Part VIII
I am Weighed, I am Measured
There comes a time, thief, when the jewels cease to sparkle, when the gold loses its luster, when the throne room becomes a prison, and all that is left is a father's love for his child. ~ King Osric, Conan the Barbarian
I'm not ready to let her go yet. Obviously this is the case as I am about to entrust my fate to the whims of the Lord of Chaos Discord himself. Why am I not content to stay here, wealthy, where my family is? We may be distant from each other, each one living their own separate lives, but we do like to keep in touch. Why? What am I so driven to follow my adopted daughter into a world that by all rights should only exist in the imagination and on story boards? Dammit, why?
She's my daughter.
Simple answers to a complex dilemma are in themselves perplexing with the ease at which they present the solution. It may be an illogical form of reasoning to be sure, but it is there none the less. I'll admit, I'm simply not happy here. Money means nothing when all it can do is act as a band-aid to what ails within the heart. I understand the mental scars have started to resurface in the days since Chrysalis was taken back to Equestria. I understand Celestia did not want me to go because I simply am not of that world. I understand why she brought the six mares with her. She had expected a battle, a fight with a queen. She had expected to find Chrysalis in a less than compliant mood, preparing for the worst.
Discord gave me a few days to think it over before committing to his mad little scheme of me going there, to the magical world of ponies, dragons, griffons, and the other denizens of fantasy and imagination.
I had dedicated most of my adult life to raising a changeling, a cute little filly into a beautiful young mare. I had seen her scrape her knees, cry from dropping a glass on the floor, laugh when a butterfly landed on her nose, drool on the couch when she fell asleep while watching a movie with me. I punished her for breaking one of my grandmother's old china dishes, swatting her fair and square on the rump and sending her to her room. I've yelled at her, hugged her, loved her, made all the hurts go away, taught her right from wrong...
Chryssie was - is - stubborn as a child. Willful. Independent. Wonderful. When she was in the mood to resist my expectations, she had been very good at it. Our wills matched and I usually won. She tested me, I tested her. We got on each others nerves. She even yelled back at me when she thought she was in the right. I've apologized to her for being wrong, far less than she to me. She grew, I grew. We loved each other. Oh, there was the typical resentment I assume daughters have towards their fathers when they didn't get their way. She had the last laugh as her daddy was firmly wrapped around her little hoof. Or horn. Whichever.
I'm sitting in her room, specifically on her bed. It feels so empty. My eyes constantly wander around to the various objects; the toys and books and other little worldly things reminding me of her, the past as it was, how it felt it would never end. Yet, in the back of my mind always in those years, I knew. I made sure she knew. I prepared her the best I could. I never told her there might be a very slim possibility I might chase after her. I wanted to, but something prevented me. Perhaps it was the fear my words would simply be that; words with nothing to brace them against.
As much of a challenge it was to bring up a changeling in a world of humans, I'd do it again in a heartbeat. Never once did I ever see a hint of the premise she was ever evil to begin with, as hinted in the show. Of course, she had her own opinions on things and we would spend hours discussing our views as she became older and more interested in engaging in those sort of things. I trust I have prepared her as best I can, yet I also feel as though Discord's words are having an affect on me.
"Without her connection to you, Chrysalis will eventually revert to what she was like before, having lost the love you were giving her. In time, she'll be like a starving animal and will turn on her new found friends and be right back in the same position that lead her to her debacle at Canterlot."
Those were his words. Was he implying what I taught her was for nothing? Those years trying to mold her into something good and beautiful, inside and out? Isn't that what a father was supposed to do? Or was there another outside influence over there, in Equestria which might try to seduce her into doing something she would not normally consider outside of the realm of common sense. I'm sure the alicorns would do everything they could to make sure Chrysalis understood the value of friendship and accept her for what she was.
I took into consideration something that should have dawned on me, as the show itself had progressed. There were other changelings, other queens. They had the mental links Chrysalis desired and needed in order to be a properly functioning queen in her own right. What if she were to link with them until she was able to establish her own hive. I had not thought of that. Even now, as it dawns on me, I begin to grasp this one simple fact: As the show went on, so was a look into Equestria and how it too was moving along with its own time.
Perhaps the utopia was not as utopian as I had thought it was depicted to be. Perhaps what the world saw in the show itself was just one tiny sliver of life in motion. Very rarely was the viewer exposed to what lay beyond the borders of Equestria, rather than subtle hints and suggestions. What political struggles were going on over there? Was there something else going on? Was their world not really all that much different than ours? Was someone going to rediscover Chrysalis from beyond the influence of the Sun and the Moon and seek to exploit her newness to a world that had once already seen her walk in it long ago? Was someone going to take her second chance at being something special and rob her of it?
The more I thought about it, the more I began to convince myself going was not only necessary, but paramount to my daughter's future.
The old dreams are coming back to me, but with a twist. I think being linked with Chryssie had suppressed those old hauntings, keeping them in check. But soon after she left, they came back. The first time, I woke up screaming, bathed in sweat and weeping. Only there was a change to the dream. Instead of me shooting the kid, I shot Chrysalis. Hugging my knees to my chest, I rocked there in my bed like a lunatic, staring a thousand miles away. As I did, I wept. I'd never do that to my pumpkin!
Never!
There were other dreams, not all of them bad. I dreamt mostly of Chryssie and the things we used to do. I dreamt of my family finding out about her and throwing me into an asylum when she never showed up after I called and called and called for her. Then there was the dream of the government finding out about her, taking me into custody and placing me in some dark room, tied to a chair and endlessly questioned. It was always the same questions, the faces blank, the figures dark and foreboding.
