Nine out of Ten Infants Can’t Tell the Difference!
It began with a phone call, which should have been Shining's first warning, especially once he saw who it was from. At the time, he was just glad it wasn't a robocall.
“Twilight?”
“Hey, BBBFF,” she said far too brightly and eagerly for a weekend morning.
“Wow, that’s a blast from the past." He stopped himself mid-chuckle as he paced about his apartment. "What do you need?”
He could all but hear her pout. “Come on, Shining. Do you really think I’d exploit our cherished childhood memories just to coax a favor out of you?”
That got a grin. “I know you hated it there, Twilight, but you did attend Crystal Prep. What do you need?”
After a few moments of inaudible chatter on the other side of the line, she said, “Well, you know Sunset Shimmer?”
“I’m familiar with her, yes.” The measured neutrality of that sentence said nothing about the complexity of Shining’s feelings towards the leather jacket wearing graffiti artist who helped get Twilight through several of the worst days of her life. Nor did it mention how, through the eyes of someone engaged to Mi Amore Cadenza, she was clearly one confession away from supplanting the slightly less contemptible goober currently acting as Twilight’s significant other.
(As a self-recognized goober himself, Shining felt bad for Timber Spruce, but not enough to warn him.)
“And you know how she’s…" More chatter. "Not from around here?”
Shining frowned. Cadence had said the girl was special after the Friendship Games, but had refused to elaborate beyond that, insisting it wasn't her place to do so. “I’m fuzzy on the details, but yes. Why?”
That got a weak, desperate laugh. More like a scream with the hiccups. “Well, it’s funny you should mention ‘fuzz…’”
Shining had never thought he'd stand on the campus of Canterlot High School again. Certainly not after trouncing them in the Friendship Games. Under other, saner conditions, that might be the most surprising part of his day. Instead...
“So," he said once Twilight and Sunset had finished their explanation. "To review. There’s a permanent planar gate at the base of the Canterlot Wondercolt.” Unexpected as this was, he had enough tabletop experience to wrap his mind around it.
“More or less,” said Twilight, looking at the horse statue and wincing at some of the visibly repaired cracks. Shining would never say anything to her—certainly not where her classmates could hear it—but part of him was impressed at just how much she’d honored the Crystal Prep tradition of vandalizing the thing.
He poked a finger into the plinth. Into it. The surface rippled, and his finger tingled like every nerve had fallen asleep at once. “And it leads to a parallel universe out of an especially weird O&O campaign where your counterpart has conquered the world.”
“Through diplomacy,” Twilight clarified.
Shining smirked as he withdrew his hand. “Somehow, that’s the least believable part of this.”
“Shining!”
Sunset cleared her throat. “Look, you two, we’re on a clock here. We need Shining in Equestria now if not sooner.”
He bit back his knee-jerk response to the girl ordering him around. This was for Twilight, after all. As Cadence kept telling him, this was her choice to make. “Right. Just trying to wrap my head around all of this." He turned back to his sister. "You’ve really been dealing with this kind of thing since you transferred?”
“Eh..." She waggled a hand in a "more or less" gesture. "There were a few months of relative normalcy. It started with a trip to Camp Everfree—”
“Mr. Armor!”
Shining tensed as the screech dredged up memories he had hoped would stay buried. “You didn’t tell me Ms. Harshwhinny still taught here!”
Both girls frowned in confusion. Sunset said, “Why does that—?”
The approaching clack of sensible flats took priority. “No time!” Shining shouted, diving into the statue portal.
“Okay. I’m sure you have several questions. So do I. But they’re going to have to wait until after we’ve stabilized the situation here.”
“I don’t think he can hear you, Twilight.”
“Oh. Is that what it looks like when I’m thinking too much to process new sensory input?”
“You have much less of a… Well, I want to say a ‘deer in headlights’ look, but that idiom doesn’t work on this side of the mirror for several reasons.”
“Either way, I can fix it. Shining, Spike’s eating your comics!”
“They’re mint in bag!” Shining blinked, looked at the tiny purple horse with his sister’s glasses, and nearly slipped back into the earlier fugue state. “I’d get mad at that, but I’ve had to restart you enough times that it wouldn’t be fair.” He considered his own stump limbs. “This, on the other hand—”
“We were getting to that part,” said Twilight.
“I feel like you should lead with ‘The gate will turn you into a horse.’”
She rolled her eyes. “And we all should have considered the implications of you returning to the scene of the crime, but it’s too late for pointing fingers.”
“Yeah, none of us have any.” Shining waved his forehooves for emphasis.
Sunset cleared her throat. “May I remind both of you that we brought Shining here for a reason?”
