In a Chang(el)ing World

by Kaipony

Still in the Hive

"You look troubled, Keen."

"Something happened."

"What is it?"

"You know I was in an accident the other day."

"I do. Lucky for all of us, somepony saved you."

"Not somepony. A changeling. I don't understand his angle."

"You think he saved you as part of some bigger scheme?"

"He knew me. A lot of the changelings around Canterlot know me, apparently. He could have let the cart kill me, but he didn't."

"Would it matter more or less if he did it out of kindness or concern for a fellow citizen, instead of some other plot?"

"It matters."

"Yes, it does matter. It matters because if that reformed changeling saved you because he had other plans that involved keeping you alive, then your continued suspicion and hostility against them would be justified. Otherwise he did it simply because he was saving another pony."

"It doesn't erase their sins."

"What did Faith think about you being saved by Green Gloss?"

"She―How do you know his name?"

"Faith and I talk. I care about your recovery, Keen, so I ask people about you. If you want to know more about what Faith and I discuss, I can ask her if she’s comfortable with that later, but right now, I want you to do the talking."

"Why would it matter what Lieutenant Watch thinks about the situation? Or about me?"

"Keen, there are ponies all around you who care. I care because this is what I believe I was destined to do for Equestria: be an insightful ear to help others. Faith has demons of her own she has to fight, but she is genuine about wanting to heal this rift between you two."

"We're not friends."

"She's listed off the responsibilities of a superior officer to me before, Keen. Everything she has done for you this past year is far beyond what an officer would normally do for an enlisted Guardspony. It would be… presumptive of me to call you friends, Keen. That’d be a stretch, and… Yeah, it’s a stretch. But I do believe she genuinely wants to patch things up with you."

"Jury’s out on that one. For all I know, she’s got something up her sleeve, too."

"Well, that's a little bit of why you and I are here. There would be less reason to worry if you and I were to work through some of your more difficult times, and come up with some possible solutions."

"I... guess."

"Why don't I read you a short passage from this new book I picked up the other day."

~~*~~

Keen Edge let his eyes and mind lose their focus as he leaned against the warm gravestone while the flags of Equestria and the Royal Guard, looking down upon the grounds from high above, watched in silence. The polished, eggshell rock soaked up the heat of the afternoon sun and Keen's body warmth. A name was etched into the stone: Stalwart Spirit.

A flicker of green caught Keen's attention, and his eyes instantly focused on the glimmer of movement. His eyes returned to the headstone as familiar hoofsteps approached, stopping somewhere behind him. "What are you doing here," Keen demanded, his lips curling into a sneer.

"Paying my respects," Green Gloss replied calmly. He made a show of looking around at the rows upon rows of pristine grave markers.

Keen snorted, turning to look at the changeling. "You bugs put a lot of good Guards in the ground here."

"And you've put even more of my kind in similar holes," Gloss retorted. “And most of them didn’t get the privilege of a proper burial.”

Keen took a step toward Gloss, his muscles tense. A curse rose in his throat, but a gentle gust wind stayed his voice. It flicked at his mane and brought the scent of freshly cut grass to his nostrils. He swallowed the foul words and took a deep breath. "Why did you save me that day?"

"Because you needed saving, and I was there," Gloss answered matter-of-factly.

"No. It can't be that simple. Why did you do it?" Keen took another step forward and shoved his muzzle in close to Gloss's. "You obviously know who I am, and somehow you have an idea what I've been doing these past few years. So what’s your game?"

Gloss retreated a couple of steps before answering. "Because I knew some of them." Keen's face lost much of its vehemence, the stallion’s eyes widening almost imperceptibly.

Gloss turned to look down on one of the gravestones. The name Silverdust was etched into the stone. "Most of my kind are struggling to move on, but how can we when there are ponies like you determined to spit on us every chance you get? I’ve done a lot of things wrong, Keen Edge, but this isn’t one of them."

Keen said nothing as Gloss sat in the grass. The stallion glanced away when the changeling fixed him with a piercing focus. "I did it because you would have expected me to let you die. It would have made you right about us." Keen flinched, but Gloss continued. "I saved you because I want to be exactly who the world thinks I'm not. Who I am is my choice, and no one else's." The changeling twisted his muzzle into a pained grimace as he read the names on each headstone. "There's enough bitterness in the world without me adding to it."