To kill the silence in my house, I'm always playing loud music. Mostly the heavy metal from my younger days. Chryssie and I used to listen to some of it when we cleaned the house, but I really had the foundations vibrating. I need the noise to keep the voices berating me in my head for failing to protect my daughter from Celestia when she finally came. I also find it helps me to think. Yeah, I know I'm going to Equestria, but the last sense I felt from Chryssie haunts me. Just as she winked from my world and into that other one, I felt her sense of being betrayed. I felt her heart break. Her eyes. She could not tear her gaze from me, those tears brimming, threatening to cascade at any moment while she waits for her daddy to call her to his side, to tell the white mare "NO!".
It's what she wanted. I know it. Damn it, I felt it from her.
The music is a poor substitute. Megadeth, Metallica, Iron Maiden, Nickelback, Slipknot, Creed... those bands from my youth and early adulthood return, as well as some of the softer music I like. Classical music from the Masters are thrown in. Old rock, Rhythm and Blues, any and everything pleasing to my ears. Even some country for good measure. There's a few movie soundtracks I enjoy, so they go into the mix, too. I need variety in my music. As I said, it's a poor substitute for not hearing my daughter's voice. God, I miss it. I even miss the arguments. She had more of a lean towards classical-style music than metal, but we'd both sing a few songs together on the karaoke machine now sitting unused in a corner of the house.
The Mustang she built remains unpainted in the garage. I notice for the first time the upholstery is cracked and faded. It was rebuilt, but never finished. Everything else works like a charm, almost as good as new. I spend a lot of free time when not moping in the house taking that unfinished Mustang out and driving it. She called it Twilight, naming it after her favorite pony.
I wonder if they're getting along? I hope they've become friends. Chryssie needs them as I've been her only one over the years. My fears wander in the direction of thinking I've made a social recluse, much as I've made myself become. You know the saying, like father, like daughter. Or in this case, shape-shifter.
It's the first time I've actually considered her this, as I now have a lot of time to think about her in a new light. Not having the light of my dim world with me has given me a new perspective. Chrysalis is a changeling. Therefore, she can shape-shift. Which means she can assume any form she pleases within a certain limit. She can mimic any voice with frightening accuracy. She once spent a whole day using my own voice, reminding me of how funny I think I sound. My voice is soft, I recall, thinking of the day she voiced me. I'm blunt, with a little rough to go with the gentle tone I stick to. Of course, that's me comfortable, relaxed. I asked her what I sounded like when I'm yelling or when I'm mad. I have a booming voice when I apply myself, but it's not deep. When angry, my voice grates with a growling undertone. It's not menacing by the weight of its volume, but it can send chills up the spine in how I vocally express my anger.
I was a sergeant, remember? Roaring out orders to guys up to a hundred yards away required being able to project one's voice, even if it wasn't exactly drill instructor quality. I could still bark with the best of them. Chryssie had my in hysterics when she imitated me, giving insane little orders while she strutted through the living room and the kitchen.
I miss her badly.
So yeah, I've made up my mind. My will was drawn up years ago. Everything would be divided equally with all direct members of my family. It might be irrational to think this, but I believe they would be happier with my money than with me. I know this isn't true, but I really just lack the will to stay on this world without knowing Chrysalis is safe. Besides, my only real reason for staying died years ago. I'm being selfish, I know. I'm being irrational for sure.
Right now, there are seven wars raging across the planet. The Middle East has three of them. Humans are killing humans for political, religious, and other reasons. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of people thinking their causes and beliefs are better than others. I'm sick of the hypocrisy.
Beam me up, Scotty. There's no intelligent life here. Or common sense.
Maybe I'm being too cynical. Maybe I'm not over the death of my biological daughter. Maybe I'm just looking for a fresh start. Maybe I just want to make sure my adopted daughter is safe and able to live her life happily, peacefully. Maybe I just don't know what I want. Maybe it's just me.
It certainly isn't money.
First of all, Discord played with the numbers. One could argue he even cheated, working disharmony in my favor. Why did he do it? Why did he flub some numbers so I could win? He didn't have to. I thought he was all about causing mischief and mayhem. His explanation to me was perfectly fine, perfectly sensible. It was also utterly insane when you think about it.
Why was I going to Equestria? Discord had told a story of what happened to Chrysalis after her failure at Canterlot. Her whole hive destroyed? Why would she do such a thing? Was I supposed to discover the reason behind it? Was she supposed to rediscover her past? There had to be more to Discord's story than what he told me. He was not the sort to answer directly unless he had an angle. At least, that was my perception from him, based upon his character. The answers were, of course, in Equestria. Another reason to go there was to satisfy my dim curiosity.
Those days Discord promised has stretched into a month and well into its fifth week. I'm beginning to lose my mind. Again.
Yay me.
Oh, I suppose I should get on with the story. The truth will be revealed as this tale of mine unfolds. Well, it's as much Chrysalis' journey as it is mine.
There's a knock at my door. It's a light knocking, hesitant and pensive, almost as if the person on the other side is fearful of what might answer. I go to answer it, slowly pulling the door open with honestly no idea who could be knocking. I'm expecting Discord to show up at any given minute.
I'm not expecting a butter yellow pony with a pink mane looking up at me with borderline panic in her eyes. Fluttershy winces when I make eye contact, her wings shuffling restlessly as she utters a little muffled "meep!" and hiding her eyes behind her mane.
Flabberghasted at the unexpected visitor, my eyes find a scroll in the little pegasus mare's mouth as she slowly emerges with her snout form beneath her mane. She's trying to smile through the parchment, a shy, forced little grin that could very easily shift to terror. I can see it in her eyes, her fear.
