Prodigy

by Sable Tails

Rebel Without a Crew

Stasis schemed. Not the petty schemes of hatchlings; not the evasions of watchers and wizards, not the theft of teeth and sweet treats, not the touching of the strange and forbidden. No, the time for lesser villainy had passed. Stasis’ littleness grew a little less every day, and it was time he put the schemes of his youth behind him.

What he really needed was a big scheme, epic even, that would shatter Pierce and sweep the pieces under the heavy throw rug of destruction. But what would it be? What schemes did he even possess that could be brought to bear against such a foe?

Stasis tried to imagine what his family would do in such a situation. Mother’s thoughts were beyond him. So were Nit’s, though for very different reasons. Thor would bluster and swag, and Chigger would probably try to count something. Mag would use her feminine wiles, powers still beyond Stasis’ reach. Coxa would collect things and then cry like a little hatchling when someling took them away. Vertex would….

…Well, whatever Vertex would do, it would most likely involve spells that Stasis did not know, weapons with which he was not armed, or physical size and strength that he did not possess. Stasis did not think that Vertex’s methods were well suited to little changelings, or ones who couldn’t just leave the aftermath of their actions behind them when they returned to the forest.

No, Stasis would have to be cleverer than that. More cunning. He either needed to dissuade Pierce from his quest – a task akin to persuading a dragon to go vegan when you were halfway down its gullet – or else somehow ensure that all of his efforts remained futile. But how to do that? Stasis pondered further.

…He recalled the strange conversation between Pierce and Cleave. Clearly, Pierce wasn’t willing to try to drive Stasis away himself – or let other adolescents do it. He wanted to convince the adult ponies of Stasis’ changelinghood and have them burn him at the stake, or starve him, or feed him to their ravenous solar deities or whatever it was that they did to convicted changelings around here.

At least these Equestrians didn’t seem familiar with any of the less-sophisticated means of rooting out his kind. No ‘swimmings’ here, no blood hounds. Instead, in Equestria’s usual methodical, magical way, they had a spell. A spell which Pierce did not know, and could not know, being the hornless pseudo-cripple that he was. A spell which he needed help to cast, from a unicorn that he needed help to find.

So…Pierce’s greatest threat at the moment, then, was that he would convince others to assist him in his speciesism. And what Stasis needed to do was to make sure that no one ever listened to anything that Pierce ever had to say, ever. And how hard could that be? What did Pierce have going for him, besides his powerful physical presence, his forceful personality, or his nigh-pathological refusal to lie or commit even the slightest, most innocent of iniquities?

…This could be difficult. It wouldn’t be if Stasis could simply spread lies about Pierce, but the ponies’ willingness to believe Stasis’ prevarications seemed to be inversely proportional to the amount of time Stasis spent amongst them. It was as if they were developing some kind of natural Stasis-immunity or something.

What he needed was for somepony else to destroy Pierce’s reputation for him. But therein lay the maddening paradox: anypony honest enough to be believed was, by necessity, too honest to lie. Of course, Stasis could try and trick some honest pony into believing the lie and then spreading it himself, acting as an oblivious host, spreading his slanderous infection to everypony around him…but time was of the essence, and in deceiving even a single pony, he encountered the same problem of trustworthiness that he faced in deceiving many. Stasis needed a way to destroy Pierce’ reputation now, before Pierce had a chance to further his own plans.

But wait! What if the honest pony lying was itself a lie? What if there existed a creature so black, so terrible, so dire, that it could steal another creature’s face and wear it as its own? Yea, take their identity, their very self, and twist it to every end most foul and perverse? What if this dark fantasy, this deep fear, this demon leapt from nightmare and abyss, were none other than Stasis himself?

The little changeling grinned. He had not assumed an identity other than his own since he had come to Trottingham; not once. Not even when it might have saved him from rampaging principles and rabid wizards. They came after him with paddles and harsh words; he doubted the royal guard would grant him such mercy.

As uninspired and monotonous as his tutors’ lessons had been, he still remembered what they had said about assuming other identities while infiltrated: don’t. “With every form you choose,” they had made him recite, “another year you lose.” (The time in which they forced him to memorize it in the old tongue, in which it didn’t even rhyme, had been one of those defining moments in Stasis’ life in which he realized that his profound distaste for others may sometimes, in fact, be reciprocated.)

Now, given that Stasis was effectively immortal and thus had an infinite pool of years to draw from, he wasn’t sure precisely how the rhyme applied to him. Still, he took the point.

…But this was an emergency. A potentially life-threatening emergency, even. To save his life, every option had to be on the table, even his unholy changeling powers.

His path now set, the only thing to decide was: who? Who would he impersonate in order to subsequently defile Pierce’s reputation? It had to be somepony of unquestionable integrity, unimpeachable honor, unassailable purity. Somepony so good, so righteous, so inviolably honest that nopony would dare question his word, as if it came from the mouth of Celestia herself.

“Hey, Stasis?” called out an orange voice.

“Come on, Major! I’m scheming! You know you’re not supposed to interrupt me while I’m scheming!” Stasis rebuked his companion.

Major pointed at a glass on the table between them. “I just wanted you to know that your milkshake is melting.”

“Stupid pony milk-sugar-ice concoctions…” muttered Stasis, who quickly snatched his straw and began sipping greedily.

“Are you alright? You’ve been really quiet all day,” said Major, whose own glass sat empty before him.

“I’m fine. I’ve just got stuff I’ve got to think about,” Stasis explained. “Wicked stuff. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Oh. Okay.” Major swirled his straw about his cup absently for a few moments before continuing. “You know, Goldie’s waiting for us at the park…I don’t want her to think that we’ve forgotten her or anything….”

Stasis sighed wistfully.

“I know that Star Swirl likes for me to keep an eye on you and make sure that you’re alright –“

“He says that it’s for my own protection,” Stasis mumbled. “I think he just likes being a fascist, though.”

“ – but I was wondering if maybe I could go on ahead? I don’t want you to have to throw away your milkshake.”

Stasis looked out the window at the pony throngs without, their pastels shining brightly under the midday sun. He waved dismissively at Major with one hoof. “Go frolic with Goldie, if you must. I’ll probably be feeling too sick to play for a while after I finish this huge milkshake, anyway.”

“Thanks, Stasis. See you later!” Major said, happily dashing out the door of the malt shop.

Stasis sighed and resumed his scheming without interruption. Now, whose identity to take? So many ponies, so many to choose from! It should be somepony I know well enough to imitate. Somepony guileless and unassuming. Somepony above reproach. Somepony –

Wait.

* * *

Stasis’ left ear pivoted, pointing towards the door, alert to the telltale clip-clop sounds of any approaching public-restroom-goers. He swiftly checked himself in the mirror, his body tense and ready to dash back into one of the stalls at the sight of the slightest imperfection.

Orange coat, clean and inexpertly brushed. Oranger mane, short-cut and slightly mussed. Not-orange eyes, open and honest. Stasis tried to imitate Major’s wide grin, to mixed success; as it turned out, innocence and unfettered congeniality were harder to imitate than Stasis would have thought.

The masque was much roomier than his old one, that was for sure. He had grown used to its tight restraints, removing them only at night so that he could sleep in peace; now, Major’s form almost felt too big, at the limits of what even Stasis’ magic could replicate. His wings didn’t feel crushed against his body for once, although his horn brought a new discomfort, as if the protuberance had been pushed partway into his skull, putting pressure in and under his forehead.

Still, overall, Stasis was quite satisfied. Even the cutie-mark was perfectly placed, perfectly shaped. He swooshed his tail experimentally; it looked just the right thickness, just the right length. Unless Major had some kind of subtle birthmark or scar that Stasis didn’t know about, he doubted there was a pony in all the land that, just by looking at him, could tell he wasn’t who he pretended to be.

He gave himself another smile in the mirror, the large white teeth somehow still looking a bit too predatory to his critical eye. Oh, well. It wasn’t as if he would be wearing this masque for very long, anyway. He would just ruin Pierce’s life, and then Major could have his identity back.

Now, how to go about the rest of his plan? Simple rumors wouldn’t be enough, not for this. Pierce would shed rumors like water off a duck. It had to be something serious, something that would make Pierce out to be a miscreant of the worst order.

What were some of the things that Star Swirl had told him a good pony should never do? You touch my stuff again, lad, and I’ll turn your mane into a mop, your horn into a toothpick, and your hooves into toys for small children.

No, that wouldn’t work. How about: Exactly what part of vandalizing lawn gnomes was appealing to you, lad? Did they throw rocks at you, or call you names? Why would you even do this?

Closer. Definitely closer. That’s it. New rule: no borrowing for Stasis, ever! You understand, lad? I don’t want you ‘borrowing’ lemon drops or cinnamon rolls, I don’t want you ‘borrowing’ Mrs. Busybody’s dentures, I don’t want you ‘borrowing’ dandruff from atop Major’s head! Don’t do the borrowing, don’t speak the borrowing, don’t even think the borrowing! Next time I hear the words ‘borrow’ and ‘Stasis’ in the same sentence that doesn’t include the word ‘library,’ so help me, I’ll –

Stasis didn’t borrow any more. Still, he had found his answer: petty theft! Not that he would have to actually do the petty thieving, of course – that would incriminate Major, not Pierce – he merely had to convince others that the petties had been thieved. And in all of Stasis’ experience on the subject, no ponies freaked out about thievery as much as shopkeepers, who seemed particularly hateful towards this clever method of economic circumvention. (Well, nopony who wasn’t wreathed about with bells and possessing of a mighty paddling-hoof of judgment, anyway.)

Now he just had to decide who –

Creaaaaak.

Stasis turned around fearfully, eyes wide as an adult pony pushed open the door and stepped into the small public restroom. Seeing Stasis, he smiled.

“Hey, Major! How’s it going?” the pony asked cheerfully.

“Uh…good?” Stasis replied.

The pony must have seen the light of nonrecognition in Stasis’ eyes, for his head cocked to the side and his smile took on a slightly bemused cant.

“Hey now, Major. You remember me, don’t you?”

Actually, no. Ponies pretty much all looked the same to the little changeling. Unfortunately, Major possessed a memory of other ponies bordering on the eidetic.

Stasis smiled as he flexed his vocal chords, changing to the orange pony’s deeper voice and warm, cordial tones. “Of course I do! I’m Major! How could I ever forget a pony as memorable and non-nondescript as you?”

The pony’s smile tightened a bit. “Uh…right. Well, it’s good seeing you, Major.”

“It’s great seeing you, too!” Stasis exclaimed, careful to put his companion’s characteristic enthusiasm into every word. The pony’s smile tightened further as he moved quickly into a stall, bladder obviously filled to overflowing.

Stasis looked at himself – at his new self – in the mirror, and grinned wickedly. Success! Who needed skill or experience when they had pure, raw talent? And all of his brothers and sisters had made it out as if this was the hardest thing in the world! What a bunch of weaklings.

