This follows Dysphoria, Arc 2: Ponyville. Rose never imagined going back to Canterlot after her exile. However, strange events start occuring, centering around her and her past, forcing her to go back and face what she left behind (and maybe more).
Evening Rose has been released from the hospital and is struggling to recover. Her physical injuries have healed, but the emotional scars have yet to fade. However, as she struggles to come to terms with her recent assault and the changes it heralded, strange happenings begin to occur in Canterlot.
Someone has returned that shouldn't have, and Rose is forced to go back and face the things she's left behind. There are things she doesn't understand, but the answers she looks for may lead her to more questions, and to danger.
After all, seldom are things what they appear to be.
This Arc is finished but the story continues! Check out the rest in:
Celestia’s sun shone brightly as its warmth melted the few remaining slivers of ice and snow. Birds chirped from the trees, a harmonious chorus of various pitches and timbers as each bird family examined their new nests. They were joined in part by the less harmonious symphony of yawns chattering from the recently awakened animals as they adjusted to their surroundings, taking stock of the available food sources in preparations for next winter. The air smelt strongly of ginger, carnation, and lily (among other things) as the recently-planted flowers took in water from the melted snow and basked in the sunlight. Ponies gathered and cheered. Winter was over.
The Winter Wrap-Up celebration was different than other Equestrian holidays in that it was more of a chore than an actual festivity, with each of the traditions being an instrumental part of maintaining Ponyville running for another year, including rituals that were necessary for the general infrastructure and environment with different groups assigned to various tasks. The first team of ponies undertook the task of waking up the local fauna, usually in hibernation, while a part of the weather team sought out the southern birds in order to guide them back to Ponyville. This two-step process alone allowed for the town’s wildlife to prosper, while also serving as the first step towards restoring the local ecosystem. As soon the first weather team was deployed, a different group of ponies was tasked with creating nests for the birds to inhabit when they return, allowing for the reintegration of birds to the environment. Once the hibernating fauna had been awakened and had cleared out of ditches and subterranean dwellings, the remaining weather pony forces (as well as a few drafted pegasi) undertook the challenge of clearing the sky, allowing the sun to melt the snow and ice in the lakes and fields, some of which would provide natural irrigation to the farms and local plant life. In conjunction with this, a separate group of ponies had to clear the fields of snow and till the fields in preparation for planting, after which they proceed to plant seeds as well as flowers and other such flora.
The process was hard and arduous work, allowing no magic to be used during the event. However, every pony willingly contributed their all to help change the seasons. By the end of the day the fields were ready for agricultural production, ensuring that the food supply of the town (and therefore its main economic staple) would be able to begin growing, and the ecosystem was restored to normal conditions. Having met both these goals, the ponies of Ponyville celebrated in camaraderie, free to enjoy and relax in the temperate climate of spring: that is, unless they were a farmer.
While the end of Winter Wrap Up was the end of work for a majority of ponies, it also signaled the beginning of the growing season. Seeds took a lot of work, and it was during this time that a lot of the more tedious and technical aspects of running a farm came into play. Having had planted seeds and spaced them out accordingly, it was then up to the farming families to ensure just the right amount of space, water, and nutrients was delivered to each future crop. A miscalculation at this point could mean a major loss during the harvest season, and as such, families like the Apples and the Carrots were hard at work in the fields long after everypony else had deemed it proper to go home.
Applejack thought of this as she walked down the streets of Ponyville. Normally she would be out there with the rest of her family right now, and she felt rather guilty at the thought of Big Mac and Applebloom having to take over her portion of the work in her absence, but she had somewhere to be. She continued walking through the streets of the town, eventually crossing the market square and arriving at a small two-story house. She knocked.
“Who is it?” a voice rang out from inside.
This took Applejack by surprise.
“Something wrong, sugarcube? You normally just open the door when someone knocks.”
Evening Rose opened the door, checking to see if Applejack was alone before giving her a tired smile.
“Sorry, I’ve been dealing with some things. Come on in.”
Both mares stepped into the room, sitting on a couch in the middle of the living room.
“The couch is new,” commented Applejack as she studied Rose. She seemed a lot better than the last time she had seen her, albeit a lot more tired.
“You like it? Aside from my usual duties on the weather team, I get paid a commission on every monumental improvement I make to the procedures and the like,” Rose explained. “As you know, I can be very good at that, meaning I can afford to buy things now.”
“I hope you’re saving up as opposed to just spending it on fancy furniture,” chided Applejack.
“Of course I am! Right now I have some money saved up to cover a month’s worth of vacation time, I have an emergency fund, and I have enough money for me to not have to worry about rent or food for a while.”
“What? Did you re-design the weather team completely or something?”
“Nope,” said Rose with a smile. “I did, however, find a cost-effective way to justify having a pony scouting the Everfree at all hours by having them switch up the way they do rounds. We caught a rogue blizzard as it was starting that way, which paid for the month’s rent.”
Applejack smiled.
“Well, I’m glad you’re doing so well with your new job, Rose, even though we miss you hanging ‘round the farm.” Her tone was sweet at first, but got more tinted with concern as she progressed. “But are you sure you should be working as much as you are? Considering…”
Rose turned to look at her.
“Look, I’m fully recovered now. No stitches, no braces, no IV’s, and no more broken bones,” Rose commented.” I can fly, run, do sit ups, and eat ice cream as far as my doctor is concerned, so I’ll be fine. Besides, even when I was still injured I was working. It’s not like I’m out there bucking clouds like Rainbow and Airheart: I’m planning and helping organize weather patterns, which up to today consisted of planning on how to tackle the clouds for Winter Wrap Up in a way that made sense. I could’ve done this job from a wheelchair,” finished Rose, neglecting to mention that a week ago she did in fact do this job from a wheelchair.
“If you’re so fine and dandy, then why weren’t you out there helping bring spring with the rest of us,” asked Applejack. “We were worried about you.”
“Reasons,” said Rose while staring at Applejack.
Applejack giggled.
“Ok, so you’re learning not to lie to me and how to prove that you’re not lying,” she said, “But that’s still not an answer.”
Rose stopped smiling and stared at the door, almost as if she could see through it.
“I know I wasn’t outside,” she said. “But I could hear ponies well enough from in here. They were gossiping exactly the way I thought they would be, even after all this time.”
Applejack gave her friend a worried glance.
“You really care that much what they think?”
“No,” said Rose, staring at the ceiling.
Applejack smiled.
“You did fine the first time but you still need work,” she said before giving Rose a hug. “It’ll be ok sugarcube, for what it’s worth; they’re all on your side.”
Rose closed her eyes.
“I know,” said Rose. “I know. And I’m eternally grateful. Still, it’s not what I wanted, you know?”
“I know,” Applejack said sympathetically. “I know.”
A weird silence developed over the household until Applejack spoke again.
“I brought you something.” Rose opened her eyes and looked at her friend as Applejack removed a notebook from her saddlebag, placing the bag next to the couch before turning to face her.
“I figured that since you’ve holed up in here so often recently,” said Applejack, “you were probably writing a lot and would run out of room soon, so I figured I’d go ahead and get you a traveling notebook for you to continue writing in.”
Rose smiled brightly. This was the 8th new notebook she had received from a friend since she had woken up in the hospital, but that did not make it any less special. Besides, Applejack was right: she was about to run out of room in her latest one due to the number of poems she had recently taken to writing.
Rose took the book from Applejack, placing it next to herself.
“Thank you, Applejack, this really means a lot to me.”
“No problem, Rose.”
Applejack looked out a window before addressing Rose again.
“Well, it’s getting late and I need to head back and help the rest of the family at the farm, so I guess I’ll be seeing you,” she said, heading to the door. “We need to hang out soon; make sure to stop by the farm, you hear? Applebloom won’t stop asking about you and I miss you ‘round there as well.”
Rose gave the best smile she could offer, still looking far more tired than Applejack could comprehend.
“I will. See you soon, Applejack.”
“Um… Rose, are you sure ok?”
“Yeah, why?” asked Rose.
“You just look really tired; make sure to get some sleep, alright?”
“Ok, I will,” responded Rose. “Best of luck on the farm.”
“Who needs luck when we have your plans?” joked Applejack. “Now we find out if you were worth all the bits we paid you for.”
“No refunds,” said Rose, before waving goodbye as her friend departed her home. Soon afterwards she was alone; she closed the door.
Stepping inside, Rose immediately noticed Applejack had forgotten her saddlebag. Rose checked it, finding it to be empty.
“Oh well, at least she didn’t forget something important in the bag,” thought Rose. “I’ll return it to her tomorrow.” If she was honest with herself, she could have done it today, but she had other things on her mind. Instead, she walked up to the mirror by the bottom of the stairs, staring at her reflection.
Evening Rose was wearing a green hoodie with a flowy gray skirt. Her hair was in its signature curls and she showcased no signs of having been near death or hospitalized, despite both having happened twice. As she studied her reflection she could not help but notice that Applejack was right: she did look tired.
There were a couple of reasons as to why Rose would look as worn and exhausted as she did. Healing, after all, was a very draining process in which she had been indulging much in the past few months. Also, due to having been unable to move for weeks on end, her muscles had suffered, making it a struggle to build them back up to where mundane chores were not akin to the Running of the Leaves for her. Many more examples jumped to her mind, but she realized that really, there were only two of note.
The first reason why she felt she was as tired as she was was simply because she was not getting much sleep. She would often go to bed at night only to lie awake in bed for hours instead, her mind reeling with thoughts and concerns from her everyday life. Then, when she would find sleep, she would have to contend with nightmares which often awoke her in a state of panic and rendered the idea of going back to sleep laughable.
Rose thought for a moment.
“Not really nightmares,” she said to herself. “More like nightmare. Singular.”
She was still having the one nightmare with which she had to contend. However, due to recent events, it had become more vivid and far more terrifying. Facing one’s own mortality does that occasionally.
The second reason was that she was more emotionally exhausted and stressed out now than she had hoped to be, which was draining the vitality of her body one nervous breakdown at a time.
“Oh come now Rose,” she told herself. “You’re being overdramatic; they’re not really breakdowns. They’re more like tantrums and bouts of helpless self-deprecation.”
“Oh, and I’m talking to myself again,” she noted. “Perfect…”
Rose turned to look out the window, noticing a few ponies enjoying the last hours of the Winter Wrap Up celebrations. Rose watched ruefully as they passed.
Applejack was right to ask about why Rose had not attended. After all, she was of able body and had already gone back to work against the doctor’s recommendations. It was also part of her duty as a citizen of Ponyville to contribute in any way she could, even if she had been too hurt to work with the weather team. However, showing up would mean that she would have had to be around them, the citizens of Ponyville.
Despite Celestia’s attempt to deal with Granite Boulder discretely, news of the event quickly spread through Ponyville in the form of gossip and questions from the ponies who had seen her be taken away to the hospital. The gossip then gathered steam after details of who she was and why she was attacked spread. After all, it was newsworthy in the small town for there to be a transpony in its citizenry, let alone having them almost be murdered for it.
To their never-ending credit, the citizens of Ponyville were being very accepting and supportive of the whole situation. Rose had received countless letters, both at the hospital and at home, from ponies wishing her well and sending their condolences for the pain she suffered. Some welcomed her with open arms, and others said that they did not really understand the trans thing; all of them said, however, that nopony should be attacked for who they are, and that they stand behind her one hundred percent.
Rose appreciated the thoughts and cherished the letters she received, but as happy as she was at the town’s support and acceptance, she could not get past one major detail.
Rose thought back to the day she met Granite. The reason she had been out so late was because she found out everypony in the weather team knew she was trans, and that they had had ample opportunity to tell the rest of Ponyville without knowing it was supposed to be a secret. It had been anger and frustration that had driven her from her home that cold winter night.
Now she faced a similar situation. There was no need to guess - it was a fact that everypony in town knew about the transpony living near the market square, and as supportive and accepting as they were, they would always see her as that, a transpony.
By sending her to the hospital, Granite had taken away any chance she had of integrating into her society as a mare. He had failed to kill her, but the damage was no less substantial to her. And yet, instead of anger and frustration, all she felt was sadness and loss.
Rose mourned the loss of her ability to pass as a mare in the eyes of strangers; such wishes were gone, and all that was left was the knowledge that she was now cemented in their minds as an “other”: an “other” that should be supported and cared for, yes, but an “other” nonetheless.
It was a hefty loss for her, and although it was something she knew she needed to get past, she was not ready to deal with ponies approaching her and telling her how brave she was for being “out” when it was not her choice at all.
There was a knock at the door, which pulled Rose from her thoughts.