"Please come in, Miss Fluttershy," I say to her, not really knowing what else to speak. Swinging the door inwards, I step to one side and put on my most gentle expression, like what I used to give Chryssie when she was a filly. The last pony I would ever be mean to is the sweet Element of Kindness. Her name is not hard to remember.
My guest hesitates, hovering a dainty hoof in a half-hearted step over the threshold, her eyes flinching from me, to the interior of the house, then back to me. With what I could only assume is a great swelling of courage on her part, she inhales deeply, closes her eyes and slinks shyly into the house. I lead her to the living room, offer her a place on the couch, and wonder on the thought that had first popped into my thick skull and tiny brain when first laying eyes upon the pegasus.
What was she doing here?
"Um," she whispers, her cyan eyes casting down at her hooves. Her voice hovers to a barely decipherable tone, not at all comfortable with me, being in my house, probably for being alone.
Why was she here alone? Fluttershy wouldn't do anything by herself, unless she had eyes watching her, hidden. Was I being tested? Who would put her up to this? Discord?
"I'm sorry?"
She frowns, realizing she still has the note in her mouth and sets it on the coffee table. Again, she says something my ears can't make out. Her ears lay flat for a moment, her adorable little eyes going to and fro as though anything other than making direct eye contact with me was preferable. Instead, she reaches a hoof out and pushes the scroll towards me.
"Is that for me?"
She smiles, gives a little nod and quickly shrinks from me as I reach down and pick it up. I want to open it, but I'm seeing Fluttershy trembling. I hate to admit it, but my heart's breaking even though she has all rights to fear me. Thinking for a moment, I tap the scroll against my chin and come up with an on-the-spot idea, my sights having settled on the photo album. I recall Fluttershy likes cute things.
Why not show her pictures of Chryssie growing up?
"Want to see some baby pictures?" I suggest to Fluttershy with a small, hopeful smile.
Her ears perk forward, seeing I am pointing at the large photo album at the center of the coffee table. "Baby pictures?" They're the first words I hear from her clearly without needing to strain my hearing.
"Chryssie as a filly. Erm, you know her as Chrysalis. She was adorable!"
She isn't quite so sure of my claim, furrowing her brows and looking up at me over a scrunched muzzle in the softest look of doubt I could ever imagine. Think if you will, a singular ripple gently over a face, like a tiny wave over the peaceful glass surface of a pond. It fades, morphs into a gentle smile and a little cute nod.
"I would like that, I think. I mean, if it's not too much trouble."
"I'll even get a drink. Do you like apple juice?" I have the album in my hands, pulling it to the end of the table and opening it for Fluttershy. She's stretching her neck curiously, flinching any time a hand or a forearm seems to go towards her.
"That would be... nice," she breathes to me softly, still nervous but at least intrigued.
With a grin, I get up - slowly as to not startle - and head for the kitchen. My eyes search as I go, the scroll fitting neatly in my flannel shirt pocket. There's no way in hell Fluttershy would be here by herself. No. Damned. Way. Where's Discord? She's his best friend and I figure the only reason she's here is because he got her to come, one way or another for...
...for what, exactly? To test me? To see how I would treat a pony? Why would any idiot put sweet Fluttershy in such a dangerous position if they thought I was a threat? Would Discord to that to her? I thought... My thoughts degenerate into what the fandom perceived the relationship to be. My face becomes a skewered conflict as I berate myself for making such an assumption. Still, I sense... something else in the house, watching me. Curious. Wondering. Suspicious.
It's not Discord. He likes me.
I think.
I pull a glass from the cupboard, my thoughts troubled. Another one joins it on the counter by the sink. From the refrigerator I pull out the juice promised to Fluttershy. I fill both glasses, then put the carton away. Staring at the two glasses, I take a moment to pour myself a cup of coffee from an hour old pot. A half full glass of juice is left on the counter as I take Fluttershy's drink and my coffee and turn towards the living room, offering under my breath with a smile, "Get your drink and join us in the living room."
I thought I heard a startled gasp from somewhere around me. It might have been my imagination, but my ears certainly picked up something.
Fluttershy is still on the first page, looking at the photos with great interest, her eyes large and wondering. Her pink mane conceals most of her face, having fallen partially upon the album. She notices it and gently pushed her hair off as I set her drink down next to her. The butter yellow pegasus smiles up at me - shyly, of course - revealing to me her guilty pleasure of loving all things cute. There's not much to reveal, really.
"She's so adorable!" she coos at me, her hoof brushing over one particular photo. I peer over her shoulder as I sit down.
It's my daughter, her second molting having just been completed. She's in the tub, her hair a mess of shampoo suds bubbling around her face and around her little horn. It's grown considerably since, I note with a sigh. Chryssie is looking at the camera phone, this being the first time she showed irritation at having her image recorded for posterity. Her eyes are huge, round, cheeks puffy with her little mouth a straight line. She's on the verge of telling me 'no!', her right hoof reaching for me. I remember that day as though it had happened just last night.
"She was about this big," I tell Fluttershy, sitting back and holding my hands apart a little wider than a foot. I still have my coffee and my guest's drink in the other hand. Sheepishy I set them down, putting her drink in front of her. I again spread my hands apart to emphasize my daughter's size at the time the photo was taken.
The pegasus tilts her head to one side, looking at my hands as she tries to imagine the image in the photo to the size I'm depicting with my hands. She puts a hoof over her mouth to stifle the giggle. "Thank you for the juice," she says quietly, taking the glass in both... hooves? I watch in fascination as she grasps it with no fingers with seeming ease.
How does she do that?
"Who is the letter from?" I ask, producing the scroll from my front pocket. Wanting to read it right away, there's a part of me not wanting to read it.
