//------------------------------// // six. she. alis volat propriis. // Story: he. she. we. // by Shinzakura //------------------------------// I’m soaring high above the clouds, eight miles high, watching the sun set as a string of pearls lights up the cold, expansive dark beneath me. In the distance, the City of Angels and her suburbs glow with the joy of people switching from their daytime schedules to their nighttime plans, enjoying the beautiful yuletide season. Had this been my homeland, I would have been thrilled to see this come to pass…but had this been my homeland, and this occurred – I probably wouldn’t exist, not an iota. Up here, however, the skies are clear and cold, an uncontrollable sun starting to slide down beyond the line of the Pacific Ocean. Slipping below the clouds, I feel the light patter of snow fall on my back as I knife my way towards the ground. North told me that snow in Southern California, at least here in the mountains, isn’t common, but that the white covering the whole of the Southland is nigh a miracle. Part of me is reminded by the old Hearth’s Warming Eve tales of the Windigoes and their blanketing of the world with the cold of their dark arts, but that’s another world, another place, another time…and what the falling white here, is nothing more than holiday cheer. Winging my way back towards the mountains, confident that no one will see me, I move on; between the darkening skies and the illusion I placed, the only thing anyone should see is just another rare and endangered California condor trying to survive in this anthrocentric world, something that I’m altogether familiar with. Even still, I know I probably shouldn’t be out here; all it would take is just one slip-up on my part, and suddenly my picture is all over some conspiracy website at the very least. But North’s displeasure aside…I have wings. I’m not meant to be constantly cooped up in a house twenty-four hours a day. I’m a mare with needs and desires and one of those is to have a normal life. Well, as normal as I can, given the circumstances. Landing in a copse of trees by the side of the house, I’m able to see what the mailcarrier brou…oh, good, there’s the Christmas gift I got for North. Admittedly, he kinda already knows what it is, given that I had to borrow his credit card, but it’s the thought that counts, right? Pausing just long enough to grasp the package in my telekinetic field, I then teleport straight into my room, the one that he always jokes looks like IKEA, the Disney Store, Hot Topic, Spencers and Forever 21 waged a war for marketing domination – I have plushies, the laptop he got me, the bed, dresser and a desk. Opening up my dresser, I debate briefly on what I should wear. But then I remember he’s going to be home late tonight, so it’ll give me plenty of time to make dinner and such. Plus, having been out there on a flight, I’m due for a shower, and probably need to preen my wings as well. Fishing out my Seattle Mariners jersey and a pair of jeans I had to magically tweak to fit me, I head towards the shower. But as I’m leaving my bedroom, I see the one thing present that doesn’t match the rest: a polished oak pedestal upon which sits my old armor – Nightmare Moon’s old armor. Looking at it stirs up all those old feelings again: the pain, the loneliness, the things I can’t share with North, such as the fact that while I can “feel” their moon, it feels cold and dead and not a living part of me as Equestria’s had been. And even that line of thought opens up more questions and thoughts: I am Luna. I was Luna. I am not Luna, at least not anymore; of that I’m sure. I both love and hate Celestia, who may or may not be my/her/our sister – the pronouns trip me up and I’m not using the Majestic Plural in this case. And then I feel the crushing emptiness of a world where I shouldn’t exist and don’t belong. And then there is my own self-loathing. I may have abandoned my name and “birthright” but I can never run too far away from what I am – I see it every damn time I look in the mirror. And every time just before I see my reflection I hope it changes; I hope to see midnight blue, the starry mane of night and normal aquamarine eyes. And then every time I look I see unnaturally black fur, the violet of a nebula and inequine slits of turquoise. I’ve never admitted it to North, but when I abandoned the “Nightmare” part of my name, I wanted to change it all completely, to never even have so much as a reminder of my heritage. But a pony can never run from her cutie mark or what it’s telling her. I’m glad I decided to take a shower first before starting dinner. It’s easier to hide the tears that way. I’m adding the finishing touches to the quiche when he gets home. As usual, I wait until he’s completely in the house and the door closed before I rush over to hug and nuzzle him. My savior, my best friend…my first