Twilight blushed. (Shining tried not think about how that worked with a full-body coat of hair.) “Right. Sorry. Come on, big guy, duty calls.”
“It would be nice to know what that duty is,” Shining said as he tried to get up. It took a few false starts to figure out walking on four legs.
“We were saving that for when you got here," said Sunset. "The pony thing is rough enough.”
Shining scowled at that. Leaving the empty room containing the other side of the gate—a clearly enchanted mirror, which was how Shining learned he was a unicorn—and taking in the crystalline beauty of the hallway did little to ease his annoyance. “Not filling me with confidence, Shimmer.”
She managed to shrug while her forelimbs were already busy walking. “Confidence is in short supply right now. There's a fate-of-the-world situation going on and, well...”
Shining nodded. He might not like Sunset, but that didn't mean he'd let innocents suffer just to spite her. "I'm not sure how much help I can be, but I'm willing to try."
"Glad to hear it. You have one of the roughest missions out of anypony."
A chill ran down Shining's spine. "What?"
"It may be better if you see for yourself." Sunset's horn glowed, and a door covered in a blend of smiling cartoon animals and hazard warnings swung open to reveal a nursery. Within, amidst the crib, the stuffed toys, and all the other childcare implements, stood the most wizardly being Shining had ever seen outside of a LARP. He (unless female horses could grow goatees) held a pink baby horse in his magic and looked even more anxious than Twilight at her worst.
The wizard turned to the opened doors and perked up. “Oh good, the analogue." He rushed up to Shining and thrust the baby into his forelegs. "Pleasure to meet you, welcome to the Crystal Empire, here’s your para-daughter.”
Shining's eyes bugged out, looking back and forth between the wizard and... “My what?”
The stallion had already moved on, glaring at a sheepish Sunset. “Somehow I’m not surprised to see you in the middle of a disaster.”
Sunset gave a weak chuckle. “Hey, Sunburst. Sorry this couldn’t be under better circumstances. How’s Mom?”
“Still expecting me to replace you,” he said flatly.
She winced at that. “I should probably visit her at some point this… decade.”
Sunburst's scowl softened. “I haven’t been much better in that regard.”
“My what?” Shining repeated, turning to Twilight.
“As my own local self’s exploits demonstrate, this world is several years ahead of us." She frowned. "Incidentally, it would’ve been nice to know you’re dating my old babysitter by some means other than logical inference through parallel universes.”
He cleared his throat. “Would now be a bad time to tell you we’re actually engaged?”
“Shining!”
Sunburst sighed. “He really is Shining Armor.”
“That is what we were hoping for,” noted Sunset.
“True, true. But yes, Flurry has been fussy with both of her parents otherwise engaged. Between the Convocation of Creatures and the return of—”
Sunset nudged her brother with a hoof. “He doesn’t need a lecture, Sunburst. Not about that, at least.”
“He’s managing Flurry Heart quite well.”
“That’s not parenting skill, it’s being stunned long enough to act as a fun bit of furniture for her.”
Shining blinked and looked down. Indeed, Flurry had squirmed out of his forelimbs at some point and was now working her way up to the top of his head. “Hey!" he said as he tried to grab her again without making her fall, "I’d be a great dad! Um, I will. I am?”
Twilight shook her head. “Verb tenses were not meant for this situation. It’s easier to just think of him as a separate person.”
“Any tips, Sunburst?" said Sunset. "You’re the royal nanny.”
That got a glare. “The term is ‘Royal Crystaller.’ And I was called in as the previous last resort given my duties at the School of Friendship. The day-to-day maintenance of a baby alicorn is slightly more dangerous than being your little brother.”
Sunset's smile flattened to a carefully neutral expression. "It’s not like I ever put you in actual danger.”
Sunburst put on a falsetto. “‘Hey, Bursty, why don’t you and Starlight see how big of a book tower you can build? See if you can hit the ceiling! I’ll be in my room.’”
“You got your cutie mark out of that.”
“And I was almost crushed by encyclopediae.”
Sunset rolled her eyes. “Celestia’s sake, are you still insisting on the irregular plurals thing?”
Twilight watched the two with clear horror. “For the record, I forgive you for not mentioning the engagement.”
Shining nodded. “And I forgive you for not mentioning the whole ‘horse world’ thing." He managed to snag Flurry and brought her to eye level. "Now what are we going to do with you?”
The baby stuck her tongue out at him, turned to Twilight, and cheered. Then her gaze drifted down to the girl's sides and she began to make distressed noises.
Twilight followed Flurry's gaze and winced. “Oh dear.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m pretty sure she thinks I’m her actual aunt." Twilight touched her side. "And she thinks my wings are missing.”