She thinks for a moment, a little frown on her cute face. "I'm sorry, Mr. Spriggs, but I don't know who wrote it. Princess Celestia asked me to give it to you. Maybe she wrote it? I don't know. I'm sorry." Fluttershy becomes a bit downcast.
"You're just the messenger." I grin, shrug and begin to open the seal. "Nothing to apologize about. Go ahead and keep looking at the pictures. You seem to be enjoying yourself."
She nods and does just that. As she peruses my family album, I give myself a slurp from my coffee right after breaking the seal, set the cup back down and unfurl the parchment. I note it is of a fine, heavy quality for the first time. The script with which the words are written flow across the paper, masterful and beautiful to behold. The pen strokes I note are strong, yet precise, gentle, yet firm. There is a calm in the way the script is presented to me, thoughtful and kind. In a way, it reminded me of how the Constitution was drawn up almost two hundred fifty years ago by the Founding Fathers of the United States. This writing, however is so much easier to read despite the cursive scripture.
Dear Michael Spriggs,
A warm greetings, Father of Chrysalis! It has come to my attention you wish to follow your adopted daughter's footsteps into Equestria. I find this confusing as you appeared in our first and last meeting to have accepted staying in your world where as Chrysalis would return to her own. As I do not begrudge your desire to follow her and protect her, rest assured, everything is being done to preserve her happiness.
Your reason for coming to Equestria is one I find understandable, yet also of greatly flawed logic. As it was Discord who first sent Chrysalis to your world, I would imagine you would expect him to bring you to Equestria. However, his plans were discovered and he was brought before me for questioning. Young Fluttershy, the mare presenting the letter to you, was able to ferret out his plan and he explained everything - yet said nothing - in regards to why you must come to Equestria. He plays his own game, I fear, with no regards to the feelings of others, be it yours or your adopted daughter's.
Be that as it may, it would appear the link you share with Chrysalis is indeed as Discord suggested to me; that of a hive mind derivative. Think of it as a mental bond that can stablize a mind by giving it something else to lean upon when stressed. This sort of mental support apparently is exclusive to very special bonds of changelings, however this is simple theory in its earliest of stages. Twilight Sparkle, my student is eager to explore the realms of the magical link Chrysalis established with you.
Which brings me to a troubling reality facing me. Chrysalis has been with us but a short while, yet she pines for her father. She pines for you. She is irritable and sulks a great deal. She complains a great deal of headaches. My sister, Luna has tried to walk in her dream scape, to see if there is something she can do to relieve the changeling in her own way, but the dreams of your daughter are, as Luna described them to be, a storm of confusion, lost in a world she does not know. She is terribly frightened, though she masks it well around us. As I have become more aware of her, so am I becoming aware of her great discomfort.
I have not had a moment to properly gauge you, Mr. Spriggs. I would give you the opportunity to come to Equestria, but only if you pass but one simple test. My sister will administer this test. I trust her to do things her way, so I do not know the nature of the test she has devised for you. I believe your daughter needs you as much as you need her. Should you pass my sister's test, so shall you be invited and warmly welcomed to come to Equestria.
With Sincere Regards,
Princess Celestia
So, Discord was found out? I re-read the letter, noting out of the corner of my eye Fluttershy's constant shift of attention to me, as if trying to read my reaction. Her ears flicker forward and back as she seems to be trying to figure out my mood. I amaze myself by remaining impassive, sipping my coffee and rubbing the stubble on my chin. I idley think of the gray hairs that have started to appear in the mirror when I don't shave.
"Interesting," I mumble at last. The seconds had passed by at the pace of a thousand years each as I mulled over the words. Well, I know who came with Fluttershy now. "How's the apple juice?" I ask generally, then take another quick slurp of warm coffee. I am not looking at Fluttershy.
My gaze has wandered over in the direction of the kitchen, settling on a slender dark form seemingly to be more mane and tail than actual body. Ethereal stars and dark matter fill them, surrounding the majestic indigo form regarding me with hard blue dragon eyes. She and Celestia are roughly the same size, having finally coming fully into her own as an alicorn and firmly an equal to her elder sister.
Season Five, opening story arc for the first two episodes, "Nightmare Again".
She prefers to be called Luna. She never was anything else but. Her full powers had manifested themselves long ago, twisting into something dark and not very nice when it should have just been her coming into her own and finally establishing herself as Celestia's equal, as they were supposed to rule equally. Unfortunately, the whole jealousy thing from way back when with the banishing and the thousand year wait...
You know the story. Well, here she is, in her full dark majesty - sans armor - and regarding me with hard curiosity. The Princess of the Moon, Luna is standing right there, holding aloft the glass of apple juice I had poured her next to her head. She swirls it as one might do so in contemplation while regarding something not worthy of her trust. For a moment, it briefly reminds me of Chryssie's own gaze, but it disappears as there is a wary air about Luna as she studies me openly, taking a sip from her glass without so much as a blink.
I'm finding myself creeped out by her stance and stare. I'm also fully aware if she wanted to, Luna could obliterate me with a casual flick of her horn. I struggle to remind myself there is a kind-hearted princess beneath that deadly exterior. Nightmare Moon is like facing Artemis, though I'm not sure alicorns like her are truly gods. Like Celestia, Luna certainly feels to me like a goddess. She is ancient, powerful, and far more aggressive than Celestia.
So, here she is, the Princess of the Night regarding me without her armor on.
"I thank you for the refreshment," she says, her voice having a softer edge than her eyes. "I should let you know, Mr. Spriggs I am against you coming to Equestria."
Fluttershy tries to hide within her mane, the presence of the alicorn not so much upsetting her as her concern for me is apparent in her body language. "Princess Luna, he seems nice," she insists, urging at her ruler with a waving hoof. "He's not a meanie!"
