//------------------------------// // Chapter Twelve: Running Before Walking // Story: Jumping In At The Deep End // by Anotherrandom //------------------------------// Celestia took a critical look at the red embers in the forge, quickly deeming them not hot enough. She pulled once more on the chains next to her head, making the bellows blow. The flames burst mightily as the extra gust of air met the smoldering coals.  Her work had only just begun and her hoof - absent of its gilded shoe - hovered over the tools she prepared. Tongs, a set of small hammers, and a drawing plate, all waiting like soldiers on parade rest. Currently, Celestia was a far cry from the regal princess who sat on a throne and oversaw court proceedings with a serene smile and a thoughtful look. Here she was a crafts-mare, just as she was raised in the ages long before her head bore the weight of a crown.  Celestia had forgone her usual jewelry while working the forge. Even her billowing rainbow mane was bound in a simple bun to keep it from getting in the way. Her normally painstakingly maintained white coat was now matted by oil and dirt, only partially protected by an apron. The alicorn of the sun may have been unbothered by fire and heat, but she could always appreciate how practical the big pockets on the apron were.  Secluded in her workshop, the most personal space she had, Celestia could finally relax. Servants came every day to her chambers to clean them, nobles came to visit and petition her in her office, but the workshop? Few knew about it and even fewer were allowed to enter: A select group of those she trusted most.  This place was hers. Truly hers and nopony else’s.  The workshop was just a single large room, located in the abandoned tunnels under Canterlot Castle. Formerly a crystal mine, it was later used by the unicornian royalty as their dungeons, only for them to be repurposed once again after Canterlot became the capital of the new principality of Equestria. To most, it would appear as nothing more than another dinky and unkept smithy. A badly lit room, with walls of uncovered bricks and floors of uneven stone. One with shelves brimming with material and tools scattered everywhere in a seemingly random manner. Several work benches and the black-stone forge sat in the middle of it all, forming an island of order in the sea of stuff.  The workshop didn't exactly seem like a place of comfort. The whole room could become unbearably hot when the forge was lit, turning cold while smelling of wet brick and stale air when it was dormant.  Celestia loved it.  Outside the forge, she was Princess Celestia. The Sunbearer. The Dawngiver. Diarch of Equestria. A ruler of all ponykind. That was who she needed to be for her ponies - that was who she had to become.  In this room, she was simply Celestia.  All her faults, all her happiness, everything she was, doubts, mistakes - everything. Finally free of the expectations, of the weight she had to carry - at least for a moment.  Here, in the light of the forge, she could express herself with the art of creation. And express she did.  She was in every line of her pencil as she drew the blueprint and calculated the correct amounts for the metals and chemicals. They had to be precise to get the alloy just right for the enchantments to hold.  She was in every breath of the bellows as the fire grew and the metal started glowing white.  She was there as the liquid metal was poured out to be slowly and patiently turned into the desired shape.  To Celestia, there was great similarity between ruling and working the forge. Both needed effort and sacrifice. If one took shortcuts or avoided the hard parts, it would create only subpar results. Both required careful planning, where acting too hastefully could turn days of work into waste. A keen, open mind was also required, one ready to see new opportunities develop and use them. And both also needed the occasional use of heavy blunt force instruments.  Celestia first hammered the metal into a rod, her horn left unused as she worked - her hooves wielding the hammer instead. Afterwards, she started pulling the newly made metal rod through the hole of the drawing plate with nothing but the tongs and her own strength. She disliked using magic to sidestep any part of the metalworking process, for doing so betrayed the whole point of enjoying seeing her vision slowly be realized in reality. And Celestia felt like Faust wouldn't like her using magic instead of the skills she took such care to teach her. Her adoptive mother may have been extremely open-minded for a pony of her time - taking in two stray foals not of her tribe and raising them as her own. But Faust was still a proud earth pony, stubborn as a mule to boot. One who saw the usage of magic as nothing but “avoidance of good, hard work.”  