Stasis/Major – Stajor? – chuckled maliciously to himself, the sounds of his gleeful wickedry echoing around the public restroom, every stain and crudely-carved love-note seeming to glow with its own dark, inner light.

* * *

Stajor strode into Strudel’s Sweets and Sustenance with all swagger. His disguise was flawless; his plan perfect; his cunning, absolute. He could do this.

The scents of steaming fresh bread mixed with those of brown sugar and darkest chocolate to assault the little changeling’s sensitive nose, the earlier milkshake sloshing about as his stomach swooned. Milk chocolate cookies, white chocolate cookies, and dark chocolate cookies; sugar cookies, peanut butter cookies, and rainbow cookies; macaroons, snickerdoodles, and oreos, all lined up in rows ordered by some arcane baker’s methodology. So many grains and salts and fats; so much oil and milk and eggs, mixed and fermented and baked in so many ways as to drive mere mathematicians and magicians mad with confusion and hunger.

How ponies could stand to have so much food so readily available but beyond their fiscal reach, Stajor couldn’t imagine. It was only his superior nature and iron will that kept him from leaping upon the bready foodstuffs in a crazed orgy of puerile gluttony. And if the ponies should ever learn to embrace their inner carnivore and open a butchery, not all the paddles in the world could keep him from borrowing everything in sight.

Looking over the food-laden counter, Stajor saw Mr. Strudel himself, an earth pony with a pale orange coat that seemed somehow sickly next to Major’s own neon glory. Mr. Strudel’s coat sheened with its characteristic lather, a byproduct of the large ovens in the rear of the store, tended by Mrs. Strudel, that kept the shop sweltering during these warm summer months.

Mr. Strudel finished decorating a cake and, setting aside his pastry bag and wiping the sweat from his brow, he saw Stajor and smiled.

“Heyo! And how are you doing on this fine midsummer’s day, Major? Life treating you well?”

“Uh…yeah?” Stajor answered. Remembering Major’s singular courtesy, he asked, “How are you?”

“Fine, fine, fine,” Mr. Strudel answered, taking a sip from a large mug marked ‘World’s #1 Baker.’ “Business is a bit slow right now, but it’s always like that after the breakfast rush, especially during the summer. Bet that new malt shop’s feeding its customers as fast as it can magic-up the ice, but we’ll see if it can survive the long winter we’ve got around these parts. But enough about that. You interested in buying a little something for yourself, or maybe that friend of yours?”

“Uh…no,” Stajor replied, his voice even. Major was prone to wild bouts of enthusiasm over the simplest of pleasantries, but this was serious business, and it was important that he keep his countenance somber.

“Well, then, what’s up? You just come by to say hello?” Mr. Strudel asked, eyes twinkling.

Experience had taught Stasis that stopping by a pastry shop just to say hello to the owner was not normal behavior, even by pony standards. That, of course, meant that it was Major’s modus operandi.

“No,” Stajor said, shaking his head sadly. “I’ve come by to deliver dire…I mean, to give dire…I mean, to give bad news!” he finished.

Mr. Strudel blinked. “What?”

“I’ve come by to give bad news!” Stajor repeated, cursing Major’s limited vocabulary and syntax.

Mr. Strudel frowned. “News? What news?”

“Yesterday, I saw Pierce steal from your store,” Stajor answered.

Mr. Strudel stared. “Pierce? Big Blue’s son?”

“Uh…right!” Stajor replied, not knowing the name of Pierce’s father, but assuming that the stock of ‘Pierces’ in Trottingham was probably pretty limited.

“You saw Pierce steal from my store? Yesterday?”

“He took food, and he didn’t pay for it,” Stajor said slowly, hoping to alleviate the look of mild bewilderment on Mr. Strudel’s face.

After a moment, Mr. Strudel asked, “And you saw this yourself? Why didn’t you tell me until now?”

“Um…because of fear of retribution!” Stajor answered, his momentary panic robbing him of the ability to speak entirely in words of less than three syllables. “Pierce gave me his death-gaze, and I panicked! It took me an entire day to get up the courage to speak to you!”

“I…see,” said Mr. Strudel, in that tone of voice a pony uses when they don’t understand a thing. “I’ll…uh…I guess I’ll talk to his parents? I mean, maybe they’re in some kind of trouble that I don’t know about. Big Blue did break his back and all…maybe he’s having troubles with his pension, but’s too proud to ask for help?”

“As long as Pierce suffers justice,” Stajor affirmed.

Mr. Strudel rubbed the back of his neck. “Huh. Yeah. Well…thanks for telling me, Major. You did the right thing.”

Stajor saluted before dashing out the door, grinning wide and cackling with success.

One down. Every other shop in Trottingham left to go!

* * *

Stajor stopped in front of Codger’s Break and Buy, the last store that he had time to visit today. While the various owners and shopkeepers had all professed to believe Stajor’s story and promised to look into the matter, their outrage over Pierce’s grand betrayal had been a bit…underwhelming. Stajor needed to insure that this was a blow from which his blue stone-eyed nemesis could never recover. To that end he had come here, to Trottingham’s premiere purveyor of antiquities, a stallion so old, so encrusted and cranky and full of child-hate that even Star Swirl couldn’t help but speak admirably of him.

It was said that when Codger was born, he was already over a hundred years old and the first thing he did was smack another baby right on its bottom. It was said that he had first made his fortune in the design and manufacture of paddles so big, so hard, so cold, that even the Equestrian Association of Elementary School Principles was horrified and outlawed the things, forcing him to become an antiquarian instead. It was said that even Major couldn’t stand the pedophobe and avoided him, a rumor which the orange pony denied vociferously.

Taking a deep breath, Stajor passed the ‘No Minors Allowed: Violators Will Be Yelled At’ sign and entered the store. Stepping over the threshold was like stepping into some alien dreamscape, the bright hues and sweet smells of summer replaced by dimly-lit non-flammable crystals and the scents of wood varnish and old grease. Clocks of manifold shapes and sizes lined the walls, some with three hands, some with two, and one even had five, the extras pointing to the phases of the moon and the cycles of the sun. Some tables and drawers were intricately carved from woods Stajor could not recognize by either sight or smell, while others were almost childishly simple, though neither seemed to have a place of importance above the other. Lining every available surface were knick-knacks and tools so numerous, so eclectic, that Stajor began to think that he had finally found the source for much of Star Swirl’s own prized collection.

Though no bell rang to mark his entrance and the door swung open and shut upon exquisitely oiled hinges, a stallion’s head snapped over the edge of the counter at the far end of the building. Codger’s mane was large and extended so far down his neck and cheeks that he almost seemed to have a beard of his own, but where Star Swirl’s was thick and luscious, Codger’s was thin, almost wispy, and seemed to stick out straight from his face as if wreathed in static electricity. A strange band about his head attached to an odd monocle over one eye, which enlarged its appearance to almost cyclopean proportions. The eye didn’t look happy to see Stajor.

“I know you,” said Codger, his voice sounding slightly croaky and unused. “You’re that chipper chap that’s always standing outside my door, yelling salutations across the store like a madpony. What do you want?”

“I didn’t come here to touch any of your stuff or anything,” Stajor said quickly.

Codger’s glare seemed to intensify, as if the very suggestion of such a thing enraged him.

“I just wanted to tell you about something Pierce did…you know Pierce, right?” Stajor asked, concerned. Most everypony in town seemed to have at least heard of Pierce and Major, if for different reasons…but Codger didn’t get out much.

“I know of him, yes,” was Codger’s reply. “He’s welcome to peruse my wares when he turns sixteen, just like all the rest.”

“But I saw him in here yesterday!” Stajor continued, cutting to the chase. “He took one of the things off your tables and put it in his bag without paying for it!”

“What!” Codger exploded, the monocle popping right off his head as his face flushed red. “That mulish grabby-hooved son of a cider-swiller! What’d he take?”

“I…I don’t know?” Stajor answered. “The lighting’s so poor in here, I couldn’t see!”

“Poor lighting? What do you lot want me to do, light a bloody bonfire amidst all the bloody wood so that you don’t strain your wee little eyes? I – wait.” Codger’s eyes narrowed. “What were you doing in here, anyway? Or were you filling up your saddlebags too, and thought you’d rat out your competitor?”

“No!” Stajor replied quickly. “I was outside, looking in through the windows! I would never go anywhere that I wasn’t supposed to, or take anything that wasn’t mine!”

Codger grunted, though his look of suspicion didn’t fade. “And when did you say this happened?”

“Yesterday?” Stajor replied nervously.

“When yesterday? Or are you so daft that you can’t tell time when you’re snooping about a store filled with bloody clocks?” Codger growled.

“Around…noon? Maybe?” Stajor tried to dodge.

“Impossible!” roared the old stallion. “I never left my store once during the entire time I was open yesterday, and there is no way some trifling, some trinket-taking spawn of swineherds and fungus-munchers could have snuck in here without me knowing it!”

“But…uh…maybe you were in the bathroom?” Stajor suggested desperately.

“Do you know how old I am, you short-legged fat-bellied pseudo-dwarf? I don’t use the facilities very often, but when I do, it’s a production. You think I just leave my store open when that happens?”

“Uh….”

“Speaking of bathrooms,” Codger continued, his voice a perpetual yell, “you’re so full of crap, I could smell it when you walked in the door! Spouting lies about others when it’s clear you’re the one after my antiques all along! Liar! Foul-mouthed tender-hoofed son of thieves and gypsies!”

“I should go,” Stajor affirmed, turning around and making for the exit with haste.

“Hey! Hey, you! Come back here!” came the cry behind Stajor, quickly followed by the sound of overlarge hooves on plank floor.

Stajor shoved through the door and dashed away from the store, weaving around pedestrians as he made in the direction most directly away from Codger’s Break and Buy. A moment later, the sound of a door slamming open echoed down the street.

“Hey! What’s your name, you smarmy little sweet-tongued son of flatterers and flirts! You prevaricating midget of a stallion, you unrighteous spawn of slippery eels and cheeky foxes! You tell me your name!”

A mare leapt back in alarm as Stajor made a hard turn, galloping into an alley and behind a large sack overflowing with refuse. The moment he was hidden and, seeing nopony looking his way from the opposite end of the narrow pathway, he flashed bright yellow as he changed his masque, the familiar constriction of his usual pony form passing over his body as quickly as he could make it. Pausing the barest second to check the quality of his disguise, he dashed across the alleyway to the opposite end from whence he’d entered.

The moment the sun’s light brushed directly over his body once more, he slowed down, merging with the casual flow of Trottinghammers on a pleasant summer evening. Forcibly quelling his short breath and swift heart, he continued onward for several minutes, destination-less, until he was certain that he had lost his pursuit. Then he smoothly doubled back towards Star Swirl’s house, his eyes looking nonchalantly forward but his mind carefully watching his peripheral vision for signs of suspicion or pursuit, just as his tutors had taught him.

Perhaps it was best if he just remained as Stasis-the-little-pony-child for a while, and observed the effects of his machinations. After all, even Pierce’s pristine reputation surely couldn’t survive such a raging holocaust of lies and deceptions.