Luna blinks a bit, adjusting her gaze to her little pony. "Was that a bit much, Fluttershy?"
"Just a teeny-tiny bit."
"Hmph! One would think speaking to a human would be easy." Luna huffs, breaking into a slight grin.
No, she does not have fangs, contrary to popular belief.
"Why the grim routine?" I ask in regards to her rather dramatic entrance. I'm not a guy who scares easy, unless it's a loud noise like a bang.
"Have you read my sister's letter?" she asks, indicating the paper still in my hands with a flick of her magic, causing a single tap like someone flicking a corner with a finger. "I am Luna, Princess of Equestria."
I stand to my feet, my manners coming late as I introduce myself awkwardly. I know I should not be that surprised, having spent the last thirteen years or so raising Chrysalis, but I force myself to suspend my disbelief currently doing backflips in the back of my mind. Oh, yeah, you think you're used to raising a shape-shifter for thirteen years or so, get over the insanity of Discord's little pocket universe, and even witnessing Celestia and her six bearers waltz into my house and spirit my daughter off to her world. Then you see Princess Luna, the darkened equal of her elder sister and co-ruler of a fantasy kingdom regarding you in your very house.
For a moment, I think my mind went bye-bye a long time ago and I'm in some padded room drooling in a corner and wearing a lovely straight jacket. Maybe I've been there for years, since Crystal died. I'm pretty sure I should have lost it back then. I should be a crazy man, wandering the streets and pushing a shopping cart I fished out of the river...
Stop it, Mike. Get a damned hold of yourself!
"Is something wrong?" Luna asks me, the concern etched on her equine features.
"I think I've gone insane," I say with a shrug, finishing off my coffee as if I just gave my opinion on the weather. "Don't mind me. I think the past decade plus has been a skip through Elysium Fields." Maybe I already killed myself long ago and this is where I've been ever since?
Apparently I uttered that last bit of my thoughts out loud. Fluttershy is staring at me, leaning more towards comprehending as to lack of understanding as she puts a comforting hoof on my hand.
"You are scarred, aren't you?" Luna moves towards me, relaxing a bit. "Celestia told me what she thought she understood of you. Perhaps it was unwise to separate you from Chrysalis to begin with." Her tone is almost motherly.
"So why come here? I thought Discord was going to come."
"He confessed his plans. Young Fluttershy here managed to make the miscreant confess his plans to her when he let slip a little how he sent Chrysalis to your world." The alicorn flicked her ears in annoyance. "He was willing to sneak you into Equestria and let chaos happen. Naturally, that cannot happen. As it stands, the methods of bringing you properly into another world will be controlled. Discord may have very well transported to you the Everfree Forest, with nary a means or knowledge for you to protect yourself with."
And I was perfectly fine with that plan, to be honest. I find my attention diverted to the yellow pegasus looking up at me with her shy smile. Damn adorableness!
"Discord wouldn't do that," she assures me uncomfortably, almost apologetic as the thought he would do just that crossed her thoughts. Fluttershy sits back and begins chewing on a hoof. "He wouldn't do that, would he?" she questions herself, knitting her brows together.
"He's spent the past few years on this world studying you, watching you, learning about you, and seeing how you would raise a changeling," Luna went on, snatching my attention from Fluttershy. "After his plans were discovered, he told my sister everything after she returned from your world with Chrysalis. I would like to know how he bypassed the difference in the passage of time for our respective realities." She was actually talking to herself more than me with that last sentence, her musings almost breaking her train of thought.
"So, why are you here?"
She smiles at me. "I would like to examine your dreams."
"What?"
"Only with your permission, of course."
"What?"
"It's not going to damage you in any way, I assure you, my good human."
"Lady, I don't know if you're familiar with my dreams, but I'm not really all that comfortable with having someone else poking around in my head and seeing the dark things I've got in there."
She stares at me, ears perking forward with a great deal of interest. "I can understand your concerns. Think of this as a requirement if you are to be allowed into Equestria. I have a kingdom to consider. Protecting my subjects is of the upmost importance to me." Luna shifts her wings, resetting them as her regal pose is uncompromising. "However, neither my sister nor myself would be at all at ease if a separation of two beings results in the both of them living out their lives in pain and confusion. I am to know a little of you, to weigh and measure you by seeing into your dreams. If I am satisfied with what I see, then I shall take you into Equestria."
I lean back into the couch, staring at the hands listlessly resting on my lap. Do I dare let a princess stare into my dreams, my thoughts, my memories and see the horrors I've been reliving?
It's for Chryssie.
"What do you need me to do?" I ask.
Her horn begins to glow indigo as she approaches me. "Sleep. Nothing more. I shall do the rest." Luna offers a smile for my benefit. "Simply allow the tip of my horn to touch your forehead. I promise you shall not feel anything other than a warm tingling sensation."
"Everything is going to be okay," Fluttershy assures me. She's such a sweet little thing!
I comply, closing my eyes. I can feel her breath on my face. Surprisingly, it's sweet and lulls me into a groggy haze. The tip of her horn touches my skin. I know nothing more...
I'm younger. I'm armed. I'm armored. I'm in uniform. Everything around us is a world of dry mountain air, sparse vegetation, a brown village largely lost in a forgotten time. Electricity is extremely rare in this region, the natives living in tribal groups. They suspect the foreigners treading upon their soil, the infidels disrupting their world. My M-4 carbine is at the ready position, muzzle angled towards the ground, selector lever on single shot, a round already chambered. I'm covered in dust and sweat and grime, as it's part of the job. Faces I recognize follow behind me, four other guys the lieutenant ordered to follow me as we sweep the perimeter.