and only friend, unless you count the ghosts of the past. But that’s not a fair comparison of what North means to me. He was the first one to dry my tears, to offer me a home and a life, to give a Nightmare dreams of her own. He knows the loneliness I feel, because he felt it for years as well. I know he doesn’t like talking about his deceased wife much, but from what little I know of Rachel, she was absolutely wonderful to him as he deserves. And now he has me. As he is so fond of saying, “Yeah, life sucks.” From the kitchen I can hear the clattering of his fingers against the keyboard; it sounds like a host of thundering hooves racing towards me. Admittedly, I could watch his fingers type all day; I’ve known a few griffins or minotaurs that had similar digits, but none of them seemed to have the talent that North does, moving those slim digits with grace that’s only matched by his smile an— Damn wings; there they go again. Why the hell do they keep doing that? I wonder if I picked up some kind of neurological disorder when I was split from myself/ourselves/herself/Luna. Well, unless a miracle happens and I get ahold of a simpl…sorry, doctor, have to remember that “simple” means something else nowadays…either way, unless I can get a doctor to look at – and comprehend – my wing issue, I’ll just have to live with it. The phone rings. Twice. Three times. I call out to North to let him know the phone’s ringing, but I guess he’s busy or something. Well, what can be the harm in answering it? I float the phone over with my magic, then hit the answer button. “Shores residence.” “Is the lady of the house home?” a voice asks. “Speaking,” I answer. Well, it’s true. Yes, I’m aware it means something else, but…well, while North and I don’t have that kind of relationship, I am kinda sorta the lady of the household, right? Besides, if I corrected him to “mare of the household”, the guy on the other line would probably not get that. Turns out it’s one of those telemarketer calls I hear about all the time on TV. Well, sorry, sir, we do our own work on our computers here, but we really do appreciate the offer to sell us antivirus service. Besides, I’m pretty sure that if the computers here somehow catch a virus, I can either take care of it through my magic, or North can figure out what to do next. He’s very smart and intelligent in that matter, the kind of intellect that I like in a sta— Damn, just what in Tartarus is up with my wings? Later that night, dinner’s a really simple affair, more because we want to spend as much time with each other as possible instead of slaving over the stove. And, hey, the vegetarian lasagna is quick and easy. He has to leave first thing in the morning for his parents, because he’ll be spending Christmas Eve and Day there, which means tonight is just for me and him. I blush at that; just knowing that the smile he has just for me makes me feel…special. Special in a way I haven’t really felt in a long while. But we get though that really quickly and then park right by the sofa. I insist on him opening his gift first; I know he already knows what it is, but I want him to be surprised by the second thing. Sure enough, it’s the mouse he’s been raving about, but he knew that. Then, just as he’s about to set the box aside, he hears the rattle. Looking at me briefly, he digs into the box again and finds the smaller box. Opening that…the smile on his face just made it all worth it. A week of learning Blender, taking enough reference pictures of myself, then sending the file off to a 3D printer service to have it printed…the small figurine in his hands makes it all worth it. “You made this for me?” he asks. I nod, and he looks very touched. Where did I put the camera? I really need to take a picture of this. “Well, your turn,” he tells me, hoof…I mean, handing me his gift; the box is shaking, oddly. Carefully I remove the ribbon and the wrapping, then open the… He didn’t. He did! I can’t help but squee. I’ve been wanting this since forever! “Is this…?” He nods. “I only wish I’d thought of this sooner.” “No,” I tell him. “It’s perfect, absolutely perfect. Thank you,” I say, meaning every word of it. I then look down and take my gift out of the box, holding it close to me as it – as he – licks my face. “Where did you find him? And where have you been hiding him?” He grins. “The Prentices owed me a favor, so when I found out about this little guy, I asked them to watch him until an hour ago.” I look into my new puppy’s beautiful eyes; one blue, one brown, so he’s got unusual eyes, just like me! He’s so adorable! “What’s his name?” “That’s up to you, Moon,” North tells me. “And in case you were wondering, he’s a border collie.” I look him over carefully. Mostly reddish-brown, with white. “What about Pinecone?” I ask him. The puppy yips in delight, then starts licking me in the face again. “Pinecone it is, then.” I