Her eyes went from the door to the empty saddlebag next to the couch, which she picked up as she made her way to the entrance to her home.
She opened the door.
“Hey, I figured you’d come back for…” she stopped as she realized who she was talking to. “Oh, hey Derpy! Sorry, I thought you were Applejack collecting her saddlebag.”
“Oh, no problem Rose,” said the yellow-maned pegasus. “Are you doing better?”
“Yeah,” responded Rose. “Slowly but surely. What’s up?”
“Oh, nothing,” said Derpy. “Just delivering a letter. I figured I’d give it to you myself.”
She gave Rose an envelope that said:
For: Evening Rose Ponyville Market Square, House B12
Rose recognized the hoofwriting, but acted casually as she read it over. She then turned to Derpy.
“Thank you, Derpy,” she said.
“Oh no problem,” said Derpy. “I do have to get back to my route though, so I have to get going. Oh, and try to get some sleep, ok? You look really exhausted.”
Derpy flew away, pulling a new letter from her bag.
Rose made her way inside as she opened the letter, closing the door behind her. The message was small but that made it all the more terrifying.
On my way to Ponyville. We need to talk.
-Octavia
Rose stared at the short letter in confusion, trying to rip a new piece of information from the three lines of text. This would prove impossible.
“I guess I’m not sleeping tonight either,” she thought to herself.
Octavia was aboard the train, watching the mountain landscape pass her by, catching an occasional glance at her reflection. Her face was filled with concern and uncertainty, her eyes with anger and fear.
She tightened her hold of the newspaper article she had brought with her, making sure not to damage the front story.
Rose sat at her dinner table, leaving her salad untouched. Occasionally she would glance at either the clock on the wall or the setting of the sun through the window to gauge the time. Very little time had passed since she had last done so, which irritated her, causing her to focus her attention on the details of her house itself. The house was certainly a lot more comfortable than it had previously been, with the addition of a couch and rugs replacing the minimalist approach she had taken when her decorations were limited by her non-existent budget. Where everything had been pure white there were now splotches of colors and textures to give the house interest. And yet, as comfortable as it was, this impending visit made the place feel hostile and oppressive.
“Isn’t that always the way, though?” Rose thought to herself. She thought back to every time she had had a problem and had been alone in this house to deal with it. She had suffered this wait in cold disquiet before, and it did not get any easier. Such was the strength of the foreboding emotions that they could drain the good feelings of a room regardless of how many tapestries one put before them.
Rose looked at her plate of salad, mostly untouched, and pushed it away out of lack of hunger before turning to look at the clock. A minute had passed.
“I really need to get a radio.”
Normally, Rose would have been present and waiting at the train station for Octavia’s arrival. However, Octavia had not said at what time she would be arriving. If she had left at the same time as she sent the letter, she should have been there by now, and if she had taken the last train to leave the city that night, she would arrive in three hours. As such, it was easy to conclude that she would arrive sometime between now and then; all Rose could do was to wait.
Rose got up, pondering the purpose of this visit once again. There were a lot of things not adding up, each increasing Rose’s frustration and worry. For starters, there was the message itself. Rose had received a lot of letters from Octavia in the past months, and if there was something those letters showcased it was that Octavia did not like brevity.
Each of Octavia’s letters consisted of multiple pages written in flowery language and metaphors. Having known her for as long she had, Rose knew that it was how Octavia gathered her thoughts. When writing, Octavia thought in images rather than events, and it was through that collection of images that one could grasp what message she was trying to get across. This latest letter, however, showcased no such conventions.
This led to two distinct possibilities. One, the message was not written by Octavia, or two, whatever had happened was of such urgency that the message required no thought and Octavia was now acting more on impulse than anything else. Rose was not sure which she preferred.
The second problem was the urgency of the meeting. Octavia was a creature of habit and order. Everything about her life was planned out in advance and scheduled in the same obsessive fashion that Twilight was constantly guilty of. Octavia did not make random visits, she did not take casual vacations, and she did not break her schedule. The only time, as far as Rose knew, in which Octavia had taken a spontaneous trip like this was when Rose had been at death’s door.
Rose shivered at the implication, hoping that it was more of a logical coincidence than a set rule.
Lastly, there was a layer of secrecy that Octavia did not normally have. This was not implied in the letter, but it was something Rose had noticed yesterday while searching for answers.
Upon receiving the letter, Rose immediately ran to the house of Vinyl Scratch, Rose’s friend and Octavia’s soon to be marefriend (if Rose was reading the signs correctly). She had intended on showing Vinyl the letter and asking her to explain if she knew anything regarding it, but when Vinyl opened the door, Rose changed her plans.
“Oh hey, Rose, what brings you here?” Vinyl said.
“Hey, have you heard anything from Octavia lately?” Rose asked.
Vinyl stood frozen in thought for a second, turning as if distracted by a noise. When she turned back she was fidgeting with her glasses. Rose sensed that the next words Vinyl would speak might not be entirely truthful.
“Um… No, I haven’t. Why have you?” she asked in return.
Rose was shocked that her friend had just lied to her, but recovered quickly enough. She decided she would try to get information without giving up any.
“No, that’s just it. It’s been a while since her last letter. I thought maybe you would know,” Rose said. “I just hope nothing’s happened in Canterlot or something.”
Vinyl gave an involuntary twitch.
“Oh, I’m sure she’s fine,” Vinyl said. “Nothing ever goes on in Canterlot; it’s a secure city with nothing ever happening there. Besides, the Princess’ castle is there; you shouldn’t worry.”
Rose had been implying something to do with Octavia’s job at the orchestra, but was grateful for the information Vinyl let slip.
“She’s talked to Octavia,” Rose thought. “And there’s something going in Canterlot.”
Rose decided to dig into her reason for coming to see her.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she said. “You wouldn’t know when her next visit to Ponyville is, would you?”
Vinyl brightened up at the slight shift in topic.
“Should be in a few months,” Vinyl said. “If I’m not mistaken there’s a break in which she’s planning on coming.”
Rose did not let her disappointment show.
“Oh, well I guess I’ll just see her then,” she said. “If she doesn’t come then I’ll have a reason to be worried. Anyway, have a good day.”
“You too Rose, and please get some sleep. You’re looking really tired.”
Rose reflected on the last part of information she had grasped through the entire journey home.
“She doesn’t know,” Rose thought to herself. “If she did, she wouldn’t have been as cheerful.”
While sitting at home waiting for Octavia’s arrival, Rose reflected on what was bothering her the most. Vinyl and Octavia were pretty much an item, despite the lack of official titles. They told each other everything and Octavia was not big into surprises. If she had not told Vinyl about her visit, it was because she was not planning on seeing her while she was here. Rose could not think of a reason urgent enough or secretive enough that would make it so that Octavia could not say hello to her special somepony. This bothered her immensely.
She looked at the clock again.
“It’s getting late,” Rose thought. “Maybe I should head out the train station and wait there. That way I’ll at least see her sooner.”
There was a knock on the door.
Rose stared at it for a while, far longer than most would be willing to wait, but there was no second knock. With caution and apprehension she approached the door, opening it to find a light gray mare with a dark gray mane carrying a blue saddlebag staring intently at her.
Octavia was studying Rose. Her eyes clearly traced over Rose’s features as if looking for something. Rose could not tell what Octavia was doing, but it made her uncomfortable.
Rose chanced a small smile at Octavia, but it was not returned. Instead the two continued to stand at the doorway in silence.
“Hey Octavia, what ar…” Rose had begun to say before Octavia began to shake her head violently. She wanted to speak first. Octavia reached into her saddlebag, pulling out a small blade which she pointed at Rose. Rose in turn looked at the blade and then into Octavia’s eyes. Rose saw no malice or anger there, just fear. Whatever was going on, Octavia was not doing this because she wanted to. Rose decided to let the events play out, walking backwards into her house and allowing Octavia in.
Octavia stepped into the house, closing the door behind her while keeping the blade pointed at Rose. She then turned to stare at Rose’s eyes.
“Explain your name!” she yelled.
Rose recognized the question; it was one of two questions that they had devised back in school in order to identify themselves. Back then they wrote to each other a lot, leaving messages and sending mail. However, the communication systems had proven to be very easy to compromise, and as such they used these two questions to prove that they were who they said they were. They each had a very logical wrong answer that no one would question if intercepted. A wrong answer meant that the writer was not whom they said they were, or the pony writing was doing so under duress. It meant something was wrong.
She looked at the blade again before studying Octavia’s eyes. The fear was still there, but it was more subtle, having mostly been replaced with a cold determination.
The message was clear: “Answer wrong and I attack.”
“I am not a character to be toyed with and ordered. If life is a stage, I’m the script.”
Octavia did not waver.
“Explain my name!” she yelled.
“Your music comes not from outside but from within; you are the muse that inspires, not the other way around.”
Rose had been prepared for Octavia to lower her weapon at that, but the blade stayed put. She looked at Octavia with a questioning glance before Octavia spoke again.
“Why did I stop chasing you?”
Rose stared into her eyes. She knew the answer, or at least she thought she knew. It was one of the most painful memories she still carried with her. However, the two friends had never actually sat down to talk about it, so all Rose had to work with was her own interpretation of events.
She stared at the blade again. A wrong answer meant Octavia would attack, and if she did, she would kill Rose. Rose would not fight back and risk hurting Octavia again.
“You didn’t. You said you couldn’t be with me and would stop trying because I was too broken to fix. You said you couldn’t love me because of how often you got hurt because of me. And you did stop being interested in me, but you never stopped loving me or trying to help me sort myself out.”
She took a step forward and closed her eyes.
“Even now,” Rose said, preparing to find out if she had been right or wrong.
Octavia lunged at her, giving Rose a hug and sobbing into her mane. The blade lay discarded on the floor.
Rose allowed Octavia to weep into her mane, rubbing her neck with her hoof and whispering, “It is ok” in as comforting a way as she knew how. However, once Octavia had gotten most of her emotions out of her system, Rose began to question her.
“Look ‘Tavi, I know you’re upset still but I need to ask a quick question,” Rose said. “What was that about? Oh, and the letter, and this visit… but mostly the questionnaire at blade point.”
Octavia looked at the blade on the floor before turning to look at Rose with concern on her face.
“I’ve had a rough two weeks,” she said.
Rose motioned to her couch, non-verbally asking Octavia to sit and explaining that she wanted more information.
Octavia complied.
“As you know, your escape from Canterlot was hardly unnoticed. The very next day your absence was the talk of the town and your family had a lot of questions to answer. As you also know, they decided to tell the world that you were sick and therefore couldn’t go outside.”
“It’s weird that they didn’t just declare me dead considering…” commented Rose.
“Exactly,” said Octavia, “As I told you, I immediately suspected that something was off with their explanation. If you were really sick then I would’ve been allowed to see you. You probably would’ve been asking for me. As such, I assumed you ran away.”
“It occurred to me that it was weird that their cover story was that you were sick, because if you remained sick long enough, somepony of importance, either a skilled doctor or the Princesses themselves, would ask to get involved. The only explanation was that they were sending ponies out to find you and bring you back before such a time occurred. It even coincided with your father sending out a small group of workers under his command to look for something unidentified.”
“However, once I found you here and talked to you that no longer seemed like it fit. Your father probably thought you’re dead based on the injuries and your fall… so why not declare you dead? It occurred to me that the group he had sent out to search the area was too small to search all the towns, and therefore were probably only looking at the forest near the base of the mountain… for a corpse.”
Rose nodded in understanding.
“Well, there was an announcement made two weeks ago about a press conference to be held by the Rhyme family. It was a fairly big deal on something of the ‘upmost importance’.”
“So they announced my death?” asked Rose.
Octavia shook her head.
“They planned to announce the full recovery of Slant Rhyme and his re-introduction into Canterlot society.”
Rose stared for a second.
“But that’s Impossible.”
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?”
Octavia ran through the busy Canterlot streets as soon as she heard the news. Such a thing was normally unbecoming of the top cellist in the Canterlot Orchestra, but today she was in no mood to keep up appearances in front of the Canterlot elites who just barely managed to evade her mad dash towards the Rhyme estate.
“What are they playing at?”
So far the general populous did not know what the press conference would be about. In fact, most expected that the reason for gathering had been a somber one. However, due to her connection to Slant Rhyme during school and her mother’s inability to keep a secret, Octavia knew exactly what Rich Rhyme and his wife were getting ready to announce.
“It makes no sense,” thought Octavia, slowing down to avoid running into the ponies set up around the elevated podium.
Octavia struggled to find a place near the front where she could observe the press conference, wanting to not miss a single detail.