“Hey, hey, it’s okay." Shining hazarded bouncing Flurry a few times to get her attention, then tilted her to get her to face him again. "Look at Daddy!” He made the silliest face he could and noises to match.
With his eyes crossed, he could only tell she was frowning a few moments after the fact. Her glowing horn was more of a tell, especially after it sent him flying into a heap of plushies.
“And another thing—" Muffled though it was, Shining could still hear Sunburst break off the ongoing argument. "What was that?”
“We could use some help, you two!” Twilight called.
“Ah. Right.”
Once they'd extracted Shining from the plushie pile, the others had abandoned him to his fate.
Well, that wasn't entirely fair. Twilight had wanted to stop upsetting her "para-niece," as a sad Flurry Heart was apparently even more dangerous than an annoyed one. Sunburst had prepared a list of activities for Flurry before he went to help research whatever disaster had made them call Shining to this world to begin with. Sunset, however, had muttered something about "getting out of the blast radius" before tagging along with her little brother.
And so it was down to Shining and Flurry, who looked at him with the kind of suspicion that could only come from a weak sense of object permanence.
"Okay," he said to himself. "Okay. Think. She's your daughter. Cady's daughter. Twilight's niece. What will she enjoy?" He'd tried burying her in the plushie pile in return, and that had just resulted in most of them getting thrown back at him. All except a stuffed snail Flurry held close like Shining would try to claim it for his own.
Looking around the playroom, he found just what he was looking for. "Hey, Flurry!"
"Bagoo," she grumbled, displaying skepticism at a fourth-grade level.
Shining held up a picture book carefully pressed between his hooves. "Who's ready for story time?"
He let her toddle over to him, in part to avoid startling her with any sudden movements and in part because it let him get some practice in with turning the pages.
"Once upon a time, there lived a princess in a magic castle..."
The reading went well for the first few pages. Shining even allowed himself a bit of nostalgia. Reading to Twilight hadn't lasted very long; she'd picked it up so quickly that she'd insisted on returning the favor before she turned four years old.
Then Flurry got bored. One moment, the princess was gearing up for the second great trial for her quest. The next, the book was glowing and shoved in Shining's face hard enough that he went skidding across the nursery floor.
It didn't hurt, per se, but it was enough to get Shining to think about what to do next for a bit. "How about we get you lunch?"
He chose to interpret the answering sounds as agreeable.
Shining looked from the scowling Flurry to the jar of baby food. ("Mashed peas," Sunburst had said on his way to the library, with the kind of rote tone that spoke of a thousand repetitions. "Her favorite.") More specifically, the spoon in that jar. Someone had opened it before running off to grapple with the ongoing calamity. (Even Twilight had seemed more resigned than concerned, much less afraid...) Still, that left him with one small utensil, zero thumbs, and even less of an idea of how to turn his horn on.
"Um."
"Ga bana nu puu," Flurry said scornfully.
"You said it." As steadily as he could, Shining took the spoon in his teeth. Barely able to see it past his own muzzle, he brought it towards Flurry... who turned away from it, barking something that was halfway to a "No."
"C'm'n," Shining mumbled around the handle, going for another approach.
"Nuh!"
"Plz!"
"Nuh!"
The horrifying thought that he might be responsible for her first word made him wince, which meant that his first warning was the faint hum of magic rather than the glow. Then came a splat against the base of his horn.
By the time Shining opened his eyes, the spoon—metal, not plastic—had bent up to meet his eyes. Pasty green dribbled down into view to join it.
He sighed and dropped the spoon into the sink with the half-melted one, the half-disintegrated one, and the fully transformed, short-lived, very confused anchovy. "Okay, what do you want to eat?"
At that point, Flurry vanished in a burst of light, giving Shining just enough time to start panicking before she reappeared on the kitchen floor before him, marching purposefully past prep stations towards a massive refrigerator (Icebox? Cryomantic pantry?) and planting herself in front of it like a cat who had learned where the good food was stored.
Thankfully, the handles seemed designed for mouths, so Shining could easily pull it open. For all of the unfamiliar bottles and weirdly faceted produce, he knew what Flurry was looking for almost immediately. In a way, he had always known.
He sighed. "I truly have lost control of my life."
"Gabada," agreed his new lady and mistress.
Shining lay on the nursery floor. It seemed to be the position where he could do the most good or, failing that, the least harm. Flurry was happy to use him as a jungle gym, all while spreading the brown streaks she refused to let him wash across his own fur. She herself had enough dark, slick substance in her mane and tail to look like her goth phase had started fifteen years ahead of schedule.
A knock on the nursery door got Shining to turn his head to it. Sunset Shimmer looked back, teeth clenched. "Uh, hey," she said. "How are you holding up?"
He gave a look as flat as his limp body. "How does it look like I'm holding up?"