Right?

* * *

Wrong.

“I-I’m sorry Stasis, but I can’t play with you today, o-or maybe ever!” Major cried. “I-I’m really sorry….”

Star Swirl patted the orange colt gently on the back. “There, there, lad. There, there.”

A tissue wrapped in blue magic levitated out of a pocket in the wizard’s coat, and Major blew his nose as he struggled not to sob.

Tell a little lie, get paddled. Steal a little candy, get paddled. Frame a little pony, get paddled.

“Come on, lad,” Star Swirl said softly. “Tell us what happened.”

“W-well, it started yesterday after dinner, when me and Dad went on a walk,” Major began. “We saw Mr. Codger walking home from his shop, but when we said hi, he started yelling at me! Dad took him aside and talked to him for a few minutes, but he wouldn’t tell me what they talked about, he just said that old Mr. Codger was confused, so I didn’t worry too much about it.

“Really early this morning, though, Mr. Strudel showed up at our house, and he and Dad talked for a while, and Dad said that I needed to stay home while he figured something out. He came back a while ago and said that he talked to Mrs. Jiggle, and Mr. Basily, and even little Apple Crumpet over at the Apple Emporium, and they all said the same thing: that yesterday I’d told them that Pierce had been stealing from their stores!”

“Hmm,” Star Swirl said, his lips twisting into a frown. “Go on.”

“I told Dad that I’d been playing with Goldie all yesterday afternoon, so I couldn’t have said those things, but he said that everypony agrees that it was me, and when he went by to see Pierce and his parents, they gave him an alibi!” Major continued, looking up beseechingly into Star Swirl’s blue eyes. “But how can I have an alibi, Mr. Swirl? I don’t even know what that is! All I’ve got is Goldie, but Dad won’t listen to either of us!”

Paddled, paddled, paddled. Even life paddles me now. When do I get to be the one doing the paddling?

Major blew his nose into the tissue again, his eyes watery and his breathing labored as he looked back and forth between Stasis and Star Swirl. “Goldie went home all upset, and now Dad says that I’m grounded until I tell him the truth. But I am telling him the truth! I would never lie to my Dad!”

He looked Stasis in the eye, his own pleading. “B-but…but you believe me, right, Stasis?”

Stasis stared back at his companion. “Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh….”

“Of course we believe you, lad,” Star Swirl said, patting Major on the back again as he gave Stasis a sharp look. “I reckon this is just some kind of misunderstanding that’ll probably blow over in a day or two. Why don’t you just go home and relax for a while, eh? You’ve not done anything wrong, so there’s no reason for you to worry about it.”

Star Swirl’s tone was warm, but Stasis could taste his worry, and Major’s misery. He tried to tune out the bitter flavors.

“Thanks, Mr. Swirl,” Major said softly, his eyes downcast. “I’m sorry again, Stasis; I know I said that I’d play with you today, but I just…can’t. Bye.”

The orange colt turned about and walked slowly out the door. Star Swirl shut it quietly behind him.

Stasis watched the old wizard carefully, searching for the slightest hint of suspicion. But Star Swirl didn’t even look at the little changeling, instead just walking back towards the rear rooms, his expression hard and unreadable.

Stasis stood alone in the living room for a time, listening to the blood in his ears. Thinking.

…I could have just masqued myself as Pierce instead.

* * *

Stasis stood behind the carefully-trimmed hedges, peeking through at Major’s house on the other side of the road. Not because it was a particularly nice pony house to look at. It wasn’t. It was small, simple, and – perhaps most surprising of all – a rather faded shade of blue, which was quite possibly the most un-orange color that Stasis had ever seen.

No, he was stalking Major’s house because he had nothing – absolutely nothing – better to do. He dare not try anything else against Pierce so soon, not after this fiasco. Major was trapped in his own home, and Goldie was so upset that she refused to come out of hers. (Yes, he had gone to see Goldie. These were desperate times.)

And what else was there? He’d tried reading some books, but the novels seemed boring; the tomes, dense and unintelligible. The park was useless, full of strangers; the malt shop milkshakes tasted cold and oversweet. Everything seemed spoiled now, for some reason. Try as he might, as vast and as deep as his intellect might be, Stasis couldn’t think of a single, solitary thing that he wanted to do, now or later, here or elsewhere.

So he’d come up with a plan. A new plan, far superior to yesterday’s, that would solve everything in one, fell swoop. Best of all, it was something that he could act on right away, which was important because Stasis felt like he was going to start chewing on his own leg if he had to suffer another hour of this malaise.

Inspecting the house closely, he recognized Major’s room, marked by a window on the second floor. And right below that, his means of ingress.

Moving from behind the hedges, he crossed the nearly-empty street at a brisk yet casual trot, trying not to look as if he was about to break into somepony’s home. As soon as he was underneath Major’s window, he stopped and looked around, searching for spying eyes. Seeing nopony, he inspected his next obstacle.

Stretching up the side of the house was a faded white trellis, the kind that ponies used to grow those vines which they approved of. A pony would look at this trellis and see nothing but a lattice of white planks, crossing each other at simple right angles. Useless for aught but vine-growing and wood-burning.

Stasis, fortunately, was no pony. And he saw it for what it truly was: a series of holes stretching to the window high above, each one just about the size and shape of a little changeling’s hoof. Even without the use of his wings, Stasis had found a way.

Hooking his right forehoof into the highest hole he could reach, Stasis used it to hold himself in place as he inserted his rear hooves into lower holes and, with great strain, began to heave himself up.

Left forehoof. Right forehoof. Left hindhoof. Right hindhoof. Left forehoof. Right forehoof. Left hindhoof. Right hindhoof. He made his way up the side of the pony house slowly, ever so slowly, his small body straining at the unusual forces acting against his muscles. He was quite certain his frame was not designed to have his entire body weight pulled towards his hindquarters, which was itself pulling on his hooves, which were themselves suspended by a ring of rough wood around his fetlocks. It hurt. A lot more than he’d anticipated, actually.

Hissing quietly to himself, he pulled one forehoof out of its hole for a moment, inspecting it critically.

Hooves were unsurpassed when it came to running long distances and smashing things, it was true. Still, he was beginning to question the wisdom in having only a single digit on the end of each leg. Stasis decided that, if he ever had to be something other than a changeling, he definitely wanted to be a gryphon. Then he could fly as much as he wanted to, hunt small mammals, and climb up trellises without feeling like he was going to break his legs off – an important advantage in Stasis’ mind.

Deciding that halfway up the side of a building wasn’t the place for philosophical musings, Stasis struggled forward. Up, up, up he went, the window seeming ever closer, but still ever so far away.

His muscles burning hotly now, he paused a few paces short of the window to catch his breath. Glancing towards the street, he noticed a colt even younger than himself sitting there by the side of the road, watching him with owlish eyes. For a few long moments neither moved, each staring at the other.

Stasis tried to think of something to say, some explanation for why a little pony child would find himself walking up the side of his companion’s house in broad daylight…but in the end, what was there to say? He was almost there as it was; there was no turning back now, no excuses, no regrets.

Returning his gaze and attention back to the goal, Stasis soldiered on, wondering not-for-the-first-time why it was so incredibly important that Star Swirl not teach him how to teleport. Maybe Star Swirl liked for Stasis to have to climb trellises? Maybe he was sitting before a crystal ball somewhere even now, chuckling to himself and munching popcorn while he watched Stasis earthpony his way through life?

Desirous now to beat the cruel wizard at his own game, Stasis pushed forward, forcing himself to take the last few ‘steps.’ Finally, his legs trembling in pain, he was there, at the summit of his endeavor, at the height of his plan. As his hooves were otherwise engaged, he was forced to rely on his horn to wrap the glass in magic and pull upwards.

The window was locked. Stasis pondered this deeply for a few moments, turning it over in his mind, analyzing it critically. He tried again.

Yes, the window was indeed locked. This was not a good thing, that the window should be locked. Reluctantly, Stasis decided that an addendum to his plan was in order.

“Major!” he cried, leaning forward and banging his horn repeatedly against the pane. “Maaaajoooor! You’ve got to let me in, Major!”

An orange face appeared at the window, its mouth a frown, its eyes red and puffy. “Stasis? Why are you outside my window?” it asked, the voice muffled.

“There’s no time!” cried Stasis, whose quivering legs were beginning to hurt really, really badly. “You’ve got to open the window, Major! Open! The! Window!”

Seizing the latch with his mouth, Major twisted it around before shoving the window open with both hooves.

Swiftly pulling one forehoof out of its hole, Stasis placed it on the window ledge, but couldn’t get a good grip. If he tried to do the same with the other hoof, he would surely slip.

“Major!” he cried again. “You’ve got to pull me up quick, Major! I’m about to fall!”

Without hesitation, Major leaned out the window and wrapped both forelegs around Stasis’ head.

“Ouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuch!” Stasis screeched as Major’s hooves dug in under his skull, his body was slowly dragged over the rough ledge, and he was finally released to crash face-first into Major’s (thankfully) carpeted floor. Stasis’ horn got rug-burn.

“Stasis, why are you in my house?” Major asked, not looking in the slightest bit grateful that the little changeling had come to save him.

No matter. Stasis had stolen his way inside and, minor hiccups aside, all was going according to plan. It was time to proceed to the second stage.

Lifting himself off the floor and taking his most determined, forceful pose, Stasis looked his best companion in the eye. “Major, I’m busting you out,” he said, with authority. “Let’s go.”

Major blinked. “What?”

“You can come and live with me and Star Swirl,” Stasis explained. “Your dad will never think to look for you there! We’ll eat cookies together every day, and read books together every night. It’ll be great!”

Major stared at him, mouth slightly agape. Then he began to cry.

And cry. And cry. And cry. Stasis was no expert, but this did not seem the ‘I’m so happy to be rescued!’ kind of weeping that pathetic weakling damsels were oft to do in stories. This seemed more like the burning, bubbling overflow of sorrow and despair that traditionally preceded the rescuing.

Stasis watched the forehooves in which his companion had buried his face begin to drip with his tears. The sobs almost seemed to burn inside Stasis; his chest felt tight as his jaw clenched, and he looked desperately about at the surrounding games and toys, hoping for any cure to the situation. At that moment, even the sound of Major’s parents coming up the stairs would have been a welcome relief.

The crying continued, and no approaching hoofsteps were heard. Nostrils flared, Stasis walked next to Major and, slowly reaching one foreleg around the orange colt’s back, he began to lightly pat his companion.

“There, there?” he tried. “There, there?”

“I…I…I’m sorry, Stasis…” Major sobbed. “I…I just…why won’t my dad believe me? He’s never not-believed me before! Never!”

“Uh…it’s just like Star Swirl said!” Stasis said, seizing on the first thing to come to mind. “You know you didn’t do anything wrong, so it doesn’t matter what anypony else thinks, right? Stand proud in your righteousness!”

