Letters From a Little Princess Monster

by Georg

12. Synergy - Part Four

The world vanished to Luna’s vision, turning into a crystalline vision of light and colored threads connecting fragile glass and brilliant gossamer towers in clouds of pinks and greens. Spells surrounded her, from the simple and brutally strong armor enchantments on the Night Guard cowering in the dirt at her feet, to the distant tug and whisper of enchantments on the town library. The world was magic to her senses, and the solid sensation of Twilight Sparkle to her side contributing her magic to the effort stiffened her resolve. The arrogant dark pegasus a mere hoofs-reach in front of her was a blaze of light, a tracery of spiderwebs covered with dew in the full moonlight. There was a power trapped in that web that held the pony together, quite unlike ordinary ponies, and a faint whisper in the back of her mind froze her hooves to the ground.

Take the power. Use it. Bring me back.

There was a warmth at her back, the unseen but welcome presence of her ‘little sister’ contributing her own power to her spell. That warm glow broke Luna out of her hypnotized state, and with a sharp breath, she began her work. The webbing of the spell on Laminia was subtly different than the spell she had cast so many times through Nightmare Moon a thousand years ago, through changes and variations in the spell as it passed from mother to daughter and mixed with the other ponies of Equestria. It was softly faded in places where wisps of Nightmare’s power still lingered, while other portions had seemed to strengthen with age in adaptation to the circumstances of its existence. Once Luna had gotten over her initial hesitancy, she found it was a fascinating experience, even taking the time to point out the changes between past and present to the little alicorn inside the spell with her. Time ceased to matter in their work, the welcome presence of the moon continuing to shine down as portions of the spell were examined and placed carefully to one side. It was odd to sort through a spell this way with Twilight Sparkle, who seemed to understand the spell as a whole, but unable to verbalize any of the individual portions as they picked through it on the way to the faulty section. Admittedly this was magic far beyond the scope of ordinary unicorns, but the newborn alicorn was taking her trip through the spell with the joy of a child exploring a new playground, only without stomping in the puddles. The flawed section of the spell unwound in front of them, a complicated failsafe Nightmare had crafted when initial attempts at wings had proved less than useful. It only took a moment to move the spell connections into a new configuration, and Luna smiled as she closed the last portion of the spell and focused all the power she had available into it. There was a slow reluctance before the reshaping of bone and flesh started, beginning an unstoppable cascade that swept through the newly rebuilt spell…

Towards a small knot of growing tissue concealed beneath the stronger spell that bound the mother.

It’s just one little foal, not even a few months old. Nopony will miss it.

Memories of that horrible night flashed before her eyes, of pregnant mares subjected to the transformation spell curling up in agony as their unborn foals were rejected by their new bodies. Nightmare Moon had no sympathy for the pain and the loss of the mothers, but Luna had cringed in disgust at the sight, and raged impotently against her jailor. The youngest and most innocent had died first at her hooves from Luna’s mindless desire for praise, just as their parents had all died a few hours later, but they had all died because of her stupid desire to be loved and adored, just like now.

Never again!

Time slowed to a crawl as Luna forced more of her magic into the transforming spell, causing it to blaze with light and fury. There had to be a way to stop the change, to divert it around the fragile new life without destroying either mother or filly in the process. Twilight Sparkle worked frantically at her side, tracing the complex spell with astonishing competency, but even with the two of them focusing their will upon reality, they did not have the power to stop the inevitable result.

Twilight Sparkle, remove thyself from our conjuration. You should not see this.

no.

Magic twisted and turned in the spell, and a glittering array of sparks spread out before Luna, each twinkling to each other like her beloved stars in the sky, only with infinitesimal threads connecting them in a blazing tapestry of life.

change one, change them all. connected.

Luna could feel her heart hammer for a moment despite her concentration on the dizzyingly complex enchantment. The possibility tickled at the edge of her senses, the ability to bring her creations irreversibly to life instead of their present existence at the whim of a spell holding them from their natural pegasus form. It would take the power of creation to change all of them, no matter where they were.

It would take the power of the gods.

Or the sacrifice of one.

No, Twilight Sparkle. I dare not attempt it. I have killed so many in my mindless search for fame and glory. I lack the power to try.

mom says do not try. do.

