This Is Why, Shining Armor!

by contodaslasganas

Caught! ... Almost

The rest was much needed, and once again Trim continued going through her mental checklist. One piece of furniture seemed quite obvious: a baby chair, one that Chrysanthemum (or Chryssie, as Trim had started calling her filly) could not wriggle her way out of. Trim looked at Chryssie, surprised to see that she was already fast asleep.

Trim slowly climbed off her bed and quickly got to work. The next days passed without much incident; what made those days far from normal, however, was Trim's harsh working schedule. Every moment that she could spare, Trim would continue building the chair, and later the crib, determined to finish as soon as possible. Three grueling weeks and a couple of failed designs later, she had finished the chair, and three more weeks after, the crib. By that time, her hooves and horn were sore, but she paid no notice. Only one thought flashed through her mind after attaching the last piece:

I hope my filly loves this, a crib of her own.

What she had not taken into consideration was that Chryssie had already grown accustomed to sleeping alongside her mother. The first night that Trim tried to convince Chryssie to sleep in the crib was, in fact, a nightmare, but Trim knew that it was for the filly's own good. Chryssie had cried incessantly throughout the night, but after two more bedtimes she had grown accustomed to sleeping in her crib.

In fact, Chryssie herself seemed to have grown quite a bit over those weeks, though she was still smaller compared to the average pony filly. Not only did she take her first steps, but she was also able to run around with relative ease (and at quite a decent speed, in truth). As joyous as Trim was for her filly, she could not deny that Chryssie was becoming a lot harder to take care of: the mischief in her house increased five-fold, especially because the filly’s magic would flare up at random times. Still, Trim always felt that she had mostly everything under control.

It only took one week after the crib incidents for her to reassess that statement.

Mistake 1: Leaving Chryssie unattended in the living room.
Mistake 2: Not closing the front door fully after entering.
Mistake 3…

Trim started mentally counting all her mistakes as she raced down the street, all the while praying to Celestia that nopony see her mischievous filly.

That day had started like any other: an uneventful breakfast, followed by Trim placing Chryssie back into her crib for her nap. Trim later left to get some foal food and vegetables from the market, returning without incident. As soon as she opened the door, however, Chryssie woke up and started crying loudly, Trim quickly placing the groceries on the table and taking the filly in her hooves. It only took a couple of seconds for her to realize that Chryssie was crying not so much because she had awoken but because she was hungry. Trim set the filly down on the floor and trotted over to the kitchen hastily to prepare some food, but in the few seconds that Chryssie was left unattended, the filly spotted a small, colorful butterfly just outside the doorway. She had never seen so many colors jumbled on such a small, moving organism. As the filly approached it, though, the delicate animal started to fly away. Chryssie quickly followed it as it flew through the half-open doorway and out onto the street. The only thing that Trim saw was Chryssie’s tail as it cleared the doorway at light-speed.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Trim was quite scared, frightened of what would happen if anypony saw Chryssie: everypony would know that she was a changeling, and then guards would be called in, and they would take Chryssie away, and then …

No, I cannot let that happen, not to my filly. I have to find her before anypony else does.

Fortunately for Trim, Chryssie had left behind a distinct trail of small hoofprints. Another stroke of good fortune was that the prints led to the park, which at this time would be empty of ponies due to the fashion show that everypony seemed to go to.

Meanwhile, Chryssie had followed the butterfly for as long as she could, the small animal rising higher and higher until the filly’s eyes could no longer spot it. However, she then heard a rustle from behind a bush, the sound startling her into noticing her new surroundings. Chryssie was no longer at home, and she felt quite a bit scared, but still curious about why the bush moved. She did not have to wait long, for a large dog jumped out and frightened her with his loud barks.

Chryssie had only one thought left on her mind: run.

As the filly changed direction, Trim arrived at the park just in time to see that Chryssie was running straight for a huge, deep ditch in the construction zone only a dozen feet away. Trim knew that Chryssie’s frail body would not be able to withstand such a fall, especially with the digging machines still working in the hole. In a state of desperation, knowing that she would not get there in time to save Chryssie, Trim cried out at the top of her lungs:

CHRYSSIE, STOP! SOMEPONY, PLEASE STOP HER!

Tears filled her eyes as she expected the inevitable. She willed herself to gallop faster, all the while denying, but inwardly knowing, that she would be too late, too late to save the one thing that she had longed for and finally found, the one thing that could bring her happiness in her remaining years, the one thing that she loved more than anything in the world.

…

…

SWOOSH!

A figure appeared from an obscure path and swiftly moved to intercept the small filly, blocking her path to the hole.

…

…

A white light suddenly filled the scene, lasting only a second or two, but leaving Trim blind for a moment. She blinked madly to see what had become of her filly, fighting back the tears, and what she saw was quite unexpected.

A stallion was lying on the ground, inches away from the ditch. Farther away from the construction zone was the small filly, standing in front of the fallen pony and looking around as if to readjust to her new surroundings. When Chryssie saw her mother, she galloped over and clutched her hoof, trembling with fright. Trim, still a bit stunned at the display in front of her, sat down and took Chryssie in her hooves, rocking her back and forth until the filly finally felt safe.