“I don’t want to be right,” Major cried, his voice hoarse and strained. “I just want my dad to believe me!”

“But…but…” Stasis stuttered, trying to think of something that would make Major feel better. “But…if your dad doesn’t believe you, then that’s not your fault, right? Somepony must have tricked him!”

“What?” Major asked, straightening up and looking at Stasis with tear-stained cheeks. “What do you mean?”

Stasis licked his lips, thinking quickly. “I mean…somepony must have said all those things about Pierce, right? Somepony must have made themself look like you and then spread all those lies. Somepony who’s not you.”

“But…but why would anypony do that? Why would anypony want to get me into trouble?” Major asked, looking bewildered.

“I’m sure that’s not what happened!” Stasis protested. “I’m sure that this is all just someone’s brilliant plan gone horribly, horribly wrong!”

“But…but who would lie and lie and lie, and make it look like I was the one who did it?” Major asked. “Who do you think would do that, Stasis?”

“Well, I…uh….” Stasis wiped his brow, the room suddenly seeming small and stuffy. “I mean, does it really matter, Major? We should greet those who wrong us with forgiveness, not recriminations!”

Major rubbed at his eye with one hoof. “But how can I forgive him if I don’t know who he is, Stasis?”

“Hope will find a way,” Stasis answered. “Or something.”

Major looked away for a moment, his lip quivering. “If…if my dad believed me, I know he’d want me to forgive the pony who did this. So I guess I’ll try to do that.”

“…Oh,” was all Stasis could think to say.

Major looked at him again, his expression miserable. “I know you’re just trying to help me, Stasis, but…do you think you could maybe go away for a while? I kind of want to be alone.”

It was Stasis’ turn to look away. He had a sudden, intense desire to do something that he also really didn’t want to do and thought was terribly stupid and would most likely ruin his life. It was very confusing.

Not being one to deny himself his desires, Stasis cleared his throat. “Um…Major?”

Major blinked. “Huh?”

Stasis rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I…may know who framed you for being a liar….”

“What? Who? Is it somepony I know?”

Stasis opened his mouth to answer...but then closed it again, and nodded.

Major watched him for a moment. “…Well? Can you tell me who it is?”

Stasis licked his lips again. “Um…well….”

“Is it a secret? Did you promise not to tell?”

Stasis did not think himself a cowardly changeling, but this was actually really, really hard. It would help if Major wasn’t staring at him so intensely, his expression so earnest, hanging on Stasis’ every word.

“…Will you be angry?” Stasis finally asked. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do if the answer was ‘yes.’

Major looked down at the floor, his brow furrowed. After a few moments, he looked up again and said, “I don’t know. I’ll try not to be.”

Stasis opened his mouth once more and forced it out. “I…am the one… who did it?”

Major looked at him as if he had lost his mind. “You? But…why would you do that, Stasis? Are you mad at me?”

“It’s…no! It’s all my brain’s fault!” Stasis cried. “All I wanted was a plan, and it gave me this one and made me think it was good!”

Major looked even more bewildered than before. “What? What plan?”

“I was trying to frame Pierce! Pierce! Not you! I just made myself look like you so that ponies would believe me. I framed you on accident!”

Major frowned. “So…you can make yourself look like other ponies? But….”

“Star Swirl’s magic,” Stasis blurted, the lie coming easily to his lips. “Star Swirl’s foul, vile illusion magic. He should never have taught me something so easily turned to sin and wickedry. He should have known that I could never resist the temptation! This is all Star Swirl’s fault! Star Swirl’s!”

“Well…okay,” Major said slowly, rubbing at one swollen eye. “I don’t really understand, but if you say that it was an accident, then I believe you. I forgive you, Stasis.”

Stasis squinted at Major for a few moments, his treacherous brain trying to catch up with the speed of Major’s words.

“What?”

“I forgive you, Stasis,” Major repeated.

“What?”

“I. Forgive. You.”

“But…but…are you sure?” Stasis asked, briefly wondering if Major’s brokenness extended beyond just his heart.

Major nodded. “I’m just glad it was an accident. I was afraid that somepony hated me for some reason.”

“But…but…but….” The sudden release of emotional tension made something get in Stasis’ eyes, and he wiped them furiously.

“It’s okay, Stasis,” Major said, hugging him briefly. “It’s going to be alright.”

“But…but…but….” Now it was Stasis’ mind that felt broken.

Major took the last tissue from a box and blew his nose vigorously. “Are you going to tell my dad now?”

“What? No!” Stasis said in alarm. “You don’t understand. I’m telling you what I did because…because….”

“Because it’s the right thing to do?” Major suggested.

“No!” Stasis exclaimed again. “No, that’s not it at all! I just…I wanted to make you feel better, I guess. You feel better now, right? Now that you know what happened?” Stasis really, really hoped that his confession hadn’t been for nothing.

Major seemed to think for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, but…don’t you feel better now, too? Doesn’t it feel better to tell the truth?”

Stasis took the question seriously, trying to analyze his own feelings. “…I kind of feel like I’ve betrayed my principles,” he answered honestly. “But…I’m also relieved that you’re not so sad anymore? I don’t know…I’m really confused right now.”

Major hesitated. “…If you want, I could tell –“

“No!” Stasis interrupted. “No, you can’t tell anypony, Major! I don’t want to get in trouble too!”

“Oh…” Major answered, looking crestfallen. “Okay….”

“You don’t understand, Major,” Stasis pleaded. “You don’t know the kinds of things Star Swirl would do to me if he found out! It would be terrible! Horrible! I can’t even imagine it!” He literally couldn’t imagine it. He had no earthly idea what Star Swirl would do to him, but it would be terribly horrible and Stasis figured that being paddled until he couldn’t walk straight was probably on the optimistic side of things.

“Okay, Stasis…I understand,” Major said, still looking sad, but at least he wasn’t crying now. “But…there’s something about this plan you had that I still can’t figure out….”

“Yeah?” Stasis asked nervously. He really hoped that Major didn’t delve too deeply into the reasoning of why he felt the need to frame Pierce and destroy his reputation. For once in his life, Stasis didn’t feel in the mood to deceive.

“If you were trying to frame Pierce for stuff, and if you can make yourself look like other ponies now…why didn’t you just make yourself look like Pierce instead?”

* * *

Stasis dropped the last few paces to the ground, landing with an ‘oomph.’ Looking up, he saw Major pull the rope of sheets and blankets back into his room and close the window, leaving it thankfully unlatched this time.

Rubbing at his aching teeth and wishing again for more prehensile appendages, Stasis checked the area for any additional voyeurs before beginning the journey home. Giving one last look back, he saw his companion watching him silently from the window, his eyes still red and his naturally-blithe mouth twisted down into a frown. The muntins looked like nothing so much as iron bars at that moment.

Stasis turned his gaze away, and began trotting quickly home. Pondering his own feelings again, he felt strangely…unfulfilled. Wasn’t that supposed to be the draw of doing good deeds? To achieve enlightenment or inner peace or something?

And he had done good, hadn’t he? He’d confessed his error to Major and received his forgiveness – well, strictly speaking he’d ensured that he had Major’s forgiveness and only then confessed his mistake, but it all pretty much came out to the same thing – and so it seemed like he should be bubbling with joy and good cheer at the moment. Instead, now Major knew he was the one to blame for his sufferings, and Stasis still felt somehow burdened by the whole situation. Why would anypony want to live like this?

Stasis groaned. This was all his conscience’s fault somehow, he was sure. Why it should choose now of all times to afflict him, he couldn’t imagine.

Walking past the iron gate and into the house, Stasis poured himself a glass of water in the kitchen and then made his way towards his room. His muscles ached from the trellis, and he just wasn’t feeling up to doing much else today. Maybe if he went to bed really early, he’d wake up feeling better tomorrow.

As he was almost out of the living room, Star Swirl’s gruff voice stopped him.

“Lad,” he said without looking up from his work. “Come here. I want to talk to you.”

Stasis suppressed another groan and went over towards the old wizard. Usually ‘I want to talk to you’ either meant that Stasis was in trouble, or that…well, actually, it pretty much always meant that Stasis was in trouble in some form or fashion. Stasis really didn’t feel up to this right now.

Standing next to the much larger, older ungulate, Stasis wasn’t quite tall enough to see what it was Star Swirl was writing. His normal curiosity diffused, he just waited quietly.

Star Swirl’s quill continued to scratch away as he asked, “Lad, do you know where magic comes from?”

“Horns?” Stasis guessed.

“That’s a tool for using magic, but do you know where magic itself comes from? Do you know what it is?”

Stasis really wasn’t in the mood for magic lessons, but Star Swirl’s demeanor was strangely taciturn for so elementary a topic, and so he took the question seriously. “It’s a force of change, one that manifests itself most visibly as light and that can be used to order reality according to certain rules,” Stasis answered, feeling that the textbook definition was safest. “It comes from our bodies and can be ordered and stored in certain talismans and artifacts, especially crystalline structures, although like simple energy, it’s naturally present to some degree everywhere, in everything.”

Star Swirl grunted. “That’s an excellent answer, lad, but not the one that I’m looking for. Magic comes from inside us, and it pours down upon us from the sun and the moon and the stars. It exists everywhere,” Star Swirl pointed at one of his many strange devices, a glass jar in the shape of a bell, “even in the absence of ponies or air or light itself. It follows rules, but it resists quantification. The ancient philosophers seemed to believe that magic had a will of its own, that the magic of the soul loved the pegasi and lifted them up on wide-stretched wings, that the magic of the body loved the earth ponies and granted them its ripe fruit and great strength, and that the magic of the mind loved unicorns and granted them the power to alter the world around them with their thoughts.”

Star Swirl turned and looked down at the little changeling. “Of course, now we believe that magic is just a tool – but it’s a tool that fits the hoof of the wielder. Some ponies – some creatures, sapient and not – attract certain forms of magic that stores itself in their bodies and can be called upon at will. A few creatures, such as myself, attract almost all forms of magic equally, and can easily call upon a wide range of abilities.”

The old wizard paused for a moment, seemingly trying to think of how to continue. “Lad, do you know how you asked me about black magic before?”

“Yeah,” Stasis replied, his confusion being pushed away by a rising tide of interest.

“And do you remember how I told you that there’s no such thing?”

“Yeah,” Stasis replied again, listening intently.

Star Swirl stroked his beard. “Well, that’s true…up to a point. I don’t know of any inherently evil magic, or if it’s even possible for magic to be good or evil…but, while I don’t buy into most of the namby-pamby mumbo-jumbo about magic that armchair-philosophers will tell you, it is true that magic responds to the heart.”

Stasis frowned. “The heart?” That would certainly explain some of the stories he’d read about heart-hungering cannibals, he supposed.

“Well…no, not literally,” Star Swirl replied. “The heart is a muscle that beats until it doesn’t anymore, and then you’re dead. What I actually mean is the mind and – if we really want to get theoretical – the aura of magic that forms the thaumaturgical underpinnings for your physical body. But that’s a lecture for another time. For now, we’ll just call it your heart.”

