Lyra Heartstrings sat on a bench, strumming away at her lyre. The Princess of Melodies was in the midst of writing her latest and, indeed, her greatest piece yet. It would move thousands! It would be recorded in the annals as one of the great inspirations of their age! It would be sung in hallowed halls for untold millennia!
Now if only she could get the third note to sound right.
She glared at her lyre, that stringed instrument that always seemed to have a mind of its own. “Fie on that mind,” she mumbled. “What gives it the right to go against my wishes? What gives it the right to say “neigh” to my expert tunes? What gives it the right to break a string so early in the morning?”
She fished inside a nearby saddlebag for a replacement string. “Fie upon your entire house, tiny lyre!”
The sunny park seemed to hold no sway on her demeanor. Despite the children playing in the fields, the birds bathing in the fountain, and the old geezers losing at chess, she found her frown eternal. She pursed her lips and considered the cause of her mood.
“Hi, Lyra!”
“Gasparkle!” Lyra shouted, throwing her hooves over her head and tumbling from the bench. She bugged an eye out at the pony that had caused her downfall. “Redheart! You know better than to distract me when I’m in the middle of the deep ponderings of the universe!”
Redheart ruffled her wings and sat at the edge of the stone path. “Really? And what great ponderings were you pondering this time?”
A disobedient lyre floated before her vision, encased in an amber glow. “What indeed, Nurse Redheart?” Lyra asked. “What is there to ponder but the undying question of just why my stupid lyre keeps snapping strings!?”
Redheart blinked. Her mouth quirked upwards. “You know, I’ve often thought that myself.”
“Can it, I’m the one with the quips around here,” Lyra said. “It’s possible that I just bought an inferior brand this time.” She sniffed through her frown. “I shall never trust my precious lyre with Jellybear’s Threadbare Threads (and Other String Products) again.”
Redheart cocked a brow in the infancy of a disbelieving gaze. “So now it’s your precious lyre…”
“Quit trying to make sense of my ramblings!” Lyra gathered her various papers and instruments and placed them back in her bag. “That way lies only madness and gnashing of teeth.”
She shouldered her burden and tilted her head upwards. “Well, you coming?”
“I sure hope so,” Redheart giggled. “I might get lost between all the deep ponderings being pondered.”
“Beware the ponderance”—Lyra held up a hoof as she walked down the path—“lest ye be led astray by my train of thought!”
Redheart fell into step beside Lyra. “So what’s got you channeling Princess Luna today?”
The mint mare opened her mouth to speak, thought better of it, then spoke anyway. “I had a nightmare last night.”
Redheart’s head dipped down. “Just a bad dream, or…?”
“I dunno.” Lyra’s brow furrowed. “I was, like, standing in the middle of this open space. No sky, no ground, just white space. And I was surrounded.” She grimaced and bit her lower lip. “Surrounded by a thousand… Lyra Heartstrings. A thousand mes.”
“What were they doing?” Redheart asked.
“Staring.” Lyra shook her head. “Just staring at me. Glaring, really. Like they didn’t like me or something. Real eerie.”
Redheart nodded. “And Princess Luna showed up to disperse the dream?”
“Yeah, but not until it was practically over.” Lyra laughed humorlessly. “It was like all of the Not-Lyras turned their heads at once and vanished just before her royal loudness appeared. She looked around for something, but I guess she didn’t find whatever it was. She turned to me all confused.”
Lyra bugged her eyes and opened her mouth wide. “‘Wither goeth the nightmare, peasent!? Verily, forsooth, and whatnot!’” She snickered. “Then she gave me that real corny line. Remember it?”
“‘You must face your fears?’” Redheart said with a wry smile.
“The one and the same!” Lyra rolled her eyes. “She’s been eating out of that same old feedbag ever since she returned from her banishment, you know that?”
Redheart’s eyes went to the stone path. “I think she’s pushing that so hard because she knows that’s what got her in trouble. She doesn’t want any of us to make the same mistake.”
Lyra shrugged. “Yeah…” she mumbled.
She brightened up in the next second. “Good thing for us there’s plenty more mistakes to be made! What’s on the screw-up agenda for today, Princess of Hospice?”
“Well”—Redheart pulled a sheet of paper out of her saddlebags, stamped with the royal seal of the House of Blueblood—“since the party’s Friday, we’ve only got a couple of days to get a party dress.”