The metal rod was drawn into wire by pulling it through the drawing plate. The careful alloying of gold, silver and mithril gave the metal an alluring shine - all wavy and shimmering like the surface of a sea on a sunny day.  Now, she had to measure it again, to make sure there was enough material for the chain to have the right length while being strong enough. Taking extra care and patience couldn't hurt.  First Celestia would cut the wire and turn it into a mesh of links. Then, after polishing and filing down any imperfections, it came time to connect the chain to the locket she made from the same enchantment-bearing alloy.  The locket was a simple circular design, with an empty slot for one special gem - or orb in this case. She used her own Sun Orb to measure the space, noting that it should fit in without issue and complete the whole necklace, while the colors of the chain and the orb even complimented each other rather nicely.  There was still a problem with just how large the orb and the necklace would be in comparison to the green filly that was to wear it, but she was sure Anon wouldn’t mind much.  Celestia perked up, hearing the doors to her workshop opening from behind her, ears swiveling as she kept cutting the wire.  “Raven, it's late. You should go to sleep and not worry about some old mare.” Not turning away from her work, Celestia heard a familiar dulcet chuckle from the doorway.  “Don't worry, Tia, your assistant is having pleasant dreams this night. I made sure of it.”  Luna entered the workshop.  It was a strange thought to Celestia. She waited for so long to have her sister back and now, days after Luna’s return, the alabaster alicorn still couldn't believe Luna was actually here with her. It was as if this was all just a dream she would wake up from, with Luna disappearing from her life again. How many times did she have that exact same dream? Of finding her sister home, only to wake up? But this time it was real. Luna was home, safe and sound.  Still, there was work to be done: helping to protect one of those who assisted in bringing her sister home.  Luna paced through the workshop, her eyes soaking in the details. Seeing her sister at work with her face lit up by the fire of the forge took the Night Princess back to a much simpler time.  Few things caught her attention in the simple place. She walked past the cluttered shelves and workbenches to a small, cleared space in the back. Nothing but a dusty carpet and pillows to sit on, with a little bookshelf to the side.  The ancient wooden bookshelf held a number of well-worn books. Luna browsed through the paltry collection of literature, curious to see just what her sister might be reading in her spare time. It was a strange mix of story books for foals, a thick thesaurus, some spell books, including one from by Star Swirl the Bearded -  one his earlier works, to Luna’s relief - and a series named Daring Do, tattered from repeated use.  There was also a collection of bizarre picture books, filled with ponies in spandex and written by somepony with a very poor understanding of combat and the durability of pony spines - at least Luna's humble opinion.   What interested her more were a few sheets of paper, held to the side of the bookshelf with scores of magnets and proudly proclaiming to the world such things as ‘Merry Hearths Warming’ and ‘Best Princessess Eva!’  Most of them were created with things like macaroni and crayons while some messages were buried under mountains of glitter. These little art projects were made, if not with skill, then at least boundless enthusiasm.  There were some other items lying on top of the bookshelf: Scales, very small dragon teeth, a pile of report cards – all reading straight A's - and a lonely gray book, placed by itself, away from the rest. The cover attributed no name to the mysterious tome, sparking Luna's curiosity. A mystery to solve! Luna shot a look behind her, Celestia still busy with the chain. The princess of the night took the book and opened it, impatient to see its contents.  A cookbook, brimming with notes on every page which stuck out to all sides. Special mini donut recipes and the like. Luna guessed one could make an entirely new cookbook just from the notes.  