Snip Snip
“Rise and shine, my little morning glory. The sun’s up, and now so are you.”
The sun was a selfish, arrogant jerk, insensitive to the plight of little changelings who just wanted to sleep until a decent hour. Stasis would not bend to its tyranny.
Instead he tried to fall back asleep, tried to grasp the dream that fled his waking mind. Normally he only cared about his nightmares; visions of monsters and twisted, wicked things that he and his friends would fight, which was weird since he himself was wicked and didn’t have any friends. Regular old abomination-less dreams were boring and left him feeling like he had wasted his time.
…But this dream had been different. There had been a song, he remembered…a melody sung in a beautiful voice, one low and strong, yet distinctly feminine. A song that left him with a sadness and unease deep in his chest. He tried to remember the words….
“Lad…wake up, lad. We got lots to do today, and only so much daylight to do it in.”
He hissed quietly to himself. His siblings said that, if you were caught by some murderous monster in the forest and could neither fight nor outrun it, you should feign death until they lost interest and went away. He tried that now.
After a few moments, there was a sigh. “If you’re not up in the next ten seconds, lad, I’m going to come over there, rip off your blankets and give your young, tender, blank arse a paddling it’ll not soon forget. Understand?”
Stasis’ eyes shot open. He quickly drew in his limbs – four for walking, two for flying – tight against his body and prayed that the old stallion’s eyesight was bad enough that he couldn’t see the yellow flash as he put back on his masque. Quickly checking over his body in the dim light coming through the blankets, assuring himself that there were no changeling bits showing through, he then dashed out from under the covers…or tried to. Instead, the treacherous blankets seemed to come to life and wrap themselves around his legs, dragging him down, limbs flailing, to crash into the splintery floor below.
It took several moments for him to disentangle himself from the blankets and stand up. He gave the old pony a nervous smile while he tried to shake off a particularly tenacious sheet from one of his hooves.
The hatted, caped unicorn smiled back at him. “…Ten! Glad to see you’re up, lad, but a little sorry too. My paddling hoof’s been a bit sore from lack of exercise lately.” He turned around. “Well, come along, lad. We have to eat breakfast quick; work isn’t going to do itself, you know.” Old as Star was, Stasis still had to trot quickly to keep up with the much longer legs of the elder equine.
Stasis pulled up alongside the older pony as they went downstairs. He was suddenly worried.
“Work?”
The unicorn gave him a wry look. “Aye, lad, work. And if you try to tell me you don’t know what that is, I’ll pop you one across the backside and we’ll see how fast those little legs of yours can run. Got that?”
He was very worried.
As they tucked into the large breakfast Star Swirl had prepared – which included copious amounts of fried potaters, Discord be praised – the stallion explained what it was he expected Stasis to do.
“Normally, it’s an honor to be given the position of city elder. Only the wisest, most experienced ponies are offered the position.” He took a bite of asparagus and, still chewing, continued, “In my case, I let them list me as an elder provided that they excuse me from all of the meetings. I only ever go when I know Mrs. Pastry is going to be there; she always brings me an apple pie, and I’m partial to apple.” He swallowed and took another bite. “However, given what happened yesterday, I’m going to resume my duties as elder. At least for a few days, until the city gets back on its hooves.
“You, on the other hoof, are going to stay here and earn your keep. Idle hooves are Discord’s workshop, as they say, and I think that is especially true for little colts like yourself.” He pointed his fork at Stasis. “So before I go, I’m going to show you how to operate the shears and the mower with your magic so that you can take care of the yard before I get back this evening. Been putting the yard off for far too long, I think.” He levitated their empty dishes over to the sink before looking back at Stasis. “Got that, lad?”
Stasis tried his hardest to look frail and weak as said, “I have to work all day long? With no lunch? I’ll waste away!” He shook his belly to emphasize the point. The gesture would probably have been more effective if his stomach wasn’t bloated with potaters at the time.
The cruel taskmaster snorted. “Melodrama is for little fillies, lad, not strapping young colts like yourself. You aren’t skinny because you’re starving; you’re skinny because you don’t have enough muscle over those bones. Something I intend to rectify forthwith.” He gave Stasis a predatory look.
The changeling found his previous nervousness returning. He’s not going to fatten me up, he thought. He’s going to muscle me up! It was a truly depraved plan. At least the captured little changelings in the stories got to pig out before they were themselves pigged out upon.
Star continued, “Anyways, even somepony as old as me could probably do the whole yard in one day; it’s really not that big. But since you’re such a little thing, though….” He stroked his fantastic beard with one hoof.