“Oh, party dress.” Lyra bobbed along, her ears perked towards Redheart. “For who?”
“For you.” Redheart tapped the invitation on the end of Lyra’s nose. “And for me. We wanna look our best for all the prissy ponies in Canterlot, don’t we?”
“Or do we?” Lyra asked, placing a hoof on her chin. “What if we showed up at the party dressed as hobos, offering a single rose in exchange for shelter from the cold?”
Redheart looked at the blue sky. “It’s spring.”
“Then, when the stuffy royals refused us assistance…” A wicked grin split across Lyra’s face. “Boom! Two alicorn princesses burst out of the rags and lay a curse on—”
“Lyra!” Redheart stepped in front of her friend, planting her hooves firmly on the path. “The fairy tale reference is cute and all, but I don’t think it’d be too funny to pretend to lay a curse on anypony. I’m drawing the line at curses.”
Lyra’s ears drooped. “Sorry, Red. I didn’t mean anything.”
Redheart gave her friend a crooked smile. “Hay, I know. I know.” She looped a foreleg around Lyra’s shoulders. “Maybe I’m just touchier about the subject than other ponies.”
“Nah, nah, you’re right.” The mint green princess nuzzled her back as they entered town. “Curse jokes probably rate right up around Sombra jokes, don’t they?”
“On a scale of one-to-yuck?” Redheart chuckled. “Probably.”
Lyra ducked her head as they passed through the town square, apparently focused on the sheen of her own hooves. Redheart pursed her lips. “Is something wrong?”
“Look, I know this is probably silly, but…” Lyra turned her head left and right. Noting that there was nopony within earshot, she spoke. “It’s just; I’m a little creeped out knowing that there’s a changeling living in the middle of Ponyville.”
Redheart exhaled slowly through her nose. “You don’t need to worry about Mandable, he’s not exactly the most sinister of changelings.”
“Look, I can’t help it. I’m freaking out every time I go into town.” They neared Carousel Boutique. Lyra put forth a hoof to push the business’ door open. “I think I’m developing a real phobia. It’s like I expect a changeling to appear around every corner—”
Lyra’s sentence slowed to a dead stop as she met the multifaceted eyes of the exact changeling in question.
Her grimace was epic, discoloring her entire face with bad feelings and sheer terror. Her mouth opened to just under a half-inch wide, emitting a tiny cry of despair.
“Welcome to Carousel Boutique,” Mandible droned.
“Mandible!” a silvery voice called from the next room, “we did agree on a specific way to greet the customers!”
Mandible coughed and started again, this time his voice a perfect match for the proprietor of the boutique. “Welcome to Carousel Boutique, where every garment is chic, unique, and magnifique!”
As Redheart’s jaw dropped, he switched back to his original dull tone. “Can I help Your Highnesses with something?”
“Oh, uh…” Redheart placed a hoof on the poleaxed Lyra’s back. “Mandible! I didn’t know you worked for Lady Rarity.”
The changeling shrugged. “Not much chance elsewhere, after that whole Canterlot Wedding Incident.”
Lyra coughed. It was a wheezy, raspy cough.
Redheart got behind her and pushed her forward. “Lyra, why don’t you go say hello to Rarity? Get started brainstorming ideas for the dress! That’s a girl!”
Lyra tottered dumbly off, leaving Redheart alone with the changeling.
“Sorry about that,” she told Mandible. “She had a couple of…” She closed her eyes. “Really bad experiences. With changelings.”
His buggish eyes widened. “Oh. Oh, I remember her!”
Redheart’s eyes, by contrast, narrowed. “Oh?”
“Oh…” Mandible grinned sheepishly, which despite his submissive posture remained just the least bit terrifying in light of his glistening fangs. “I was there when Qu— When Chrysalis leashed her.” At Redheart’s questioning eyebrow, he clarified. “Brainwashed her.”
He looked towards the room she had disappeared into. “By ‘a couple’ you meant, like, more than one, right? What was the other ‘experience’?”
“I’d rather not gossip, if you don’t mind,” Redheart said. “‘Loose lips,’ if you get what I mean.”
Mandible smirked ruefully and saluted. “Fine. This ship be sailing shipshape. Arr!”
