After a Storm Comes a Rainbow

by Lucy the Cyclone Light

Troubles' messenger

Riverstone wiped his chin with a napkin as he put the chair in place, and headed to SweetGum. The scratches on his back began to itch, which was really annoying. She'll probably have some healing cream for that. Truly, another thing itched him in the back of his mind, but he could do nothing about it, and decided to leave it aside until it passes. He knocked on SweetGum's door.

"Come in!"

Riverstone entered the ambulance room, and as expected, she was wiping the dust from all the cupboards. A bunch of herbs and glasses in a big yellow bucket stood on the bed Thunderstorm was laying on just a few hours ago. Riverstone's itch became stronger.

SweetGum turned. "Oh, good evening, Your Majesty", she said and threw a pink piece of cloth she was cleaning with into another metal bucket, yet this one was one the floor , "Are there any noticeable infections?"

Riverstone cleaned his throat. "No, but my back really itches. I thought you might have a thing for that."

SweetGum didn't waste any time. Her horn glew aqua as a couple of jars full of colorful fluids, oils and plants in them, levitated from the highest shelf to her. She brought all of them in front of herself, murmuring quietly the ingredients and their purpose. In the end, she took a jar with greenish jelly in it, and something that seemed like a cactus.

"Aloe Vera should do the trick. It doesn't hurt, and it will calm the irritated skin in mere minutes", she recited as if from a book and glanced at Riverstone , "Your Majesty, would you mind to sit on that chair?" She pointed her hoof to something that, to Riverstone, looked like a miniature table with a pillow on it. Without complaints, he took a seat. A "pop" was the only thing he heard before a soothing, warmish jelly was put on his back. SweetGum started to rub it in with her hoof.

"The wound isn't serious, but it's still a good thing you came. You can never predict if an infection will or won't appear", her eyes narrowed as she noticed something strange on the king , "Your Majesty... I am deeply sorry if this is rude to ask... Have you gone to a hairdresser today? Or a barber?"

Riverstone's ears twitched. "No, why do you ask?"

"Since The last time I have examined you, your mane shortened... And it's cut off very precisely, like with scissors, or maybe a knife."

Riverstone shrugged. "I have no idea. I just hope I don't have... How do you scholars call it... Apo, arol.."

"It's "alopecia", Your Majesty", she replied with a smile.

---

Thunderstorm was in front of the sharp steel wire by the time the first stars appeared in the sky. The two guards who followed her turned and headed back to the castle, leaving her with another two very tall unicorns. Every single part of their bodies was covered with armour, except for eyes, short mane and a tail. Although Thunderstorm was taller than them, she crouched while walking trough the now opened steel door. They had such a strong glare they frightened her. Especially now when the shadows were cast on their shiny armour, they looked like those ancient gargoyle statues on old houses and walls, as if they could come to life at any moment and rush on you.

Everypony was already in their homes, preparing for bed. By the lights of the candles she could see which ones were full.

Criminal District was a big place. She was walking for almost a sunhour's half before she found the first empty cottage. It was decent-looking, not quite big or tall (Thunderstorm'd have to stoop to go inside) and had a small garden in front. She sighed. Her new home.

She hardly untied the belts because of the glowing string around her horn. It made the usage of her magic much tougher than usual, which tired her. She was practically puffing by the time she got everything in the cottage. Thunderstorm left the wagon in the middle of the road. She'll let others bother about it.

"Note to self", she said when she closed and locked the door , "Never break a law again." Then she fell on the hay bed. The snoring shook the whole thing until she somehow turned on her back.

---

About eight hours later:

Thunderstorm slowly opened her eyes. Her shoulder was aching, but otherwise she was fine. She slept in a tricky position.

A rooster was crowing outside, chickens were clucking near, she was hearing wagons trot on the earth rode trough the thin walls of the cottage, some ponies yelling from far away, and a bunch of cows complaining. A thin ray of sunlight shone trough the window, half closed by the shabby courtains. The ray revealed the wooden furniture on the other side of her new home, a not so big table and chairs, also wooden, and a dark grey stone fireplace with ash inside. A real country-like impression. Thunderstorm blinked heavily and stretched, feeling her wings being fettered by the dress. She stood up, not knowing quite what was she supposed to do now. The most logical thing would be to plant the seeds she got in the garden outside. So, why not?