“I’m confused,” Stasis admitted.

Star Swirl sighed. “Just bear with me for a moment, lad. My point is, like attracts like. If you’re black-hearted and black-minded, you might find the magics you’re attracted to and good at tend to be pretty well-suited to black deeds as well. Like I said, magic sort of has a mind of its own at times, even if that mind looks a lot like yours. Are you following me so far?”

“We utilize the magic within our bodies, and that magic can change over time depending on our own thoughts and actions?” Stasis replied.

“Eh…right,” Star Swirl confirmed. “That’s actually exactly what I’m trying to say.”

“I still don’t understand why we’re doing this now,” Stasis questioned. “Shouldn’t we save the magic lessons until after dinner?”

“You know how it goes, lad. I’ll get around to my point when I get around to it,” said Star Swirl. “Now…do you know what the most powerful thing in the world is?”

“Celestia?” Stasis answered immediately.

“No, though that’s pretty close. Try again.”

“The sun?” Stasis guessed, naming what he imagined to be the source of Celestia’s power.

Star Swirl snorted. “I don’t know if that counts as being ‘in’ the world, and even if it did, you’d probably still be wrong. Try again.”

Stasis pondered. The only being he knew of who was more powerful than Celestia was Discord himself. They said that Discord could turn the day dark and the night bright; that he ruled over war and strife and madness and fed on them like a pig at the trough; that order was his finger bowl and sanity, his whipping boy. But even that ancient spirit, that force against nature and reason, had been defeated by –

“The Elements of Harmony?” he guessed once more.

Star Swirl nodded. “That’s right. The Elements of Harmony, which appeared at the same time as the royal pony sisters to defeat the magics of chaos and set the world right again. Greater wizards than I have studied those artifacts in the past, and do you know what they found?”

“Greater wizards than you?” Stasis asked quizzically.

“Eh…I was trying to be polite,” Star Swirl recanted. “Anyway, do you know what they found?”

“Crystals?” Stasis guessed. Though he didn’t understand all the theory yet, it was clear that crystals filtered and stored and manipulated magic better than virtually any other inanimate material known to ponykind.

“They are crystals, to an extent, although they’re much more than that,” Star Swirl continued, his hoary voice taking on the passionate tones it so often did when he spoke of magic. “But what I want you to remember is this: like all crystals, the Elements respond to certain types of magic, to certain ‘frequencies’ you could say, while ignoring others. And do you know what frequencies, what types of magic that the Elements respond to?”

“Harmonious ones?” Stasis answered. He really felt like he couldn’t go wrong with that answer.

“They respond to the types of magic, or the auras, of creatures with good hearts, good motives, and good intentions. They bond with their chosen bearers, and just as the Elements are bonded with each other, they respond to the bonds that their bearers form as well. The princesses love each other and want the best for Equestria and the entire world; it’s this eternal bond and mission that activate and channel the Elements that protect us all from even the gravest threats. Do you see, lad?” the old pony asked, looking at Stasis intently.

“Uh…see what?”

“You’re always trying to be the strongest and the best at whatever you set your mind too,” Star Swirl continued. “And so I’m telling you the culmination of what I’ve learned over a lifetime of studying and practicing magic, something that amazes me even now: the most powerful force in our universe, the same one that sets our lives in order, that makes us strong, is friendship. It seems like a ninny thing to say, but it’s the truth.”

“You’re saying that if I want to be the best…I should wield the Elements of Harmony!” Stasis said, excited. That power!

“Eh…no,” Star Swirl said. “Only the princesses can wield the Elements. But they can do so because they hold the virtues of the Elements close to their hearts: honesty, generosity, kindness, laughter, loyalty, and the magic of friendship itself. This is what makes them strong.”

“I thought they were strong because they were gods,” Stasis mused.

“I told you not to call them that, lad,” Star Swirl chided gently. “But there’s more to being strong than just power.”

“Oh.” Stasis considered that for a moment. “Well, I guess I just want to be powerful, then.”

Star Swirl rubbed at his temples for a moment. “I reckon I’m not very good at this. Look, lad, forget the magic analogy for a moment. What I’m trying to say is, I don’t want you to make the same mistakes that I have. I don’t want you getting so sidetracked with your own projects that you ignore your relationships with others.”

“I don’t have ‘projects’,” Stasis countered glumly. “Not like you.”

Star Swirl cocked an eyebrow. “Oh? And what were you doing yesterday while Major was supposedly running around spreading lies about Pierce? Why weren’t you there with Goldie when she was standing up for her friend?”

“Uh….”

“’Uh…’ is right,” Star Swirl said sternly. “Major needs you right now, and what are you doing? Moping about the house all day?”

“But what am I supposed to do!” Stasis countered. “I’m not the one that doesn’t believe him! I’m not the one that grounded him! Why don’t you go give Major’s dad this speech instead? He’s the one that’s making Major miserable, not me!”

“You pick up on magical theory faster than half the college kids I used to teach,” Star Swirl scorned, “and now you try to sell me stupid crap like that? Who are you lying to, lad: me, or you?”

“I don’t know what you expect me to do…” Stasis grumbled, looking away.

“I think you know exactly what you need to do,” Star Swirl rumbled. “If you didn’t, you’d be out there scheming and figuring it out instead of hiding in here all afternoon. You’re scared.”

Stasis cringed back from the wizard’s angry countenance, and then glared. “I am not scared. You don’t even know how brave I am!”

“You are scared,” Star Swirl countered. “And if you’re not brave enough to overcome your fear, then it’s a mirror you should be glaring at, not me. I want you to brave. I want you to be strong. That’s what I’ve been trying to explain to you this whole time: how to be strong, in magic and character. Will you be a foolish, frightened little pony, or will you go out there and find some way to help the one other pony in this town who likes you and wants to be your friend?”

“I already tried to rescue him!” Stasis protested. “Who else would have done that? Nopony could have rescued him but me! It’s not my fault he didn’t want to be rescued!”

“Then find another way,” Star Swirl said, more gently now. “Put that brain of yours to use and find out what really happened, and then explain it to Major’s family and get him out of trouble. There’s not a bit of doubt in me that you could do that if you wanted to, lad. Do you want to?”

“Yeah, but….”

“Then do it. Do it because you want to be strong. Or do it because you love Major and want to help him. Heck, do it because I told you to. I don’t care, as long as you do it. Major needs to be able to trust that you’ll be there for him when he needs it, and you need to be able to trust yourself that you’ll take care of the ponies that are close to you.”

“I can trust myself,” Stasis muttered angrily. “I can do anything that I want to do….”

“Then I hope that you decide to save your friend, lad,” Star Swirl said. “You may not be an adult yet, but you’re no foal either. Whether you do the right thing or not – the wise thing or not – it has to be your choice.” The old wizard looked at him silently for a few moments longer, before turning and beginning to write again, as if the conversation had never taken place.

Stasis almost said something else…but then he snorted, and went back the way he came, outside. He felt angry. Angry that his stupid plan to frame Pierce had blown up in his face like this, angry that his plan to save Major had neither resolved the situation nor made him feel any better about it; and now angry that Star Swirl was throwing all this at his hooves. What did Star Swirl know, anyway? He practically said himself that he never bothered with friends or companions or anything like that; how did he know what Stasis should do?

Stasis never signed up for this. He was just here for the magic, the money, and the memory. When he decided to stay in Trottingham, he hadn’t done it with the expectation that he’d by hounded by zealots and spanked by old geezers every other day. He just wanted to live a normal, simple pony childhood, but with the ability to do anything he wanted and not have the consequences shoved in his face all the time.

Stasis really, really wished that he had somepony to complain to right now. Somepony who would listen to his gripes and groans and actually feel sorry for him. Somepony who would offer to play a game or buy him a milkshake to take his mind off of things. Somepony orange.

Stasis put his face in his hooves, and groaned. Major wanted him to do the right thing. Star Swirl wanted him to do the right thing. Even his stupid, stupid conscience, which he hated and had almost managed to forget about, was bugging him about just leaving Major to his fate. Stasis didn’t even like the fact that he had a conscience, much less that it was interfering in his affairs.

He needed to save Major. It was like Star Swirl said; he was smart, and strong, and brave. He was an atheling; he could do anything. Nopony could take Major away from him, not even Major’s dad.

Stasis got up, and began to run towards Major’s house once more. He moved quickly, trying to turn his mind away from the punishment that was coming his way. From the pain. From the righteous stinging of paddle on flesh, the just fury on Major’s dad’s face as he realized the betrayal, as he raised his hoof to deliver judgment on Stasis’ iniquitous hiney –

“It’s not working!” Stasis yelled, trying to gallop faster. His heart beat fast in his chest; not just from exertion, but from fear. His breath came even shorter than it should, and his legs tried to turn, to run the other way. His brain urged him to reconsider, to wait and think of another way.

“Traitors!” Stasis yelled again, hooves clopping over stones as he demanded his body go faster, faster. The decision had been made! There was no turning back now!

Before even his will crumbled and ran, he dashed the last few paces and pounded on the door, breathless, his small hoof banging furiously as he tried not to think of how afraid he was. It still wasn’t working!

The door opened. Before him stood a stallion, a rather pale shade of grey similar to Star Swirl’s, with a small pair of round glasses perched on his muzzle. The stallion looked down at Stasis and blinked.

“Hello?”

“I did it!” Stasis cried. “Major never could have concocted so convoluted and corrupt a plan! You should have known it was me all along, you fools!...wait, are you Major’s dad?”

It was a little-known secret in Trottingham that Stasis had never, in fact, actually met Major’s dad. This was achieved through a combination of clever planning, artful excuses, and at times, outright flight. Perhaps the only creature Stasis feared more than his own parents, more than Celestia herself, was Major’s dad. He had imagined a creature of rippling muscle and strong jaw, a sage ripe with wisdom and virtue who would strike Stasis down where he stood, crushing the wicked little changeling under the weight of his proverbs before carving adages upon his cold, hard grave.

Instead, Stasis got this.

“I am,” Major’s dad replied, his soft voice a sharp contrast to Star Swirl’s own. “You’re Major’s friend Stasis, aren’t you? I’m not surprised that you don’t recognize me. Most ponies expect me to be orange for some reason.”

Stasis blinked.

“Would you like to come inside and discuss what you were saying?” Major’s dad asked kindly, stepping aside. “There are some leftover doughnuts from lunch, if you’re interested.”

“Oooookaaaaaay…” Stasis said, stepping inside slowly. It might have been a trap, but having come this far, there was no way he could leave without having secured Major’s freedom.

“I’ve been waiting for this for a long time, Stasis,” Major’s dad said as he shut the door behind them and moved towards the kitchen.

That sounded ominous. It was the kind of thing that Stasis had always expected his vengeance-seeking adversaries to say once Stasis was old enough to have done things worth avenging.

Major’s dad set a tray of doughnuts on the table and then gestured for Stasis to take a seat. Once they were both situated across from each other, he smiled.