Inside it was a photo of Celestia in disguise, standing in the entrance of some building, half buried under laughing foals, tugging at her mane, tail and wings. The oldest of the foals - a beige, earth pony filly with curly mane with pink streak in it - was running off with disguised Celestia's clipboard, only making the mare laugh more. Or maybe that was the swarm of foals tickling her. It was hard to say from a photo. Luna turned the picture around. On the back of the photo were a few words, written in her sister's usual flowing horn writing. Canterlot orphanage, 984. “I see you haven't changed much,” Luna said with a smile.  Celestia turned away from her work for a moment to give Luna a questioning look before carefully laying her project down on a workbench and trotting up to her sister. The taller alicorn’s gaze stopping briefly by a spot by the furnace. Few tiles devoid of any dirt or dust.  Spike had always liked the heat, often napping by the forge. The baby dragon was unperturbed by the frequently loud work going on. Twilight would watch her with those enormous, sparkling eyes, so filled with wonder and curiosity.  Twilight always had a surprising affinity for fire, being able to sit by the forge watching her for hours unbothered. Enough that Celestia started to suspect some distant kirin heritage.  The scene used to bring her immense joy, but it also served as a painful reminder of the past, tainting her happiness with sorrow and longing. But not anymore.  Luna placed the book back, a small smile gracing her lips.  "You still try to mother anything younger and smaller than you, Tia.” Celestia reared back, a look of mock offense hiding the grin on her face as she leaned against her sister, playfully flicking Luna on her muzzle with her primary feathers, which left oil stains. "Sister! Are you calling me old and fat?"   Luna gave a serious nod.  "But of course. Had I not known better, I would mistake your posterior for one of those modern contraptions," she paused, tapping her hoof on her chin. “Trains, you called them?” Luna’s deadpan expression held for only a moment before she exploded into laughter, with Celestia joining in soon after. “I missed this,” Celestia said, once the chuckles had finally died off.  Luna tilted her head, a wry expression adorning her face.  “You missed me comparing your flanks to steam-powered machinery weight several tons?”  Celestia raised her hoof, but put it back down as her counterstatement died before it could leave her lips.  “... I don't know if I should be offended or just impressed that you actually listened to my explanation of what trains are.”  Luna, meanwhile, slipped past her to take a closer look at the half-finished locket.  “What are you making?” she asked, an eyebrow cocked in inquisitive demeanor.  Celestia sighed, presenting some of the unfinished chain links for Luna to see.  “A present. I have a feeling she is going to need it.” Celestia said. The image of the jumper  after discovering that they are unable to continue in her quest was still fresh in her mind. The way the green filly nearly crumbled under the weight of the discovery slowly sinking in.  The jumper didn't throw a tantrum; they didn't scream, cry or run. No, the jumper had simply stood there, still as a statue.  The white alicorn remembered taking the jumper back to her caretakers, the filly feeling ice-cold against her back. Lyra was, quite understandably, in the midst of a freak-out while looking for Spring. Seeing Celestia, a Princess of all ponies, carrying the foal didn't exactly calm the mare, considering how famous the crown's ties to Foal Protection Services were.  But if the diarch had experience with something, it was placating panicking unicorns. It hadn’t taken long to mostly calm Lyra down and explain that she only wished to speak to Anon in private for a moment.  Not a lie, really.  That didn't soothe the musician much, but it had stopped her hysteria long enough for Bon Bon to intervene. As for Anon, despite her apparent anguish, the jumper had continued to play her part.  Celestia sighed. She shouldn't have allowed Lyra to get attached so quickly, even if it worked towards the alicorns goals - and to the advantage of Anon in the long run, if everything worked out as planned. But the mare's tendency to immediately emotionally latch on to any foal in her care would definitely put her closer to the bottom of the list of potential foster parents - foster care was meant to be temporary, after all.  