Thunderstorm ripped open the canvas bag with the carrots. There was a piece of paper inside with some instructions.

"Plant them in shallow holes and water oftenly. Make sure there is an order", she whispered and looked outside the window next to the door. The noise from a few moments ago dissapeared, and except feathers on the street and some foals running around, there was no trace of the earlier turmoil. Strange. She wondered, were those foals born here? Or did they do something bad, maybe stole? Anyway, at least her height won't be drawing much attention.

She took a metal shovel and gardening rakes, which were 'till then standing in a dusty corner.

The door shrieked as she opened it. Thunderstorm took a few careful steps forward, feeling her coat comfortably shudder, warmed by the Sun's shine. Such a pretty, quiet morning. She took the rakes and, while levitating a piece of paper, precisely drag four long, straight lines in the black soil. The garden had two parts: the seven-hoof wide path to the street was clear, but on each side was a square with a side a span long. Each part was enclosed by a hoof high fence, sticks stuck in the earth, bounded with a thick woolen string. Thunderstorm didn't find performing magic as hard as yesterday night. She really needed those sunhours of slumber, they completely revived her. The tricky part about preparing the soil was removing the rocks. There were many more of them than she expected. It seemed this cottage wasn't used in a while.

She then took the fertilizer. It smelled terribly, Thunderstorm never scented something as bad as it. Not like she had a chance to. She quickly spread it and spillt it in the holes and lines. Thunderstorm then planted the seeds, covered them with more soil, and that was about it. Now all she needed was water...

Thunderstorm couldn't see a well anywhere close, it was clear and sunny, without any chance of a shower... Except for that tiny light gray cloud just above her, maybe two houndred spans high.

Thunderstorm's face wore a mischievous grin.

She didn't need spells for such a small, simple, weather magic. Her eyes glistened and her wings squirmed under the dress as she concentrated on the cloud. She could feel her magical mane wave a bit cheerfully, as the cloud descended, at first slowly, but then it rushed down until it was just around four hooves above the ground. Thunderstorm gently squeezed the cloud, and with a silent roar, the mist turned into drops of water, which brought life to her little seeds. If the instructions are correct and she did it well, the carrots should pop out for around a moon, and they'd need another moon and a half to ripen. Until then, she had some oats and wheat. She could hardly get hungry, but she doesn't want to be considered not-normal here. And besides, not having to eat doesn't mean she doesn't like to eat.

Thunderstorm squeezed out the rest of the cloud in an enormous bucket meant for keeping water for cooking. By the length of the shadows, she guessed it was about a sunhour before noon. She leaned on the wooden and brick wall, thinking what should she do next. Then she remembered something she completely forgot about in the last twenty-four sunhours. The books from the library.

Luckily, ''summoning the void'' wasn't a complicated spell, so a moment after her horn flashed white and a ''poof'', five books loudly fell on the table. She looked at the titles. ''Bedtime stories'', ''Introduction to complex magic and crytal spells'', ''Mythological species'', ''Kingdoms' history: The past of the Celestial Arhipelague'', and ''Ancient songs and prophecies''. The last seemed the oldest, and was the only book with the name and a scetch of the author on the first page: a pegasus mare SilverWind. Really kind-looking fellow. Thunderstorm chose them because of the mostly historical themes, it wouldn't hurt to know what had she missed in the past twenty-five centuries. She sat on the wooden floor, since the chairs were a bit too small for her, and randomly picked up a book from the table. ''Songs and prophecies''. All right...

Thunderstorm opened a random page. The mare didn't have a fancy hoofwriting (or however did she write the book), but it was readable. The book was indigo, and its pages were brown from age, but not worn. This book wasn't opened for a while... or oftenly. Thunderstorm flicked 'trough a few pages before she found a chapter titled ''Devoted for Nightime Gleam''. Maybe it was a friend of hers? Judging by the name, the pony was probably a mare. Thunderstorm turned the page, and found a beautiful song.

To Nightime Gleam

Sleep now, my dear

Hush 'cause Sand-mare is near

If you want to have sweet dreams

Close your eyes and count the sheep

With the moonlight she will come

And gift you the stardust from above.