“Now, Major’s told me a lot about you, and I’d like the chance to talk sometime and get to know you better. But it seems like you wanted to tell me something?”

“No,” Stasis corrected. “I really, really don’t want to tell you anything.”

Major’s dad laughed. “Fair enough. But you are going to tell me, aren’t you? You worked up quite a sweat getting here, after all.”

Stasis wiped his forehead self-consciously. “Well…um….”

“Take your time,” Major’s dad said softly. “You’re here, and that’s what matters.”

Stasis wasn’t sure what the stallion meant by that, but he marched on. “Major didn’t have anything to do with all those lies about Pierce,” he said quickly, forcing it out. “He was playing with Goldie the whole time.”

Major’s dad’s smile faded, and he looked sad. “There are ponies all over Trottingham who swore to me that they saw my son come into their stores and tell them impossible stories about Pierce. One I might dismiss, or even two. But do you expect me to believe that every single one of those ponies was mistaken?”

“I…tricked them,” Stasis confessed.

Major’s dad leaned over the table, hooves under his chin. “I know that you love my son, Stasis – as do I. And if you know what happened – if you talked Major into doing this – then I need to know. Please don’t –“

“Magic,” Stasis blurted.

Major’s dad blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I already told Major what I did, and made him promise not to tell,” Stasis continued. “I stole some of Star Swirl’s illusion magic and tried to use it to frame Pierce because I hate him, but I accidentally ended up framing Major instead. I never meant for him to get into trouble!

As Stasis finished his confession, he realized something that hadn’t even crossed his mind: what if Major’s dad didn’t let them play together anymore? What if he let Major go, but then forbid them from ever seeing each other again? Then this would all be for naught!

Major’s dad leaned back, watching Stasis carefully, quietly. After a few moments, he said, “You can show me this spell? The one that makes you look like Major?”

Stasis hesitated. Major’s dad probably had no idea what a changeling changing masques looked like, but if he described it to anypony knowledgeable – say, Star Swirl – it would be unmistakable.

“…No?” he finally answered. “It takes a long time to set up, so I can’t do it here.” Major’s dad was an earth pony, so with any luck he wouldn’t know the first thing about illusion spells.

“Can Star Swirl confirm it, then? That you used magic?” Major’s dad asked.

“…I guess? Look, you don’t really believe that Major had anything to do with this, do you?” Stasis pleaded. “Major’s incorruptible! I should know! And he had nothing to do with this, I swear!”

Major’s dad continued to watch him, his expression stern.

“I thought that ponies would believe him if he spread lies about Pierce, but I knew he would never purposively help me do something wicked, so I had to pretend to be him instead,” Stasis continued desperately. “Major’s innocent! If you’re going to lock somepony up in Major’s room, it should be me!”

After a few moments of silence, Major’s dad’s eyes softened, and he stood up and walked quickly around the table, forcing Stasis to jerk back in fear. The pony swept him in up in his forelegs, crushing the little changeling in a far-stronger bear-hug than would be expected from such a modestly-proportioned stallion. Stasis stared over the pony’s shoulder in shock before being set down just as quickly as he’d been picked up.

Major’s dad smiled softly down at him, looking far happier than most ponies did when they were informed of Stasis’ betrayals and misdeeds.

“Thank you, Stasis,” he said, before promptly turning about and leaving the room.

Stasis stood alone by the table as a minute passed quietly, then two. Nothing happened.

“Whatever,” he finally decided. He pulled the doughnuts over with his magic and began to gorge himself.

Sometime after he became full but before he threw up, Major’s dad returned, looking eminently pleased. He smiled at Stasis, either taking no notice of the plundered doughnut tray or else not caring as he said, “Major’s speaking with his mother. I want to thank you again for telling me the truth, Stasis. It must have taken a lot of courage.”

“Anytime,” Stasis replied, stuffing another doughnut into his mouth.

“There’s still one more thing you and I need to take care of, Stasis. Will you come with me to see Star Swirl now?”

Stasis choked. He had rather hoped that the apparently-joyous reunification of Major’s family would have made everypony forget about Star Swirl entirely. Stasis certainly wanted to forget about Star Swirl.

Painfully swallowing the rest of his unmasticated pastry, he said, “It’s okay. I know the way. You should just stay here with Major and try to put this whole affair behind you.”

Major’s dad laughed. “Well, as appealing as that sounds, Stasis, I’m afraid that I really do need to talk to your father about this. And besides, I know that Trottingham is a good, safe city, but I still don’t like the idea of children your age running around by yourselves. If you’d let me walk you home, I would greatly appreciate it.”

“…Oh. Okay.” That was it, then. Stasis’s doom would come hairy and a-jingling.

Major’s dad moved to the front door and held it open, letting Stasis go first. Pleased that his executioner was such an agreeable fellow, Stasis walked outside, and together they began to make their way back to Star Swirl’s house.

As they walked, Stasis considered the long path ahead of him. The only thing standing between him and destruction. A path which, he knew from experience, could pass quite quickly if one wasn’t careful.

The little changeling may not have known any bona fide time spells like Star Swirl, but he had his ways. First he began meditating on his own ennui, concentrating on the tedium and familiarity of the ponies and their pony town until his boredom seemed to grow within him, a pearl of disinterest and silent suffering that matured and swelled until he was certain that the passers-by were like to crack him open and steal his precious treasure.

Still, hooves clopped on stone as time seemed to move forward unperturbed. If anything, Stasis’ efforts had merely wasted much of what was left between him and his judgment.

But the little changeling wasn’t beaten yet. Cleverly, he began constructing a tall pendulum device in his mind, the granddaddy of grandfather clocks with which he would master time itself.

Tick went the mighty imaginary clock. Tock. Tick. Tock. His mind’s eye watched the measuring and constraint of time with rapturous attention, every minute stripped apart, its scores and scores of seconds laid bare before him. Stasis would not yield until each and every one of these seconds had lived and died, its existence passed off into the aether.

Tick (one), tock (two), tick (three), tock (four), tick (five), tock (six), tick (seven), tock (eight), tick (nine), tock (ten), tick (eleven), tock (twelve), tick (thirteen), tock (fourteen)…tick (fifteen)…tock (sixteen)...tick (seventeen)…tock (eighteen)….

Stasis’s head jerked up. Wait, what happened? What was the count?

Panicked, Stasis moved to his backup plan. The one method he knew for sure could turn minutes into hours, hours into day, days into lifetimes.

With masochistic intensity he focused on his end. What would it be? Would Star Swirl transmogrify him into some useless pony pet, a chirping canary or perhaps a barking dog, to be forcibly bathed and brushed, his every motion and behavior tabulated and controlled while vile pony food was shoved down his throat?

…That didn’t sound so different from how things were right now, actually. Star Swirl’s huge, wrinkly brain would undoubtedly think of fates far more insidious for the poor little changeling.

What, then? Would he be eternally banished to his room, as Major was? Would he be cut off from all pony contact, left to his own devices with nothing but his vast collection of library books and forbidden contraband to entertain him?

…That didn’t sound too horrible, either. At least until Stasis felt the urge to commit wickedry; then there would be no targets available other than himself. That could be bad.

But what of painting? Stasis hated painting. It involved every bit as much effort as mowing, but with none of the familiar joys of destruction and dominance, and Star Swirl always yelled at him when he tried to sniff the paint.

Would he have to paint the living room? Hours. The entire house, inside and out? Days, weeks. What if Star Swirl decided that Stasis should paint the decrepit portions of the city as some kind of penal community service?

Stasis felt ill. Even now, he could see the old house approaching, its walls as peeled and faded as when he had seen them the first time. Then, it had been his salvation; now, it would be his damnation, its double-doors opening wide to consume him.

Well, at least his temporal battles had left him tired, beaten, and more anxious than ever. Star Swirl would be happy, in any case.

Sighing, Stasis followed Major’s dad the rest of the way up to the house. It was all in future-Stasis’ hooves now.

The stallion’s knocks rang out across the yard, the gongs of Stasis’ despair. As the seconds turned into a minute and more, Stasis felt some small hope spring up within him, that perhaps Star Swirl had gone into town for the evening, or had simply chosen not to answer the door that day, as he was wont to do.

Star Swirl opened the door. He looked back and forth between pony and faux-pony, his brow furrowed.

“Eh?”

“Good to see you, Mr. Swirl,” said Major’s dad with a slight smile. “I believe we know each other. I work as a clerk down at town hall. Vital records?”

Star Swirl frowned. “Aye, I remember you. Now, I’m no expert on every dot and tittle of Trottingham’s bylaws, but showing up at my house with my lad in tow is pretty irregular, Mr. Pusher. If you’re having issues with Stasis’ documentation, I think you’d best speak with Town Clerk Retentive. He’ll set you straight.”

Major’s dad’s smile faded, and he shook his head quickly. “No, no, Mr. Swirl, I’m not here in a professional capacity at all. It’s about an issue with your son, and mine.”

“Your so-“ Star Swirl’s eyes widened. “Oh! That’s right. You’re Major’s pa, aren’t you?”

Major’s dad smiled again. “That’s right. It seems our boys have become quite the pair.”

“Joined at the hip,” Star Swirl agreed. “But I’m guessing you didn’t come all the way down here to shoot the breeze with an old wizard. What’s the lad done this time? Can we talk it out, or am I going to have to break out the lad’s checkbook?”

Stasis mumbled sullenly at that. He already owed Star Swirl several years’ worth of allowance on stuff like this.

“Oh no, that’s quite alright,” Major’s dad said amiably. “In fact, your son has been quite honest and helpful.”

Star Swirl squinted at Stasis skeptically, and then at Major’s dad even more so. “Who?”

“Stasis,” Major’s dad said, gesturing towards the little changeling/pony beside him.

“Who?”

“Stasis,” Major’s dad repeated, slower and louder. “Your son?”

Stasis considered pointing out that he was not, in fact, Star Swirl’s son. He’d found that adult ponies could sometimes forget about you if you were small and quiet enough, however.

“I’m not daft,” Star Swirl gruffed. “Why don’t you just tell me what’s going on?”

Stasis tuned out Major’s dad’s explanation, instead focusing on Star Swirl’s facial expressions and emotions, trying to discern the extent of the old wizard’s pique. Was it at stern-talking-to levels? Stasis hated those, but he would survive. Corporal-punishment levels? Stasis really wished that ponies wore pants. Spontaneous-flushing-of-the-face-and-loss-of-vocal-control levels? Stasis would make a break for it.

“He said that he learned this magic from you, Mr. Swirl,” Major’s dad said evenly, bringing Stasis’ attention back to the conversation. The little changeling glanced back and forth between the two ponies nervously.

Star Swirl grunted, and gave Stasis a dangerous look. “He said that, did he?”

“Yes, Mr. Swirl.”

Star Swirl grunted again, and turned his gaze back to Major’s dad. “Well, I reckon it’s partially my fault then, leaving books on thaumaturgy lying around like that. It’s not as easy as you might think, you know, trying to teach him all about magic without letting him learn anything he can actually use.”