Keen grimaced, his shoulders shaking as his throat went dry. "You said you knew some of them. The changelings we... I..."

Green Gloss stared at the sky for a time before closing his eyes and sighing. He looked Keen in the eyes, searching for something, before eventually saying, "Apoidea."

Keen tilted his head in confusion, opening his mouth to say something before the changeling continued. "That was her name. The one you captured."

"The one you 'disposed of,' " the changeling nearly said. Keen and Gloss were both aware of it, all the same. Green Gloss looked at Keen Edge, noting the tears beginning running down the stallion's face with tired eyes. His gaze then settled on the grave in front of them.

"‘Stalwart Spirit,’ ” he muttered, bowing his head. “I will not forget your name.” He turned back to Keen Edge. “I'm sorry for your loss. But I... don't think I can ever forgive you for what you've done," the changeling said softly. "Despite that, I'm willing to say what's passed is passed. Apoidea would have wanted that if she were still here." Without further words, Gloss rose and walked away, leaving Keen Edge alone with his tears.

The stallion watched the changeling leave before he stood and returned to the grave of Stalwart Spirit. For a long moment, Keen stared at the name in the marker. He sniffed, letting the smell of the grass and clean air fill his quivering lungs. Out came the breath, slowly. Then, Keen closed his eyes and leaned against the gravestone.

"Hey, buddy,” he choked out, shame filling him as he pressed a trembling hoof against the stone. “It’s, uh, been a while, huh? Been meaning to stop by sooner, but… Yeah.”

Sighing, Keen Edge lowered his head. “I wanted you to look away. I knew you wouldn't like what you saw. But something tells me you've had your eyes on me this whole time. I'm... I think it's time we talked."

~~*~~

Keen Edge brushed past the doors of the mess hall, the scent of old coffee and yesterday’s potatoes clinging inside his nostrils, and stepped into the bright and warm day. He glanced up and found not a cloud in the sky. He started down the trodden path that eventually led to his barracks, but a thought steered him abruptly off the walkway. He cut to the left and set out across the drilling field, heading in the direction of an obstacle course on the opposite end of the Guard’s compound. He was about halfway across the field when he noticed another pony doing the same.

Keen stopped when he recognized who it was that was approaching. The Guard on escort duty he had come to expect was absent. She wore a plain officer's uniform, bereft of decorations except for the dull, muted pewter of the twin bars on her lapel. Once trimmed short into a pixie cut, her gray mane had grown out and was wrapped into a messy, loose bun. With the bags under her eyes and the pallor of her coat, he could hardly recognize who he was looking at.

Faithful Watch, finally noticing him, started before stopping well away. They stared at one another a moment before she cleared her throat. "Hello, Keen Edge," she awkwardly greeted. When Keen said nothing, she took a couple of hesitant steps forward, as though sudden movement might provoke the stallion into either attacking or fleeing. “Didn’t think I’d bump into you so soon.”

"Ma'am," he tersely replied with a slight dip of his head. Otherwise, he did not move.

"I've... been meaning to check in about your sessions, but, heh, y’know..." she said with a shaky smile.

"The rumor mill at the barracks was that you'd be stripped of your rank by now, or locked up in the brig."

Faith toyed with a button on her sleeve, suddenly unable to look him in the eyes. Quietly, she said, "I almost was. Might still be before too long.” Keen shook his head disbelievingly, causing her to look up with an ironic smile. “Does that disappoint you?"

Keen’s ears flicked and he grunted. "Doctor Heart mentioned that my sessions were going to move to a different day of the week because she had a new patient. House calls to somepony I knew. It’s you."

The bags under Faith’s eyes seemed to grow heavier. "Yes. There are some... issues I need to work through. They believe I’m worth saving, even after everything."

She began to sweat as Keen said nothing, staring at her. "Good for you," he said after a time, his teeth gritted. There was another moment of awkward silence as Faith worked her muzzle to say something before Keen huffed. "Well, this has been fun. I wish you well, Lieutenant." He turned to leave, but Faith rushed into his path. The stallion drew up short and planted his hooves firmly into the grass.