But, beware when her twin arrives

Her vengeful glare as cold as ice

Nightmare is her scary name

The two sirsters are no and all the same

Don't worry 'cause the Dream Princess

Will clean up her sister's mess

I hope this song your ears will keep

As you fall into gentle sleep

Thunderstorm rose her front hoof as her eyes sparkled and a sad smile spread across her face. She could imagine the melody if this song was set to music. Imagine the mother watching over her children. The message and sorrow sent trough centuries of silence. A written word is truly immortal if kept and read. Thunderstorm, for a moment, admired SilverWind.

She put the leather string she found in the book on the page, marking it. She will certainly want to read it in the future.

She left the book on one of the chairs, when she heard a knock on the door. She opened it.

Outside was a strange looking foal. If it was a foal.

His eyes were blue with no iris or a pupil. His skin was black and covered in sleek scales instead of a coat. He didn't have a mane, nor ears, but two antennas ending with pale brown balls of... Fluff, or something similar. Moth, brown wings protruded from his back, and he had a very short tail.

Thunderstorm also noticed a small black horn on his forehead. Was it possible that he was an alicorn of some kind?

"Buzzzzzzzz", he buzzed.

"What?" Thunderstorm rose an eyebrow, puzzled and thinking she had gone crazy.

The little creature symbolically slapped himself in the head, and then something strange happened.

He closed his eyes tightly and bowed in the front knees. He began to shake so rapidly that he appeared blurry to Thunderstorm. She dropped her jaw in surprise when green light swirled around the fellow. He grew, taller and taller, his wings enlarged and grew grey feathers, he got a coat, also grey. A purple tail and mane with stripes simply created, waving around as if moved by the wind. Thunderstorm watched the metamorphosis until her exact reflection was staring at her from outside the door. The same eyes, muzzle, neck, height... The thing she was worrying about were that he had no dress, and the alicorn was clearly visible. The clone, however, didn't have a cutiemark, since it was hidden under her dress. How did he then copy my wings?, Thunderstorm thought, but did not have enough time to think about it, since...

''Quick, let me inside!'' said the clone with the same voice as Thunderstorm. She/he was in panic, and nervously moved her front hooves.

Thunderstorm was suspicious, but had no time to react. Two guards were just coming in the street, patrolling. She let the clone in.

''Now, I want some answers from you, miss, or mister, or whatever else, because - '' Thunderstorm began, but was interrupted.

''I will explain everything, I promise. Just... I can't speak while in my true form...'', the clone said, looking around , ''I hope you'll have nothing against me staying like this?''

Thunderstorm frowned. ''A bit.''

''All right, I'll change later'', moaned the clone.

''So, my name is Greymoth, and I am a Morphling. Colt, if my... current shape confuses you'', he said.

''What is a Morphling?'' Thunderstorm asked, researching her memory for such a name. Even with her amnesia, she still knew names of races and species of, well, most of things, yet Morphling was a foreign term to her.

''Um, you don't know?'' Greymoth was confused

''Don't make me explain'', Thunderstorm said briefly, shut her teeth and made her horn flash for a few times. She wanted to make sure this... being won't think she's somepony you can make a fool of. Greymoth took a clumsy, frightened step back, accidentally knocking down a chair and a book from the table. Thunderstorm's angry glare clarified to him that he'll speak first.

''A Morphling, is, um, a specie of ponies, artificially created... but I'm not allowed to tell any more. Some call us Changelings, some Cursed-ones, and some Buglings... and we all have shape-shifting powers. We aren't supposed to use them, unless we need to speak... Anyway, I am Greymoth, and my family and I just escaped from Zagacera. Rubyshard, the current princess, doesn't treat us... well as fair as others...'' he said, shivering , ''We are refugees, and we're trying to go to the Far South, to the Zebra Empires. The climate is much more appealing to us... but... I have lost my big sister and her...coltfriend while crossing the border, and when I got here, they told me it's best for me to go to the Criminal District... I was practicing on copying some foals before a while, and I noticed how you used weather magic without an actual spell. I concluded you must be an alicorn... So, I... I thought an outcast royal would have understanding for me...'', Greymoth sniffed and wiped his nose with his bare hoof, which seemed awkward for Thunderstorm to see. Yet, she felt a little compassion for the, um, Morphling...