“Very difficult,” Stasis agreed eagerly, glad that Star Swirl had decided on his own explanation. “You can’t actually set anything on fire with light magic, but you can blind ponies sometimes if they’re not careful. Also, if you know spells for suppressing odors and changing colors, and you have a glass of moldy cow milk –“

“Please stop talking, lad,” Star Swirl requested.

“I have the greatest respect for your abilities as a magician, Mr. Swirl, but maybe it’s unwise to leave grimoires out where young prodigies can read them unsupervised?” Major’s dad continued, his tone carrying just the slightest hint of admonishment.

“Aye, aye, I hear you,” Star Swirl grumbled. “Kind of hard to do when you’re an archmage with your own bloody library….”

Major’s dad smiled wider – perhaps the most Majorly thing about him was his smile, Stasis thought – and gave the little changeling an affectionate pat on the back before saying, “When Stasis first became friends with Major, I must admit, I was a bit nervous. If it weren’t for your reputation, Mr. Swirl, I think I would have told my son to spend time with other ponies instead. But seeing today how your boy came to me and confessed everything and is willing now to take his punishment like a proper stallion should, I have to say, I am more impressed by what you’ve done here than by any of the talk of spells and academics, or even what you’ve done for us on the city council. You have my respect, Mr. Swirl.”

“Eh…thanks?” Star Swirl said, looking flustered.

“Not many ponies would take in an orphan as you’ve done, Mr. Swirl, and certainly not at your age,” Major’s dad continued. “It makes my wife and I very happy that our son can be such good friends with yours.”

“Alright, alright,” Star Swirl grumbled, tilting his hat a little lower over his face and filling the air with tinkling. “No need to keep going on about it.”

Major’s dad laughed. “Fair enough. One last thing, though: do go easy on the colt, won’t you, Mr. Swirl? He’s such a little fellow, I find it hard to believe he’s as big a troublemaker as they say.”

“Very little,” Stasis agreed.

Star Swirl grunted. “This is your first time meeting Stasis, eh? Well, don’t you worry, Mr. Pusher. No matter what I do, I can’t mess him up any more than he already is. Relieves a lot of the stress of parenting, I think.”

Major’s dad laughed again, which Stasis found vaguely insulting. “Well, I’ll leave you to it, then. Have a wonderful evening, Mr. Swirl, Stasis.” Giving a nod to each of them, Major’s dad turned around and headed for the gate.

“Hold on a second, there,” Star Swirl said quickly.

“I’m sorry?” Major’s dad said, looking over his shoulder.

“You and the wife are more than welcome to come to the party, you know. Stasis’ party, I mean,” he added quickly. “His cute-ceanara. I reckon Major will be there, and I wanted you to know that parents are fine to come, too.”

Major’s dad smiled. “If our schedules work out, I’m sure that we’d be happy to,” he replied. “It’s all Major’s been talking about.”

“Well…off with you, then,” Star Swirl gruffed, waving his hoof at the other stallion. “Wouldn’t want you to miss dinner.”

Nodding again, Major’s dad went out by the front gate.

“Star Swirl the Bearded, Professor Emeritus and Lunar Knight, inviting ponies to children’s parties,” Star Swirl muttered as he turned and went back inside the house. “Look like a darned fool….”

Stasis remained outside. He considered going out to eat tonight; Star Swirl was probably tired from being so old, and would appreciate only having to fix dinner for one.

“Get your hiney in here, lad,” came a gruff shout.

Sighing, Stasis followed the elderly wizard inside, shutting the door closed behind him.

Star Swirl stood within, his expression stern. Even slightly hunched as he was, he towered over the little changeling. Stasis turned his gaze down to his hooves, and waited in silence.

After a minute had passed, the old pony sighed and asked, “Did you really?”

“I’m sorry,” Stasis answered quickly, the apology coming far easier than normal to his lips, probably since he actually was kind of sorry this time. Also, terrified.

“I know I’m only supposed to use my magic for the good and betterment of ponykind –“

“Not that,” Star Swirl dismissed. “I may be disappointed when you abuse your gifts for personal gain, but it certainly doesn’t surprise me. What I mean is, did you really clean up your own mess this time? Nopony had to beat you or offer you money?”

Stasis thought about that for a moment. “Well, if you wanted to give me money, I guess that would be alright –“

There was a knock at the door.

Star Swirl looked towards it and frowned. “No good can come out of visitors this late in the day. You know what to do, right, lad?”

Stasis nodded, glad for the interruption. “No solicitors.”

Going to the door, Stasis opened it, fully expecting the thrill of running off unloved salesponies and petitioners.

“Stasis!” Major cried, tackling Stasis to the ground.

“I’m going to go get a drink of water,” Star Swirl said. “We’ll finish this conversation in a bit.”

“Major! Major, get off of me!” demanded Stasis, who did not appreciate having the much larger colt practically sitting on top of him.

“Sorry, Stasis!” Major said cheerfully, helping Stasis back to his hooves. “I was kind of disappointed that I didn’t get to see you almost at all today, so Mom said that I could have dinner at your house, if it’s okay with Mr. Swirl.”

“Aye, whatever,” came a gruff from the kitchen.

“Hey, Stasis?” Major asked, suddenly more subdued.

Stasis brushed himself off. “What?”

“I know that you don’t like to say that you’re my friend, but I just want you to know that you’re my best friend in the whole world,” Major said simply. “I’ve had lots of friends before, but I’ve never been as good a friend with any of them as I am with you.”

“But…I got you in trouble,” Stasis protested.

“You got me out of trouble, too,” Major replied.

“But…I haven’t always been as nice to you as I could have been,” protested Stasis, who would have considered that a point of pride with almost any other pony.

“You’re my friend, so it’s okay,” Major countered. “I forgive you.”

Stasis looked into Major’s smiling, earnest, and orange, unfanged, unhorned, and ungrey face, and looked away.

It was not a changeling’s face. It was a pony’s face. Attached to a pony body. Commanded by a pony mind, with pony desires and inclinations and ideas. There was nothing changeling-esque about it at all.

‘Don’t play with your food,’ was the mantra of his family. Spoken in a jocular tone, though they weren’t joking. Only Vertex, otherwise as quiet and solitary as Mother, dared to speak openly on the matter, to preach to anyling that would listen.

‘Familiarity breeds comfort,’ he had told Stasis once. ‘Comfort, affection. It is the same with trinkets and sleeping holes as it is with ponies. Do not let a trinket make you forget what you are.’

Stasis hadn’t forgotten. He wasn’t some stupid quisling, weak and frail and desperate, who would come to envy his hosts their place in the world, who would seek to live the lie. Vertex had warned that quislings were to be pitied, not hated. They had thrown away everything they had for an empty dream, here one moment, gone the next. They flew after rainbows. They had not the strength of mind to see through their own illusions, or the strength of will to break free of them. They were dragons lying amongst salamanders; gryphons roosting with eagles; minotaurs running after cattle. They were broken, their twisted desires hurting themselves and their true family who loved them, and it was for this reason that they should be feared. Noling should envy them, or admire them, or wish to be them.

Stasis shuddered. He wasn’t a quisling. He was a changeling’s changeling. He loved his fangs, and his wings, and his holes. He wasn’t ashamed of any of those things. Changelings were the height of creation, even greater than dragons. And he was a prince, a godsblood, an atheling, the height of his kind. And of all the athelings, he had to be one of the greatest, he was sure.

He loved being a changeling, but he kind of liked Major too. In fact, he was quite certain he liked Major. He had just thrown himself into the path of Star Swirl’s wrath for Major, and if Stasis knew anything about himself, it was that he wouldn’t do that for somepony he didn’t like.

But was he Major’s friend? He didn’t really like the idea that he even needed friends; princes were strong and singular, watching over their families and answering to noling but themselves. Like Father.

Moreover, Major was a pony, which was a huge strike against anyone. But as far as ponies went, Major was about as good as it got. He wasn’t strong, and he wasn’t clever, and he ate vegetables all day and liked it. But he was also nicer to Stasis than anyone else, and was always there for him, and forgave Stasis even when he hurt him. He also shared his sweets with the little changeling, which was a big plus.

Stasis wasn’t pathetic, like a quisling. He was powerful. He was an atheling, and if he decided to be friends with a foolish, fluttering butterfly, who was an underling to tell him no? He had already decided to stay with the ponies for a while, and he’d learned more than he ever could have back in the forest. Who were the other changelings to tell him what he could and could not do?

Stasis wasn’t a quisling. He was a rebel.

“Major?” he called.

“Yeah?”

Stasis looked about the room carefully, making sure that they were alone. Quietly, he asked, “Major, if I did want to be your friend…what would that entail?”

Major blinked. “Huh?”

“I mean, what would we need to do? Wouldn’t we need a knife or something?”

“…Huh?”

Stasis rolled his eyes. “Look, don’t we need to cut our fetlocks and commingle the blood or something? I thought that was part of the process.”

Major’s brow furrowed, and he looked down at the floor. “Well, I’m not sure, Stasis…I never had to do that when I became friends with anypony else before….”

“It’s okay. I guess we can skip that part,” conceded Stasis, who was actually a little concerned that his blood might poison Major. “What’s next?”

Major rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh….”

“Don’t you know how to become friends at all?” Stasis chided. “I thought you were supposed to be the expert at this!”

“I’m sorry, Stasis,” Major apologized. “All I ever did was ask a pony if they wanted to be friends, and if they said yes, then we were. Sometimes I forgot to ask first, though.”

Stasis scowled. “What? But this is important! Ponies don’t get married just by asking, do they? There’s a big ceremony and everything! Words are cheap, Major!”

Major tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Well…uh…how about you give me a hug, then?”

“What! No! That’s stupid!” Stasis spat. “Just because I’m your friend doesn’t mean that I have to hug you…does it?”

“You don’t like to hug, so if you hug me, then it must mean that you’re really my friend,” Major reasoned. “And this way, we don’t have to cut ourselves with anything sharp.”

Stasis could see the logic in this plan. Glancing back towards the kitchen and seeing no prying eyes, he carefully inched forward, slowly invading Major’s personal space.

When it came time for the act itself, he hesitated, his resolve wavering. But he remembered the greatest thing that separated him from the pitiful quislings – he was strong – and he lunged forward, wrapping his forehooves around Major’s torso. Major returned the gesture.

“Ha ha! I did it!” Stasis cheered. “Don’t tell Star Swirl, though.”

“Great job, Stasis!” Major congratulated.

“In fact, don’t tell Star Swirl about any of this, okay? He’s always badgering me to go out and make friends instead of enemies, and I don’t want him to know that I actually went and did it. I don’t want to encourage him.”

“Okay, Stasis, but maybe you could let go now?” Major asked. “Hugs don’t usually last this long. It’s kind of weird.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Stasis quickly disentangled himself from the other ungulate. “I’m not very experienced with this sort of thing.”