For now, the situation seemed stable, with Anon staying in Ponyville under Sweetie Drops’ watch and Celestia extending the offer to continue the deal of guarding the elements – even though it was unlikely a threat that would warrant such precautions would arise in the near future. But that was never the purpose of the deal to begin with. Behind Celestia, Luna huffed and turned her attention to the diagrams and calculations strewn around the workbench. Some of them were written on crumpled bits of paper, others crossed out altogether. Rejected ideas and designs, but they all shared a similarity. A feature present in all of them. “Mind warding enchantments?” Luna shot Celestia an inquisitive look. The elder alicorn carefully placed the mithril alloy chain down before responding. “From what you told me, they seem like a good idea,” Celestia stated.  Luna was…sparse on the details when recounting her encounter with the jumper. She said only that there was a fight, one Nightmare Moon only won through finding out Anon's weakness and attacking the jumper's mind directly. What happened next, Luna kept a secret. But whatever happened, it made her reconsider.  When Nightmare Moon was later facing the elements, there were no lethal spells, no attempt at actually fighting back. For what it was worth, Anon managed to, or at least was a huge help in bringing her sister back. For that, Celestia owed the jumper more than she could ever put into words. Allowing Anon to continue to be so vulnerable was unacceptable to the alabaster alicorn. Leaving the jumper's mind undefended was an oversight on her part that she planned to correct, the younger sister could only nod in agreement.  “Your mistake was not providing those enchantments in the first place." Luna paused, her features screwed up in thought as she considered something else. "An even bigger mistake was sending her against me at all. What were you thinking?”  Celestia’s shoulders sagged, deep sigh escaping her.  “I should have thought about it: What it means to have no true name.”  Celestia's wings fluttered a little in a subtle sign of inner anger Luna learned to read in her sister. The very notion of stealing one's true name was incomprehensible; only once before in history had they seen such a cruel act done.  And they didn't exactly manage to save the victims back then, only witnessing the results of that gruesome crime. The effects it had on survivors were unknown, because there simply weren't any survivors.  True Names gave one’s soul shape. All creatures had them, but ponies were special in that they were closer to their True Names than most, having its reflection on their flanks.  The lunar princess still found it absurd that the modern ponies referred to the very imprint of their immortal souls as Cutie Marks. ‘Soul Marks’ or ‘Fate Signs’ were much better-fitting names. Why it ever fell out of fashion to call them such was beyond her.  Celestia straightened herself, the inner anger hidden and buried again. “I should have realized, yes. But I didn't send Anon against you.”  Celestia took a deep breath, her purple eyes speaking of sadness. “No. She was going to confront you one way or another. I just wanted to have some control over the situation.” Luna shook her head. “I didn't mean…you you, Tia. I meant the other you.” It took a second before the spark of realization lit Celestia's face. “Oh.”  Luna sat down by the forge, the fire blazing merrily away, shadows dancing on the walls as it lit the room in red.  “How do you plan to deliver Anon her new locket? I trust that you have some dependable ponies you can send to Ponyville with it.”  Celestia smiled the cheeky, scheming smile of a fox who had just snuck into the chicken coop. "Something like that. My social worker has a scheduled visit to the family." "And who better for the job than Sunny Skies?" The jumper stared at the ceiling, not moving a muscle. She was sweating and it was getting hard to breathe. Get up. Anon climbed from the blanket nest on the ground, her movements slow and sluggish, one hoof wiping the crust from her eyes. She tripped over a pillow, falling back into the blankets. The filly’s chest started to shake and shudder, tears started to-  Get. Up. Anon bit her lips and her lower jaw started to tremble. She tried to walk, but her leg phased through the floor. The filly stopped her attempts at getting up, taking in heavy, labored breaths and trying her hardest not to start sobbing. For a minute, she simply sat in her darkened room - the sun still not having risen yet. Moments passed in the house that wanted to be a home, seconds pilling on each other, as if they were trying to suffocate her. On the floor laid her journal - it having been thrown there earlier, its yellowed pages speaking a single word, scribbled in as the latest entry, barely readable. Stuck  Anon looked at the journal. It was a piece of home, of herself. The journal was here, she was here. She had made it this far. Giving up and laying on the ground wasn't an option. She needed to do something.  