''Let's clear out a few things. First, I am not a royal, although that is a topic to discuss, but I am a refugee too, if that's the best word to describe it. Second, my name is Thunderstorm, not Your Majesty or anything similar. Third, I am afraid you'll need to leave soon, since I don't quite trust you.

Plus, I want to know how did you get in here without anypony noticing you, and tell me everything you know about the Criminal District. And can you please shapeshift into another form - any?'' she said. Greymoth glanced at her in abeyance, then started to shake as before, until the green light consumed him. What was left was an earthpony, a lime colt with bright orange eyes and a pale-brown mane. Still with no cutiemark.

''Alright, ahem, Thunderstorm... I sneaked in hiding in a wagon of hay... shaped like a Breezie... Unfortunately, I had to give up that form not to be crushed... and I have a very short memory for a young Morphling... a sunhour's tenth later and I wouldn't remember this'', he pointed at his head.

''So, a pony needs to exist in order to be copied?'' Thunderstorm asked.

''Well, as far as I know, yes'', he replied , ''There are Morphlings who can make up their own bodies, but they are very, very rare. I personally never met one.''

''And about the Criminal District?'' she reminded him

Greymoth's eyes widened. ''Oh, right, well, as far as I know, this place isn't just for criminals. Durachia doesn't have plenty of law-breakers. If you steal a little continuously, or plan a big heist, you go here, but if you murder somepony, your destination is the Prison, also called Caves. Executions are rare, and then performed by the highest authority - the king or the queen. A poor - ''

''Stop'', a flicker appeared on the tip of Thunderstorm's horn , ''How do you know so much?''

''My sister made me read a book about Durachia so we wouldn't be deported back to Zagacera'', Greymoth's voice was squeaky, and funny. Still, Thunderstorm wanted to make sure he's telling the truth. She quickly thought of two public facts everypony in Durachia should know.

''Who is the current king of Durachia? Who were his mother and father by race?''

''Um, Rivers Tone, earthpony-alicorn, RosePetal, Greenstone'', he said insecurely. Thunderstorm smiled and nodded, signing he can go on with the story.

''Ahem, poor ponies can also come to the Criminal District, but they have to be adult and can only stay for a previously agreed amount of time.''

Thunderstorm looked at the colt, this time with more compassion in her eyes. She changed her mind about one thing.

''And I guess you are not adult. Well, how about we have a deal, mister. You can stay here, with me, if you have nowhere else to go. Under these conditions:

First: Never ask me where I am from, or anything regarding my origins. For everypony, I am Thunderstorm, an abnormally tall unicorn.

Second: You'll tell me everything that is currently happening in these lands.

Third: If anypony asks, you are my far cousin.''

''So, do we have a deal?'' she finished, and stretched out her front left hoof to Greymoth. He gazed at it for a few moments, and then accepted.

''It's a deal.''

''Great. Now, what time is it?'', Thunderstorm asked herself, and then immediately answered after looking at the sunhour on the window. It was a quarter 'till noon. Huh. Time's sure passing quickly. She went to the ''kitchen'', which was only two steps away. Greymoth followed her with his big eyes, sitting on the floor. He then returned to his original shape and levitated the fallen book to the table.

Thunderstorm opened the old cupboards. Inside, she saw a couple of pots, a, pan, four ceramic plates and as much glasses. one was made of white porcelain, while others were glass. She took out a pot and put it on the iron stove, which was a bit rusty on the edges.

Black ash and dust filled her nostrils when she opened the fire chamber. She sneezed and coughed so strongly her head hit one corner of the cupboards. Thunderstorm's sight blackened as pain spread trough her body. Damn. She growled and turned back to the stove. This day isn't going well at all. She sighed.

''Are you hungry?'' she asked Greymoth who changed in a trice.

''You certainly don't know much about our specie. We don't feed on material food,'' he answered.

''What do you mean by ''material food'?'' if Thunderstorm wasn't confused before...

''We feed on, no matter how silly it may sound, feelings. Like hatred, and love, and happiness, sorrow...'' he listed.

''How can you ''eat'' feelings? Are those to you visible, or?'' Thunderstorm completely forgot about the whole lunch she was supposed to prepare.