set Pinecone down and give North a huge hug. “Thank you!” “Hey, this way you won’t be alone if I ever have to travel,” he tells me. “I hate to have you here by yourself all the time.” I smile softly as Pinecone starts looking at my tail and starts playing with it. I have so much now, more than a mare like me deserves, and I can’t even begin to make up for it all. Maybe, by just being me – a new me, not encumbered by the past – it’ll be a start. Just me and Pinecone and North, a happy famil— Aaagh, what is it with my wings? The Yuletide is the most special moment of the human calendar. And like our calendar, it shifts from the end of the year to the beginning of the next, signifying rebirth and rejuvenation. And today, January the second, is a very important day to me, the night I first came to Earth. While I’m making dinner and watching Piney yap and chase my tail like the sweet little thing he is, North looks at me strangely, like why is this day any more important than any other day on the calendar. Hearing him say that hurts, cuts me to the quick. And I want to tell him that he’s a dork for forgetting our special night tonight but then he smiles fondly and pulls out a bottle of champagne he’d saved from yesterday just for this occasion. And as he hugs me close, I can’t help but feel warm inside, knowing what it’s like to be wanted. Dinner that night goes well; the brüt pairs well with the quiche Lorraine and the grilled Brussels sprouts – though I knew them by a different name in Equestria, they tasted absolutely horrid when I first got here. Thankfully, though, one of those cooking shows on TV showed me a different way to prepare them besides boiling; grilling them instead brings out this nutty, delicious taste I never knew they had! But just as important, North likes it! Stars above, I can never get him to eat enough vegetables. I practically weep when I realize what he lived off of before I moved in. Still, as his roommate, friend and mare of the house, I should look out for him, right? After dinner that night, we watch some old 50s movies, because he’s absolutely a fan of Audrey Hepburn. We see both Breakfast at Tiffany’s and Roman Holiday and it’s during the latter that North points out that though she’s been gone for years and that though Breakfast at Tiffany’s is over a half-century old and Roman Holiday even older than that, even today she’s considered to be the most beautiful woman that ever lived. I shrug; I’m not human, so I have little basis for what constitutes human beauty, and furthermore, there were nothing like movies back in my day. Even still, I’d seen enough plays when I was younger, and I can tell a talented thespian when I see one – and she was clearly a mare of many talents. I’m not sure I watched all of both movies. Instead, I think ended up doing what I tend to do a lot: I lay my head down on his lap and he plays with my mane, a gentle sensation that runs through me until it lulls me to sleep. At one time, I probably would have died of embarrassment to think that me, the goddess of the night, was now sleeping in at that time, but humans don’t need me to watch their nightmares, and I have no interest in doing so. That job belongs to another mare in another place, and even if the job was available here, it’s not my cup of tea any longer. I can barely feel him as he carries me back to my bed and tucks me in. But I swear I’m awake enough to feel him kiss me on the forehead and tell me that I look prettier than Audrey Hepburn. I blush. “No, Piney,” I tell him gently. “You’re not supposed to chew on the socks, okay?” Pinecone pouts preciously until I give him a pat on the head to let him know everything’s all better, and then he brightens up before running upstairs to do whatever it is puppies do upstairs while unattended. North went off to get groceries and pet food for our little bundle of energy, leaving me to be a…Domestic Goddess! … Okay, that does sound stupid. Who in Tartarus ever came up with that joke? After making sure the last batch of laundry’s in the washer, I come upstairs to play with Piney for a bit before I go on my morning flight. I briefly turn on the TV to the Today show while I entertain my little pup. North’s told me that morning television is brain-rotting and probably only meant to turn viewers into consume zombies, but hey, they occasionally have a good recipe on and besides, I really like the hostess’ mane…er, hair. As I’m looking for Piney’s chew toy, I suddenly overhear the neighbor, Betty, just outside the front door window. North says she’s okay, but that he really doesn’t know her that well. But I have to wonder why she’s so close to the house. I listen in on the conversation in case I need to hide for some reason, and what I hear does not make me happy: “So, yah, anyway, guy’s somewhat of a freak, but from what I can tell he’s completely loaded. Hell, I’d