"Well..." Sunset attempted a smile. "Flurry seems happy?"
Flurry took that moment to start playing with Shining's ears, making them flop about to the tune of her own little song. "Ba ba ba ba ba ba..."
"Sure," he said, "after I bribed her with chocolate pudding."
"Oh, thank Celestia, that's what that is." Shining's glare caught Sunset halfway through her grateful slump. She had the grace to look apologetic. "Sorry."
Shining sighed as Flurry moved on to ruffling his mane. "I know how it looks. And that's about how I feel. Flurry hates me unless I bribe her with dessert she probably shouldn't have for another year or two. I'm a terrible father. I can't even measure up to myself."
A weirdly familiar chuckle came from the other side of the door. "You'd be surprised," said a male voice.
Shining's eyes widened, the depression-delayed puzzle coming together in his mind. "Wait, if you're back..."
The stallion who entered the room wasn't identical to him. More muscular, more confident, an attempt at a beard that wasn't going any better than any of Shining's own... and a very familiar wince once he took in his counterpart. "Yeah, this is one of Twilight's ideas alright." The local Shining shook his head. "Cadence always the better foalsitter."
"She was." Shining tried to stand, halting when Flurry pressed down on him. She babbled excitedly at her father, keeping the alternative pinned.
Oddly pink magic enveloped her, bringing her to Prince (King? Emperor?) Shining's forelegs. At least, it did after a wave of magic wiped the pudding off. "To say nothing of Flurry's history with impostors. The only pony that would make her more suspicious than another me would be another Cadence."
"There's a story there," Shining said as he finally stood and started stretching.
"Do you have changelings in your world?"
That needed a few moments of consideration before Shining could answer. "Do you mean folklore or a tabletop system?"
"Ah. Well, you probably have some idea of what I mean. Still, it seems like you've won her over." The other Shining smiled at her daughter, who puffed out her chest and beamed at him. "Or she's beaten you into submission."
"A little of both, I think." Shining hung his head. "I gave her chocolate pudding. Sorry."
"Why? It's there for her."
"Ponies handle processed sugar a lot better than humans," added Sunset.
"There aren't any new holes in the castle, no appliances need to be replaced, and you don't need an eyepatch." The prince shrugged. "Honestly, you're one of the best foalsitters we've had."
"Thanks. Please don't ask me to do it again." Shining gave Flurry a thoughtful look. She stuck her tongue out at him. And yet he couldn't help but smile. "Well, maybe when she's on solid food."
"No problem. And hey, maybe the two of them could have playdates at some point..." The prince considered that for a moment. "In your world. Where there's no magic."
Shining shuddered. "Nice as that sounds, after today, I don't know if I'll ever have kids."
That got a noncommittal grunt, but Shining could see the same I-know-something-you-don't-know twinkle in his counterpart's eye as when he was about to unleash something horrifying on an unsuspecting O&O party. And it sent a similar chill down his spine.
Getting home, both to his world and his apartment, was blessedly uneventful. Even better, Cadence had gotten home ahead of him. Shining grabbed her in an embrace, spinning her around the living room and delighting in having just two feet.
Still giggling, Cadence kissed him and asked, "It's good to see you too! But where have you been all day?"
The burst of energy from seeing his fiancée drained out of Shining, leaving him to collapse on the love seat. "Did you know about the world of magic horses?"
Cadence nodded as she snuggled next to him. "It's part of why I felt Twilight should've been the one to tell you about the Friendship Games."
"That makes sense in hindsight, yeah." Shining took a deep breath as he ran his fingers through his hair. It was still a little tacky from the sugar. "It's been a... rough day. And confusing. And a little terrifying."
"Well, I think I know how to cheer you up."
"Yeah?"
"Close your eyes."
Shining did with a grin. "I do like what happens when you tell me that."
That got him a shove. "Nothing like that." He could hear Cadence get up and move out of the room. "But I do have something to show you."
"What is it?"
"Well, at the risk of offending your delicate masculine sensibilities, I won't go too into the details."
He frowned and straightened up. "Cady, I—"
"Shining, taking you down the feminine hygiene aisle is like dealing with a twelve-year-old. I would know, I've taught health classes." Footfalls stopped in front of him. "But I think you'll appreciate this. Open your eyes!"
He did, seeing a little plastic tab. One with two little red lines on it.
He then looked up to an ecstatic Cadence. "We may need to shift up the timeframe of the wedding a little."
After several long moments of thought, he said the only thing he could. "Oh."
Cadence's expression fell. "Shining?"
"No, that's fine. That's great!" He gave the pregnancy test one last look, swallowed, and said, "I'm just going to pass out for a little while."
And he did.