A rush of power began to flow through Laminia’s body, filling the spell with light that touched every spot, every dark blotch laid by Nightmare and every silvery thread Luna had placed. The power grew, resonating with the tiny fleck of incomplete spells in Laminia’s chest until the spark passed to it. And then to the stallion nearby. Then it burst into threads that lanced out into the darkness, shining silver in the moonlight. Luna did not need to see to know that the threads would reach the rest of the Nocturne, splitting and duplicating as they went to touch every one of her creations in a vast web of power, every motion and change replicated to the thousands of her children. Luna poured her power and skill into the spell, feeling more than seeing the isolated dark patches of Nightmare’s power burst into light as they were touched. The power felt different than she had ever experienced before, a warm flood of trust and love that loosened her deeply held anger and swept it away in the deluge. The cascade of changes through the spell paused, held in limbo a few inches away from the unborn foal as all of the forces of Magic waited on her command.

Begin.

Far away in Canterlot, six stones sat wrapped in protective runes and charms, surrounded by steel and lead barriers in the most secure tower in the castle. It was less an attempt to restrain their power than it was to protect them from those who would have stolen them just for pleasure or the challenge, for their powers were just as effective within their material prisons as if they still were around the necks of their counterparts.

One of these stones, a tourmaline star, shifted slightly in the golden tiara it had crafted for itself when it had found a suitable bearer. It could feel the touch of the little alicorn, not demanding, not attempting to force its power like the other alicorns who had betrayed it before, but pleading, even begging. The spell it was attempting was familiar, a complicated song of making similar to the original purpose of the Elements, but different in some fashion. Where the previous song had been so close to perfect, this song was perfection, not simply a change in the existing order, but finalizing the creation of a new being. It would take far more power than the original spell, and even though it was barely a trickle to Magic’s ability, it still was far more than the small alicorn, or even her larger friend could ever hope to release on their own. The song would fail, and possibly destroy the bearer without assistance.

They would require help.

All who had ever touched Magic could never again be separate from it. There was a bond beyond physical between them and the Element, a bond that could only be broken by death. Magic considered for a timeless moment before calling, and felt the power flow through it again into the joyous song of creation and making. It would take all of them to sing the song together, every one of them, even the annoying one who sang without a tune, but the song of making would be complete.

In the tallest tower in the Canterlot castle, Princess Celestia stirred in her restless sleep. Images rushed through her mind in a torrent, of power and spells she had long thought forgotten. Luna had consulted with her when she had first attempted to create the races of the Nocturne, and although her plans were brilliant beyond any comparison, Celestia had still turned her down. In addition to the moral issues, there were too many unknowns in the spell, and despite Luna’s innovative work-arounds, the possibility for disaster was far too high. In the thousand years of her banishment, Celestia had studied the spell in great detail, and had designed a counter-spell to return the transformed Nocturne to their original form in relative safety, but had never gotten any of them to accept the transformation, and had never pressed the issue against their will. Now the crystalline structure of the spell floated in her mind, with such intensity that long-forgotten sections that had been so much guesses and estimates now became perfectly clear. Lines extended through the ether at her touch, connecting there to here with a branch through this section over to here...

Uncomfortably sprawled across her lumpy mattress, Princess Trixie dreamed of flight, of wind streaming through her soft feathers as she ascended up into the sky. Power beyond her wildest dreams flowed through her alicorn body, the limitless magic of her kind, twisting in the structure of a spell she could barely fathom, although there were sections far too simple and limited for her taste. This section needed to be over here, with glorious light cascading down though this section across the darkness and trailing sparks to turn the emotionless columns and pillars of this into something glorious and worthy of…

The dream continued even as her physical body began to float up off the mattress and up into the air. And out the library window.

Far, far away in a mountain cave sealed away from the light, a dragon whose name was unpronounceable by ponykind dreamed of a star-shaped gem he had once owned, and the one time he had tapped its power. It tasted sweet as a ruby, with overtones of lemony orchedellum and a thousand other crystalline flavors all mixed together into a spectrum of power that only a dragon could appreciate. Leathery wings flexed and opened wide in the pitch-black cavern as the faintest purple glow began to spread down his body, drifting out to the very tips of his powerful wings as if they were being measured, analyzed, and stroked in admiration, as they should be. Dragons were more than powerful magical beasts, they were magic in some way, one with both the earth and the sky, and the rumble of unleashed power began to echo through the cavern as he slowly ascended up from his centuries-long nap at the inescapable call of his treasure.

Absolute silence reigned supreme in the little garden plot next to the house, without even a single note escaping from inside. The rumble and flash of released power had barely died away when the front door creaked open a fraction of an inch, just enough for two curious ponies to peer out into their moonlit garden and consider the tired occupants it contained.