try to get in his pants if I wasn’t so sure my husband would divorce my ass!” “So you sure he’s single and not gay or anything?” “No, he’s single. Apparently his wife got bumped off a few years ago and he’s here to just hide from the world. Guy probably needs his rocks off just to cope with society again, if you ask me. Creepy fuck, otherwise.” My blood starts boiling and my mind starts thinking of at least twenty or thirty different painful spells I can cast right then and there. The only reason I don’t is because I don’t want any of it coming back on North. However, I do plant a mental marker on both speakers. If I can, I think I’m going to be making a little visit tonight in someone’s dreams. North’s asleep right now, because there’s enough space and sound barriers between our house and the neighbor’s, so he wouldn’t be able to hear anything. But because of my better hearing – and well, because I’m me – I can hear Betty’s screaming and her husband Phil’s cries to get her to calm down, it’s only a nightmare. Mission accomplished, I think to myself, as I put my head down on the pillow. Now to deal with the other one. “You’re awfully chipper this morning,” he says to me at breakfast while I’m filling Piney’s bowl. I pat my pup on the head, rush over to the kitchen sink real quick and wash my hooves, then join him. “Slept great last night,” I tell him – well, I wasn’t lying. He doesn’t ask what I mean, and as I pick up my coffee, I’m not about to tell him. Although part of me hopes that he doesn’t want to know what I did, at the same time, I want to just crow that I put those two cows through night-terror school for what they said about him. I know he wouldn’t be too happy about it, but I won’t stand for anyone talking smack about him, not when I can do something about it! “So what’s the plan today?” I ask. “I’ll probably be gone overnight,” he tells me. Something about a staff meeting at the Technon offices, then meeting his parents for dinner and probably will be there late enough to stay the night. Thirty minutes later, he’s out the door and I sigh; I was hoping to make a new tortilla Española recipe I found on Nibbledish last night. But at least I know that when he says he’ll be back, he means it. He’s someone I can trust completely and utterly, somepony I can believe in. Unlike Celestia, that bitch. The anger, sadness and cornucopia of pain wells in me again, and I can’t help it. At least Piney’s there to cheer me up; I hug the little guy closer to me as the tears start again. Tia, why did you abandon me here in this Tartarus-forsaken place? I’m absolutely lucky to have found North and I cherish the time I have with him, but that’s the thing: it was nothing more than that, the fortuitous turn of fate’s wheel. From what I see in human media, they don’t have much of a trust framework when it comes to aliens or the supernatural, and I am clearly both. Did Luna mean so much to you that you had no love for me/us/her? What do I/us/she deserve? Don’t…. Don’t…. I’m tired of all this. I’m tired of running from my past. I’m tired of being reminded that I was once a goddess and I’m now just a freeloader. If it wasn’t for North, I don’t know where I’d be right now. In fact, I wish he was here right now, so that I could hold him and just melt into his arms…. Wait. My heart skips a beat as I start thinking about him once more. And as I realize he’s not here, the crushing emptiness is back, but now there’s the star of hope at the center of the dark well of sorrow, the knowledge that I know he’ll return to me. To me. And finally an epiphany sets in, one that I never thought I would have, one that both frightens me and fills me with a joy I’ve never known. I’m in love with North. Well, that explains the wings, I guess. Tonight’s the night, filly, I tell myself. If I don’t do this now, I might regret it forever. Dinner tonight’s an ornate affair. I’m in a skirt, blouse and my pearl necklace – well, he thinks they’re pearls; I wonder what he would do if I told them that they’re (now-inert) magical explosives that could theoretically carve the top off Mt. Baldy if I used a live one. I always had them in case my magic was compromised, and after having removed the magical charge from them, they look just like pearls. I think I’ll keep that one under my hat. Well, my metaphorical one, that is. After having dinner, he asks, “What’s with all this? You usually…oh, duh, let me guess: you need something, it’s going to be expensive, and this is your way of making it up to me?” I shake my head. “No, not that. It’s Valentine’s Day, silly.” I remember just before my/our/her banishment to the moon, there was a pegasus poetess named Hearts Aflutter who was trying to petition Celestia for a new holiday called Hearts & Hooves Day. I wonder if that ever came to pass, though if it did, it wouldn’t surprise me if it was just like Valentine’s