Anon picked the journal up in her magic and put it in its hiding place. Then, still lethargic and moving like she was swimming through molasses filled with barbed wire, she got up and silently stalked to the bathroom.  It was a routine: Survival based completely on habit. Getting up, brushing her mane and teeth. Showering. Pushing herself to do anything. To move. Stillness was death. She had to move, do something, do anything.  She put her wet towel on a rack to dry and began carefully walking downstairs – she got used to four legged forms pretty easily, but stairs never stopped being an unnerving experience in them.  From the steps, the filly turned a corner and reached for a switch using her magic. With a mechanical click, the kitchen was revealed in all its unimpressive glory. A simple setup, one uncanny in how much it resembled a normal kitchen from earth.  She minded the creaky floorboards as much as possible - not wanting to wake her guardians and ruin the surprise - Anon opened the fridge to gather the ingredients. She had to use a chair to reach the kitchen counter and get the few utensils necessary for this.  Anon went over everything: Eggs, flour, sugar, butter, milk and everything else she would need.  Now just to find the waffle iron somewhere.  There was movement behind her - knives were laying on the kitchen counter. Her magic reached for them and- Bon Bon cleared her throat.  "You know that if you were hungry, you could have just woken me up." Anon relaxed, her magic releasing the knife grip as a wisp of her green aura dissipated into nothing.   "Sorry," she said, hopping off the kitchen counter.  .Bon Bon let out a deep sigh.  "No harm done, just… don't be afraid to ask."  Anon averted her eyes from Bon Bon and towards the window - her escape route - before refocusing once again on the utensils.  "I wanted to surprise you. Do something nice.”For a change, she thought, but didn't say out loud. The agent's eyes locked into the jumper's own green, dulled orbs. There was a flash of something, for but a moment, across Sweetie Drops muzzle. It lasted only until the agent got it back under control, and Anon missed it entirely as the jumper tried to avoid eye contact, but it was there: Understanding. "I see… " Bon Bon muttered. "Can you move aside, please? I think it's in that drawer.”  Anon raised a brow. “Wait, what are you doing?” The beige mare opened and dived into the drawer, the sounds of clanking metal making Anon’s ears twitch as Bon Bon started rummaging through the abundance of pots, pans, graters and four colanders.  “I'm helping you make breakfast.” Bon Bon said, pulling out a ladle stuck in between several more utensils. The poor ladle got buried there for so long that doing so technically counted as an act of archeology.  “Now, where did Lyra put the waffle iron again…”  Lyra woke up.  With her sleep-addled mind, she reached to the other side of her bed, but found it empty of the oh-so-very-cuddly beige earth pony. As disappointing as it was, this wasn't unusual, with Bon Bon being an early riser and a light sleeper to boot.  But there was also an opportunity. Lyra stretched, snatching up all the blankets and cocooning herself in a snuggly blanket burrito, with only her muzzle poking out. She let out a content sigh and slowly drifted back to sleep. Her muzzle twitched as a smell reached her nostrils. Bonnie is making breakfast. Lyra lay in her blanket cocoon, thoughts racing in her head. They were all fighting between her want of another twenty minutes of sleep or getting to hug Bon Bon and give the candymaker her ‘nice-morning-when-you-are-around’ kiss.  She felt her hunger pang.  The minty unicorn wriggled out from the blanket’s snuggly grasp, trotting down stairs and following the sweet scent of vanilla and chocolate.  Breakfast won. In the kitchen she saw Bon Bon, leaning over Anon as the green filly beat the contents of a bowl into submission by smacking it with a whisk over and over again. The onslaught continued as Bon Bon craned her neck around Anon to better see into the bowl. "Don't overdo it-" Bon Bon said before being interrupted by the filly, who was entirely focused on the abused content of the bowl. "Yeah, yeah, we don't want to have lumpy whipped cream.” Anon lifted the whisker, watching the cream form a mound, the top drooping a little, but overall staying firm. “It's ready.”  