At the scheduled time, Rich Rhyme, Ilene Rhyme, and Perfect Rhyme came out of their home and stepped onto the prepared stage. Both the parents looked simply ecstatic, which confused some of the reporters, who were expecting them to deliver grave news. Perfect, on the other hoof, stared at the floor with a sad grimace on his face, which could be attributed to the number of cameras now pointed in his direction.
Octavia felt bad for the colt, having no idea how he was coping with having lost his sibling. In fact, she did not really have any idea of how much information Perfect actually had, but she could think of no possibility in which the colt did not suffer. However, as much as she felt for the younger Rhyme, Octavia could not spare any understanding for the elder.
Octavia stared at Rich Rhyme with nothing but revulsion and disgust, not unlike what she imagined he had shown that night. While she was mad at Ilene for bearing witness and doing nothing, it was of little consequence compared to the ire she felt right now.
“He’s done things,” thought Octavia. “Things I cannot forgive.”
Rich Rhyme stepped up to the microphone, clearing his throat before speaking.
“To this, the assorted press,” he said, motioning to the gathered ponies.
“As I know you all know, from reading the tabloids and various newspapers, our son Slant has been going through a very tough time. During the summer he fell greatly ill, to the point that it was dangerous for him to come outside or really leave his own room. As a parent, I was devastated and feared for the worst, spending sleepless months by his bedside.”
Fury unlike anything known to ponykind was beginning to grow within Octavia and it was through great efforts that she stopped herself from yelling, denouncing him for his lies.
“Many a doctor and specialist under my own employ struggled to come up with a proper diagnosis, and found themselves unable. A cure was not on the horizon. And yet, it appears that Celestia’s grace has descended upon our household, since recently, the horrid illness disappeared on its own, as swiftly and mysteriously as it arrived.”
There were murmurs growing in the crowd as the reporters reasoned the implications of what Rich was saying. It seemed he noticed their eagerness, for he continued.
“It is as such that it becomes my pleasure to announce the recovery of my son Slant Rhyme, and to re-introduce him to Canterlot society,” he said, gesturing at the door.
The photographers trained their lenses on the door as it slowly opened, waiting for the pony that was promised to come out. Octavia watched with the same intensity, but with different intent.
“Let’s see how you try to pull this off.”
The photographers were not disappointed, as Slant Rhyme slowly, but confidently, exited his home, walking until he stood next to his parents, at which point he waved at the crowd.
The sound of the cameras going off was immense, but it registered as a slight whisper over the roar and applause of the crowd. Ponies cheered both for the recovery of the pony, and in celebration of the fantastic story this would make for the next day’s headline. In fact, there was only one pony in the crowd who was silent, made mute by surprise and betrayal.
“What?” Octavia asked to nopony in particular. She stared at the pony now standing at the forefront of his family. Her first thought was that it was an impostor, that they had found a pony that looks like Slant in order to hide the evils they had committed in the hopes that the real Slant was dead. And yet, as she looked upon the soft smile of the pony before her, she knew this was not the case.
She had spent too much time with him not to recognize certain peculiarities that even the best of imitators would be unable to copy. The uneven height of his shoulders, barely noticeable with his mane and posture, the two stray hairs at the base of his hairline which refused to join the rest of his mane regardless of how hard he tried, the slight discoloration of the outermost feathers; these and more were the things that Octavia looked for as she studied the pegasus before him.
“It’s him,” she thought to herself, feeling a dark chill run through her spine. “It really is him.”
Tears rose in her eyes as she pondered the possible implications of his presence here.
“Why would he forgive his parents? Why be a male again? Had he lied about being transgender? Had he lied about everything?”
Octavia tried to shut off her thoughts but she could not, not while Slant was happily waving at the crowd. In the end, she only asked two questions, unheard by the multitude around her.
“Why would you?”
“How could you?”
Octavia composed herself before continuing her story.
“I went home that night, angry and confused,” said Octavia. “Everything that I thought I knew had been thrown out the window and I wanted to know why. I stalked Slant for a week and a half, looking for a chance to talk to him without the rest of the Rhyme family getting involved. Eventually, I got my chance.”
Rain poured from the dark heavens in Canterlot as the Rhyme family stepped out of their carriage and walked towards the entrance of their home. The streets had been deserted as few ponies of the Canterlot society tolerated such inconveniences as rain. Most ponies scheduled indoor parties and dinners on the days rain was announced and it was one of these dinners from which the Slant family now returned. However, despite there being no traffic, they were not alone.
Octavia, dressed in a dark robe, passed undetected through the Rhyme family grounds. She took extra note of her surroundings as she took the secret path through the bushes, crafted specifically so that she could visit whenever she wanted. She had traveled this path many times before, but never before had she been afraid of being seen; the feeling did not sit well with her.
After a bit of navigation she arrived outside Slant’s window. She looked in seeing Rhyme taking of his jacket and hanging it on a coat rack. He was alone.
Octavia pulled the window open, getting his attention.
“Who goes there?” Slant said, noticing the intruder.
“Script, it’s me,” said Octavia. Slant looked at her in confusion.
“Sorry miss, but you must have me mistaken. My name is Slant Rhyme.”
Octavia twitched. Something was wrong. She removed the hood of her robe and a sliver or recognition shined on Slant’s face. Octavia decided to resort to an old system they had employed in school.
“Explain your name.” Slant looked at her curiously.
“Well, my last name is Rhyme because I come from a long line in the noble family. And my first name is Slant because the Rhyme family is all about literature, and a slant rhyme is a literary term. It’s also known as an imperfect rhyme,” he said. “But you know this already, don’t you, Octavia?”
Something was very wrong.
Everything about his response had been wrong, and Octavia reassessed the situation. It became apparent that until she had more information, she would just be putting herself in danger remaining here.
“Yes, I know. I’ve just been having a few off days, I wanted to hear your voice, and that’s the first thing that came to mind,” she said looking him in the eye. “I’m glad you’re ok, Slant. You had me worried.”
“You know me Octavia,” said Slant. “Never one to give up on life.”
Wrong.
Still, Octavia only nodded.
“Well, I’m sorry about intruding like I did, but I wanted to talk to you alone. Again, I’m glad you’re ok.”
“It’s no problem; feel free to stop by anytime.”
Octavia left, her mind racing faster and faster until she arrived at her own home, at which point her thoughts doubled in speed.
“I was really upset when I got home, after which I wrote a letter to Vinyl essentially complaining about everything,” Octavia said. “I heard nothing for a few days but then I received a letter from her telling me to ‘chill out’. She said that I was not making any sense and that it sounded like I was under a lot of stress or something. She also mentioned that you couldn’t have been in Canterlot, because she had just had dinner with you and the girls here in Ponyville.”
“I knew this was important information, but I wasn’t sure how. I decided that the pony near my friends was a bigger threat, and so I headed here first. I sent you a note to ensure that you’d be home when I got here, then I went and bought a small blade, after which I went and caught the first train I could. You know the rest.”
Having finished her story, Octavia looked at Rose, looking for a reaction. Rose had been quiet the entire time, trying to be open minded and attentive, but the disbelief was evident on her face.
“You sound mental, you know that, right?”
“So you don’t believe me…”
“Hey, I never said that,” said Rose. “I know you’re not lying to me and I find myself believing every word you say. I just want to make sure you realize that what you’re expecting me to believe is insane.”
Rose got up from the couch, pacing around as she compiled all the information she had just received.
“You are asking me to believe that somehow I’m in Canterlot prancing around as Slant Rhyme in the company of my parents who, as you say, have forgiven and forgotten this,” she said, gesturing to herself, “without any proof.”
Octavia looked at Rose with an amused smile despite herself, having realized that Rose believed her despite the show she was putting on, and that she was scared.
“I never said I didn’t have proof.”
Digging into her saddlebag, Octavia pulled out a newspaper, which she threw in front of Rose.
After looking at the front page, Rose was shocked into silence. After a few minutes she managed to speak.
“Yeah, I’d say this qualifies as proof.”
The first thing one could see on the front page of the newspaper were giant bold letters announcing:
Slant Rhyme, of the noble Rhyme family, Alive and Well
This was followed by a picture of the Rhyme family itself. The picture was in black and white and featured Rose’s mom, dad, brother, and what appeared to be herself as a stallion, mid-wave and smiling.
“Fancy that.”
3. Trip to Canterlot: Questions, Answers, and Regrets
3. Trip to Canterlot: Questions, Answers, and Regrets
The train ride to Canterlot from Ponyville was a long trip that one did not commit to without a good reason. The ponies who had designed the carts knew this, and therefore they attempted to make the ride as glamorous and comfortable as possible. Each seat in the compartments was made of the softest pillows available, a combination of cloud, soft textile, and magic, which even the Canterlot elite could not help but be impressed by. The walls of the compartment also radiated regal exuberance with rich tapestries and rugs decorating the carts. The train was essentially a museum exhibit on wheels. And yet, as Rose sat staring into the distance, she might as well have been in the back of a hay cart for the journey.
Rose was wearing a dark robe with a hood that covered most of her face, under which she wore a black skirt and a purple shirt which matched her mane. She was traveling alone in the cart with three unknown ponies, since Octavia had needed to return to Canterlot the same day of her visit, but it had taken a couple of days for Rose to become ready for her trip. For example, she had to take off work, taking a leave of absence for a ‘family emergency’, which this technically qualified as. She also had to prepare her supplies since she was not sure what she might encounter while in Canterlot, and did not want to be caught unaware. Her purple bag was at her side, inside which was her bag of bits, a male outfit, her traveling notebook, identification paperwork, and Octavia’s blade (which she hoped to not use).
Octavia had also suggested that Rose bring some of her friends with her, but she had decided not to. Her main reason was that she honestly did not know what she was dealing with, and did not want to accidentally involve them in something that may be dangerous or that she could not handle. However, if she was honest with herself, there was another reason. She was afraid of what she might find waiting for her in Canterlot.
Rose looked out the window at the immense city in the distance. The city on the mountain overlooking the entirety of Equestria was quickly approaching, with its towering structures and surreal architecture gaining more detail the closer the train got, adding more splendor and magnificence to the already intimidating city.
“I never thought I would ever go back there,” Rose thought before allowing herself a mirthless laugh. “Though apparently I already have.”
She pulled out the front page of the newspaper that Octavia had left with her, examining the photograph while the conversation with Octavia replayed in her head.
She could not deny that this pony looked exactly like her. In fact, this pony was Slant Rhyme more so than she had ever been - he certainly looked happier. She began to dwell on the implications of this as her insecurities found their way to the forefront of her mind in the form of questions.
“Am I who I think I am?” she thought to herself. This was the first of the questions she had asked herself once she understood the situation, but it was also the one that came to mind most frequently.
She knew who she thought she was. She remembered her history and everything having to do with Slant Rhyme, Script, and Evening Rose. However, she also had to remember that she had been near death twice, one of which took a long time in the hospital to recover from. Even during normal circumstances, such events could cause delusions, confusion, and amnesia. In her case it was even more likely since both times she had been kicked and punched in the face, which could have caused a concussion. Now that she thought about it, painful as it was to do so, the last time she was attacked she had suffered from hallucinations.
Then there was this pony, matching her parent’s story and standing as a perfect example of who Slant Rhyme was supposed to be.
“In all honesty,” thought Rose, “it’s completely possible that he is who he says he is and that I’m suffering from the damage to my body.”
Still, even as she thought it, she knew this was not the case. Rose seemed to know things about Slant’s past that this new Slant did not. Furthermore, the chances of a delusion actually matching up to the back story of a real pony on accident are even lower than the chances of this second Slant coming out of nowhere; not by much, but still lower.
Having dealt with the first question, the second one rose to take its place.
“Is going to Canterlot the right thing?”
She had asked this question a lot, but unlike the other one, this one had no relatively clear answer.
The first problem in answering it was that she was not completely sure of why she was going to Canterlot, just that she had to. She had no plans on seeing her family, or on apologizing, or on trying to be accepted back. She was also not planning on making her presence known to the society of Canterlot. She did not even know what she wanted to do with this new pony once she caught him. Did she want to expose him? Get him arrested? Make him leave? And if so, to what end?
She looked at the picture again, allowing her feelings to guide her thoughts.
Here was a pony who was happy filling in for and being Slant Rhyme, somepony that Rose had detested being. In fact, everypony in the picture looked happy. His parents now had the son they always wanted, and this new Slant was happier being a stallion and in the spotlight than she ever would be. It boiled down to the fact that, if forced to choose, her family would want this new Slant and not her.