“I tell you what. Do what you can this morning and then you can have lunch; you’re welcome to anything in my cupboards, though you’re not allowed to use the stove yet; leaving you to your own devices for a whole day has already got me nervous enough.” He gave Stasis a wry look. “Anyway, once you finish the front yard, you can do whatever you want for the rest of the day.” He paused, and seemed to think about that for a moment.
“Maybe that’s a poor choice of words…anyway, if you do a good job on the yard, and don’t cause any trouble, I’ll teach you another spell when I get home. How’s that?”
That’s it, thought Stasis. Maybe he wasn’t the best at this whole grieving-pony thing, but this old pony was terrible at being an emotionally sensitive and understanding ad hoc foster parent. He decided that he had been going too easy on Star. He decided it was time to throw off the mask of foalish vapidity and puerility and give Star Swirl a piece of his mind.
Prepare thyself, old stallion, to face the wrath of Stasis! He puffed out his chest and summoned his most intimidating expression.
“Well, I think it’s a horrible plan!” He pointed a hoof at the old pony’s chest. “And I think you’re a horrible pony! All you’ve done since I got here is make me eat vegetables and work and stuff, you fascist!”
The old stallion cocked an eyebrow and then leaned in close, as if to tell Stasis a secret.
“Lad?”
“…Yeah?”
“Let me explain something to you, lad. Something really important.” The old pony looked right, then left, and then whispered, “You see, the truth is, I don’t much cater to the touchy-feely theories of child-rearing those prissy psychologists toss around these days.” His icy blue eyes narrowed, and he poked Stasis in the chest. “So let me make this real clear to you now, so there’s no misunderstandings. You see, you’re in my house now, and you will be doing what I say, when I say, or you will be finding yourself stuffed in a bassinet in front of the Trottingham Children’s Home faster’n you can spit.” Star leaned back. “Understand, laddie?”
Stasis blinked. That was not quite how he had expected the conversation to go. Obviously the direct approach was a no-go, so he decided to change tack.
Giving the most obviously-false smile he could manage, he said, “I accept your offer, kind Sir. Please, allow me to mow your yard, trim your hedges, clean your fireplace, dust your floors, paint your walls, and polish your hooves, either with my tongue or in whichever fashion as will best stroke your ponderous, bloated ego.” He laughed fakely. “After all, how many ponies get the opportunity to use grieving orphans off the street as their own personal slaves?”
Stasis hoped the answer to that question was ‘Not many,’ else the old pony might not understand that he was being facetious. Stasis didn’t actually want to clean anything with his tongue; that was gross.
Star Swirl just snorted. “Don’t be a smart-arse. Only I’m allowed to be a smart-arse.” He waved a hoof dismissively. “Anyway, mowing and trimming isn’t as bad as all that. Here, I’ll show you what to do before I head out.” He clopped across the floor to some forgotten room at the rear of the house and removed the appropriate weapons of mass herbicide. Stasis’ ‘education’ on all things pony was broad, but patchy and often shallow. He was pretty sure the big metal contraption that Star called a ‘push mower’ must be used to cut grass, but the thing that was apparently designed to cut vines and whatnot looked better suited for trimming off ponies’ heads than their hedges.
In fact, some of these common garden implements looked so much like armaments that Stasis was beginning to grow excited despite himself. The old unicorn took a few of them outside and, true to his word, taught Stasis their proper use for a few minutes until he was satisfied that the changeling could do a decent job of it. It wasn’t even that hard, not really; not for someling as consummately awesome as Stasis.
Before he left, the old unicorn gave Stasis one last talking-to. Looking down at the changeling, he said, “Well, lad, I was going to tell you what stuff you shouldn’t do while I’m gone…you know, don’t leave the yard, don’t talk to strangers, don’t play pegasus by jumping off the roof. I was a colt once too, you know; I understand just how enticing stupidity can be.”
Stasis tried to picture Star Swirl as a colt. He was the most shriveled, hunched, ornery, bearded old colt that Stasis had ever imagined, and he vowed not to let his flights of fancy take him down such dark paths ever again.
Star continued, “Now, though, I realize that if I try to tell you all the things you’re not supposed to do, it’ll be time for me to come home before I ever get to leave. So instead, I’m going to keep it real simple, so that there’s no misunderstandings. I’m going give you just the one rule.” He glared down at Stasis. “Don’t. Touch. My. Stuff. Don’t touch my stuff. Don’ttouchmystuff don’ttouchmystuff don’ttouchmystuff.” He gestured at Stasis. “Come on, say it with me, lad. I need to know that you’re going to remember this. I need to know that you understand.”