With a grin, I note the goat tied outside of someone's front door, largely forgotten as the villagers are huddling somewhere in their homes, afraid of the Americans. I hate that. I hate people being afraid of me. I don't want to be there any more than they want me visiting. I can't remember the orders I give, just that I say something and the guys do it. It's a dream. Why can't I remember what was said so long ago?
Their faces are masks, hiding the fear we all have when venturing into a possible hostile situation. We've all felt the sting of battle. I personally hate it. I hate the killing. It makes me hate myself more each time I see someone else fall to one of my bullets. I've never been proud to take another human life.
Will this war ever end? It's madness. The purpose of our presence now lies somewhere rotting on the bottom of the Indian Ocean. Why the hell are we here? The people don't want us. The government is corrupt as all hell, yet we need to 'stabilize' the region. I love people. I enjoy meeting new cultures and learning customs I am not familiar with. I've picked up some of the local dialects, thanks to our interpreters, though my overall grasp of the language would make a five year old laugh at me.
Speaking of which, to my left, a faded blue door cracks open and I see a little face looking at me with big brown eyes. It's a little girl. She stares at me, gaping. I wave at her, smile, shoo her back inside her house. A pair of hands wrap around her waist, pulling her into the darkness within, the door slamming shut as a hysterical mother berates her daughter.
There's a crack of an AK-47 rattling above the house, down at us into the street. I'm hit in the side, turning towards the sound. It misses the plate protecting my vitals, going through me just above my left hip. The force of the blow knocks me into the wall and I'm instinctively firing at the shadow of a bearded man in white robes and vest spraying, not aiming his weapon. One of the other guys gets a quick bead on him and there's a lethal barking. The bearded man falls back, flinging his weapon away, arms flailing as he cries out.
I slide to the ground, legs sprawling out before me as I press my hand into the wound. Even though I know I'm bleeding, I check my gloved hand and see my own wet crimson on my fingers. Great. Just great.
"You were a warrior?"
"I was."
The world is numb around me, the form of Luna appearing before my eyes as a cloud of twinkling shadows, assuming her pony form. My squad works on me, calling out for the medic. I think the round went completely through my body, only tissue damage. It burns like hell. Yet, I'm having a conversation with a talking horse!
Well, it is a dream.
"What memory is this?" I notice her curiosity as she surveys her surroundings.
Numbly, I respond, "I killed a child on this day."
The medic shows up, patches me as best he can. I insist I can move on. The guys help me to my feet even as the crackling of more gunfire erupts on the other side of the village. I'm barking out orders, guys seek out cover, eyes darting everywhere. There's the sound of explosions. Grenades? IEDs? RPGs? Who knows. The Taliban uses whatever they can get their hands on, using guerrilla tactics.
Luna fades. I guess she just wants to watch this. I know it feels weird to me being a spectator to my own memory, brought to livid detail by the magic of the Moon Princess. We're noticed and more gunfire is leveled in our direction. We respond in kind, our aim much more deliberate, though at first directional to force the enemy to duck. The whining sound of rounds passing overhead and striking the walls is rapid, coming in bursts, creating wide patterns. The street is narrow, more or less straight, curving downwards with the slope of the hill the village rests upon. The angle isn't steep. Robed forms dart from one side of the street to the other, spraying at us with their assault rifles. I drop one.
The range is short in this place, the firefights happening between ten and twenty yards apart. I'm hit twice, my body armor absorbing each round. I grunt, the wind knocked out of my lungs as I'm again pressed against a wall, seeking cover.
"RPG!" comes the cry somewhere behind me.
The world behind me is lost in an explosion. I'm flung forward, over a cart, my shoulder shredded. I can't hear a damn thing now, other than the ringing in my ears. There's dust everywhere. I feel a hand gripping my good arm, pulling me up and back where I had just been flung from. We've got a guy down, his left leg a complete mess, bone sticking out from beneath skin and uniform. The grenade had exploded right next to it. Thankfully the angle of the wall took most of the blast, but his leg was as good as amputated.
I lay down suppressing fire, along with another guy. I'm shouting out where to lay down covering support. A door right next to me opens from across the way, I see a kid come out. He's armed. Pointing the barrel right at us. Its spouting spurts of flame. I don't think; I react, pressing the trigger. The boy drops, his face a mask of pain and shock. I stare at him, his fall slow, the world going silent around me.
I died that day.
"Such guilt. Such a burden."
Everything around me darkens, a warm blanket of nothingness around me. I feel nothing, everything. I sense being watched, judged, studied. Everything shifts. I can't see it, but the dream changes. I can feel it. Then, it begins to warp, reshape, the sensation of gravity and firm ground beneath me evident. The world in this dreamscape alters, becomes a place I'm familiar with, a place of eternal rest. I'm standing on a hill, no longer in uniform, no longer in that hell hole. There is, before me an impossibly close full moon, bathing me in her pale light. Before us is a singular marker in the rounded top of a small hill, a tiny grave bearing a name upon its smooth surface.
Crystal Luann Spriggs
Beloved Daughter
I stare at the stone, remembering the first time I had visited it years ago. I had taken Chryssie with me so she could see her sister. The daughter I knew so poorly had to meet the daughter I had taken as my own flesh and blood. As a matter in fact, my adopted daughter is with me now, sensing my hurt as I lay the bouquet of flowers before the headstone, kneeling with one hand on top of the stone, my head bowed in silent prayer.
"Daddy, does my sister sleep here?" she asked me then, the memory in the now, her voice as gentle as a breeze, mournful as a gray sky filled with rain.
"Yes, pumpkin. She sleeps here."