"I'm sorry, Keen.” Faith held herself with legs held close together. She looked as though a gentle shove would send her face-first into the dirt. “I'm sorry for sending you into those terrible places. For letting you slip further and further away from the pony that was Stalwart Spirit’s friend. I did that, it was my fault, but I need you to know why."

"I don't care why," Keen deflected. Faith's eyes drifted downward, the mare’s posture sagging. Keen grumbled, drawing in a breath to calm himself. "Fine. You’ve got two minutes."

Faith brightened at that, clearing her throat as she spent a moment gathering her thoughts. "After Stalwart's funeral I knew you'd volunteer for any mission, do anything it took to get revenge on the changelings. More than anypony else, you were my weapon against them, and I treated you like a weapon. Not a pony."

Keen Edge's expression had not changed. "One minute," he muttered.

Faith frowned. "You're not the only pony who lost someone, Keen. Dozens of others lost loved ones and friends. I wanted revenge for them, but I couldn't do it alone." She took a step toward Keen, the intensity in her eyes rising. "I needed ponies that felt that pain. That’s when I found you…” Her voice hitched as she fought to keep herself from breaking. She forced herself to look him in the eyes. “And I'm so sorry, Keen. I never understood what I was doing to you until the night the Force was disbanded. I'm so sorry."

“That’s two minutes.”

Faith squeezed her eyes shut, fighting back her tears. But Keen Edge made no move to leave.

"...Do you still see me as a weapon, Faith?" he asked, sounding exhausted.

Blinking, Faith looked at the pony again, furrowing her brows. She shook her head fervently when the question caught up with her. "No, no. I see a pony that I want to help."

Keen sneered. "You don’t help ponies, Lieutenant. Your talents lie elsewhere.” Her ears splayed back at his words. “So what’s this really about? Because you feel guilty? Because now you have to eat alone and work alone and stay locked up in that gilded, three-story ‘prison’ of yours?"

"No." She laid a hoof on his shoulder. "It's because I want to fix the mistakes I made."

Keen tensed his shoulders and shrugged off the touch, gritting his teeth. "I don't need you to fix me, Faith. You’ve done plenty already."

Now Faith stepped back. A lock of her gray mane fell across her eye, but she did not move to brush it away. "Then help me fix myself. Please."

"Is that what you want from me?" Keen snorted. "Forgiveness? Let me tell you something, Lieutenant, that I learned about forgiveness.” He sighed. "It’s not easy. Especially when you're trying to forgive the one that inflicted it." He quieted, and his tense muscles relaxed. "I learned something recently… You’ve gotta change for you, because you want it. Not just because you think it’ll convince somepony to say it’s all water under the bridge."

Faith looked away, unable to meet Keen's eyes. The pair stood in silence until Faith swallowed a lump in her throat and nodded. "I see. Where did you learn that?"

"From someone who couldn't forgive me," Keen replied glumly. “And I don’t blame him for it.” He looked at her for a time. "But maybe he didn’t have all the answers. I don’t know if I can forgive you either, Faith.” Faith nodded sullenly at that, as though she’d expected it, the mare wearily closing her eyes as she clenched her jaw. Keen looked at her for a moment, conflicted, until, releasing a breath he didn’t even know he was holding, he said, “But… I’d like to try. To give you a chance.” Faith’s eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat as a tear ran down her face. Keen allowed himself a small smirk. “It’s what Stal would want. We’ll see if you meant it when you said you were looking to be somepony better." Then, he left.

Faith stood alone in the grass, unable to watch Keen depart. The sun, high overhead, blazed with such intensity that her shadow had all but disappeared. Only the barest hint of a breeze offered any respite to the heat that washed over her coat, but Faith did not notice the sweat beginning to trickle down her back and neck. She lifted her head and shut her eyes against the blinding glare, the darkness behind her eyes blossoming into a muted orange.

“Yeah,” she said to herself, rubbing the wetness from her eyes with a small smile. “We’ll see, Keen.”