Bon Bon gave Anon a steady nod, opening the oven and pulling out the rack with finished waffles. Putting waffles on a wire rack in a warm oven was a neat trick Anon had learned long ago. It kept the waffles from becoming soggy, even if one made them for a crowd. The key was keeping the oven just warm enough to keep the waffles crisp without drying them out.  “Six chocolate chip waffles, ready to go.” The candy maker announced as she put the finished waffles on the dinner table, where a bowl of fruit was already waiting for them to join in delicious union, spiced up a little by the topping of fresh cream.  Bon Bon gave Lyra a bright smile and ruffled Anon's mane. "Would you know we have a little chef here?"  Lyra took a bite of one of the waffles - again plain - not even glancing at the fruit, cream or syrup on the table, to Anon’s annoyance, but that’s why she made them chocolate chip. Lyra scrunched her face, turning the morsel around in her mouth for a bit before swallowing.  “Wow, that's good! You really made this, Spring?”  Bon Bon took a waffle for herself, putting a nice portion of the cream on hers alongside some berries.  “Yeah, she did. I mostly helped her take the things from higher shelves. The actual work is all Spring.” At this, Lyra turned to Anon with a questioning look, the filly simply shrugging.  “Well, I did basically grow up in a pastry shop.”  Anon's whole body went rigid as a chill went down her spine.  You let slip.  She was still lying, still playing a role and it had only become more important that she wasn't found out. Yet, there was a treacherous part of her mind telling her to just… speak. Simply speak and deal with the consequences. Reveal bits and pieces, slowly reframing things to fit in with her fake story. Or even to tell them the full truth.   Lyra exchanged a worried look with Bon Bon, who shrugged helplessly.  “You don't speak much about… before.” Lyra finally said, choosing her words carefully.  “No.” Anon spoke slowly, as if the words were causing her to choke. “No, I don't.” You always were a coward. At first, both Bon Bon and Lyra stood silent. Then Lyra took a hesitant step towards Anon,  who didn’t react. One step became a quick burst of movement. And then Lyra came to a halt, just as abruptly as she started moving, practically hovering around Anon, wanting to help, but not knowing what to do exactly. She looked at the filly with an almost pleading expression. The jumper returned her gaze, watching the unicorn mare and the whole kitchen steadily becoming less real. Less there. Anon nodded. One movement made, not even realizing what she was doing. Not truly. Before Anon could process what was happening, the minty unicorn was pulling her into a hug.  The jumper tried to summon the will to resist. Hugs were constraining and stifling, but also reassuring. It made her feel present, grounded.  Here. But that also brought its own set of problems: Being here meant not being somewhere else.   Bon Bon paced nervously in the kitchen, unsure of what to do. She sometimes approached Lyra and Anon before stepping back again.  It didn't take long before the green filly started to wiggle out of Lyra’s hug, the mare quickly letting go.  A loud rumbling noise which originated from Anon’s belly cut into the silence between them. Lyra giggled as she gestured to Bon Bon, who rolled her eyes but still maintained a pleasant smile while she took Lyra's hoof and helped her to her hooves.  “Somepony’s hungry! Better eat up, we have a busy day!”  Anon waited for a moment, gathering her thoughts.  She was stuck. Stuck for a long time, but it wasn't the end.  For so long, she kept on rushing, kept on moving. Kept on refusing to stop for the fear of not being able to get going again. Living - surviving - on nothing save inertia alone.  Never looking back, terrified of finding that the person she was had been lost. Chasing a remote chance, an impossible hope, because she had nothing else.  But now she had time. Stranded in a peaceful world, in a…mostly…normal town, with mostly normal people.  It scared her, scared her more than anything ever did before.  But at least she wasn't alone.  “So, what’s on the schedule?” Anon asked, causing Lyra's smile to grow wider. “Today we’re getting you your bed!” The minty unicorn answered enthusiastically.  Outside the house that wanted to be a home, in Ponyville train station, a pink pegasus mare stepped onto the platform. Her mane done in a bun, wearing no visible jewelry to speak off, traveling with nothing but a clipboard and a package under her wing. That, and a vest - not because of the weather, Sunny Skies didn't really mind it - but because of its pockets.  Entering Ponyville proper, Celestia couldn't help but smile.