldn’t ask us why we keep showing up.” The left one prodded her chest. “Maybe you should ask yourself.”
Fluttershy sighed. “I’m doubting myself again, aren’t I? Is that what this throat ache is?”
“I’m not sure,” said the left one. “But whatever that is, we don’t feel it.”
“No. You don’t feel that, so you two can talk when I can’t. I have to figure this out if I want to help my friend. You two… you’re still me. But you’re different. How?”
“More powerful,” said one.
“More cunning,” said the other.
“More confident,” Fluttershy concluded. She rose up. “You’re my thorns, you only show up as a defence mechanism. Well, you won’t have to. I don’t need extra bodies to speak for me, I don’t need extra bodies to be confident. I can do all that myself. And I can be better than confident: I am responsible and dependable.”
“Well said,” said the left Fluttershy. “Couldn’t have put it better myself, so what are you gonna do first?”
“I suppose you are right: a spa visit would do me some good. I’ll have to look presentable for Discord’s mother tomorrow, and going early would let me get my natural scent back, not to mention fix anything that might go wrong. I wouldn’t want to look like I’m trying too hard. Maybe if I look the part, I won’t be splitting hairs and splitting myself anymore, either.”
“To the spa, then?” asked the duplicates.
“To the spa!”