~~*~~

The minute hand of the clock above Luminant Heart's office door slid over to five minutes before one in the afternoon, just before three short knocks rapped against the doorframe. With a slight squeak, the door swung open, and Keen Edge stood at the threshold. Lumin, who had been stirring a cup of freshly brewed tea, beckoned him to enter.

"Good afternoon, Keen Edge," she greeted, glancing at the clock. "You're early." She chuckled. "I think this is a first for you."

"Doctor Heart," Keen replied politely, standing just inside the office.

Lumin tapped her stirring spoon against the teacup and set it aside. She replaced it with a pencil withdrawn from a scuffed book. Dog-eared corners plumped up the pages of the cover enough for Keen to read the title aloud.

"Redeployed: The Battle Within."

"Just some light reading. A bit dry in some places, but it’s incredibly insightful," Lumin said, gesturing for her patient to take a seat and silently offering him a cup of tea.

"Heh. No thanks. Never developed a taste for that stuff." He moved to the large, beige couch and sat down. Though he slouched a little, his head was up and his eyes alert.

She looked Keen over, a gentle smile settling upon her lips. “You clean up very nicely,” she complimented.

Keen tousled his short mane and straightened a clean jacket with his rank sewn into the sleeves. "I'm back in regs. Picked up some fresh uniforms, too. Glitterswift said I didn't look much like a Guard, so I did something about it."

Lumin's eyebrows arched, and she took a small sip of her tea. The fragrant steam infused the air with the scent of bergamot and vanilla. A writing pad joined the pencil she had picked up earlier. "Glitterswift? Tell me more."

"Oh. Right. She's, um, somepony I met while working out at the gym. I've been going two or three days a week for about a month now. She's a pegasus. Flies with the local weather team." Keen's ears flattened, and he glanced away, picking a lazy cloud floating beyond the window as his focal point.

"Well, she used to fly with them. Back during the invasion, a changeling that was dive-bombing the city clipped her midair."

Lumin winced. "That sounds terrible."

"Yeah, the collision and crash-landing nearly took a wing off, but she pulled through. She can't fly for more than a hundred meters, but she manages the weather team's schedule and liaisons with the city council." Keen returned his attention to Lumin. "It gives her a way to contribute to the life she used to enjoy. And it helps the bureau when they have somepony working with them who has experience with the job."

He twirled a hoof idly. "Anyway, she works out at the gym to keep her good wing in shape. You know, just in case they're ever able to make some kind of replacement for the other."

"That's an excellent attitude to nurture," Lumin commented.

He nodded and chuckled. "Yeah. I guess broken ponies attract broken ponies."

"You're not broken," Lumin gently reprimanded.

"Okay, maybe not, but you'd definitely find me at a thrift store on the clearance shelf."

Lumin snickered. "Alright, wise guy, I'll give you that one. Please, continue. Do you two spend time together outside of the gym?"

"We've started to. She, um, kind of helps distract me from a few of the things that usually trigger my... issues."

Luminous made a few notes on her pad. "Distraction is good in the short-term, but you still need to deal with the emotions when they come up." She scooted her chair closer to Keen Edge. "Is Glitterswift someone you can confide in when you need to?"

Keen was silent for several seconds. The second hand of the clock ticked louder and louder until he nodded. "I think so. I'd like to think she could be, but we're not quite there. Not yet."

"But you are making progress; you're pressing forward," Luminous asserted, and, with hesitation, Keen nodded again. "That's good to hear." She leaned back in her chair with a confident smile on her face and pencil poised over the notepad.

"Let's continue where we left off last week."

~~*~~

An hour later, Doctor Heart made a final note and glanced up at the clock face. "It's about time for us to wrap up for today." She tapped her pencil against her notepad. "I have a good feeling about your future, Keen, but I'm curious about your own assessment. Do you feel as though you can move past your fears? The presentiments you hold about changelings? Not today, obviously, but in the future."

Keen shrugged. "It's too soon to tell. I don't feel like I'm ready. Not yet." His earlier positivity receded as a shadow crossed over his eyes

"I can still remember the tunnels. The sounds. The smells." He swallowed hard. "The screams. I don't think I'll ever be able to forget any of it." Keen's ears flattened against his head. "Does it ever stop?"