Redheart trotted past him and into Rarity’s “inspiration room,” a mess of cloth and various other sewing products that always seemed to spark the unicorn fashionista on to bigger and better things. Rarity herself was content to talk Lyra’s inert ears off even as she doodled and crimped.
“And you can imagine my surprise when I found out Hoity Toity was arrested for breaking a prisoner out of jail, of all things. Honestly, you think you know a pony, and then they go and do something utterly bonkers! I hope they caught whatever ruffian he felt the need to liberate as well, I’d hate to know that a dangerous criminal was slithering and slunking his way across Equestria. But that’s besides my point; you really should meet my new beau. He is an absolute charmer, one of a kind!”
She leaned conspiratorially to the unhearing Lyra. “Between you, me, and the sewing machine, he’s not all that bad to look at, either. He’s a fashion designer as well, and a darned good one at that. His ensembles are”—Rarity giggled under her hoof—“quite daring.”
Redheart frowned at the exposition. She glanced at Mandible, who gave her a shrug. “Don’t look at me, I ain’t even met the guy. Dark Shadow Lightning, or something like that.”
“That’s a unique name,” Redheart mumbled. “Hello, Lady Rarity, how are you?”
“Princess Redheart!” Rarity spun with sparkles in her eyes and her mane all a shimmer. “To what do I owe the pleasure of both your companies?”
“Commissioning a couple of dresses for a big Canterlot shindig.” Redheart grasped Lyra’s tail and dragged her back a few steps. “I, personally, knew that I needed to come to the best to get the best.”
Rarity laughed as she set her small, red reading glasses on a nearby desk. “Flatterer! Although I must complement your taste.” She looked Redheart up and down, nodding occasionally. “Though perhaps you will not find it with me. Have you heard of the up-and-coming fashion designer Dark Shadow Lightning?”
“I can’t say I’m too knowledgeable about the fashion scene, ma’am,” Redheart said. “I’ve only just heard about your coltfriend today.”
“Ah, so you overheard my little spiel, then?” Rarity motioned for her to follow. They walked into the foyer, where a few crisp magazines lay on a table. “Well, that saves me the trouble of explaining these little majesties.”
Redheart balked at the outfit on the magazine cover. “Well, the shoulder spikes do give it a certain… impressiveness… But I just want something nice. Something in your flowing, flowery style.”
“Something that doesn’t look like it came off of Sombra’s coat rack,” Lyra croaked. She sat in a chair beside the magazine table, her eyes bleary.
“I’m glad you’re back in the land of the living,” Redheart muttered out of the corner of her mouth, “but remember our little talk about jokes in bad taste?”
“Well, I suppose I can see your point,” Rarity sighed. She placed the magazine back on the table and walked over to the changing rooms. She passed a small portrait on the way, which she planted a tiny kiss upon. “Although, I can’t say I ever saw Sombra up close and personal.”
Lyra shrugged as she looked at the picture. She sat forward suddenly, her attention fully focused on the image between the frames. “Red, is that a pic of…”
The portrait was of a unicorn stallion, or perhaps an alicorn. His coat was gray, and his mane was deepest black. His eyes glowed red and green, leaking twin clouds of dark magical energy. Perhaps the most striking feature, however, was his curved, red-tipped horn.
Redheart and Lyra looked at each other for a long moment.
“Naaah!”
Redheart stood upon the rotating platform, the makings of a dress pinned all around her. She smiled at Lyra, who was busy nursing a cup of soothing chamomile. “How does it look?”
Lyra smiled. “Like a million bucks, give or take.”
Rarity chuckled through the pins in her mouth. “I’ll remember that figure when I’m putting your dress together, Your Highness.”
“Let’s not be too hasty.” Lyra waved her forehooves. “Just ’cause I’m a princess doesn’t make me rich.”
“I’ve been wondering what the point of making us royalty was, actually.” Redheart stiffened as Rarity wrapped fabric around a sensitive spot, tickling her. “Yee… I mean, we don’t actually hold an office.”
Lyra nodded sagely. “Or status.”
“Or fame,” Redheart added.
“Speak for yourself, Red.” Lyra levitated her lyre out of her bag and strummed. “A thousand records sold in Manehatten alone can’t be all bad.”