At that moment, the stallion started to stir, and turned his head toward the mother and child. Trim, not wanting to leave the injured stallion but afraid that he would see her filly and report her to the guards, did the first thing that came to mind. She remembered a disguise spell that she had used on herself when she was little to change her mane color and give herself a cutie mark, though she doubted that she could remember exactly how to cast it. Still, time was of the essence, so she pictured herself in one of her disguises (minus the cutie mark) and cast the spell on her filly. Since she was little, she knew that the spell was not that difficult but that it required massive amounts of magic, so much that she could only hold it for a minute or two. However, this time it felt different: it was almost as if the filly was accepting the spell and even supplying some of her own magic as Trim cast it.

How is this possible? Does my filly have such an affinity for this type of spell? Or does she have so much magic hidden inside her that it just wants to be let out?

It was then that Trim understood what the scene she had witnessed was:

Chryssie must have gotten startled and used her magic inadvertently, striking the stallion.

That same stallion cut Trim’s thoughts short, standing up with a little difficulty and about to ask Trim what had happened. Trim beat him to the punch and began to explain.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, my filly must have gotten startled when you showed up that I think she lost control of her magic. Oh, and THANK YOU, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SAVING MY FILLY!”

Trim had started to tear up again, and she hugged the stallion with all her might, without dropping Chryssie. The stallion took a moment then understood what had happened, and he replied, “No problem, it was nothing.”

“But how can I ever repay you?” Trim replied, letting go of the pony in front of her.

“No need,” the mysterious stallion said, but he later became sad for some unknown reason.

Trim noticed this sudden change. “By the way, I hope I’m not prying, but why do you look so sad? You have just done something honorable. You should be happy.”

“No, it’s not about that, it’s just …” The stallion hesitated, but later continued, he himself needing to open up to someone. “The thing is that I had a fight, a big one, with my wife, and I don’t know what to do. We have been having a lot of fights recently, and see … this is just not what I thought marriage was going to be. I don’t know if I can keep this up.”

“Let me ask you one question before you continue,” Trim interjected, seeing that the stallion was running out of breath. “Alright, breathe, calm down, and answer me this: do you still love her?”

The stallion hastily responded, “Of course I do, I have loved her ever since I first set eyes on her. She is the most beautiful mare I have ever seen, her kindness is limitless, and she still makes my heart jump just by looking my way …”

“Then you have your answer,” Trim cut in. “You still love her, so there is no reason to break apart, now, is there? As for the fights, no marriage is a walk in the park. Fights are common, but each one that is resolved only makes the marriage stronger. Just because a married couple fights doesn’t mean that they don’t love each other; in fact, it can even be the opposite: they fight because they do care about each other.”

By now, the stallion was listening intently, and with every sentence, he was beginning to realize how ridiculous he was to think about breaking up his marriage.

“Now,” Trim continued, “I can’t tell you exactly what to do to fix your marriage, but I know that your wife must be feeling as bad as you are right now about that fight. Go to her, comfort her, and work on fixing the problem together.”

The stallion abruptly wrapped his hooves around Trim. “Thank you, thank you so much for letting me see the error of my thoughts.” He then looked down at the filly in her hooves and commented, “Make sure you watch that filly of yours. My small colt is also the mischievous fellow.”

“Oh, you have a foal of your own! What’s his name?” Trim asked.

“Shining Armor,” he responded. “What about your filly’s?”

“Her name is Chrysanthemum.”

“A beautiful name for such a beautiful filly.”

“Why, thank you!”

The stallion then began talking to Chryssie: “Don’t make your mama worried, okay? Be good to your mama.” Chryssie simply stared back at the stallion and smiled. The stallion shifted his gaze back to Trim. “Thank you once again for the help. I’ll be going back, and don’t worry about me, I’m not injured in the slightest.”

“Well, good luck!” Trim shouted as he trotted away. “Oh, wait! I never got your name!”

However, the stallion was already too far away to hear. Trim, noticing that her magic was running low and that Celestia was getting ready to lower the sun, quickly trotted back to the house and shut the front door. She dropped the disguise spell and fell back on her bed, Chryssie in her hooves. Trim felt so relieved that her filly was safe, but she knew she had to have a stern talk with Chryssie. However, what came after quickly melted away any anger and worry from Trim’s mind:

“Mama.”

One word, only one word, her first word. Trim could not contain her joy, hugging Chryssie close to her until the filly was sound asleep. The mother slowly picked her up and tucked her snugly under the sheets in her crib, and she just stood there, watching her filly sleep peacefully.

As serene as the scene was, Trim felt something tug at the back of her mind.

I know I can't keep her inside the house for the rest of her life. She has to grow up, go to school, make some friends, have fun, experience life, but if anyone else were to see her like this, they could really harm her. What should I do? What can I do?

With this thought, Trim fell into a restless sleep, worrying about the future and hoping to find a way for Chryssie to lead a normal life.

Author's Note:

Back from winter break! Any comments appreciated.
Happy New Year!