Greymoth/foal giggled. ''No offence, but you're funny. It's actually a spell. You see... we are like insects, like ants. We communicate by very high sounds you ponies can't hear, and they're like telepathy - in a few seconds, they cross dozens of miles... That's also how we share food. Yet, those ''waves'' are more magical'', he frowned ,''It's quite hard to explain to somepony who's not a Morphling.''

''You see, there are many colonies in the Kingdoms. Every colony has it's Queen, and she's the one who feeds. Nopony knows her exact position. Actually, not a single Morphling or a pony knows where she is. She is in disguise all her life, as soon as she learns how to transform. She is ''planted'' into a random family, usually with knowledge of everything about the filly. It has to be a female, since gender-bending is very exhausting. It's also advisable for the filly to be a unicorn. She absorbs the love she's given in the family, because love is the most powerful feeling, and she has more chance of surviving. She grows up, finds a stallion who loves her the most, marries him, gets mixed-blood foals... Who will die or ''be kidnapped'', so the queen doesn't blow her cover... Only one Morphling knows where's the queen. The strongest one, so the next Morphling queen...''

''Before you continue, could I ask you a few questions?'' Thunderstorm was a bit touched, and she was dying to know more.

Greymoth shrudded his shoulders. ''Sure''

''What happens to the real filly?''

''She's turned into Morphling Minor, the lowest caste.''

Thunderstorm had even more questions now. ''A-ha. How do you know the foal of the queen and the strongest Morphling will be a she?''

''It's always a she, from some reason. Don't ask me why.''

''And it's the only way? The queen sacrifices her whole life and wishes, just to feed her subjects?"

''Yes. There once was an artifact which helped us, but it's long lost... It was a crystal... something, shaped like an eye, or maybe was it a wing...heart, possibly? I certainly don't remember'', Greymoth said, and yawned ,''I'm a bit tired... Our queen is finding trouble feeding lately, and we're all feeling fatigue.''

''Are you immortal? Can you die from hunger?''

''As far as I know, a Morphling can decide when he, or she, wants to die. Then we go on a long journey, and when we find a place important just to us, we are free to let go of this world. About hunger, I know how one ends way too well. A Morphling feeds on joy and love, but as well grinded gems, we reflect the light back into the world. If one feeds on hatred and sorrow... he, or she, become corrupted and evil. Rubyshard forces many Morphlings in Zagacera to feed on those, and then... They turn into monsters. She makes them her slaves, and soldiers. With the main dark Morphling, she gives them orders", Greymoth quivered, and for a moment, his true form was visible.

''How come nopony knows of this?'' Thunderstorm kneeled before him. These ponies need help. She felt foolish for being so harsh before... but she had a reason.

''Rubyshard isn't letting anypony who isn't bribed out of Zagacera's borders. She took all the doves and pigeons, and her servants control the mail and letters'', he said.

''Why didn't you go somewhere else? To the castle, maybe? Or to the town?''

''I... I wasn't quite welcomed from other ponies. As soon as they saw me transform, they would yell at me. I was too afraid to go to the castle.''

Thunderstorm smiled warmly. ''I know the ruler of this land, and he is nothing like princess Rubyshard. Trust me.''

Greymoth sniffed the air. ''Your joy and caring smell very nice. But your anger before, it simply reeked to me'', he giggled, and Thunderstorm thanked him for the compliment.

''Now, I'll cook myself lunch, and while it's cooking, we may as well make a plan to get you out of here'', she said. Behind her, a bundle of wood flew in the fire chamber, the fire lit and the chamber closed. A metal pot frilled with water and descended onto the stove.

''So, let's start.''

''Um, I need to get to the castle?''

''Yes''

Awkward silence filled the room. The only thing heard was the fire crackling.

''What should be so hard?'' I just need to shapeshift into a small animal, crawl out of the District and then go to the castle'', Greymoth said.

''You're right'', Thunderstorm smiled ,''We'll just wait for the night. What could possibly go wrong?''

Author's Note:

Don't worry, this is not a cliche where something goes wrong... I just needed a funny conclusion of the chapter.
I know what's aloe vera, but I was too lazy to check carrot information on Wikipedia.
Silver Wind won't have any effect on this fanfic.... As for her book, it will neither.
Anyway, the real fic and adventures start NOW