Day here on Earth. “Really? Completely forgot about that, sorry.” He then looks at me strangely and says, “But that’s a holiday regarding your true love, you know.” “I know,” I tell him. “It’s you.” Then I kiss him. No nuzzling or nose boops or typical pony methods of affection, this one is mouth and tongue, probing. He’s surprised at first, and I wonder if I’ve now made the mistake of my life, but a second later he’s joining in. We’re not stopping. It’s like the floodgates have burst and I’m watching myself from outside of my body as a human male just pours all his emotions into me. I think it’s the same way with him, and something’s taken over both of us. The human taboo against bestiality is strong – incredibly so, since they are the only sapient species on this world. And I’m sure humans would be surprised to know that ponies have this taboo as well; we’re just luckier that we have a larger variety of potential mates outside our species to choose from. But in the end, just as a human wouldn’t be intimate with a dog or a horse, a pony wouldn’t be with a timberwolf or a hydra. It’s intelligence that forms affection and desire, that meeting of the mind as equals that does it – this is why animals mate, but sapients love. This is, at least, what I’m telling myself while I’m passing on my maidenhood. I love him, and I want to be his mare. He feels something for me, and he wants me to be his girl. And that first night? It’s special. And painful. Very, very painful. Humans aren’t built for…well, let’s just say that if bolt A is made to go only in slot B, it goes into product B on item X. If item Y has a slot B that’s similar, it’s…well, even though it’s similar, somepony’s going to have a lot of pleasure and pain. That somepony is me. I will probably be walking funny tomorrow. It will probably be worth it. I/us/she remember when Tia told me/us/her about this, what humans call “the birds and the bees”. I wonder where Tia found out about all that – for all her pranks and worldliness, the sun princess is as pure as the driven snow. I’m finding out that a lot of it is incorrect, and that I’m fighting instincts to take us five thousand, two hundred and eighty feet up – that’s probably the pegasus drive in me. In any case, we experiment all night, trying to find something that…um…suits us both. We finally settle for me being on top. That, and well, he likes me brushing him with my wings. Kinda kinky, I know, but…I want him to enjoy every moment. Finally, we are spent and collapse in two balls of sweat. There’s the scent of musk, honey and chocolate in the air. He smells it as well and wonders. So do I, then figure I’ll worry about it later. I kiss him gently against the ridge of his jaw, and for the first time, I fall asleep in his arms as his mare. Breakfast the next morning is awkward and painful. And no, I’m not talking about the fact that it hurts to sit down…though there is that. Breakfast is mostly silence and staring at Cheerios. And then, finally, I can’t take it anymore. “Does this change us?” I ask him. He’s looking at me, thinking about his words carefully. My breath catches in my throat and my stomach curdles – I’d probably vomit right now if it wasn’t for the fact that all I had was toast. “If anything,” he tells me, “I’ve felt the same way about you for some time, but I didn’t want to say anything.” He didn’t answer my question, though – and that frightens me. “North, have I lost you as a friend?” “Of course not, Moon. No matter what happens, we’ll always be that.” “But does this ch—” “Of course it does!” he says sharply, banging his fist on the table and startling me with an anger I didn’t think he had. “Moon, if you were a human, you’d be the perfect girl. But you’re not human. How do you think it sounds if I were to tell my parents that I’ve met the mare of my dreams?” My cheeks flush at that, but then I realize what he means and my heart stops. “Moon,” he continues, “couples go on dates, meet friends, and do all the physical stuff besides. And then they get married, have a life together and grow old together. But they don’t hide from the world…and we have no choice other than to do so. The moment I take you out there, do you know what’s going to happen?” “I don’t care about that!” I tell him. “Is that why you leave the house to go flying?” he asked. I gasp – how did he know? A second later, he confesses: “I got home early one day, just as you were landing. I don’t know how you haven’t been seen by anyone else, Moon, but it’s only a matter of time and I don’t want anything to happen to you.” “I don’t care about that, either!” The words are out of my mouth before I can even think about it; great going, me. I probably sound like a petulant schoolfilly right now, but I can’t help how I feel. “I want us to be together, North! I want to be your special somepony!” I tell him. “Which is another thing,” he