Did she have any right to tear down the illusion? Was it worth it? She was not attached to the name. She had recently turned in the paperwork to get her name legally changed, so in a few weeks it would not even be her name anymore. She was not attached to her family; they disowned her quite thoroughly last time she was there. So, why was she heading back? Why should she head to Canterlot?
She did not have a good answer to justify her actions. She just felt this need to go and figure things out. Although not the strongest reasons for taking up the struggle, Rose did eventually find two reasons to justify her visit. The first was that, for all she knew, this Slant could be dangerous. Everything about him was shrouded in mystery and he was playing his part too well. She needed to know if he was benign. The second was that there were too many questions to ignore: questions on where he came from, what he was planning, why he was doing it, were all things Rose would like to ask her would be successor. If nothing else she wanted to know how this new pony came to be Slant Rhyme.
Eventually the looming towers of Canterlot were overhead as the train prepared for its final assent up the mountain, meaning it would arrive in town shortly. Rose put everything in her bag, secured it with rope, and adjusted her robe to cover and protect her identity. With everything in place, she disembarked the train, stepping onto the stone-paved streets of what used to be her home.
“Let’s see if I can manage this trip without having to be rescued by Applejack and Rainbow.”
For an egalitarian society that preaches equality between all things and ponies, the disparity in the standard of living in Canterlot, as opposed to other cities, was staggering. True, some of it was a natural shift of income, as the wealthiest clans and families moved closer to the Royal Castle in order to increase their chances of rubbing shoulders with royalty. Then there was the castle itself, which accounted for a lot of the grandeur of the city with its tall spires and architecture dominating the skyline. However, even taking both of these factors into account, the amount of wealth displayed in the infrastructure of the city was obscene.
The roads of the city were all paved in white stone, which never seemed to crack or scuff despite the wear and tear of supporting the weight of traveling hooves as the local ponies and tourists alike went about their business. The buildings of the city were also built in a way that alluded to royal elegance, with tall structures and elaborate hoof-crafted designs meant to emulate the castle they were built around. Furthermore, each surface area visible to a passing observer seemed to shine and glimmer with a radiance that suggested constant polishing, a magical cleaning enchantment, or probably both. The street, the walls, the tables, the signs, and everything in between were a spectacle of magnificence that battled for the passerby’s attention. As such, the ponies of the city fought a constant battle to be as noteworthy as their environment.
Indeed, every pony walking these streets was clothed in the most alluring and eye-catching colors and designs available to them and their funds. The name of the game was “look at me”, with every pony hoping to be the one to shine the brightest amongst the city of boundless splendor.
This worked to Rose’s advantage, since, amongst such a frenzied competition of color and brilliance; one would be hard-pressed to notice the poorly-dressed mare in a simple dark cloak.
Rose could not help but smile as she walked unnoticed through the crowded streets of her hometown. Granted, she was not always unnoticed, with every once in a while a pony pointing out the quaint (meant to be: poor, unfashionable, and laughable) pony walking down the street but, in this city, such attention was the same as no attention. Within minutes the mare in the dark robe would be forgotten, a speck of dust not worth remembering amongst the city’s more valued assets.
Rose had learnt this trick early in her life. Being a part of the Rhyme family meant that the reporters were always out to catch you where you should not be, and the would-be elites were always trying to be caught with you in order to boost their status and importance. This made traversing the city, even at night, an unpractical endeavor. However, necessity breeds ingenuity, and finding the flaw in the selective sight of general society had been nothing short of miraculous. After all, there was an art to being unremarkable.
Donning dark cloaks, Slant and Octavia had managed to pass unnoticed for years by the populous, often being sneered at by the very ponies who would have groveled at their hooves if they had known who they were underneath their hoods, much like what was happening now. It gave her comfort to know the city had not changed much in her absence.
Before long, Rose arrived at her destination, an ornate house in the middle of the city. Rose bypassed the door and walked around the house, tapping on the second window to the left. It opened and another pony in a dark cloak exited the house. The pair took a slow walk away from the house and to the outskirts of the city where there would be less of a chance of being overheard.
“So, has anything changed that I should know about?” asked Rose.
“A bit,” responded Octavia. “But all of it to your favor.”
Rose nodded to show she was listening, allowing Octavia to continue.
“Slant has recently taken to walking around town by himself, much like you used to,” she said. “No one is finding this remarkable because you made such a habit of it, but it is interesting because of three reasons. One, he’s not you, and whereas you had your habit of wandering around, every time I had seen this Slant before my trip he would always be sticking close to your parents, as if scared of exploring. Second, he’s not doing a good job of hiding himself, and although he always manages to lose the crowds he draws, the fact that it hasn’t occurred to him to disguise himself makes him pretty easy to track. Third, he’s been hanging out with about five other sons and daughters of nobility, probably at your parents’ request, meaning he’s far more trusting of other ponies than you ever were.”
“So he’s horrible at hiding and is being friendly with other nobility? I don’t normally care about my reputation, but we’re going to have to do something about that,” Rose nervously joked.
“And since these new changes make him easier to find by himself, easier to track, and easier to approach without suspicion, you may get to do just that,” said Octavia. “You’re sure you don’t want me to go with you?”
Rose looked at her and was really tempted to take her on her offer, but then reason kicked in.
“I’m sure. I don’t know what we’re dealing with and Slant has already seen you. If I get caught, I don’t want him to think you’re involved. He might go after you and your family,” she said. “Besides, if something horrible happens to me, I’ll need somepony else to alert the others on what happened.”
Octavia nodded, understanding that her responsibility in salvaging this should Rose be incapacitated was a very real possibility.
“How long do you want me to wait before sounding the alarm?” she asked.
“A month.”
“A month!” Octavia yelled. “Why wait so long?”
“Because I only have enough extra bits to cover a month of vacation time,” Rose said. “If I’m gone longer than that, I’ll need someone to tell my landlord and my boss why they haven’t heard from me.”
“So I’m your glorified messenger then?” Octavia asked with slight annoyance tinting her voice.
“Pretty much,” Rose said. “Oh, and if I do die, please invite my parents and have everyone just glare at them if they show up.”
Octavia allowed herself a smile.
“I don’t know which of your coping mechanisms for when you’re scared annoys me the most, your constant list-making or the joking.”
Rose smiled.
“Who says I’m not doing both?” she said.
“Point taken. Well, I have my orders. You’ll find Slant somewhere in the northern square later today; just look for a random crowd of ponies blocking a road,” Octavia said. “See you in a month.”
“Hopefully less than that. A month is the most I can be away,” Rose said. “And thank you, Octavia.”
“You’re welcome,” she said as Rose ran off. “Stay safe, Script.”
Rose stalked the back streets of Canterlot with an ease that only came after years of mapping out and traveling down the same roads. The first rule of blending in was that it was important to always be moving; as such, Rose had decided to take the long way to the northern area, passing by the southern one and working her way up. She was pleased to find that she still remembered everything perfectly. This calmed her, since the knowledge of terrain can be one of the most important determining factors in winning any battle. If it came down to a fight, she would have the home-field advantage.
“As long as you think through your actions and don’t rely solely on instinct,” she thought to herself.
It was not long before Rose came across the Cliff of Canterlot, that infamous edge from which she had jumped, unable to fly but unwilling to die. She stared down the edge, trying to trace the descent she had suffered around half a year ago. Looking down at the trees below and seeing Ponyville in the distance, the thought struck her.
“I really shouldn’t be alive.”
Having had time to look over the area, Rose moved on, heading towards her destination.
Eventually she arrived at the northern area, where her real search began. The sun was setting and it would be dark soon, which had the added benefit of helping to conceal her despite making her target harder to find. Still, it seemed that she would not have to search long.
Packed towards her left was a small crowd of noble mares and stallions trying to convince a flustered-looking black pegasus to come to their event, home, or restaurant with them. After a couple of hasty apologies and excuses, Slant bade the crowd goodbye, running into the back streets of the city.
“And the chase begins,” thought Rose.
To be honest, this was not a fair competition, since it was not really a competition. It instead was an attempt for Rose to observe the running pony before confronting him. Rose noted that as hard and fast as he ran, Slant seemed unfocused, often doubling back accidentally or taking a longer route than he seemed to have meant to.
As such, Rose had no problem in keeping up with Slant while remaining hidden.
Rose was watching from a corner when she noticed the direction that Slant had taken.
“Yes, this is my chance.”
Slant eventually ended up staring at a wall, having ended in a dead end. However, instead of turning around or running, Slant just stood there.
Rose came out of the shadows ready to surprise the pony when he spoke.
“Just so you know,” he said turning around to reveal a mad gleam in his eye. “You are awful at stalking ponies.”
The sun was past the horizon now, darkness enveloping the night as the moon began its slow ascent. Luna stood at the balcony of the Royal Castle, controlling the stars and nebulas into the stoic work of art that nightly illuminated the sky. Below her, her subjects continued about their business, dining at restaurants and visiting clubs and other night hot spots. The city itself seemed alive, full of noise and vigor as the activity of those present carried through the night. And yet, amongst the many inhabitants under Luna’s watchful eyes, two ponies stood both mute and unwatched.
Rose stared at Slant with surprise and bitterness. She had planned for a perfect ambush only to be led into a trap.
“I was careless,” she thought, “I assumed that he was lost and aimless, but he knew exactly what he was doing.”
Rose quickly turned to examine her surroundings.
The alleyway was dark. The tall buildings on either side of the small space in which the two ponies stood were of such stature that the moon would be blocked completely unless it was placed directly overhead, which it was not. As such, the only illumination came from the stray stars and the small amounts of light reflected on the side of the buildings.
Looking overhead, Rose paid attention to the dead end and instinctively looked for the castle, which was also covered by the buildings on each side.
“He led me here on purpose; he wants to fight and he does not want an audience.”
Rose strained her ear to pick up on the noise of the various social events happening throughout the city, but the sounds were faint at best, non-existent at worst. She tried to remember the route the two had taken to get here from the northern section, realizing that they were in the business sector, which would remain uninhabited until the morning.
“No audience and no witnesses,” thought Rose.
She finally turned to look at the pony before her again. Slant Rhyme still had that menacing look in his eyes. His wings were flared in an aggressive stance, ready to use them to propel himself forward or overhead in the event of a rush. Rose addressed him.
“Who are you?”
Slant looked taken aback for a second.
“You don’t know? What’s the point of stalking and ambushing a specific pony if you do not know their name?” he asked, “No matter. I am Slant Rhyme, son of Rich Rhyme and Ilene Rhyme of the prestigious and noble Rhyme Family.”
“Now, we both know that’s not true,” said Rose, removing her hood. “So why don’t we try again?”
Confusion overtook Slant’s features as he tried to piece together the information his eyes were telling him. He analyzed the face before him, looking for an explanation that made sense. Suddenly his expression softened as he was flooded with understanding.
“Well now, isn’t this interesting?” Slant said, while allowing himself a small laugh. “So not only are you not dead, but you’re the one that’s been following me, right in front of the nobility no less.”
Rose did not enjoy having to repeat herself.
“I asked for your name,” Rose said. “So answer.”
Slant looked at her with a dark smirk on his face.
“I’m Slant Rhyme my dear, and I’m a far better Slant Rhyme than you ever were.”
“Don’t play games with me!” Rose yelled. “Who are you?!”
Slant rolled his eyes and yawned before staring at her.
“I’m you, a better you. A better Slant Rhyme than you could ever hope to be. I’m a son who isn’t a disappointment to his family and who isn’t an affront to nature itself. So I’m you, minus the being a freak part. If you don’t believe me, we can even go ask your daddy!” Slant exclaimed.
Rose tried to remain stoic and aggressive, showing no sign of Slant’s insults connecting. However, something must have shown.
“Oh, it does seem I hit a nerve.”
He had. Rose was reeling on the inside with pain, shame, and bitterness. However, this was neither the time nor place to dwell on such feelings. Realizing that she was wasting her time, she changed the question.
“How did you know I was following you?” she asked.
Slant laughed.
“You’re afraid,” he said, again refusing to answer her question.
“It’s ok, pony, you have nothing to be afraid of,” he chuckled. “I mean, yeah, I have to kill you to ensure I’m not found out, but after that I’ll be the perfect son you never could be and the perfect brother you refused to be.”
Rose stood there, trying her hardest to keep still and to keep her features fixed in an emotionless scowl, and yet Slant could see right through her façade.
“Oh, don’t like talking about your brother, do you?” Slant goaded. “He still doesn’t understand why you deserted him. What should I tell him? That he just wasn’t important enough for me to stick around? I’ll be glad to pass along the message since, no matter how this turns out, I’m sure you realize you won’t ever see him again.”