Oh, she must have been about ten years old at the time, but she understood then as she understands in this dream. Luna stands behind the stone, approaching as her form emerges and takes solid shape from the moon, her ethereal mane flowing with mystical energy I can't begin to comprehend.
"I wish she could have known you." I look up at my daughter. She weeps for me as she did then, the want to smile and make me feel better evident on her equine features. We embrace, father and daughter.
Luna's visage assumes sad respect.
"I would have liked to have met her, daddy," Chryssie said then, the memory a dream now made real.
Rather, it felt real. It was not the pain of loss I felt as strongly as it was the sense a sort of circle had finally been finished, yet left wanting. It felt unfinished despite it should have been. The lingering air around us was uncertain, as if the final result needed an epilogue.
"Your heart began to heal," Luna intones, her voice a babbling brook of sincerity.
In a sense, you could say I was reborn at my daughter's grave. Renewed with a confirmation of my new purpose to be a surrogate father to a changeling who would one day be a queen in her own right.
"Your heart is your daughter and your daughter is your soul."
I say to Luna in return, "There comes a time, princess, when the jewels cease to sparkle, when the gold loses its luster, when the home becomes a prison, and all that is left is a father's love for his child."
The dream fades, and I wake up...
My eyes flutter open, feeling wet, my cheeks as well. My free hand goes to wipe the tears from my face, sniffling as I feel something holding my left hand. I look down and see Fluttershy holding me with her hooves, her concerned gaze upon me as though I was one of her injured birds.
"Are you all right, Mr. Spriggs?" She's crying for me, that sad little face biting the lower lip as all the poor mare could do while I cried in my dream was sit there and watch me.
I pat her on the head, smiling. "I'm fine, thanks. Call me Mike."
Fluttershy returns the smile, hugging my hand. "Okay...Mike."
My attention shifts to the alicorn focused upon me, all signs of apprehension about me seemingly faded, gone. She stares, settling on her rump demurely before again contemplating her thoughts inwards. Dipping her chin, Luna considers whatever is in her head. I note she had shed a tear or two herself. When it comes up, she bears a smile for me.
"Make your final preparations, Mr. Spriggs," she says with the authoritative air of a monarch. "We leave for Equestria within the hour."
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So, here's my honest thoughts on it.
I took one look at the title, and immediately my mind raced back to that... thing, that was written by Cakeran. I felt a cold shiver run through my spine, and I resisted the urge to slap myself for having thoughts of a fan-ficton of a fan-fiction with Chrysalis substituted for Dashie. Again, shiver.
I looked at the artwork, and my heart seized on me. I love Chrys... she's the most underrated, unappreciated character in the show. Shut up Sethisto, this isn't about Lula!
I clicked the link, read through the comments to see the variety of pros and cons, and then like Batman fisting the controls of the Batmobile, I punched that shit! I read through the first third of chapter one, and here's what I found.
Good creative writing. This is not a rip-off of Cakeran. This is original, it's driven, and it has a point to our character, right from the start. I read through it thinking of my friend's brother who has experienced almost the exact same thing. Comes back from war bugged out of his mind, loses his daughter, and buries himself in drinking. It was reality come home to me.
For this you get a huge "like" and a "favorite".
Hell of an intro, this story should be voted up more. And if the jerkwad readers would actually read past the description, they'd be taking back some of those down votes.
I have waited for this and i am not disappointed! Good job
I have waited for this and i am not disappointed! Good job
Ah yes! I knew it!
3257068
YAY! this is such a heart warming story, im glad you are continuing it
So this story is expanding or are you going to make a Part 2 as a separate story? Cause I'd say have next story separate, but then again you are the one writing so you have the final say.
JOLLY GOOD SHOW!
Keep it up, breh!
3257703 I felt this story needed a transition for its ending to satisfy my own specific type of ending. I'm not a terribly huge fan of sad endings and I wanted to put the spark of life back into Mike's soul. He's gonna need it!
I'm sorry I don't know what to say? Here have these
Awww hells yeah! Very glad you decided to continue.
...and so the story continues.
3268141>>3260631 Planning a sequel. Had to add one more chapter for my own selfish desires. For some reason, I just can't leave it alone. Don't know when I'll get around to it, but I do want and will write a sequel/follow-up.
3257068
I hope you know, I'm going to have to
stealborrow that analogy some time.3269888 That's really why he did it; self-amusement so he can sit back, have a big bowl of popcorn, and see what happens.
I'm the one hundredth thumb up!
What do I win?
That is all. Equestria is ours.
3311256 You win a thumbs up!
Seriously though, I'm happy to see this many people have a positive reaction to my story!
3313662 Thank you!
It's... it's beautiful...
3313950 That... was beautiful.
All of my yes and manly tears.
3353887
3354929 Thank you!
3314098 I decided not to.
I have not even started reading and I already know it will be good. I mean look at that cover art!
it's so adorable.
3372600 Oh, I don't mind. I wasn't trying to break any new barriers in writing. I just wanted to write a good story. Thanks for your thoughts!
3372933 I need to watch that movie.
Yes! A continuance!
3435177i guess your right...
3489088You like?
Is that it!?!
MORE!!!
3489909continued on My Daughter Chrysalis!
great story. First mlp fanfic that actually made me cry
I remember reading this with your account on fanfitcion, so now I shall fav, and like the story here. Loved it, loved it, loved it.
3628796 Thank you!
Wow this was amazing. Whilst I liked My Little Dashie, you have developed a full blown narrative that far surpasses that story in detail, eloquence, and overall quality. I would praise you more, but I'm so excited I'm gonna die if I wait any longer, gotta go read the sequel!!!
this was a good story I loved it
3749401 It was a test of faith. In the end, Job was given double the wealth and had a new family when he proved his faith was unshakable. If you read the Old Testament, you'll find it very brutal indeed. The scary part is a lot of the events depicted from a historical standpoint have been verified by other historical records.