Stasis looked at Star quizzically. “Don’t touch my stuff?”
The old stallion clapped his hooves together. “Good boy! If I had a bone I’d give it to you. Seeing as how I don’t, eh, I guess I’ll just be going.”
A bone? Stasis frowned. That wouldn’t be too bad, if there was still marrow inside, but it still seemed kind of stingy.
Star opened the gate, and stopped. His expression and voice took on a more serious tone as he said, “I’ll be back later this evening, lad. Don’t do anything you shouldn’t.”
Stasis smiled beatifically. “I won’t. I promise.” Bwahahahahahahahaha!
The unicorn nodded and walked towards downtown Trottingham.
* * *
The arrogance of the decrepit old pony was astounding, incredible, fantastic. To think, that Star Swirl thought that he could outmaneuver him, Stasis Silvertongue, prince of changelings, master of manipulation, king of carnage. It blew Stasis’ mind.
Still, it was necessary to give his foolish caretaker the illusion of control, at least for now. So he took up the garden implements with his magic and, loosing a sigh at his continual misfortune, went to work.
Snip snip went the shears. Clickety clickety went the mower. Snip snip. Clickety clickety. Snip, click, snip, click, snip, click. It was dull work at first, but after a few minutes Stasis began to hear the music in the destruction. He realized what he had been forgetting: these were not mere objects, to be cut down without a care or a thought. These were living, growing things.
And he held their pathetic plant lives in his hooves. They were defenseless before his power, helpless before his might, utterly dependent on his mercy.
And he was not a merciful changeling, oh no, not at all. They could scream, they could beg, they could call out to their little plant gods, but he was unstoppable. Not a pony, no longer a changeling, but a force, an idea, as irresistible and inevitable as death itself. He walked, a titan, crushing herbs with every step, a dark lord, cackling madly as he swept his instruments of death over the greenery again, and again, and again.
He could hear the wails. He could see the tears.
Snip snip went the shears. Clickety clickety went the mower.
When he had finally had his fill, he looked out over the yard, once so vibrant, so full of life. No longer. What had been full, now lay barren. Where there had been chaos, now order remained. Only a short layer of grass, those few inches that had survived, struggled in vain to resist his perfect world. His pristine wasteland.
He looked out over the yard, his yard, and was pleased. And hungry. Deciding that it was probably about time for lunch, he went inside to fix himself something to eat.
After a completely unsatisfying and unfilling meal of vegetables, he was a bit tired. Normally he’d laze about and take a nap in the shade before his pony lessons in the evening, but he only had a matter of hours before the old one got back from his ridiculous philanthropic mission, and there was still so much to do. Star Swirl’s words still echoed in his ears.
Don’t touch my stuff.
Stasis snickered. Oh, that poor, foolish pony. The little changeling felt what was probably pity in his heart. It felt a lot like schadenfreude, but it was probably pity.
He immediately set to work. Trinkets were touched. Gadgets were sniffed. Doodads were licked. Stasis had no idea what most anything was for, and at the moment he didn’t really care. He would touch all of Star Swirl’s things, and there was nothing that tedious old geezer could do about it.
He wasn’t some cowardly pony, either, to just levitate things with his magic. He wasn’t completely certain that would even violate the command ‘do not touch.’ So, he made sure that everything made physical contact with his body, hoof, ear, nose, eye, tongue, whatever was available at the moment. Nor was he some half-wit bumbler, to leave any evidence of the wrongdoing. He was an artist, a master craftsling of the base and beastly. He carefully analyzed the position of each book, bone, and bauble, assuring that he could return it to its exact position afterwards, nopony the wiser.
It was the covert nature of the crime that made it so delightful. This wasn’t some overt rebellion, designed to frustrate an authority figure, its success or failure dependent on that pony’s reaction. No, no…Stasis was not so crass. No, this was a secret sin, a private iniquity, the kind you kept close to your heart and treasured forever. It was wickedness for its own sake, the best kind. That old fogy would come home, thinking not amiss, never realizing the desecrations that occurred there that very day. Stasis gave an evil cackle, but a bit of dust got lodged in his throat and it turned into an evil hacking cough instead.
The entire main room had been defiled and Stasis was busy working on the junk in one of the rooms in the rear of the house when he heard the front door open and shut. Swiftly but calmly spitting some small and mildly bitter doohickey out of his mouth and placing it back where he found it, he put on his game face and trotted out to the front of the house to greet his new caretaker.