Rose could only stare as her façade shattered. Tears of sadness welled up in her eyes as the words Slant had spoken sank in. They were after all, true. She stared at him as tears of pain turned into tears of anger. The time for speaking was over.
With a powerful flap of her wings, Rose propelled forward in a charge. Slant was unprepared for the attack and Rose was closing the distance too quickly to defend or counter. Instinct took over, forcing him to jump forward and take flight, having failed to notice the arc of Rose’s attack. Instead of landing or attacking where Slant would have been, Rose landed two steps in front, using her momentum to power a short jump.
Rose grabbed Slant’s tail in midair, dragging him backwards with her accumulated momentum and slamming him against the wall behind where he had stood.
The impact was hard, knocking the wind out of Slant and rendering him immobile. Rose took advantage of the opportunity to land a few hits on his face and stomach before grabbing him by his leg and throwing him onto the floor.
Slant regained mobility about halfway through his descent, using his wings to turn in mid air and to slow his fall, allowing him to land on all fours. He did not have much time to recover, with Rose having already launched herself at him again for her next attack.
Slant dropped to the floor and turned onto his back, allowing for Rose to fly slightly over him and kicking her in the chest when she was directly overhead.
Rose was thrown off balance by the kick, which sent her crashing to the ground. She fought back tears of pain as she placed a hoof over the spot where her rib fracture had occurred. The same spot that Slant had just kicked. She looked up just in time to see Slant flying at her with his front hoof outstretched, aiming for her head.
Rose stood her ground, dodging the hit, grabbing his front leg, and using it to launch Slant onto a wall to the side. Slant had been expecting this, maneuvering in the air to land on his back hooves and using his legs and wings to launch himself at the pony. He moved too fast for Rose to evade, tackling her against the opposite wall.
Slant got off Rose as she let out a yelp of pain, aligning to attack again. However, as he launched, Rose rolled on the ground, passing under Slant’s hoof and positioning herself to kick him the face in the process. She did not miss her mark.
Slant toppled to the floor and immediately scrambled to get up, but not before Rose landed as heavily as she could on Slant’s right wing. The wing felt odd underneath Rose’s hooves, but she was sure that Slant would not take to the skies again.
Slant pushed her off and continued his attack, but it was to no avail. With her wings Rose outmaneuvered her counterpart with ease, using sudden bursts of speed or her ability to jump over Slant in order to avoid, counter, and land hits. Slant charged at her one more time.
Rose saw the attack and charged as well, however, at the last second she jumped over the pony, turned around in mid air, and used her wings to propel her at her target. Slant did not have the opportunity to turn it around.
In one fluid motion Rose pinned Slant, withdrawing Octavia’s blade from her saddlebag and pressing it against Slant’s neck.
The battle was over.
Rose allowed herself a moment to compose herself before interrogating Slant. However, he was the one to speak first.
“You know, I assumed you wouldn’t be as willing to attack and destroy this body as thoroughly as you have. Most ponies wouldn’t hurt themselves this badly,” said Slant in between pained breaths.
“You assume too much,” Rose responded. She didn’t like his tone. Despite the fight that they had just had, and the fact that he lost, his tone was too conversational.
“Now you’re going to answer my questions,” Rose said, after which Slant shook his head. Rose pressed the blade harder against his neck. “You lost. You are at my mercy and you are alone.”
Slant began laughing as five other ponies came out of the shadows, tackling Rose and pinning her onto the ground. The six ponies surrounded her, getting ready to strike with Slant leading the group.
The group attacked and bound her, covering her with a tapestry before placing her in a closed cart that had appeared with the five new ponies. However, before she heard the door of the compartment close, she heard Slant’s voice.
For the first few seconds she was thrown in a panic, finding herself unable to see anything or to make any type of movements. However, slowly but surely, the memories of what happened started to come back to her. She began to organize them in the best way she knew how.
“What do you know?” she thought to herself. “I’ve been impersonated by somepony calling himself Slant Rhyme. He looks, sounds, and is essentially who I was. We fought, and I won, after which I was assaulted and ponynapped from Canterlot by five ponies in addition to Slant.”
Rose stopped in realization that those were the only facts she knew.
“Ok then, what don’t you know that you should?” she thought to herself in exasperation. “I don’t know who the other five ponies are. I don’t know where they are taking me. I don’t know where we are now. I don’t know who is impersonating me, or why. I don’t know how he convinced my family. I don’t know what the group is planning.”
Rose then set her mind on trying to answer as many of those questions as she could.
“Let’s start with the first one,” she thought.
Rose thought back to the attack, but there was not much to look back on. The strange ponies had come out of nowhere, swiftly incapacitating her and tying her up. The shadows in that alleyway had concealed any defining characteristics, thus assuring their anonymity. With frustration she realized that there was no way of knowing where she was being taken, what their plans were, or anything regarding Slant without having the chance to draw the answers directly from him, which was still not a guarantee seeing how little success she had encountered on her first attempt.
“There is at least one question that I could try to answer,” Rose thought as she tried to pick up as much sound as she could from her surroundings.
Gone were the sounds of the city. Rose could not hear the sound of hoofsteps on stone, or the chattering of crowds. Instead, such sounds were replaced with the rustling of leaves and the soft chatter of various animals. She could also hear the sound of the wheels of the cart she was being transported in as they displaced the dirt, grass, and gravel underneath.
“Ok, so I’m in some kind of forest,” she thought. “Probably at the foot of the mountain, depending on how long I’ve been gone…”
She stopped her train of thought.
The thought occurred to her that since she had passed out from exhaustion, Rose did not actually know how long she had been missing, and there was no way to find out. This meant that she could be as far as Foal Mountain or Baltimare depending on how long she had been out.
“It seems I won’t get any answers until they untie me,” she thought.
She would not have to wait long.
Soon the cart stopped. Rose strained to hear her surroundings again, hearing someone open the door and removing her covering. Soon Rose found herself face to face with Slant Rhyme and that manic smile of his.
Slant untied Rose’s restraints from the compartment, giving one of her restraints to each of the five ponies to keep hold of as Rose exited her confinement. It took a second to adjust to the darkness. She was inside of a shadowy cave.
“Move,” ordered Slant.
Her five captors pulled at her restraints, the tensing chords urging her forward. Seeing no way out of her predicament, she decided to comply.
The group walked in silence for what felt like hours to Rose. As she walked, she tried to ascertain her location or the identity of the five ponies restraining her, letting out a frustrated sigh when she proved unable.
“There are caves all through Equestria,” Rose thought. “And it’s too dark to see anything but outlines. I wish there was some sort of...”
As they rounded a corner, Rose noticed a sight that derailed her thoughts.
“…light.”
Rose studied the light as they passed it. It was stemming from a green substance that covered a small section of the wall. It irradiated an emerald green glow that illuminated the corridor without doing much to dissuade the shadows or darkness. It made Rose uncomfortable. More than that, the unnatural glow that captivated her gave her a feeling of unease and anxiety that arose with each passing second.
She looked away, turning to face the path they were traveling on, only to see the faint green light further up ahead.
As they continued, the green substance with its ethereal glow became more plentiful and appeared more often. Eventually the tunnels looked like a fully lit street. Rose took this opportunity to finally study her assailants.
The five ponies were Primrose, Perry Pierce, Spring Fresh, Graphite, and Strawberry Lime, all of them young nobility, not unlike Slant himself, with the exception of all of them being unicorns.
“At least now I know with whom I was supposedly hanging out with,” Rose thought. “But I guess the question is why?”
Rose struggled to think under the daunting green lights. She remembered these ponies from school and from the various dinner parties her parents had forced her to sit through. She had obviously not hung out with them, but if she remembered correctly, none of them were particularly amiable with each other either. It was not until ponies got older that they cared about spending time with other nobility, and in those cases it was only to increase their own status. These ponies preferred to stay by themselves.
“So why now?”
Such thoughts were pushed out of her mind as they arrived at a large cavern within the cave.
The space was brightly illuminated with the same green radiance, with the entirety of the walls being covered by the strange substance. Rose could see that there were tunnels carved all along the edges of the walls, meaning that the compound was a lot bigger than what she had been shown, with this room serving as its central hub.
Scattered around the room were also some creatures. They were ponylike in shape, and yet, not ponylike at all. They seemed more like insects.
Rose noted the membrane-like wings they each possessed, sending a cold shiver down her spine. They also had gnarled horns, and holes in their legs, giving them the appearance of something rotting and broken. Their fangs gleamed as white marble and their iris-less blue eyes showcased no emotions. These creatures were black.
Rose wanted to follow the movements of the ten or so creatures as they surrounded her, joining the six ponies that had brought her here as they forced her to her knees. She wanted to focus on the building bug-like buzzing from their wings as the sound bounced off the walls in a continuously growing loop of sound. She wanted to attempt to escape. And yet, none of those seemed like an option.
None of those seemed like an option because Rose’s mind was unable to think or focus on anything except for the creature she was now kneeling in front of. The creature rose to a grand stature, dwarfing every other inhabitant in the cave. This creature was black like the other creatures had been, but there were various variations aside from the height difference. For starters, this creature had a teal mane and tail which the other creatures lacked. She also possessed a blue-green chitinous plating over her midsection. Lastly, there were elongated pupils in her dark green eyes, the same green eyes that now stared down at Rose with malice and contempt.
“What is this that my subjects have brought me?” the creature spoke.
Rose recoiled at her voice. There was something oddly dissonant about the timber and enunciation of each syllable, a subtle echo that underscored each word, driving her voice into Rose’s subconscious.
Slant stepped forward.
“This pony attacked me in the city. I believe this is the pony I am posing as, and therefore thought it prudent to come back to the hive and ask for your orders,” Slant said. “The pony was ill-prepared for conflict, with the only weapon found being this blade.”
Slant passed the blade through magic to the creature, who eyed it with interest.
“You’ve done well to do so, my child,” the creature spoke, eyeing Rose.
There were too many questions in Rose’s mind for her to organize properly. Even if she had, these questions would take second priority, with the first being that of survival. Rose weighed her options. She was trapped, could not run, and could not fight. Her only option was to talk, which she forced herself to do despite her fear.
“Who and what are you?” Rose asked.
The creature looked confused and taken aback. She looked back at Slant as if expecting an answer, but Slant only stood there in silent resolution. Turning back to Rose, the creature toyed with the blade before speaking.
“Well, what a fool we found,” the creature said. “You must know not the art of combat, or hold it in distaste, to have broken every rule so thoroughly. You mean to tell me that you sought to hunt and fight an enemy of which you had no knowledge of and no information, wielding not magic, nor wingblade, nor sword, but a mere dagger?”
The creature threw the small blade at Rose, which landed a short distance in front of her. The clang of metal striking the floor echoed through the cave and was allowed to ring out and fade before the creature spoke again.
“I hope it is inexperience and not arrogance that has led you to be here,” the creature said with distaste. “For it being the latter would prove an insult most grave.”
“I wasn’t hunting you!” Rose yelled.
The creature eyed her with curiosity, but motioned for Rose to continue.
“I don’t know who you are or what you are, but I wasn’t trying to find you or fight you,” Rose pleaded, motioning to Slant. “I was looking for him, and not to attack him. That just happened. All I wanted were answers. I wanted to know why I was being impersonated and by whom; in this case, by what.”
The creature stepped towards Rose, analyzing her for the first time since their meeting. Recognition appeared on the creature’s face.
“Oh my, well isn’t this queer,” the creature sneered. “It would seem this is Miss Slant Rhyme. I’ve seen many things in my time, child, but this is certainly new.”
Many of the creatures behind Rose laughed.
“My name is Evening Rose!” she shouted. “I’m tired of these games; I need answers.”
The creature shushed her.
“Oh, you are no fun, Ms. Rose,” the creature said, “You seem to have forgotten that you were trying to stall for time to escape me killing you.”
The words brought fear to Rose.
“There it is,” the creature continued. “Well, if you’re so interested in talking, let us talk. Subjects, leave us. I can take care of her. Guard the entrances and await further instructions.”
The creatures and the six ponies behind Rose dispersed into the various tunnels, leaving Rose and the main creature behind.
“Now that we’re alone, let’s begin,” said the creature. Rose waited.
“My name Chrysalis, Queen of the Changelings.”
Rose looked at her in confusion.
“Changelings?”
“Indeed child, changelings. That is the name of the unique species you see before you, though one such as yourself should not feel ignorant at not having recognized us. Most of your kind does not remember we exist.”