“What sort of thing?” asked Star Swirl, who had appeared suddenly beside them, though whether by magic or some geezerly subterfuge, Stasis knew not.

“Nothing!” Stasis answered quickly, before Major could answer honestly. “I’m not very experienced at nothing!”

“Eh?” Star Swirl shook his head. “Actually, never mind. Do you know what time it is, lad?”

“Dinnertime?” Stasis hoped.

“Sentencing,” Star Swirl growled.

Stasis looked down at the floor.

“Obviously, you and I are going to have to make the rounds tomorrow and tell everypony you tricked the truth, and apologize for what you’ve done,” Star Swirl rumbled.

“Even old Codger?” Stasis whined.

“Especially old Codger,” Star Swirl affirmed. “That’s going to be the first part of your sentence.”

“The first part?” Stasis cried. “How many parts are there?”

“I might toss in a paddlin’ or two if you complain,” Star Swirl gruffed. “You did try to make this right on your own this time, which is the only reason I’m not coming down on you like a hammer. But if you think that confessing and apologizing are the only consequences you’re going to have for doing something like this, then you’d best wake up, lad. That’s not the way it works when you’re an adult, and that’s not the way it’s going to work now, either.”

“But I’m a child!” Stasis protested. “A little one! The law doesn’t work the same for us!”

“Too bad,” Star Swirl snapped. “You abused your magic to spread lies about one pony while framing another, you let your best friend rot in his room for most of the day before you got up the gumption to do the right thing, you blamed me for your own crimes and – worst of all – you’ve trapped me into frogmarching you across half the town tomorrow. I think I know a bit of justice that’ll serve you right.”

“No! Not justice!” Stasis cried.

“Justice!” Star Swirl affirmed. “Stasis, lad, in punishment for your crimes, you are going to organize and put away every single thing in this room in time for the cute-ceanara, by yourself.”

“No!” Stasis wailed.

“Aye!” Star Swirl roared. “You’re going to sweep it, you’re going to mop it, you’re going to polish ‘till I can see my pretty bearded face in it, ya hear?”

“I hate all those things!” Stasis cried. “And look at this room! It’ll take forever!”

“Not to worry, lad,” Star Swirl said, a wicked glint in his eye. “Major and I will still be here for you, in a managerial capacity. We’ll pick up a few dozen steaming-fresh cookies from Strudel’s and dip ‘em in ice-cold, whole-fat milk while we oversee your work. Sound good to you, Major?”

“Yeah!” Major agreed.

“Two managers for one worker? That’s stupid!” Stasis accused.

“We call it ‘bureaucracy.’ It’s the way the world works, lad. Best get used to it!” Star Swirl chortled.

“Can Goldie come manage, too?” asked Major.

“You traitors!” Stasis screeched. “You’re not my friends! You all hate me!”

Star Swirl laughed. “Come on, you two. Let’s fry up some potaters, eh? I’m famished.”

“Potaters are like potatoes, right?” Major asked, following close behind the caped wizard.

“Why, why, why didn’t I frame Pierce instead?” Stasis muttered, trudging along behind them.

Comments

[Sable Tails]

Wild Changeling appeared!

Major used Friendship.

It was super-effective!

[kagemao]

That's right Stasis, you're not a traitor, you're an innovator!

I can never really think of anything to say after a chapter, but I'm glad you're continuing the story.

[Zephyrus Scary]

That new description... What? I would have never called Stasis a quisling or traitor of the Changeling race... yet. Is this a sign of things to come? The way Celestia (and Luna) keep being brought up always felt like that was leading up to something, but with this new detail... I'm scared now. So honestly, truly frightened that Stasis will do something he will regret for the rest of his long, long, long, long life... if he lets himself live that long... Geh! Getting a little too grim, there. I hope.

On this chapter specifically, I was hoping to see something of Pierce and his reaction to this development... but he's probably way too cautious to let himself be so much as seen by Stasis now, and since this is all from Stasis's point of view... I'll live without it.

[Sable Tails]

3261558

As an storyteller, I appreciate virtually any feedback a reader can give me. Even a line you thought was a funny, a characterization you thought was good, or a minor critique are fine. Just the fact that you take the time to leave a comment at all warms my authorly little heart.
Also, in case it wasn't clear: Prodigy will be continued until it is finished. I've had a few people who seemed to think that month-long delays in updates meant that I was done with the story or had taken a hiatus, but you have to understand that I can't just sit down and pump-out 16,000 words of this quality in a single day, or even a single weekend. Wordsmithing like this just takes time and elbow grease, and I'm far too much of a perfectionist to trade quality for quantity. Also, with this chapter in particular, I didn't want to put it out until I had improved my story descriptions (I could hardly stand to think about my old ones, by the way; that's probably why it took me so long to change them). So...I'm actually almost done with the first draft of the next chapter, and it should be along in the next few weeks.

[Sable Tails]

3261771

If I had my druthers, my story descriptions would describe absolutely nothing about the storyline and leave ya'll completely ignorant of the plot, so that everyone is like 'whoah, I totally did not see that coming' at every step along the way.
Unfortunately, in order to intrigue people enough to read the first few chapters and realize just how much they love my story, I have to drop a few breadcrumbs here-and-there. I thought calling Stasis a 'quisling' and 'traitor' sounded sexier than saying that, 'so far as the story has been published, Stasis is approaching a morally-ambiguous zone of changeling ethics and philosophy as concerns relations with their prey.' Actually, that does sound pretty sexy to me, but since I'm the author...my opinion doesn't really count.
Regarding the rest of your speculations...no, Stasis doesn't die. That's not a spoiler, is it? I think I made it pretty clear by now that the tragedy tag isn't one of those 'Discord rises up in fire and flame and drags everyone down into pony hell' indicators. I'm actually beginning to regret marking this as a tragedy at all; while I think it is a tragedy, some people seem to be sweating bullets over this, and I feel that that is unjustified. The main thing I want people to take away from the tragedy tag is that this is not a 'everypony lived happily ever after' story, but only because it needs to lead into the next book. If I resolved every conflict happily and completed every character arc, that wouldn't leave much reason for people to continue reading, would it?
As for Pierce...I, too, would enjoy watching our steely-eyed Javert at work. Unfortunately - as you pointed out - due to a variety of considerations, I chose with this novel to only show Stasis' viewpoint, which makes it hard to follow Pierce's movements with any reliability. I mean, I could have Stasis follow Pierce around and spy on all his movements again, but that would detract from the time spent showing the relationships he's building with the other ponies around him, and I feel like that would be a price too high.
Still, you might get glimpses into Pierce's movements and machinations throughout the rest of the story...but that is probably all that they'll be, glimpses. The rest you'll have to guess or see through Stasis' eyes and intuition.
(And I hope that the lack of Pierce didn't detract from your enjoyment of the chapter too much, eh? I personally thought it was my best yet, at least in terms of wordsmithing, characters, and plot, but I suppose that others may have a different opinion....)

[Zephyrus Scary]

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Ah! That's what I forgot to consider: Maybe, from a Changeling perspective, he would be called a quisling! ... Of course... (Also, I forgot to mention I love the term atheling. Had to look it up, but very interesting. It's starting to make me think that there may just inexplicably be a "-ling" for every Changeling you could possibly need to label!)

As for tagging, I'm personally of the opinion that, if it is going to be split into multiple stories/"books", then you should mark it as the entire series is going to be if is wasn't split up... unless, of course, there are some major changes in between stories, such as the end of an adventure marking the beginning of the characters settling down into a SoL. (Also, it seems like everyone has their own definition of "tragedy"...)

I wasn't distracted by the lack of Pierce while reading; it was just something I noticed after reading.

[paul]

Stasis wasn’t a quisling. He was a rebel.

Thank you for the update. It brightens my day every time I see Prodigy updated

[Sable Tails]

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I spent hours going through a list of hundreds of -ling words in the English language, and of all of those, the only ones I found of interest were quisling (which I was already using), grayling (which is actually a type of bird, I think, but whatever), and one of the very first words listed, atheling. Still, I count the time well spent, since 'prince' just didn't sound changeling-esque enough. Or cool enough.
Alas, there is a major change between stories, at least in this case. Prodigy is clearly a 'comedy' and probably counts as a 'tragedy' as well. The rest of the series is definitely 'dark,' probably 'adventure,' and may end up being 'alternate universe' if the show keeps doing crazy stuff with its cannon. While they are all in the same continuum, you probably don't need to read Prodigy in order to read the later books, or vice-versa. (Kind of reminds me of The Best Night Ever and This Platinum Crown, actually....)

[Sable Tails]

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Ha! Thank you, Paul. I really appreciate it.

[Sable Tails]

3355819

'Dem feels' lol. Sometimes it feels as if I'm the only person on this site who actually prefers novel-length works. (Fallout Equestria: Project Horizons can go on to seven-billion words for all I care.)
As a sort of reward to myself for making it this far, I'm currently looking into paying a not-inconsequential sum to commission a visual artist to make Prodigy some custom cover art. It'll probably be at least a month or two before I've got something to show for it, though.
Adventure and Slice-of-Life are opposites; so are Comedy and Sad. Tragicomedy is a real thing, though. I'd be interested to see if you still think I should change it from Comedy to SoL when (and if) you finish reading what I have so far.
Also, I think I may have made a few missteps later in the story when it comes to plotting and pacing...but I think I'm getting a better hang of it now. Shouldn't happen again, I don't think. (Oh, and the next chapter will hopefully be out in the next few days...so, writing on, for sure.)
Anyway, thank you for the feedback. I very much look forward to more, if you can spare it.

[The Amateur]

What?! Our main character is receiving character development?! Ha! Great chapter you have here, mate. I'm looking forward to more!

[FashionablyHospitable]

EPIC SEQUELS YAY
CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT YAY
SLEEP DEPRIVATION YAY

[Emperor]

Well, as of this chapter it looks like Stasis is becoming more and more domesticated, no matter how hard he's trying to fight against it. Actually working up the guts to go and partially confess his crimes to Major's dad just shows it. That, and he was so lonely after a mere single day without Major around to talk with that he went and attempted to break him out, too.

But yeah, I can't believe myself that Stasis didn't think to change directly into Pierce to frame him, especially considering that Major thought of it first, and Major didn't even know Stasis could transform until Stasis tells him.

Star Swirl at the end there knows just the right punishment to really bring the fist of a Godpony down on Stasis, too.

[JazzyWaffles]

Still, overall, Stasis was quite satisfied. Even the cutie-mark was perfectly placed, perfectly shaped. He swooshed his tail experimentally; it looked just the right thickness, just the right length. Unless Major had some kind of subtle birthmark or scar that Stasis didn’t know about, he doubted there was a pony in all the land that, just by looking at him, could tell he wasn’t who he pretended to be.

Stasis you big dummy. You're going to get caught so hard doing this plan of yours.

[JazzyWaffles]

I was gonna leave a play by play but it all boiled down to "d'awwww he's experiencing character development!"