He beamed up at the old stallion, who was kicking the dirt off his hooves on the mat by the front door, but before Stasis could decide on an appropriately asinine pony greeting like ‘how was your day?’ or ‘did you have a good time?’ the old stallion looked at him with an indecipherable expression and said, “So. Lad. I see you touched my stuff.”
Stasis froze for moment – but only a moment. He had received extensive training for moments just like this one.
“No I didn’t.”
“Yes you did. Look.” Star Swirl pointed a hoof at one of the numerous books on the table. “That book right there is at perfect right angles to the table. I’m sure when I left that it was cocked a few degrees to the left.”
Stasis narrowed his eyes. I think you’re bluffing, old stallion. I’m sure I left that book exactly the way I found it. He wasn’t offended at the accusation per se, since it was completely true. It was the idea that he would make such a foalish error that made him angry. That he could make such an error. His technique was flawless; it had been the perfect crime.
He sat on his haunches and crossed his forelegs across his narrow chest. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
The large pony frowned at him. “You don’t think I know my books, lad? I’d sooner mislay my own tail than one of them.”
“Well, you know, it’s not uncommon for ponies your age to forget little things like, say, the exact relative orientation of one book in a house that’s crammed full of books,” offered Stasis.
Star Swirl grunted. After a few moments of silence, he said, “Well…I have been forgetting things more than I used to. And….” He sighed. “I’m sorry I snapped at you, lad…it was just a bit rough out there today. Main street’s been blown to rubble. Buildings were damaged all over downtown. I reckon there must be bits and pieces of the constabulary headquarters all across the city. Several dozen ponies are dead and hundreds are wounded…physical injury. Acute anemia. Psychological trauma. Princess Celestia had the worst-off airlifted to Canterlot General, and it’s still iffy how many of them are going to make it.”
Stasis forgot that he was miffed at the old pony and looked at him earnestly. “Did the Queen make it? How is she?”
Star looked confused. “You mean the Princess?”
He waved a hoof dismissively. “No, no, not…her. The Queen of the changeling family!” He was careful not to use Mother’s real name, in case the ponies didn’t know it. Best not to give the game away with a foalish mistake like that.
The unicorn’s expression settled into one of mild disapproval, his mouth curving downward slightly into a frown. “Of course. Her. Well, as far as anypony knows she’s just fine, lad. Streaked out of the city faster’n you can blink the second the Princess lost her temper. Most of the rest of the changelings escaped, but a whole lot of them didn’t.”
Stasis felt himself relax a bit, releasing tension he didn’t even know he had. The thought of his dead siblings made him feel uncomfortable, but it wasn’t really something he had to deal with right now. He had his hooves full as it was. But Mother…she was the most permanent thing in the world, and while he knew she could die, it actually happening was almost unimaginable. And without her his family would be lost as well; they would almost certainly perish unless they could find another queen willing to take them in, which was not guaranteed, especially for the weak and sickly.
None of which was to say that he actually liked Mother very much. She could be even meaner than Star sometimes, and it was impossible to manipulate her with petty emotions and tears and whatnot. She always knew exactly what Stasis was up to, no matter how tricky he tried to be, and he feared her weakest reprimand more than his siblings’ strongest.
As far back as he could remember, he had known that he was a prince, and had had at least a small grasp of what that entailed for himself. But it had been older siblings who had first explained to him what it meant to Mother: though she was very, very old, older than anyling in his family knew, she had never had a true child before. Baby queens were considered a great blessing from the Progenitor, given to any queen who had faithfully carried out her responsibilities to her family. Mother had lived for centuries, watching as countless generations of her children were born, lived, and died. Seas of blue, but not a single speck of green. Some of the other eldest Queens had even begun to shun Mother, saying that she was barren. Every daughter of Change who lives long enough will bear a true daughter of her own, yet naught but underlings do we see. Mother had taken her family farther to the east than any of the others, as far as she could go and still meet regularly with Father. Stasis’ siblings had whispered that it was because Mother was ashamed, though Stasis had great difficulty imagining Mother experiencing any such emotion.
It had been a great shock to all, then, when finally Mother bore not a green-eyed daughter, but a yellow-eyed son. Though a prince would never die of age or sickness, there were still only several score in the entire world, and most queens would never bear one no matter how long they lived. The Progenitor had seen her suffering and taken pity on her.
This all explained, then, not why Stasis was treated differently from the others – he had always known that – but why Mother looked at him the way she did. He had never seen her smile, though his siblings assured him that she could…but when she looked at him, he could always see the pride in her eyes. For a long time that had made him happy, that Mother was so proud of him, even if she never said so.