Lumin set her notepad and pencil aside, and carefully folded her hooves in her lap. She took a measured breath and tilted her head enough so that she could look past the glass panes of the window nearest to Keen. Beyond stood a tree, a small brown squirrel carefully picking its way across the branches with cheeks bulging from nuts packed tightly within.

"I want to tell you that one day all the struggles will end and that you can confidently say you've been cured of all your woes and memories." She continued to watch the squirrel as it squeezed its head into a narrow hole in the trunk of the tree. When its head reemerged, the squirrel's cheeks were no longer bulging. Then it scampered back down the tree and continued to forage along the ground.

"But the truth is that every day is a struggle. Some days will be easier, and some will be harder. We all work and toil towards different ends. And when one goal is completed, another takes its place.” Lumin pulled her gaze from the squirrel outside and settled on Keen. “For you, my goal is that, working together, we can get you to a place where you can constructively deal with the troubles that you will face. The memories may never fade, but how you react to and process them will be the key to moving forward. And even if the memories remain, that doesn't mean they have to define who you are as a pony. Letting go of the anger and resentment, it takes a lot of pressure off the mind. And the heart. It's likely going to be a lifelong mountain to climb, but I know that you're the kind of pony that doesn't shy away from a challenge. I know that you want to try. Sometimes that's all we can keep doing."

She searched Keen’s eyes for something, looking past the hard emotional shell. “Before we get to scheduling next week’s visit,” she began, “there’s a concept I want to explain to you. I’d like you to think about it and we’ll discuss it more later on. It’s called corpus delicti.”

Keen pressed his lips into a thin line as he thought. “What’s that?”

“Body of the crime. It’s a term used in our judicial system, so bear with me. If something bad happens to someone, if they have done something terrible or have had something terrible done to them, that individual seems to need evidence to prove the event itself wasn’t just some horrible dream. It’s as though this evidence is the only way to show that something bad has happened, and if there’s no obvious proof for either them or the world to see, it’s as though it never happened. This means, oftentimes, someone must be their own evidence, if that makes sense.”

The corners of Keen’s mouth curved downward. “Their own evidence? I’m the evidence for what happened to the changelings we caught. Is that it?”

Lumin nodded. “I know the records of the Task Force have been sealed, and everypony involved, including me, is forbidden to talk about it publicly. But inside this office, we’re free to say what we want.” Her face carried a warm glow gifted by the sunlight. “You were injured, mentally and emotionally. And you were manipulated into allowing yourself to become something ponies were not meant to be. You did things that ponies were never supposed to do. These things are not okay.” Keen flinched at the words, but Lumin continued with a gentle firmness.

“It would make sense that you would want those wrongs to be remembered, both yours and the changelings’ that invaded. You would want to show that you knew it wasn’t okay, even if you can’t say it anymore, by being the evidence for the bad things that happened. Especially if, somewhere deep inside, you knew that what the Task Force was doing was wrong.”

“I think I see where this is going,” Keen growled.

“I think you do,” Lumin confirmed. “But humor me for a moment. How did you, Keen Edge, demonstrate that you were hurt?”

“Drinking,” he replied matter-of-factly. “Fights. I’m surprised the Guard hasn’t kicked me out by now.”

“There’s more,” Lumin urged. “Go on.”

Keen glanced out the window. He watched the squirrel as it foraged around the base of the tree before it abandoned the search for possibilities that might lie in the green grass on the other side of the tree. “I have my problems. I’m angry. It’s hard for me to trust, and until Glitterswift came along I hadn’t made any friends for years.” Lumin looked at Keen expectantly, and he obliged her silent question. “I guess I wouldn’t have these problems if the invasion had never happened.” He sighed. “And Stal would still be alive.”

Lumin nodded.“It’s difficult to think about all of the what-ifs, but if you were able to be in a healthy relationship one day, or if you weren’t so angry or drunk, then would that make it so all that happened didn’t actually occur?”

“Of course it still happened!” Keen snapped. Lumin patiently remained silent after his outburst. He fidgeted on the couch. “Me being who I am now doesn’t change that.”