Rose took a deep breath. Some of her questions were being answered, which brought her some relief. Maybe she could learn more and thwart whatever plan the queen had.
“Oh my, defiance! A rare emotion indeed, but not quite to my taste,” Chrysalis said.
The mare before her stood in shock.
“How did you?
“Know your emotions?” asked the queen, “It is what us changelings do. We can taste it; it is what we feed upon.”
Rose sat down, listening intently. A grin befell Chrysalis, as she did always love a listening audience.
“Changelings feed on love: it is how we thrive and survive. As such, we can smell and taste it much like you can smell and taste food. It is one of our special talents.” She waited for the next logical question.
“What are the others?” Rose asked.
“Oh, a bit of this and that,” said Chrysalis, obviously satisfied. “We can activate a telepathic hive mind to communicate with each other instantly. Every changeling has both a unicorn’s magic and a pegasus’ flight. Our changeling magic allows us to change our body to that of any pony and to mimic them perfectly; our ability to feast on love means we do not need to eat physical food, our natural lifetimes span centuries, and our bodies heal extremely quickly.”
She turned to glare at Rose.
“It makes us the perfect species, wouldn’t you say? Now as entertaining as your visit has been, you are interrupting a very important engagement. Between that interruption and your unwelcome discovery of our kind, the time has come for me to eliminate you. Thank you for the pleasant conversation and do not try to run. It shall be less painful this way,” she finished as she walked towards Rose.
Rose stared at the queen but she had already stopped listening about halfway through her speech. Her mind caught on a particular detail.
“Your magic can change bodies?” she asked.
Chrysalis stopped. She stared at the pony with confusion, sensing the air for emotions. There was no fear, or panic, or sadness in the air. There was not a dignified solemnity or a regretful sentiment. The queen did, however, smell an emotion. It was a sweet emotion, warm and inviting, but something not often found by changelings.
Hope.
The queen stared at Rose with a critical eye, seeing that same emotion reflected in her eyes. The pony had dared to ask the queen something of real personal value; she dared to hope for something she had given up on years ago. Nothing else mattered to her at that moment.
Chrysalis evaluated her options before speaking.
“Actually, I think we might be able to work out a deal of some sort.”
The walls of the room glowed with the same ethereal glow as everything else in the hive, which kept Rose awake. Slowly but surely Rose had gotten accustomed to life within the hive. The almost omnipresent buzz of changeling wings taking flight had grown to be comforting to her as the noise echoed through the otherwise empty tunnels in the cave. As an admirer of the night, she was already used to the dark shadows that appeared as a result of the low lighting. True, she missed the stars and the moon, but she was no stranger to the dark. Even the light from the substance on the walls, which had originally induced fear in the pony, was now seen with charm and elegance. Still, regardless of how harmless the light now felt, light was still light.
Rose turned on her bed, closing her eyes tight trying to get some sleep. This was a futile effort, since the entire room shone with the dim light and because, as she knew deep in her mind, the light was not really what was keeping her awake.
After a few more moments of attempted sleep Rose sat up, opening her eyes and examining her present accommodations.
The room she was in had a simple bed made of rock, dirt, and grass brought in from the outside to make her stay more comfortable. The room also had a bedside table on which her purple bag currently rested. There was nothing else in the room, but by changeling standards this room was extremely luxurious by being far wider and more furnished than anything else in the hive except for the queen’s own chamber. This was the very same room in which she had slept soundlessly for the past two weeks, light and all.
Rose furrowed her brow, thinking back to the day she arrived.
“What kind of agreement do you have in mind?” Rose answered, finally breaking free from her thoughts. The queen eyed her with glee.
“Well, there is something that you obviously want very much,” the queen said. “Something that would be worth leaving your home and family behind, something on which you had given up hope, a hope that my words somehow managed to rekindle. Judging by your appearance and clothes, I think I have a very good idea of what it could be.”
Rose faltered for a second, angry with herself for being predictable. And yet, no negative feelings could get in the way of the longing she suddenly felt.
“Is it possible?” she asked tentatively. “To change me?”
The queen gave it a moment’s thought before answering.
“Changeling magic is ancient and mysterious,” she said. “I must confess that not even I know all of its secrets. I will also confess that such a feat as using our magic to change a pony has not been attempted before. However, we do have the magic to change creatures other than our own selves, since we often have to do so when new subjects are born and unable to transform.”
She gave Rose a smile.
“If I use all my magic and ask my subjects to assist, I know for a fact we have enough magic to complete the feat. The only problem is that, as the spell is untested, it could have side effects.”
At that moment, Rose could not have cared about side effects. She was on the brink of accepting when a thought struck her.
“What do you want in exchange?”
“Excuse me?” the queen said with small surprise.
“You said you wanted to make a deal. What do you want in exchange?” Rose asked, her voice terse.
Chrysalis laughed.
“You worry too much, my dear Rose,” the queen said. “All I ask for is information.”
“About what?”
“Canterlot.”
Rose stumbled for a second with questions rushing through her mind. However, it appeared that confusion qualified as an emotion.
“Oh yes yes, I should probably clarify,” said the queen. Rose merely listened.
“As I told you, changelings survive by feasting on the love of ponies. It sustains us, it feeds us, and it gives us life. We receive love by transforming into and impersonating ponies. Their loved ones then supply all the love that changeling needs to survive. The reason nopony knows of our existence is because of our ability to be discreet and go unnoticed, which we have done for centuries.”
She paused, checking to make sure that Rose understood. Rose nodded.
“You have seen my hive; it is a small thing compared to any pony town population, but large enough that we cannot simply infiltrate any town or city unnoticed.”
Rose’s ears perked up at the word “infiltrate”, but she said nothing.
“My changelings survive by taking the place of a lost or missing pony. That way the family gets their missing loved one back and the changeling gets all the love that comes from them. However, that means that we need to find a town or city large enough in which not only would there be a large number of missing ponies, but where the resurgence of a group of them would not attract too much attention. This is why we chose Canterlot.”
Rose nodded. She estimated that the hive consisted of around twenty changelings not counting the queen, a number large enough that it would be impossible to go unnoticed in Ponyville, but so insignificant when compared to Canterlot’s population that the plan seemed sound.
“What type of information do you need?” Rose asked.
“Any and all,” the queen said. “If my changelings are to pass as ponies that presumably lived in Canterlot for a long period of time before going missing, they are going to need to know things about Canterlot and the society there. Everything from the names of places, the customs, to anything else that would be common knowledge to a resident,” she explained.
“The six ponies that brought you in were my recon squad. Their assignment was to infiltrate the city, find out all the information we would require for a successful assimilation, and bring it back to the hive for us to study. It was supposed to be a simple enough job for them to accomplish, but we miscalculated your importance.”
“My importance?” Rose repeated.
“Indeed,” the queen said. “The changeling posing as you was the first one sent to Canterlot and the leader of the recon squad. He was tasked with the most dangerous mission, passing as a missing pony to find enough information for the rest of the team to go in. This included roadways, houses, locations, and the identities and information of other missing ponies. He heard rumors of a missing pony by the name of Slant Rhyme; he infiltrated the household, managed to convince them of his identity, and was set to begin his mission.”
“What happened?”
“As I said, we did not know how important you would prove to be. His mission depended on his ability to go undetected and to not attract attention, and yet it seemed that attention followed Slant Rhyme wherever he went. The process of finding enough information for the rest of the squad to join him took twice as long as was originally expected,” she said bitterly. “He is also the leader of the squad, meaning that even now he is having trouble coordinating and netting the information that the squad is gathering due to the eyes that are constantly on him. The squad is progressing far too slowly, and meanwhile my subjects starve.”
“And so what you want from me-”
“What we want from you,” the queen interrupted, “Is the information my recon squad should be gathering. The layout of Canterlot, important landmarks and locations that everypony would know, etiquette on how to pass undiscovered in a crowd, and any information that might come up in conversation.”
She stared into Rose’s eyes.
“Essentially, I want any information that will prevent us from being outed.”
Rose faltered. She did not know if the queen had chosen that phrasing on purpose, but it struck a chord with her nonetheless.
Rose turned away from the queen as she thought. On the one hoof, the plan was very well explained, and there was not anything wrong with them replacing ponies that were gone, and probably dead. And yet…
“This is wrong,” she thought to herself. “You cannot help her; you should not help her. You don’t know if you can trust her. Think of how Slant attacked you. That wasn’t him trying to stay hidden. You should try to escape while you have the chance.”
She attempted to move but could not. Her mind screamed at her body to move, to run, to fly, but her body would not obey any of her commands. For a moment she considered the possibility that she had been put in a trance, but she knew that was not the case. This was her decision.
She turned to look at Chrysalis.
“Ok, I will help you.”
“Why did I agree?” Rose asked herself, lying back on her bed for lack of anything better to do.
She had pondered that question ever since her agreement to Chrysalis had left her lips.
There had been such doubt in her mind at the time, all of which had been disregarded. Why? And the doubt had not dissipated after her choice either. Through the last two weeks Rose had spent every waking hour schooling the queen and her changelings on everything she knew about surviving Canterlot. One day she had talked for hours about the castle, the Royal Guard, and the Princesses. On another she had talked about all the nobles of note and how to tell if a noble was worth taking the time to speak to. On yet another, Rose had talked about every important landmark and house in Canterlot, including their location and all relevant information that might come up in a talk around town. Each of these and all other talks had spanned for hours on end each day and through every second of them Rose had felt doubt.
And yet she continued.
Rose thought hard, searching for any explanation.
“I can’t just let them starve, can I?” Rose knew it was a weak argument as soon as she said it, but it was the first thing she could think of and she therefore clung to it.
These creatures were not harming anypony. They were replacing ponies that were gone, giving their family another chance to love them while feeding off that love. The only victims would be the ones that were missing if they ever showed up. Hardly a crime if it means saving an entire hive.
“But what about all she’s holding back?” Rose asked herself. She had been able to tell that the queen had been keeping secrets to herself, not giving out all of the information. Rose sought to justify this as well; she argued that she was an outsider and the changelings were ancient and therefore it should not strike her as weird.
“No,” she thought. “You know that’s not right. You know it’s wrong, so why?”
She thought for a minute but only one word came to her lips.
“Hope.”
She hated to admit it, but Chrysalis had revived a hope she herself had believed dead.
Rose remembered with tears in her eyes the day she discovered that there was no magic able to fix the mistake nature had made with her.
This had been about a year into her existence as Evening Rose. The library had been empty except for Slant Rhyme, sitting at a desk. On the desk were stacks of books, all of them read and in a disorganized pile. The floor was littered with other tomes, thrown and pushed off the desk in the latest of Slant’s tantrums. The book he had been holding was lying next to the bookshelf after having been thrown by its reader. Bitter tears scorched the table as Slant recited the phrase that had appeared at every end of his extensive research.
“Magic to change the physical makeup of a pony is not only dangerous and irresponsible, but impossible. One may add to the pony form with magic and sometimes remove, but the changing of anatomy, even temporarily, is a foal’s errand.”
That was the day hope had died, in a library and with no one to mourn for it save for a broken stallion. And here was the changeling queen, offering on a silver platter the one thing that life had denied her. Normalcy.
“Is it fair, though?” she asked herself. “Can I really trade my suffering for allowing free passage to the changelings onto Canterlot?”
Even if she thought they were not dangerous, the ponies of Canterlot had a right to know, did they not? And who was she to decide for them?
She tried to chastise herself further, but thoughts of a different kind flooded her mind. Memories.
Rose thought back to the day she had found out about the weather team meeting to talk about her “condition” and how the fury she felt had driven her from her home.
She had run into the bitter winds, looking to escape the isolation of her home and the thoughts that followed her into the night. The cold wind had lashed at her face, whipping away the tears.
“Not even the town sees me as a mare. I will always be an other,” she had thought. The rage she felt was only overpowered by her sadness.
Rose’s memories shifted, instead remembering the struggle with the two check boxes and how close she came to destroying her mirror again. She had been trying to fill out a job application when she was asked about her gender.
“Can I really be female when my body is not?” she had asked. That was the day her problems resurfaced, more real than they had ever been. She realized that she would never fit either box, and they had mocked her as her insecurities rose.
“I’m a mistake,” she had said.
Her memories strayed yet again to the conflict in front of the mirror, every conflict. In some she had broken the glass surface, in others she merely sobbed at its feet. In all those instances she had yelled the same things.
“WHY? WHY CAN’T I BE NORMAL?!” she had cried. “WHY AM I SO MESSED UP?”
Her thoughts had been muddled in anguish about the weight she had to endure. The life she never asked for. She had stared at her reflection, the source of her distress, to find a stallion looking back with judging eyes.