As for Chryssie hunting, there'll be stories she and Mike will share. Oh, my there are stories. They'll be told in the sequel and I'm planning some a collection of one-shots of their adventures through America while she grew up. I simply don't know when I'll get around it.
Let's see: Sad tag, description about how bad life is and a charcter from the MLP universe is regressed and sent to a human.
'yup, another My Little Dashie rip-off
3842229 I'm sorry you didn't like it. Thank you for your comment.
3862756
Yeah, I did try to stay locked on a specific tense (present), but I think I got too into the story to pay attention to this important detail. Duly noted and I'll keep an eye on that in the future. This was my first attempt at first person present tense over a prolonged period of writing. Easily correctable.
To be honest, I have no idea how to do that...is it two hyphens for the dash?
Being an amateur writer...no excuses from me there.
The whole reason in asking for a review was to see how I was doing. It's more or less what I expected.
Eh, true. My major problem was not having someone checking my writing as I went. I pretty much edited everything myself and didn't think too much about that. Lesson learned.
Duly noted.
I come from a family of soldiers from both my mother and father's side. I'm a veteran myself, but yeah...civilians deserve ponies, too.
I regret nothing!
....Does this mean I would have gotten a better review if I had paid you?
Thank you, Starman Ghost for your candor and honesty. It's what I was looking for and needed. This makes me wonder how my writing compares from this to "An Immortal Price", my one shot. Ah well, maybe I should submit that to WRITE and see what happens...after I have an editor go over it with a fine tooth comb first.
I would not mind another review from you in the future. Thanks again and happy reading!
3863394
Google "em dash." I can't remember the alt code.
This is so God damn beautiful.
4006034 I'm glad you enjoyed it. I'm still developing my writing style, so I hope the sequel turns out better. I'm actually trying to be original in that one!
3987548 Tell me more of your...theory.
4006563 Already finished it... so no more theory :D
A cold opening is a when a story begins in the middle of an action.sequence or other even where the reader is made to.wonder and want to read on to know what is going on. In a cold opening you want to fill the reader or viewer with questions that you are promising to answer if the individual continues to read. Then there's the other kind of story that is of the type I think you presumably tried to write. This is the kind of story that starts slow and escalates (at various rates) to a climax and or finale. This kind of story may or may not form questions in a reader's mind but the defining feature is that it allows the reader to sink into the story. The one thing you always want to avoid in not so much making your audience question things, it's not causing the readers to question things that prevent him from being able to forget he or she is reading a story rather that being a witness to events taking place in front of him or her. I found myself questioning the plausability of the story accompanied by several eyebrow raises early on in the begining and was unable to get very far. The main issue I had was that there were too many instances were the character failed to exhibit a beneficial amount of genre blindness or realistic reactions and there was no prior preparation to make that feasable, nor was there a quick enough explanation afterwards considering this is the first chapter. There were some grammatical issues but considering that the grammar in this very message is probably atrocious (using phone) I can't really hold it too hard against you. I may also be somewhat prejudiced since I am a fan of two other fictions covering similar subjects (NOT My Little Dashie) and they unfortunatelly for this critique have done a much better job. Now I understand that you are still developing your writing and I don't mean this to be taken in the wrong way, but rather as something to help out in future compositions unless I'm simply just being too much of a pain to entertain in which case I'm sorry and I say that sincerelly. One final piece of advice: cover your bases, write a list of possible questions a reader may have after your rough draft as if you had no idea of what is writen afterwards. Ask yourself or a unbiased prereader if those questions could potentialy be jarring or ask "What's going on with what I'm READING,?" rather than "What's going on with what I'm SEEING?". I'm not quite sure if that makes sense, I can however point you to a writer that does a damn good job at this. Later.
Will edit retarded auto correct when I get home
4028994 The story can always be corrected. It's already got some fundamental flaws that can't be fixed without a complete re-write. This was initially intended to be a homage to MLD (as rushed as it was) and I ended up using it as an exercise in writing technique.
I enjoyed writing it and I know if falls short of what is expected in certain stories, but I'm okay with that. I'm considering going over it again at a later date. There are some encounters in the story I absolutely love and others that make me ask myself, "wtf did I write?".
Still, I had fun writing it and am trying to apply the lessons I learned to the sequel.
Of course, I could just be repeating the same mistakes.
If you peruse the comments, there's another critique on this story you are welcome to take a gander at.
Thank you for you comments!
4029091
WOW, I read that block of text that I sent on the phone and if you were able to read it even with all those autocorrect "changes" you deserve a medal!
I in no ways want you to be discouraged. The issue is that I go over as many stories as I can a day. I simply can't afford to spend too much time in a story that I don't enjoy from the start because I've learned that usually they continue making the same mistakes. There ARE some stories that may get better but I don't find them often. What I do is I simply stop reading and comment on what I feel the writer should keep in mind for future stories.
I mostly read HIE fictions and I know for a fact that they are more difficult to write realistically that other stories. I have to admit that what Starman wrote is pretty much what was going through my mind the entire time even from that first chapter. He did say a lot of things that I held back, but I suppose the truth hurts sometimes.
You could certainly do a complete rewrite of the story, but my suggestion is to just learn from what was wrong with this one and use that in your next project. Good luck and keep me posted on anything you may want to come up with. I can do pre-reads and concept analysis if you like.
4034273 Duly noted. If there are corrections, it will be to maintain consistency with the sequel (which is leaps and bounds better, imho).