“All species, not just ponies, who have experienced trauma often feel that if they go on to live good lives, it’s as though the trauma didn’t happen, or that it wasn’t really as bad as they remember. Right now, even if you wanted to, you couldn’t just talk to somepony from your barracks about what happened to you.”

Keen’s voice dropped to almost a whisper. “Or what I did.”

“You feel as though you need to keep saying ‘this was wrong.’ As though you need to punish yourself. And in the meantime, life passes you by.”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

Lumin inched forward and reached out to Keen to take his hooves in hers. He flinched at the contact, but did not withdraw. “I need you to listen closely, Keen. What happened to you, and what you did to those changelings, will never be okay. You know that. Even if you moved on and lived a full and happy life, none of that would change. It wouldn’t make what happened right.”

Keen met Lumin’s eyes and he took several deep breaths. “I still want revenge. Maybe not as badly anymore. And maybe... not in the way I used to want it. But it’s still there.”

Lumin gave Keen’s hooves a firm squeeze. “I understand. There’s an old proverb for that, I think.” Her eyes twinkled. “‘Living a good life is the best revenge.’ ” Lumin’s hooves wrung together, and her eyes were wide with hopeful anticipation. A half-cocked smile tugged at the edges of her lips while Keen took in and processed her words.

“Her name was Apoidea,” he said, his ears flattening against his head.

Lumin tilted her head questioningly at the non-sequitur.

“The changeling who died because of me,” Keen said, looking into her eyes. Lumin drew in a steadying breath as she squeezed his hooves. Keen turned away, trying to hide the mist in his eyes. “I have to remember her, Lumin. I have to.” It was silent for a long while as the stallion collected himself, Lumin gently rubbing his hoof all the while.

"Some days I don't want to fight anymore," he finally said quietly. "I've been fighting for so long that it just feels normal to be on edge all the time. I'm tired, Doc. And transformed or not, a changeling will always be a changeling to me." Lumin's anticipatory smile wavered. Keen Edge noticed and he grunted a small laugh. "Don't go calling in the cavalry, but I'm... open to the possibility that Gloss’s motives were good. And the idea that the best revenge might be to... move on." Lumin released his hoof, listening with rapt attention.

He closed his eyes and took three deep breaths, in through the nostrils and out through the mouth. "I guess..." His thoughts trailed off as he opened his eyes. Then, his ears perked up, and he gave Luminant Heart a lopsided grin.

"Yes?" Lumin urged, her own hesitant smile growing.

"I guess if a changeling can change, I could too. Like you said, sometimes all we can do, all we need to do, is try."

Author's Note:

Last fall, I read an article about PTSD in a magazine which prompted me to start looking into the matter. That research created the initial idea for this story. Following that, I looked into how the effects of traumatic situations are diagnosed. I took a few self-report questionnaires to see what questions are asked of people, read through several public reports, and started asking questions. This led me to realize just how razor-thin of a line many people are walking, sometimes daily, between continuing to function on a “normal” level and losing their balance off the cliff’s edge. This little tale was never meant to be an in-depth look at the struggles of someone afflicted with this disorder. Instead, it’s looking over the shoulders of characters while they wrestle with experiences and the fallout of those experiences. I still know woefully little about the subject, but understanding that you’re starting from a position of ignorance is often the start point in the pursuit of knowledge.

A special thanks goes to Heartshinefor answering my questions about PTSD, therapist/patient confidentiality, pointing me in the right direction when I needed reference articles, and for just being an all-around awesome person. And an enormous thank you goes to my editor, SirReal, for the extensive editing, thought-provoking additions and questions, and all the time invested in making this story far, FAR better than it was when I started. 

What you’ve just read is something very different from my original vision. While my first iteration did touch on the subject of PTSD, it was originally shown only through the detached lens of Faith’s viewpoint. She was supposed to be the ignorant observer who watched Keen spiral downward while functioning as a direct representation of those who are wholly unprepared and unable to handle friends and loved ones with such an affliction. Keen’s plight was toned down, Faith was trying to be supportive, and there was a generous heap of fluffy feelings by the end. That was last year’s plan, and it seems 2020 might have gotten ahold of this story because it didn’t remain in that configuration for long once SirReal arrived on the scene. 