“DON’T STARE AT ME!”
She remembered the mirror shattering, as it had done during her first breakdown at her new home, the eyes of the stallion still looking back at her from the fragments. The eyes called her a freak. She called herself a freak.
Then she remembered the isolation she had felt recently; how even the well-meaning citizens of Ponyville constantly reminded her of her “other” status through their shows of support.
She remembered that she would always be the transpony named Evening Rose, and never Evening Rose the mare.
Rose suddenly had difficulty breathing, her chest feeling tight and sore around the spot where her ribcage had fractured as her front left hoof came to rest on her front right leg at the joint. Tears now streamed down her face as she remembered the pain others had brought to her. Her grief intensified when she remembered the pain she had brought to herself.
Chrysalis could make sure she never felt that pain again.
Rose had made her choice; she could deal with the guilt, just not with the pain.
Rose got up from her bed, grabbing her bag and walking towards the queen’s private chamber.
For all her misgivings about the queen, Rose did genuinely enjoy spending time with her. After Rose was done teaching the changelings about pony culture, the queen would make time to talk to Rose about anything that needed to be discussed. Sometimes these were talks about philosophy and history, but more often they were talks about her feelings.
The queen’s natural aptitude at deciphering emotions was a great deal of help in assisting Rose to open up; as such, Rose had spent her time with the queen going through her emotional distress, often asking for advice and always finding comfort and understanding.
The queen had remarkable insight into the feelings of anger, sadness, and despair with her entire species being outcasts of the world, and her motherly nature worked well to calm and reassure the fragile pegasus. Therefore, the mare would often be seen in the queen’s company whenever a harsh dream or heavy thought enveloped her.
The queen had always welcomed her and, on most days, it always seemed like she was expecting Rose’s presence.
Today, however, that was not the case.
As Rose walked to the chamber entrance, she noticed that the queen was talking to a drone.
“Schedule the hive to arrive next week. Despite the original setbacks with intel we have managed to gather all the information required. The invasion will be able to begin on time.”
“And the recon squad?” asked the drone.
“The recon squad has been instructed to remain in their posts and in their disguises throughout the invasion, keeping those families as bargaining chips. Those ponies will do just about anything to avoid the spilling of noble blood.”
“Do you expect any resistance?”
“No, they are completely unaware of our presence and we now possess the proper information to prioritize our attacks while the first wave infiltrates the city and the castle alike. There is one loose end that must be taken care of, but it is of little consequence, as said loose end shall be eliminated by tomorrow’s end." Chrysalis said with mirth, "It is fortunate that she arrived in the manner she did, otherwise we might not have been able to mount our offensive with the haste and efficiency we have demonstrated. I will ensure her end is swift and painless as a show of gratitude.”
Rose stayed rooted on the spot, eyes wide as the realization of what she had done struck her.
“Hold for one moment, commander,” the queen said. “I taste something strange; it tastes like… fear.”
Chrysalis slowly turned to face the intruder, seeing the black pegasus trembling with shock.
“Oh dear, you did not hear that, did you?” she said in the softest voice she could muster.
Rose stared at the queen for what felt like an eternity, watching as the queen unfurled her wings and took a tentative step towards her. She was very aware of her rising heartbeat, deafening her to the echoes of the cave. She was also aware of every hair standing on end, eyes wide and urging her to move, but so frozen in her spot that the struggle for movement required every ounce of energy she had to give. In reality, Rose had only been staring for a second; the next second, she was gone.
A shadow passed along the tunnels of the hive as Rose ran frantically towards what she hoped was the exit. She had wandered this labyrinth many times but the need to escape had been a notion that had never chanced to cross her mind until now.
“That’s mistake number one,” she thought as she took a sharp right turn. She was angry and bitter as she ran, both at the queen and at herself for having had trusted in the changelings. Anger and bitterness took a back seat to panic and her fight for survival. Still, the sting of betrayal was palpable.
“That’s mistake number two,” she thought. She kept running and trying to empty her mind, but the thought of her actions was unrelenting. She had put Octavia and the rest of Equestria in danger.
“That’s mistake number three.” Rose banked left, making the turn but scraping the cave walls. Her mind was clouded in thoughts and it was messing with her ability to focus on the escape at hoof. She decided that if she could not clear her mind, the least she could do was organize it.
“What do you know?” she asked herself. “The changeling hive is planning to invade Canterlot. The changelings I’ve seen are not the whole hive, only a small fraction. The whole hive will be arriving when the invasion starts. The recon agents are keeping important families hostage. They are not afraid to use lethal force. The invasion was already planned for sometime next week. Because of me they can meet that deadline. Anything else?”
She gave herself a moment of thought.
“And it seems I’m not being chased.”
As she thought this the ground beneath her caved, and from the cracks and debris emerged the changeling queen, swiping at where Rose would have been. In fact, Rose would have been out cold had it not been for her instinct to take flight and bank left the second the ground started to collapse. The queen gave chase, forcing Rose to have to pull a lot of tight corners in order to lose her. After a while she could not see her anymore.
Rose looked back to ensure she was not being followed. When she turned to check her path she saw three changelings blocking her path. She narrowly missed them by spinning just enough to pass between them. They were now chasing her.
Rose attempted to lose them in the same way she lost the queen, but quickly found that the drone changelings had much better maneuverability. As she was exhausted, it got harder for Rose to maintain her lead over the changelings. With each passing turn she lost speed as the changelings seemed to gain both momentum and numbers.
Eventually one caught her. Rose could not think, she could not strategize, and she could not plan. All she could do was act on instinct. This would prove fortunate.
Rose turned and bucked the changeling that had caught her onto the wall. His unconscious body then crashed into the oncoming changelings, buying enough time for Rose to continue on her flight. Then she saw it.
Shining in the distance Rose spotted a dim white light. She rushed towards it.
Behind her the ground groaned and cracked before braking again as the queen resurfaced, this time firing bolts of magic at the pegasus. Each bolt echoed through the cave, as did the explosions of dirt, rock, and magic that materialized on contact.
Rose avoided the attacks through sheer luck, as she madly dodged and turned in mid-air. A particular bolt came close to her, grazing her mane and smelling of acid and heat. Rose did not dwell on the close call, instead focusing on her quickly-approaching target. The queen fired a powerful blast at the roof of the entrance, forcing it to collapse. Rose saw the collapsing tunnel as rocks of various sizes descended from the heavens, but she did not stop, beating her wings and flying faster than she had ever done before. Through reflexes and intuition unknown to even herself, she managed to avoid the falling rocks, exiting onto the temperate night sky. Those pursuing her were not that lucky.
The black pegasus collapsed onto the ground, exhausted and hurting from the exertion she had just undergone, allowing herself a sigh of relief. A cool breeze cradled her underneath the moonlight as the smell of trees and pine calmed her. Then she turned around.
Digging through the rubble she could see the black forms of the changelings freeing themselves, hissing at her as they moved through the dirt. Rose tried to fly but could not, her wings refusing to lift her with pain as their protest. Running out of time, she ran, delving into the unknown forest in front of her.
The moonlight sifted through the tree branches, casting odd shadows all throughout Rose’s field of vision, which did nothing to alleviate her unease. She could hear the changelings chasing her but did not dare to turn around, instead dashing every so often in between trees and bushes, hoping to lose her pursuers. The changelings picked up their pace, flying through the forest with ease, appearing seamlessly in her path or attacking from her sides before disappearing into the shadows.
The wind picked up, rustling the surrounding leaves and branches. The new sound combined with the shadows created an altered world in which Rose found no possible path to safety that she might traverse. She could be attacked from anywhere. Filled with panic, Rose took off in a frantic run with no direction or destination, which she continued for the better part of an hour. Eventually, however, she could run no more.
Rose found a clearing to rest on, as her legs gave out underneath her.
She could hear noises behind her, but she could not turn around. She could not run, she could not fly; all she could do was sit there and await whatever fate might befall her. Rose’s ears perked up at the sound of something landing softly behind her.
Despite the protests of her body, Rose tried to crawl away as she had done that previous summer. Tears arose in her eyes as she struggled to drag herself away from the creature as her body threatened to tear from the strain, at least until she heard her voice.
“Halt, who goes there, and what, pray tell, is thy business in this forest?”
Rose turned around, in fear and anticipation, coming to face a dark alicorn with royal posture and a mane that sparkled as the night sky behind her.
“Luna?” Rose asked.
The princess nodded, casting an inquisitive look at the pony before her.
“Indeed it is I,” said the princess. “Thou is Evening Rose, is thou not?” the princess demanded.
“You know me?” said Rose, looking at the princess with confusion.
“I believe so,” the princess retorted, “The mare from Ponyville who forgoes sleep in favor of watching my night, who upon reaching sleep suffers from the most horrid of nightmares. I do believe thou sent me a letter in the winter time, didst thou not?”
Rose nodded, unsure of what to say.
“It was an interesting thing, to receive correspondence. I must say that I was intrigued by the mysterious sender who had chosen me to receive the letter over my sister. And yet, after finding out information on the mare, I must confess I am more intrigued than during my time of ignorance.”
Rose shifted uncomfortably, not failing to notice the emphasis on the word ‘mare’, but she did not respond. She simply stared at the princess, allowing her to ask whatever question she might have. The questions never came.
“Still, from the state of your body and your strange choice for a resting place, it is obvious to see that right now is not the proper time to satisfy such inquiries,” Luna said. “Instead I will ask once again of you to answer my original query. What is thy business in this forest?”
This shook Rose from her stupor.
She looked around in a frenzy at the surrounding foliage. Her ears perked up at every cracking branch or every rustling of the leaves. She noticed the shadows coursing from tree to tree as her predators stalked the surrounding area, watching her. She also noticed the slight buzzing of changeling wings, masquerading as the sounds of crickets or beetles, a sound she had both grown used to and found odd and frightening. She was still being hunted; she was being observed, and her predators were positioning themselves to strike.
The princess watched the fearful pegasus with a practiced stoic face, deciding against pressuring her for an answer. Instead, she looked into the woods Rose was observing, seeing nothing but the sounds and movements of the nighttime critters.
“We’re being hunted,” Rose said.
Luna turned her attention back to the pegasus, noting the fear in her voice and the steadiness of her stare. She was still staring at the woods, but the object of her gaze was one Luna could not detect.
“There is nothing to be fearful of,” said the princess, “There is nothing out there that should not be, and should something attempt an attack, it would be folly to ignore the considerable strength at my disposal.”
Rose shook her head, fear overpowering the princess’s words in her mind.
“No, you don’t understand,” said Rose, begging the princess to comprehend. “Canterlot is in danger. Everypony is in danger. I can tell you everything on the way back but we have to leave this place now!”
Luna stared at the mare with a judging eye, surprised at the terror in the mare’s voice but unwilling to let anything disturb her stoic mask.
“How is thou so certain of this coming threat?” the princess asked.
“Because I had a part in it,” said Rose. “I helped it happen.”
The princess was taken aback for a moment, letting her façade slip for a single second. She eyed the pegasus, seeing her as far more dangerous than she had originally imagined. Still, dangerous or not, the threat she spoke of could not be taken lightly.
“Very well,” said the princess. “Thou are in no condition to attempt flight and the castle lies too far away for safe teleportation. Climb on my back and I will fly us to safety.”
Rose stepped towards the princess but then stopped as a worry crossed her mind.
She had been relieved to see the princess come in and rescue her and she now trusted her to take her back to the castle. And yet, she had trusted another being recently that proved how trust can be dangerous.
Rose eyed the princess until the buzzing from the forest caught her attention. She had spent enough time around the creatures to understand what it meant.
“They’re getting excited,” Rose thought. “Now why would that be?”
In Rose’s mind there were two distinct possibilities. Either the queen was making her approach, which meant the changelings were buzzing in anticipation for the coming attack at her side, or the princess was not who she said she was.
The princess stared at her, acknowledging her hesitation but saying nothing. Rose weighed her options. A choice needed to be made and soon, judging from the intensity of the buzzing from the forest. She could either trust this princess or run.
“When has the night ever led me astray?” Rose asked herself as she climbed onto Luna’s back. Luna shifted slightly before taking off, her silhouette illuminated by moonlight.
In the forest behind them, the changelings watched as their queen Chrysalis reached the clearing, emerging from the foliage and staring at the disappearing forms.
“Commander,” hissed Chrysalis.
“Yes, my queen?” said a drone as he stepped forward from the rest.
“Alert the swarm: we will need to attack sooner than we had previously anticipated.”