says, and his voice carries a tone that sounds like guilt. “Last night…I know it hurt. Hurts for human girls the first time too, I’m told, but they’re….” He scratches the back of his head like he does when he’s just stopped himself from saying something he’ll regret. Finally, he chooses to phrase it as, “I just…I don’t want you to hurt anymore, Moon.” “What about what I want?” I ask. “Moon, I….” Another headscratch. Oh stars, this is not looking good. “Could we talk about this later? I—” “No!” I shout and with a flash, I teleport into my bedroom – how I wish it were just the spare bedroom again. I lock the door, crawl under the sheets and start crying. As I lie in bed, North’s at the door, knocking, asking me to let him in, that he does love me, that I shouldn’t just shut him out like that. I don’t care. My heart’s broken right now – the man I love doesn’t want me…because of what I am. I have never been ashamed to be what I am, nightmare, alicorn or pony. It’s these broken memories that stay in my mind as I drift off to sleep. The next morning, I wake up. I have to apologize to him for my behavior, despite everything that happened. Regardless if we are paramours, he does deserve my respect and I was less than kind yesterday. Slipping on my favorite Van Halen t-shirt – why is it I’m always wearing this one whenever I’m down? – and a flannel top to go with it, I tie my mane into a docktail – where did the humans get the term “ponytail” for the same style? – slip on a pair of jeans and step out of the room. The minute I do, I’m regretting it. There’s breakfast from this morning, and knowing him, he probably left lunch and dinner from last night, as well. I don’t see Piney anywhere, but I do see a note on the serving tray, and when I do, it stops my heart. My tears stain the paper. I hurt him because I wanted him to love me. I hurt him because I wanted him. When he was inside, I may have been the one injured, but he was hurt. And it’s all my damn fault. “Dammit, Tia,” I say to the air, hoping that somehow it will reach the sister/not-sister/maybe-sister I’ll likely never see again, “Why did you do this to me? If I am to remain here on this Earth, why like this?” Being like this…being able to love, but not share it. This isn’t redemption or even punishment – it’s a damnation worse than when I/we/she was in the moon for a thousand years. That night, just to keep my mind off things, I make an ass out of myself. I play a few of my favorite videogames for a while and after some time I’m getting the usual “You’re a bitch, Nightmare Moon!” comments over the voice channel – I wonder how the other players would react if they found that Nightmare Moon isn’t a screen name and the “rendered” avatar is my actual photo? – and I forget my fears for a while. Eventually, I start playing with a friend, well, an on-line buddy – I’ve never met her, and most people don’t even know she’s a she. I only know her by her screen name, DeathScythe325, and while we’re busy beating the hell out of each other online, we also tend to skip the trash talk and chatter on about life. Scythe doesn’t know it, but I’ve learned a lot about human things from her. At one point while we’re mopping the hell out of tangos – sucks to be those other players! – she finally says to me, “Nightmare, you’re kinda quiet tonight. Something wrong?” “It’s been a rough night for me,” I tell her. “My co…er, roommate and I had a fight last night, and it was my fault.” I then go into a heavily-edited part of what happened – I’m not about to explain what I really am and besides, I’m not talking about my intimate encounters with North, thank you very much. “I see. So you slept with him, didn’t you?” I almost get myself killed just stopping to figure out how the heck she managed to figure that one out, and she laughs. “Careful! You almost got wallbanged!” Before I can ask, she replies, “I guessed, because you’ve always spoken about him in glowing terms, so I guess you two never fought before. And since there’s only a number of things that could have started a fight, that had to be the most logical reason. Well, let me ask you this: do you love him?” “Yes. And he told me he loves me, too. It’s just…well, there would need to be some changes involved,” I start. She laughs. “Then why not? Go for it, Nightmare! You only live once and no one’s young forever!” “Scythe, it’s not that easy,” I sigh. “Nightmare, it’s never easy,” she tells me over the line. “That’s why it’s love. If I gave up on my boyfriend, we wouldn’t have proposed last month. Trust me: it might be hard, but if he means that much to you, then it’s worth it.” I gasp. Is it really that easy? I ask myself. “You’ve given me something to think about, Scythe. Thanks.” “No problem; I know how that is. Besides, I gotta call it an early night tonight; got a thesis to write for college. Talk to you later, Nightmare. Best of