The door closed with a quiet click, followed by the sound of a chair being pulled over and wedged under the doorknob. There was a long pause, with quiet whispers, and then the music began again in a much quieter duet.

The night air felt cold in Princess Luna’s nose as she breathed in deeply, taking a moment to readjust to her physical form before looking down at the unconscious dark mare with a spell she should have used before if she had been thinking straight. The tiny form inside Laminia was barely the size of a chipmunk at this stage of development, apparently unharmed by the release of magical power in her vicinity, and even different in such a small subtle way that it took Luna a moment to accept it, even after checking her work twice.

There was no spell on her. There were not even traces of the ancient spell on any of them. The transformation spell that Nightmare Moon had placed on the Nocturne had always been unable to be fully completed, a coiled spring of magical power inside the dark ponies. Now it was gone, and the result was almost unnoticeable without magic. The faint trace of metallic blue in Laminia’s mane was still there, even more vibrant than before as it shimmered throughout her entire mane and tail to make her glitter in the night as if microscopic stars twinkled between the hairs. Her husband stirred on the ground, slipping a wide wing around his mate as he slowly began to awaken. His wings had been changed slightly too, looking more powerful and broad than before, rippling with a sheen in the moonlight that was nearly animalistic and brought an urge to her mind that she firmly suppressed.

Laminia shook herself free from her husband’s embrace, standing up on her hooves and lifting her own broad wings out to either side for inspection. Even Twilight Sparkle ran her little hooves over the soft membranes, making little twitches as she hit ticklish spots.

“T-they don’t hurt. Princess, they don’t hurt any more.” She paused a moment, looking into Luna’s eyes before going down on one knee with wings outstretched to her sides. “You are truly our Princess of the Night.”

“Finally,” muttered Lumpy, lifting his head off the ground. “What did she have to do, hit you over the head with a—” The Royal Guard looked at his wife’s wings, took one look at Luna, and promptly returned to his face-down position on the ground.

Luna turned in a deliberate fashion, looking down at the dark pegasus stallion who could not have been flatter against the ground if he had just been run over with a wagon. A heavy one. Twice.

“Specialist Pumpernickel. We have given due consideration to your petition before our court, and have decided to grant it on a limited basis. You may select twelve, and only twelve of my Nocturne to serve on our personal protective unit.”

The stallion lifted his head, managing to get out the word, “But—” before Laminina stuffed a hoof into his open mouth so briskly Luna could hear it hit his teeth.

“He says, ‘Yes, Your Highness.’” A hint of sourness crossed Laminia’s face as one of the musicians inside the house hit a wrong note, and she turned to look away. “At least one of us has a job. I think I remember I’m still fired, right?”

“Certes. My decision is final. However…” Luna looked at Canterlot, shining in the distance. “A True Princess must be cordial and polite at all times with all ponies, including the most disagreeable and obstinate.”

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty. I mean, Your Highness. It won’t happen again.”

“Pity. I was rather wishing it would.” Luna turned so she could wink at Twilight Sparkle without Laminia seeing. “I have found myself in need of a pony of your talents over the last few weeks. There are certain ponies who cannot be reasoned with, and for those, I have found myself wishing for some disagreeable underling to pit them against. One who could hold her tongue when needed, and unleash it at the proper time. Somepony observant enough to spot small details such as a star moving when it should not, courageous enough to stand up even to a Princess, and kind enough to offer a small filly moral support when she is facing something she fears.” Luna smiled as Twilight Sparkle leaned into the mare’s soft grey coat and nuzzled her along the neck, earning a brief hug from the stunned Laminia.

Laminia shook her head, her mane glittering blue in the moonlight. “You don’t want me. There must be hundreds of servants who would break all four legs to be at your side.”

“All I ask is for you and Pumpernickel to consider my offer.” Luna frowned minutely, and glanced at the stunned stallion, who had not moved since Laminia had taken her hoof out of his mouth. “Why do you call him Lumpy instead of his real name?”

A bright red blush spread over Laminia’s face as she kicked him gently in the armored ribs until he staggered to his hooves. “It’s a nickname,” he blurted out. “I’ve got a pretty lousy sparring record. Your Highness. I don’t like it much.”

“Well, perhaps you will like your new name more in a few months when the foal is born.” Luna nodded at Laminia with a subdued smile. “Should you accept the position, we shall add maternity benefits to your employment compensation due to your gravid nature. Something to ‘sweeten the pot’ as they say.”

Laminia blinked. “I'm pregnant?”