But when he learned the truth of what he meant to Mother, he had realized something else. The pride he saw when looked into her eyes was not pride in him, but pride in her accomplishment, in what she had done. Not in him. Never in him.
He felt his jaw clench slightly. Well, it didn’t really matter what Mother thought of him, and it certainly didn’t matter what his siblings thought. When he grew up he was going to be far greater than all of them, and they knew it. He was going to be a father, and they would all fear and respect him just like they feared and respected Mother. More, even. And unlike her, he was not completely dependent on family for his strength and protection; his own body and magic were all the power he needed. He wouldn’t need them when he was an adult, and he didn’t need them now.
He realized that Star had said something to him. He blinked. “Huh?”
The unicorn looked concerned. “I asked if you were alright, lad. You were spacing out there.”
Stasis shoved his thoughts to the side and put on a smile. “Yeah! I’m fine.”
Star looked unconvinced, but after a moment he just shrugged. “Okay. I saw you did a great job in the yard today, lad. How’d it go? Grass give you any trouble?”
Stasis scoffed. “Hardly. I cut them down like the worthless dogs they are.” His smile became genuine. “Their loved ones have vowed vengeance.” He snickered wickedly to himself.
Star scratched the back of his neck. “Uh…alright. And the vines?”
“Discord feasts on their souls as we speak. May their screams-”
“You know, I think it’s time for dinner,” Star interrupted rudely. “Come along and help me fix it.”
Stasis balked. “What? But I already worked so hard today….” It was true. Working his way through all the junk in the lower floor had been exhausting.
“Aye, and you’re almost done. Come along.” The larger pony turned and walked into the kitchen, his bells jingling as he walked. Stasis muttered under his breath as he followed.
The fantastically bearded pony scanned over the stacked dishes, and glanced back at the little changeling with a wry look. “You didn’t do the dishes.”
Stasis repressed a groan. “You didn’t tell me to do the dishes….” You absent-minded geriatric being the unspoken ending to that sentence.
“No, that’s true,” Star said. “But you can’t go through life just doing what you’ve been told. You’ve got to take the initiative. And that most definitely includes household chores.” Star adjusted his hat. “This isn’t some kind of free hotel, you know. You’re not going to sit around on your arse all day while I do all the work. If you’re going to be getting under my hooves all the time and eating all my potaters like some kind of giant four-legged parasprite, you’re also going to be pulling your own weight. Understand?”
Stasis gave what he hoped was an noncommittal grunt, affirmative enough to get the old pony off his back while still leaving him wiggle room if he wanted to claim ignorance later.
“Good.” The unicorn beckoned. “Come on; I’m going to teach you how to fix potaters yourself this time.”
Stasis sighed and walked forward, dragging his hooves. He would have protested further but he figured that if the old pony realized how annoying all this work was, it would just encourage him.
True to his word, Star took the time to teach him to properly cut and season and fry the potaters, and Stasis grudgingly paid attention. He could still remember what lunch had been like that day, after all, and did not wish to repeat the experience.
They ate dinner together in silence, Stasis quietly musing on his many misfortunes as of late and Star thinking hard on whatever it was ponies thought about. When they were both finished, the big stallion forced the little changeling to clear the table and together they began work on the pile of dishes that had built up that day.
They worked at a slow, comfortable pace for a few minutes, Star washing the dishes and Stasis rinsing and drying them before the unicorn, speaking slowly and clearly enunciating each word, said, “I just wanted to thank you again for your hard work today, lad. I’ve been putting off yard-work for far too long, and it means a lot to me that you would do that.”
Stasis grunted as he levitated a plate under the faucet. Some of his nicer brothers and sisters would compliment him on things sometimes, but receiving one from prey was kind of weird. He wasn’t sure if he liked it.
“Also,” the old pony continued, “I want to say that you did a great job of it.” He turned and looked Stasis in the eye. “An excellent job, even. Thank you.”
Stasis quickly broke eye contact and shrugged. He couldn’t help but smile though.
“Of course,” Star continued, “I’m still seriously reconsidering ever letting you near my yard again. Lawn care seems to have a bad influence on you.”
Stasis just smiled wider, showing teeth.