Rarity skillfully slipped a pin through a few pieces of cloth, narrowly avoiding pricking Redheart’s bum. “Hmm, I did so much enjoy your Ode to the Phoenix,” the fashionista said. “Very moving.”
Lyra raised an eyebrow and gave Redheart a smirk. “Fanbase confirmed.”
Rarity took a step back to gauge her work. “There, that’s coming along swimmingly.” She gave Redheart a winning smile. “Now, might I inquire as to the nature of this ‘shindig’?”
“Blueblood’s going-away party,” Lyra piped up as she plucked strings. “Heard about it?”
Rarity took a controlled breath. “I can’t say I keep up with the prince’s social life much, no.”
Redheart’s ears, mouth, and shoulders drooped. “He’s going away. Very, very far away.”
Rarity frowned at the nurse’s reaction. She placed a hoof on Redheart’s shoulder. “Well… Well, give him my well-wishes, would you? When you see him?”
“Yeah.” Redheart shot her a lopsided grin. “I’ll do that.”
Lyra stood and stretched. “Okay, I’m almost loosened up. Mind if I get another cuppa?”
Rarity’s eyebrows were a flat line. “Cuppa?”
“Tea.” Lyra cantered out of the room, trailing her empty teacup behind her. “Thanks!”
“B-but dear!” Rarity huffed as the mint unicorn disappeared from sight. “I suppose we’ll find her catatonic once she sees who’s in the kitchen.”
Lyra slid through the door, balancing her teacup telekinetically on her horn. She walked over to the stove where the teakettle sat, gently letting steam rise. Noticing something out of the corner of her eye, she turned her head to find herself face-to-face with herself.
The teacup dropped as she let out a shriek. She reared back from herself, finding that the other her also reared in response. It was a moment later that she realized it was merely her own reflection in a vanity mirror. “Wasn’t that scared anyway.”
She gratefully took the dropped teacup from a ready black hoof and trotted over to the teakettle. She paused and blinked a full three times.
She poured herself a cup of chamomile, blew the steam off of the top, and then proceeded to rapidly drink down the contents of the kettle. She spun to the owner of the black hoof with a Cheshire grin upon her face, her eyes only just this side of glassy.
Mandible looked down and tapped a holey hoof on the ground. “Rarity would’ve been mad if a teacup broke. Sorry if I broke your head instead.”
Lyra’s grin fell, and she slumped limply to the ground. “Why.”
He tilted his head to the side, one eye squinting. “Wha—?”
Lyra looked up at him, her eyes heavy. “You’re pathetic. Why do you freak me out so much?”
“Well, excuse me, Princess!” Mandible scoffed. “So sorry for not being as terrifying as you’ve obviously come to expect.”
He winced and clapped his chitinous hooves over his mouth. “Dangit. Sorry.”
Lyra shook her head, snickering lightly. “Huh. So that’s what it feels like.” Her eyes drifted apart as she wobbled. “Whoa. I am so darned relaxed right now.”
Mandible rushed forward and caught the collapsing mare before she hit her head on the floor. “Heh. Today’s my day for catching things!”
He sat there a moment before realizing that there was no way he was going to be able to lift the alicorn princess. “Dangit.”
Lyra stared at her duplicates. Her duplicates glared at her. She stuck her tongue out, but they did not react. “Okay, you can stop being creepy, now!”
She grimaced at the line of perturbing faces. “You all are making it really hard to be a narcissist, you know that? You are ruining my self-image!”
She closed her eyes and smiled smugly. “Okay, I’ll just wake up and deprive you loonies of your fun. Buh-bye, now. Buh-bye!”
From the farthest corners of her mind, a whisper drifted across her ear. “Murderer.”
She opened her eyes with a start. “Huh!?”
“I said ‘watch the ear!’” Redheart repeated as Lyra awoke.
Lyra noticed that she had reached out in her sleep and grabbed a hold of the nurse’s new earring. She let go with a sheepish grin.
“Oh, dear,” Rarity murmured. “I do think I made the tea a little strong.”
“Nah, I just haven’t sl…” Lyra shook her head to clear the cobwebs. “Sorry about that. Got a little crazy.”
Rarity tilted her head in concern. “Are you ready to begin your own outfit, darling?”
Lyra nodded, and Redheart slowly led her onto the dais.