The original ending had not been earned, and I knew that from the start. The problem was twisting the path back up to the beginning in a relatable way but still carried an emotional kick. I feel like at some point we skipped right past the kick and barreled straight into a sucker punch to the gut. At least, that’s how I felt when I would check my Google Docs notifications and see edits and additions that numbered in the triple digits! SirReal posed questions and prompted ideas that turned this story on its head by opening a darkened cellar door and saying, “Come on. Let’s see what’s down there.” Keen was meant to be a shining example of overcoming adversity. Faith was supposed to be his well-meaning superior and friend. A single edit changed that entire dynamic, and although it took me a few days to come to terms with the new path that one change would take us down, hitting the Accept button proved to be the best choice. Some paragraphs and dialogue exchanges ended up being wholly from SirReal’s creative thoughts, but I never felt like the story was being hijacked. Instead, I felt like I was being led toward a conclusion that I would not have found on my own, and it was a conclusion of which I was profoundly prouder. 

This has certainly been a learning experience. One of my stories lying in stasis until last year, "With the Best of Intentions," was my first foray into stories with a darker edge. Although it gathered little attention, something I'm convinced is because it details my interpretation of pre-War events in the Fallout: Equestria universe, it stood as my proudest achievement until the minor success of "The Substitute Teacher." My fondness for Tempest/Fizzlepop aside, that tale spawned an idea for an arc that spanned four stories plus a bridging fic, over half of which are either already complete or ready to begin the editing process. Even with the Slice of Life feel to those stories, I always felt drawn to characters with something of a darker past or aspect, hence the starring role of Tempest. Keen Edge and Faithful Watch had the potential for an edge, but it wasn't until Keen's feelings towards Faith were turned sour through the editing process that this potential was realized. Thus, "In a Chang(el)ing World" now stands as the story in which I am most proud. 

***

“Faith is a manipulative bitch.” That was the thought that burned in my mind when I first read this story, and I made Kai very aware of this. Believe it or not, she played a much smaller role in the original text, largely being a “spectator” through whose eyes we saw Keen Edge, watching but being unable to help as he spiraled further and further into a pit of drunken violence and bitter aimlessness. She offered Keen his position on the Task Force, helped him out when he did dumb things, and kept tabs on his recovery. This was Kai’s original vision for the Lieutenant.

That all changed when I suggested that Keen spit in her face. 

After that, the dominoes continued to fall, and the story now is very different from when Kai first opened the door and allowed me to just run rampant like a bull in a china shop. The guy has the patience of a saint, I tell you, and I thank him profusely for putting up with my erratic ideas and suggestions. So he and I worked closely together over the course of these past five months, making tweaks to characters, big and small, adding new scenes and plot points, even changing the tone of the overall story. What was meant to be a simple proofreading sweep that’d take a week or so went in a direction neither of us could have expected, and I hope I’m speaking for the both of us when I say I think it came out fantastically. 

Without a doubt, Kai has made this one of the most enjoyable times I’ve had as an editor on this site, and, after working an ungodly amount of time with him on this monster of a project, we at long last bring Keen Edge’s journey to its close. With that said, dear readers, we hope you enjoyed!

Comments

[Ishiden]

Thanks very much for the awesome story. This and all the research you made created a incredible tale.

[fanreader999999]

Meh

[The Weaver]

It's over? Nothing happened... just flashbacks and sessions with some doctor.

The slow start was the story.

I have regrets...

[Kaipony]

10444451
Sorry that it didn’t end in a way that felt satisfying. I’m very pleased with the result and the brief looks at the consequences of Ends vs Means, as well as what’s often a lifelong struggle towards recovery. But I can see how expectations might differ from person to person. Thanks for at least sticking with it through the ending.

10443625
I appreciate that a lot. There’s no way I could actually understand what people who go through real tragedies and horrors are really feeling, and it was sobering to read through interviews and open therapy reports, but I hope I managed to capture enough to make it feel relatable.

[Southern Wing]

heavy... That was quite a story and a well done one. *claps hands*

[Kaipony]

10445727
Thank you!