After the dishes were through, Star Swirl agreed to teach Stasis a new spell. Tonight it was a very basic transmutation spell, applying magic to turn something into something else. This time he was supposed to turn a black marble red. Whereas the spell from the previous night had borne many similarities to a masque spell, Stasis found this new one actually rather difficult, being clearly unicorn magic, the thought patterns so much more logical and rigid than the organic, nearly instinctive nature of changeling thaumaturgy. Furthermore, the spell wasn’t merely making the marble appear red, but was actually making it red through and through, a significantly more involved process. Between that and Star’s excessive explanations of why the spell worked, rather than simply how, the little changeling quickly began to grow frustrated with the entire exercise. After a few minutes Star seemed to notice his struggling, and paused in the middle of an explanation of the energy-expended-to-size-of-object ratio.
“What’s the problem, lad?” His brow was furrowed.
Stasis frowned. “I don’t need to know all this stuff in order to use the spell. Can’t you just teach me the patterns?”
Star cocked an eyebrow. “In a word…no.”
Stasis folded his forearms across his chest and scowled. What he should have done yesterday was find the largest family in Trottingham and ask them to take him in instead. Life was much easier when your parental figure was too busy or apathetic to meddle in your affairs. Instead, he had somehow managed to break into the one house in Trottingham with an old geezer who had nothing better to do than torture little changelings with useless information and chores. He wondered if it was too late to put himself up for adoption.
Star Swirl barked a laugh. “No need to pout, lad. Anyway, you didn’t really think I was going to teach you every spell you’ll ever need to know, did you? There’s books for that sort of thing.” He shook his head. “No, what I’m really trying to teach you is not the how of magic, but the why.”
“Huh?” Stasis had been in the middle of planning how he could set up a new base of operations in the home of a drunkard or maybe a single mother, but this sounded important.
“Well, first, learning how stuff works is fun. Transmutations, conjurations, physics, chemistry…even the stuff they teach college kids who fail math, psychology and philosophy and whatnot, are all fun to learn.” Star took on a more serious expression. “But more importantly, you can never truly master a subject unless you understand why what you do works. For example, anypony can learn to plug numbers into an equation, but to come up with equations of your own, to be a true mathematician, you must also understand why that equation does what it does. It’s the same with magic. I could never have invented the amniomorphic spell without a deep knowledge of magic in general, transmutation magic in particular, and prenatal biology.”
“But I don’t want to be a mathematician. Or a magician.” Stasis was pretty good at math; he could add and subtract three digit numbers in his head with consummate skill; even four digit numbers were not beyond his domain. Unlike some of his dumber siblings, he need never fear paying for groceries if he ever needed to, as long as he had somepony there to tell him the prices. However, doing that kind of thing all day sounded terribly boring.
As for magic…he did like magic, that was true; much more so than math. He enjoyed the power and wild nature of it; whereas Star Swirl talked about magic like it was just another one of his ‘sciences,’ to Stasis it seemed more like an extension of his being that needed to be tamed, not understood. At least he hoped that was the case, because if the only way to master magic was to become an old geezer who cooped himself in a dark house reading books all day, then Stasis was never going to get very good.
The old pony raised a bushy eyebrow. “Well, what do you want to do with your life, lad?”
“Um….” He was supposed to become a demigod, quintessence of his race and father of thousands of thousands. What did that translate to in pony? He was drawing a blank.
Before he could think of anything, Star interrupted by saying, “It’s alright, lad. You’re only what, six, seven?”
“Uh….” These questions just kept getting harder and harder. Most changelings didn’t pay much attention to such things, and he certainly didn’t. He was going to live forever, so his age just didn’t seem very important.
Luckily, Star just snorted and kept on talking. “Well, you’re young enough, anyway. Plenty of time to figure out what you want to do. Who you want to be. But in the meantime, I’m going to do my best to give you all the tools you need to be successful no matter what path you take.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Do you understand?”
Stasis nodded. Unlike ponies, his destiny wasn’t tattooed on his butt; it flowed in his veins, shone in his eyes. When he went back to his family in a few days or weeks, he would be leaving Star Swirl and all his metaphorical tools far behind.
“Good,” Star said. “Now, why don’t you try the spell again.”
An hour of semi-attentive listening and concentration passed, and Stasis was staring at the marble. He ran over the patterns in his mind, reached out to the small black sphere, and began allowing power to trickle into his horn. When he felt that he finally had enough, he released the energy in a small yellow beam aimed at the marble.
There was a flash and the marble was red. He could see Star Swirl smile and open his mouth, but before the old pony could say anything Stasis altered the spell ever so slightly and swiftly recast it, and the marble was green. Again, and it was blue. A flicker of thought, a smidgen of power, and it was black again.