luck!” And with that, she discons from the game, and after getting a few more headshots in just for good measure – I do have a reputation to maintain, after all – I discon as well. The next few days I spend wracking my brain for ways to unlock the power I need for this. I need to access the part of my magic that I’m missing. I need to access her magic. She who is me and yet not me. I sit down to remember all of my/our/her youth. Studying at the hooves of Master Starswirl, me and my sister, ponies of unknown parentage that stood up to ancient monsters and demons in our adult years and became…other. Something Starswirl’s predecessor, Clover the Clever, theorized, but never could prove: ascension. I barely remember the pegasus that I/we/she was born as, or the unicorn that that cunt/my sister/our sister/Tia/Celestia was born as. I cannot remember our parents at all. My first clear memories were of facing down Tirek or assisting Starswirl with dealing with the siren sisters. Then the next thing I remember is something that looked a lot like the hyperspace tunnel in Star Wars, and then…alicorn. Just like that. Part of me, the most elemental part of me, is reminding me that I am a goddess; why in Tartarus should I need to change for anypony? I ignore that part of my mind. It’s probably what got me/us/her/Luna in trouble to begin with. I ignore it: I might be a goddess, but even a goddess deserves to be happy, right? I then remember a lecture that our master gave to us one night, the first one that explains so much. Theories, and so much more, including something particularly useful. Time for me to get to work. My love life is on the line. Two days later, and here I am. North will be home in a couple of days, so I don’t have much time left to do this. Making minor changes, I add some tweaks here and there to the casting circle, hoping that the sand I used – a “fuckton” of it, as North is so fond of saying – from the beach. I double-check everything to make sure that all is well, then I triple-check. Completely sure that everything is in place, I light the candles – these had better be pure, Yankee Candle, or else I’m showing up in-person to demand a refund! – and apply the magic. The candles’ flames rise, as expected, then grow larger, start curving and form a sort of dome around the circle. Then the flames change color, from the warm yellows and oranges of tallow and wax – or whatever they make candles out of here on Earth – to deep blues, sea greens and acrid violets. And as they connect in unison, they start shimmering with all the colors of the rainbow. Rainbows? Oh, shi— I hear a scream. The pain starts ripping through me before I realize it’s my own. The pain is overwhelming, encompassing – it makes the pain from the other day feel like a papercut. Stars, it makes the time I was torn from myself/ourselves/herself/Luna feel preferable! My vision starts swimming, and all I see is rainbow over and over again. My throat feels bloody and raw, and my voice becomes hoarse from the constant yelps of pain, but I can’t stop. I. Just. Can’t. STOP! I see a pair of lilac eyes looking down at me both from everywhere and nowhere. I can’t tell if the eyes are damning, or pitying. But I want to scream at them, scream every obscenity and beg within every bit of my life. Tia, why are you doing this to me? Aren’t we sisters/not-sisters/bitter enemies/complete strangers? Do I/we/she/Luna mean nothing to you? Is it my/our/her fate to be continually punished for sins that were paid for a millennium ago? If it’s because you think I’ve/we’ve/she’s forgotten, I can tell you I haven’t! The pain somehow becomes worse, and I curl into a fetal ball. All plans of anything other than survival are abandoned. I remind myself I’m doing this for North. I then remind myself that at this rate, I might not live to see him again! Oh, stars, this hurts! North, if you can hear me, I need you! Help me! My vision washes out in a mixture of pain and suffering and as I fade to black, the last thing I see are those eyes that seem to be looking at me from everywhere and nowhere. The look in them is one of great pitying, as if I’m an insect about to be devoured by a spider and there’s nothing that can be done but to mourn its passing. And I was wrong about the eyes. They’re not lilac… …they’re golden. My eyes open and I’m treated to the smell of charred and burnt flesh and fur. I look around the house and see that the walls are carbon scored, and everything in the house is ruined. I freak out about Piney before I suddenly remember that he’s at North’s sister’s place. Speaking of which, North is going to kill me! But that’s the least of my worries. I look at my foreleg and it’s a cracked, blackened mess, so utterly destroyed it’s clear that I’m never going to… ...the charred ruins of flesh crack and split open. Pools of blood leak out, and I see something else. I