Laminia’s whoop of glee caused several lights to go on in various windows around town, in particular after her initial altitude gain was overcome by gravity and inexperience, resulting in Octavia’s house gaining a pegasus-shaped skylight, the subsequent destruction of Viola’s violin, and a much more reserved Nocturne mare leaving by way of the front door in a flurry of apologies and promises to reimburse any damages. It took all three of them to wedge Pumpernickel off the ground, where the stallion was holding himself rigid and repeating “pregnant” over and over with no indication of stopping. They managed to carry him through the dark town on the way back to Monster’s home with only one interruption as Laminia tripped and the steel-clad stallion fell into the rather deep and quite cold fountain. Or at least that’s what he complained about during the rest of the trip.

In the end, they went their separate ways, the two prospective parents to the train station, Luna flying off into the night, and Monster to her soft bed. It felt good to have Miss Smarty Pants back, although there was still a strong tendency for her to think of the doll as It. She smelled of Luna, of fears taken away and turned to stardust and light, and just the smallest bit of mac. Monster had offered to give Miss Smarty Pants back to Luna for a few days, but the princess had been very adamant (and Monster even looked up the word to make sure she had used it right) about her keeping it, at least until her parents…

A strange thought occurred to Monster as she lay in bed with the doll clutched to her chest. Perhaps they missed her as much as she had missed It. Even as tattered and worn as It had become, changed so much from her vague memories of a stuffed doll with an actual tail, It was still Miss Smarty Pants, no matter how much she changed. There was a lot to think about over the next week, and Monster curled up around her doll to drift off to sleep while making an imaginary checklist.

She was asleep before completing the first imaginary page.

Morning had dawned brightly over Sweet Apple Acres several minutes ago, the first blinding beam of light breaking through the window outside of Granny Smith’s bedroom having long illuminated the room beyond her ability to ignore its call. She dragged herself out of bed and into a nightgown, limping out of her room with the arthritic popping of old joints and tendons. It was a welcome routine, so well worn and polished she often followed it with her eyes closed by way of the dents her hooves had worn in the floor with decades of repetition. Three steps, pause for Big Mac to go past on his way out of the bathroom…

Granny Smith opened her eyes and squinted into the cold and unused bathroom. There was a first time for everything except for Big Mac being late, but his toothbrush was dry and unused. She hobbled over to his bedroom door and peeked in, considering the possibility of his schedule being delayed due to another tree outside his window.

Well, it was not a tree.

A beautiful dark unicorn… no, she was a pegasus… Granny dug her reading glasses out of a nightgown pocket and took another look. That was better. A beautiful alicorn with a star-strewn mane lay draped across the bed, holding Big Mac wrapped quite securely in all four limbs and both wings much like one would hold a life-sized pillow or a large life preserver in a tumultuous sea. Her grandson was awake, and looked back at Granny with uncertain eyes as if he were unsure just exactly what he had gotten into, or how or even if he wanted to get out of it. That colt had more stallion in him than his grandfather, rest his soul, and Granny had to be right on the tips of her hooves for years to keep ahead of the old coot. The situation called for a solution Granny was intimately familiar with, and she closed the door with a gentle hoof.

“Gonna be a pancake morning, I see. Better make a double batch and get out the Zapapple syrup.”

The Great and Powerful Trixie luxuriated in her conquest, feeling the warm coat and delicious lips of her stallion as she rolled around with him on the softest bed she had ever felt. Passionate hooves stroked her mane, roaming all over her body as their lips locked with a roaring fire that threatened to consume her. This was what she wanted from Big Macintosh for three years now, and finally she had exactly what she desired. She could barely breathe as his teeth nipped at the exact areas she wanted nipped, as if her handsome stallion could read her mind, knowing her body as intimately as she did. The sheets tangled around their writhing bodies, catching on unwary hooves as they rolled, lost in their passions. She could hear his panting breath, finally culminating in a desperate gasp of, “Oh, Daring!”

Daring?

Trixie opened her eyes at almost the exact moment Rainbow Dash did, the two mares frozen in embarrassment as they stared at each other.

“You’re not Big Mac.”

“Well, you’re not Daring Do!”

“Why did you think I was Daring Do?” shouted Trixie, backing out of the cloud bed and tripping on the sheet. With a panicked look around at the cloud walls, cloud ceiling, and cloud furniture, she added, “Why am I up in a cloud? And why am I in your bedroom!”

“That’s what I’d like to know!” shouted Rainbow Dash at a Trixie-shaped hole in her floor.

“Uh-oh.”