The wizard laughed. “Enough! I see you get it, lad. Excellent. Just excellent.”
Stasis gave Star a somewhat skeptical, somewhat hopeful look. “Was it really that good?” He had thought it been pretty pathetic, that it should take him so long to cast such a simple spell. He could walk through walls, for Discord’s sake. It shouldn’t have taken over an hour to learn how to make a black marble into a red one.
“Good?” The pony leaned his hairy face in close to Stasis’. “Listen, lad. Most unicorns your age struggle to levitate anything bigger than a pencil. Most whose special talent isn’t magic or something directly related to transmutation never learn to cast that spell at all. So yes, I would say that was pretty good.”
Stasis smiled hesitantly. He still wasn’t convinced that it was that great a feat, leastways not for him, but at least he remained clearly superior to ponies. That was the important thing.
Star slowly sat back on his haunches, several of his joints popping as he did so. This seemed to cause him to grimace for a moment before he said, “Okay, lad. I think that’s enough excitement for today. It’s time for you to head off to bed. You’ve got a big day ahead of you tomorrow.”
That sounded ominous. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” the old pony replied, “that tomorrow is your first day of school. You’ll have to get up at dawn if you want to have time enough to eat breakfast and get ready, so you’d best get some shuteye.”
Stasis sat there and stared blankly at Star Swirl’s beard. The old pony frowned.
“Lad? Are you alright?”
The changeling’s mind began to work again. After a few moments he was able to ask, “What?”
Star raised an eyebrow quizzically. “Are you hard of hearing, lad? I’ve told you twice now to go to bed.”
“But…but…how can the schools be open already? There was a huge battle in downtown yesterday. You were telling me just a little while ago about all the damage!”
Star Swirl nodded somberly. “Aye, the town has been ravaged. Many ponies’ homes and businesses were damaged or even destroyed, friends and relatives are hurt or dead, and the city is still in mourning. But we’re not going to sit around and mope about it. The changeling army is long gone, the royal guard have once more secured the border, and we Trottinghammers are industrious folk; the sooner we pick up the pieces, the better.” The old pony shifted the hat on his head slightly, the bells tinkling as he did so. “I was in council with the mayor and the other town elders today, and we all agreed that it was best to reopen our public facilities as soon as possible. That includes the schools. Nopony’s going to get in trouble for not attending for a while, of course, but we want the children’s lives to get back on track soon as we can.”
Stasis put a bit of a whine in his voice. “But what about my parents? I’ve only just been orphaned!”
In his large family, death was a common occurrence. His siblings told him that many, many years ago, Mother used to eat any good changelings that died; it had been a large part of her diet. You begin in Mother and end in Mother was what they used to say. Only the most recalcitrant or lazy changelings would have their bodies thrown out into the wild to be devoured by animals instead.
Sometimes she would still revert back the old ways if a changeling requested it before he or she died. But as pony culture spread, she slowly and reluctantly began to give into requests by her children to be buried; now, if a changeling died in good standing, she would allow his or her closest siblings to take the corpse out into another part of the forest. There they would bury the body, usually at the base of a tree so that the changeling could become a part of the forest forever, or sometimes under a large rock so that the body wouldn’t be dug up by animals. Then the underlings would sing songs for their dead sibling and tell stories about him or her until the sun sank in the sky and it was time to go home.
If a changeling was especially beloved and important, sometimes Mother would give a eulogy in the pony fashion and then allow the whole family to mourn for the entire day. That had never happened as long as Stasis had been alive, and he didn’t really understand the reasoning it; if something ever killed him, he wanted everyling to be beside themselves with grief, not happy that they got the day off. Mother should make them all work twice as hard.
But ponies seemed to handle death differently; it was apparently always a big deal to them when somepony they knew died. Stasis knew that ponies his age went to school, but he had been sure that he would get out of it since he was supposedly an orphan now. After all, losing their parents was surely the worst thing that could happen to a pony; it was certainly the worst thing that could happen to a changeling.
Star Swirl, who had appeared to be thinking over Stasis’ objection, finally looked at him and said, “I tell you what. If you want to grieve…well. I’m certainly not going to stop you from doing that. But you’ll do it in your room and that’s all you’ll do until you’re finished. If you’re feeling well enough to do anything fun, then you’re well enough to go to school tomorrow. Understand?”
Stasis sighed. He had less than no interest in going to school tomorrow, but he did want to do fun things. Maybe it was better if he just got the whole school thing over with so that he could finish touching all of Star Swirl’s stuff.