smile weakly before passing out. The door opens and I hear North call out and tell me he’s home. Wait – he’s home? I swear I just crawled to the bed an hour ago – how long was I out? “MOON!” He screams my name, having seen my hoofwork in the living room. I can hear him running towards his bedroom, where I am. He’s frantic, I can tell – I can feel his heart; he’s worried. “MOON!” he screams as he arrives in the bedroom, followed by: “Moon?” I force myself up. “North? I’m sorry I couldn’t clean up everything immediately.” I’m cold. So cold. Everything is freezing. I can hear my teeth chatter and that hasn’t happened to me since the time Celestia and I/we/she/Luna faced Discord when he decided to turn the world into ice cream for no reason at all. “Wh-what did you do?” His voice is half-frantic, half-stunned. I don’t blame him. Things are…different now, and I left a lot of carbon-scoring and blood around the house. “I did it because I love you,” I tell him. “H…how?” he asked. “Magic,” I tell him with a smile. “Help me up, please – I think I’ve been asleep for the past two days, and I still feel weak.” Gingerly, he assists me up and I struggle to move over to the bathroom, where we have a full-length mirror. I look at myself for the first time with new eyes. Well, with old eyes – strangely enough, that’s the only part of me that hasn’t changed. Everything else? Well…how many purple-maned…er, “haired” white girls do you know running around? I’m petite, I guess, and I get the feeling if anyone asks me something, they’ll ask if I know I look like Audrey Hepburn. “Wow. I mean…you did this for me?” “No, I did this for us,” I said, leaning into him – basically because I’m going to have to learn how to stand on two feet now. Dinner that night tastes great! I know it’s meat, and I don’t care. It’s flavorful and savory and I don’t care if North says that it’s probably not healthy – now I can see why he has his eating habits. Mr. McDonald, you have my business! I’m sitting wearing one of his sweatshirts and a pair of his sweatpants, as my clothing doesn’t fit me anymore, since they were made for children, apparently and I’m much larger as a human than I used to be as an alicorn. He’s still looking at me and around the house and oh I’m in trouble, aren’t I? “Moon….” he tells me. “You didn’t have to do this.” “Yes I did,” I reply. “You didn’t want a marefriend – you wanted a girlfriend. I wanted to be whatever you wanted me to be.” I finish up my Big Mac – for some reason I feel as though I should know that name – and reach in the bag for another. When I told him I was starving, he went and bought a few. “That’s where you’re wrong,” he tells me. “I love you, Moon. I didn’t care if we weren’t going to have sex for the rest of our lives or not – I just didn’t want you to be hurt by the differences in….” He blushed – it’s so sweet! “Bodyframes?” I suggest, before taking a sip of Coke. “Uh, yeah, that’d be a good way to put it. But now, you’re….” A thought hits him. “Are you?” “Am I human?” I finish his question and shook my head, then pointed to my eyes, which haven’t changed. “No, I just look it. I’m still the same immortal alicorn inside, I guess. I might have some extra body functions that don’t come with the standard pony model, but for the most part, I can pass for it now.” “Not with those eyes,” he tells me. “I’m not sure even contacts are going to fix that.” “Don’t worry, I’ll fix that somehow, though I’m going to need to do a little more research to make sure I know what I’m doing.” I sigh. “North, if this bothers you, when my magic comes back after a couple of days, I’ll change back. I’m going to have to clean up my mess anyway.” “Well, we can go to the Arrowhead Lake Hotel for a few days until you get back to normal,” he tells me. “We’re going to have to do some shopping for you anyway – I have no idea how to shop for a girl, though; Rachel always did her own shopping.” “I guess we’ll have to figure it out, right?” I say, smiling, reaching out with my hand to take his. He takes mine and squeezes gently, a warm, sensational feeling that makes me feel tingly inside. “So, I guess we’re back to what you asked earlier,” he said. “What about us? Well, this changes everything even more now, Moon. With this, you can be your own woman and have your own life. You don’t have to stay here anymore if you don’t want to. But,” he says, bringing my hand to his lips as he kisses it gently, “I do hope you’ll consider staying with me.” I smile softly. This is my life now, for better or worse. I finally have somewhere I belong. Goodbye, Equestria. And maybe, good riddance. We spend the next two days at the hotel. When we’re not eating or shopping for clothing for me – thankfully the internet had info on how I could get my measurements! – we’re doing other things. And yes, when bolt A goes into slot B like it’s supposed to…it’s heaven.