“Good,” Star said, without waiting for Stasis’s reply. “Now for the third and final time: off to bed with you, lad. I’ll be seeing those pretty eyes of yours wide awake first thing tomorrow morning.”
Stasis muttered a few mild invectives in the old tongue as he made his way up the creaky stairs.
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Wow.
You. Are. Amazing. At getting into the head of a young Changeling prince. Every thought and action was right on to how I imagine a Changeling of his stature and "inheritance" (by which I mean his blood which makes him immortal) would do in this kind of position.
Just. Wow.
You can bet I'll soon be putting this in as a strongly recommended fic in a blog post of mine.
1847851
lol Thank you very much; I can hardly ask for a more generous comment than that. And if the post is on your fimfiction.net page, I'll be sure to take a look at it.
I agree entirely with Zephyrus, there are too few good changeling fics out there and this is a veritable masterpiece. Good show, sir, good show indeed!
I read Zephyrus's blog post and I agree, this is interesting. I can't wait to read more!
i3.photobucket.com/albums/y68/punkinshoe/paddlin.jpg
Now with that off my chest, I can say that this has so far been a rather rivetting read. Never thought a Changling could be such an adorable devil in a sense, and with such fun similes. The bed being a colt-consuming marshmellow is a favorite. Pairing such a character with a old magical smart-arse just breeds fun exchanges between the two. I'll be keeping an eye on this for sure.
This is pretty damn good.
Touch ALL THE STUFF
This is a wonderful story, you do an excellent job of putting us into the mind of a slightly disturbed precocious child. Just excellent.
And the next chapter sits at a massive 10k words.
I have to say, the writing quality in this one seems better than what I recall of the previous ones. I love the snark and the clever bits of writing in this, and I'm quite happy with the worldbuilding and character exploration you've put into this. In fact I might be a smidge in awe at your plotting skills; this may shape up to be, as I suspected in the beginning, hands-down amazing.
I'm really liking this story so far.
The inner thoughts of Stasis is hilarious to delve into and his reactions to the alien culture that is ponies is just too good not to continue reading. 
This made me laugh so hard!
Can't wait to delve deeper into this story.
Well, three chapters in and I'm bored stiff. Ninety percent of the story is descriptions and the regular attempts to liven them up fall flat. The story has yet to establish what era it's taking place in; one would assume it's ye olde Equestria on account of Starswirl being around and the reference to the Everfree being populated (unless he really is a necromancer who has turned himself into a lich), yet the setting and mannerisms do not reflect this. Furthermore, if it is, one must wonder about the Changelings being so unexpected at the wedding when Celestia has apparently fought (and routed them) before. Frequent infodumps with only the most tangential of relations to the current plot are common and do not so much as break up the action as pull on the emergency breaks, none of which are particularly entertaining or offer an insightful glimpse into Changeling culture (I would highly recommend Chris' Letters from a Senior to a Junior Changeling to see how one can establish an entire race with naught more than a few well-crafted sentences).
The grammar and general mechanics are solid, barring the odd flub, at least. In short, a story that is merely functional, not fun. You would have done well to pare down the excessive expositional rambling and jump into Stasis and Starswirl's relationship.
3985146 I want to say that you are a nitpick but most of the things you've said are true in a sense but the story is good. I'm thinking then that you are jaded. Is this far above average? Certainly not at this point in the story. It isn't boring, though. Maybe you have a short attention span for detail in fiction? I don't know.
Sure, there is info dumping in spades but it is chapter 3! If it was still doing it this frequently in two or three chapters, I might complain. Yeah, he doesn't display the "show, don't tell" technique very well, but I don't expect much from fan fiction writers. I won't say you're wrong, but I will say that you have awfully high expectations.
It's a good thing there weren't any foxes or other ponies around, because then Stasis would be all about that >Touch fluffy tail.
Even though Stasis is still alien and terrifying in some manners, he's also still basically a kid in so many ways, such as his temper tantrum on the lawn and hedges, or his sarcastic remarks to Star Swirl about polishing his hooves.
I suppose Star Swirl doesn't realise Stasis is a changeling. It's not so much that he's dense rather than he's really out of it at times, as evidenced by his not even hearing about the invasion of Trottingham until Stasis barges into his house and mentions it to him. On the other hand, maybe he DOES know and is slowly domesticating Stasis to change his behavior to be more pony-like.
Idol Hooves isn't Discord's Workshop, silly, he's a guard!
...
Wait.
Actually, fattened animals taste disgusting. Muscled animals are much better. N-not that I'd know that...
9553654
A very good socially inept guard.