Rose struggled against her hoofcuffs, not in an attempt to escape, but in an attempt to get comfortable. It seemed neither was a realistic option.
She turned to examine her surroundings yet again.
The walls of the room were white and sparkling, without a single scuff mark or imperfection, which was impressive considering how old the interrogation rooms in the castle were rumored to be. The white paint looked freshly dried as it reflected each ion of light, keeping the room bright and uncomfortable for the prisoners. At this point, this included Rose.
The room was sparse, more so than her room with the changelings had been, containing only an oak table, an empty chair, and the chair she was currently hoofcuffed to. She had not been considered a major threat at the time of booking, which meant that she only had one foreleg cuffed to the chair as opposed to being restrained by each limb to the same. The guard that had left her in the room had been kind enough to inform her of the special treatment, although to Rose it currently seemed like a false pleasantry. She still could not get off the chair without injuring her leg after all, since the chair was stuck to the floor and she was still stuck to the chair.
“Also, the hoofcuff itches,” thought Rose.
She turned her attention to the black door in the corner of the room, hoping for it to open, but it remained still. She then turned to look at her reflection in the one-way mirror in front of her.
Rose had to admit she had had better days. Right now the reflection staring back at her was ragged, tired, and oddly placid considering what her last few days had been like. What little of her clothing she could see looked tattered and old, sporting rips and tears from her recent activities, but at least she had been allowed to keep it (with standard pony protocol dictating that all nonessential belongings be taken away from the prisoners). She certainly still looked like a mare, which had been a rather embarrassing concern of hers as they had approached the castle. All in all, she looked and was a lot better off than she thought she had the right to be. That is if one did not look into her eyes.
Rose had a tired look about her, but it was nothing compared to the pure exhaustion visible in her eyes. Rose had not slept in two days, but as much as she needed her rest, she felt compelled to stay awake.
She allowed herself a glance at the clock.
“It’s been around five hours since anypony has paid me any attention,” she said, glancing at the mirror before adding, “as far as I know.”
Five hours ago a guard had informed her that Princess Luna was finally going into her meeting with Princess Celestia and an assembly of the top members of the Royal Guard to discuss the information Rose had shared with Luna during their flight. She had been assured that somepony would come talk to her as soon as the meeting was over, and she refused to go to sleep until then. She needed to be conscious should they want to question her.
“This needs to be dealt with now.” Just as she thought that last sentiment, the door opened allowing a white unicorn with a blue mane in military décor into the room.
“Hello, is this seat occupied?” he joked while motioning to the unoccupied chair.
Rose wanted to be annoyed at his lighthearted nature, but found that the stallion was just charming enough to get away with it. Still, he seemed to pick up on the sentiment.
“Ok, I know, bad timing, sorry,” he said, clearing his throat while placing some documents on the desk. “Anyway, my name is Shining Armor and I am the captain of the Royal Guard. As I’m sure you know, we recently had a meeting detailing information that you gave yourself to Princess Luna. The information has been discussed and the task of ascertaining risk and defending the city if need be has been assigned to me.”
Rose nodded, giving the stallion her full attention. She was glad that they were taking the threat seriously, but she was still surprised that she was being visited by the captain himself instead of an underling, a task he could have easily delegated. She was impressed.
“As such, I need to ask you some questions. Essentially, I want to get all my facts straight from you, rather than from somepony else, even the princess. Some of these questions may seem rudimentary or annoying to answer, especially if it’s something that you’ve already told Princess Luna, but I ask that you please cooperate.”
Rose nodded again.
“Ok, what’s your name?”
“Evening Rose.”
Shining armor nodded, writing something on the paper in front of him.
“Now, I happen to be very thorough at my job, but I found no birth certificate or records of such a name. Any idea why that might be?” he asked.
“Because it’s not my birth name,” she answered tentatively.
Shining Armor nodded once again.
“Can you tell me your birth name?”
Rose closed her eyes for a moment before answering. This was a captain of the guard, a stallion with great power and ability. She could tell him about Slant, about the danger her family was in and he could do something about it.
“Or get them killed,” Rose thought to herself. “They are not unwilling to kill and because of the hive mind, they know to be on the lookout. No, I have to sort this out myself.”
“No,” she said to Shining Armor. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
Shining Armor nodded again, making a note on his paper.
“It’s ok, I was told to expect as much,” he answered with a smile, putting Rose at ease.
“Ok, so now tell me,” he said staring intensely into her eyes. “What happened?”
Rose thought out her answer, taking care to omit the more sensitive topics.
“I was in Canterlot visiting a friend. I went out for a walk at night, as I often do, when I happened to spot a changeling transforming. He saw me, hunted me down, and with the help of some other changelings they subdued me. When I woke up I was inside a cave, a changeling hive, where I met their queen. I was there for two weeks. I found out their plan to invade Canterlot and the castle. They knew I found out, and tried to kill me. I escaped into the woods with them pursuing me until I collapsed. I thought I was going to die but then Luna arrived. I told her what I knew as she flew me back to the castle.”
Shining Armor wrote onto a piece of paper for a while before asking his next question.
“How did you find out their plan?” he asked.
“I was going to the queen’s chamber and I saw her talking to a drone. I overheard their conversation.”
The stallion took a deep breath before asking the next question.
“Now, what I don’t get is why they kept you around for two weeks. If you were a prisoner then I get it, but it would seem you were free to walk around and do as you please if you chose to go to her chamber. Why?”
Rose stared at the desk.
“I was helping them.”
“Helping them how?” Shining’s voice was tense. Rose did not dare look up.
“I gave them information about Canterlot. The layout, the important names and places, things they would need to know if they infiltrated the city, things like that.”
There was a moment of silence before the stallion questioned the mare again.
“Why?” he asked.
Rose looked up with tears in her eyes.
“I didn’t know what they were up to then. I was told that they only replaced missing ponies. They feed on love and I’d only seen about twenty changelings, so it made sense when they said the plan was to replace missing ponies and feed on the love of parents and friends who got their missing pony back. A victimless crime,” she said, almost begging for him to believe her excuse, begging for herself to believe it as well.
Shining raised an eyebrow at her.
“You believed that?”
Rose stared down at her hooves in shame.
“No, I did not.”
“But you still helped them. Why?”
“I…” she fumbled with the words, “I… I thought th... they could help me.”
She looked up, expecting to see anger or disgust, but all she saw in Shining’s eyes was sadness and understanding.
“Ok, so what do you know about this invasion.”
“The rest of the hive was supposed to arrive next week, right before the invasion was supposed to take place. They have unicorn magical abilities and the ability to fly. Because of me, they know the layout of Canterlot and where the important places are, so whatever protection you use needs to cover the city as well as the castle. Their changeling magic allows them to transform and mimic ponies. Lastly, they have a hive mind, so anything that one learns, the rest knows as well.”
“You said ‘supposed to’, why?”
“Well, their plan included my death, not me flying away with a princess,” she commented. “Plans can change rather quickly.”
“Indeed they can,” agreed Shining Armor. “Now, last question: you’re sure that they are changelings?”
“Yes, I am.” Rose gave Shining Armor a glare, as if daring him to contradict her. Instead, Shining Armor just made one more note on his paper.
“Ok, I think I have everything I need,” he said.
“What happens now?” asked Rose.
“Well, now I will review this information, bring up my thoughts to the princesses, and depending on what those thoughts are, it will determine what the action we take shall be,” he responded. “As far as you’re concerned, you will be locked up for confessing to aiding an enemy of Equestria, and giving information while aware that it may be used against the ponies of Canterlot.”
Rose nodded in understanding as he continued.
“That being said, if this threat is legitimate and you’re not raising any false alarms, you will probably receive a full pardon from the princesses for helping us prepare and undermine the invasion.”
“Ok,” was all Rose could say.
“Is there anypony you would like me to contact about your incarceration?” he asked.
Rose thought for a moment. Her first thought was to mention Octavia, but then she considered that she had already placed Octavia in enough danger already. Besides, if the invasion did not happen, it would be best for Octavia to not be associated with a criminal in the eyes of the guard.
“No,” she answered.
“Very well,” Shining Armor said while releasing Rose from her chair. “If you would follow me then.”
Shining Armor led Rose to her cell, asking her to get some rest. However, as he turned to leave, Rose spoke.
“You do believe me, don’t you?” she asked.
Shining Armor looked at her with concern before responding.
“I am not in the liberty to say if I believe you or that what extent,” he responded, “But the Royal Guard takes threats against Equestria very seriously and will respond to them in earnest.”
“Thank you.”
“No problem,” he said while closing the door.
Shining Armor took a deep breath and collected his thoughts before heading to the castle’s main chamber. Standing outside the doors, he quickly looked over his notes before knocking.
“You may enter.”
Shining pulled the door open, allowing himself inside. The door closed automatically as he walked up to the two thrones next to the back wall from which Princess Celestia and Princess Luna watched his arrival.
“Shining Armor,” said Princess Celestia. “I am glad to see you back so soon. I take it the interrogation went well and yielded results?”
Shining Armor stood at attention while answering.
“Indeed. I have compiled an assessment.”
“Very well,” said Celestia. “What did you find?”
“The information I received was exactly like the information presented to and by Princess Luna,” he said while turning to face the alicorn of the night. “Which means that Evening Rose is not lying and does believe this threat to be genuine.”
“Does thou not?” asked Luna.
Shining Armor took a deep breath.
“No, I do not.”
Both princesses showed no reaction to his answer, other than motioning for him to continue.
“Changelings are rumors and myths from a bygone era. I know they existed once, as you two have pointed out, but a changeling has not been spotted in centuries. Furthermore, we sent a team to search for the hive she spoke of, and we found nothing. Not even a side of a mountain with collapsed debris or a cave entrance on its side,” he explained. “I think I have a grasp on her role in this whole thing, and I think I understand what secrets she is keeping and why, but I still do not think it wise to trust her testimony.”
“Then what is your suggestion?” asked Celestia.
“I suggest we enact our best defenses over Canterlot with guards around the perimeter and my shield covering the entire area. My fiancée has also agreed to help come up with a way of identifying changelings, since they seem to feed on love, which is her specialty.”
While Celestia maintained her serene features, a crack of surprise shone through Luna’s. Shining Armor noticed.
“I said I do not believe the threat is genuine and that I do not trust Miss Evening Rose,” he said. “However, this is not about me; it is about the safety of the ponies of Equestria, and as such we must treat it as seriously as we would an invading griffon army. If there is no invasion, then the prisoner will be charged with misinformation and spreading panic; if there is, then we will be prepared.”
“I believe that is a wise choice, Shining Armor,” said Princess Celestia. “I am, however, sorry that preparations for the defense, as well as research for a changeling identification spell, will fall on you and your fiancée during the week of your wedding. Might you consider postponing it until after the invasion?”
Shining Armor shook his head.
“I believe that the invasion being scheduled to happen during the timeframe of the wedding of a member of a Royal Guard is too much of a coincidence. The wedding is probably part of their plan somehow, and if we move it, they will probably move the invasion. Cadence and I are ready and willing to face this invasion head on. We understand the risks.”
“Very well,” said Princess Celestia. “In that case, you are free to go and begin preparations.”
As Shining Armor prepared to leave, he heard the voice of the moon princess call out to him.
“Halt,” said Luna. “It says here in thy report that thou has placed Miss Rose in the isolation chambers reserved for the most dangerous of criminals. Why hast thou ordered as such?”
Shinning turned to face her.
“Princess Luna,” he began. “I ordered her to be placed in the isolation cells because had I not, she would have been detained in the public holding facility rather than the castle’s own prison. Had she been placed there instead, she would have been subject to local protocol, which dictates that prisoners of the male and female genders are to be housed in separate wings of the facility. I did not want to follow such protocol as there would be a danger of her being… misplaced.”
Luna looked at the captain, impressed at his reasoning.
“Very well,” she responded. “Thank you for your diligence.”
Shining Armor bowed down before exiting the room.
Over the next few days Rose observed from her cell window as the number of guards increased. From her window she could also see Captain Shining’s protective barrier, as well as hear Princess Luna as she guarded the night. Each day’s addition of security brought her comfort.
“I’m glad he believed me,” Rose said. “Now we’re prepared to deal with the invasion.”
The first thing Evening Rose noticed when she woke up the next day was that the sky was dark.
It was her first conscious thought as she struggled to understand what was going on, for she had woken inside a warzone.
She still was not sure what had roused her from her sleep. Maybe it had been the low rumbling from the ground, a subtle stampede which shook the buildings and compounds with their pressure. Maybe it had been the screams of terror, sifting through the window much like the dissonant notes of a broken symphony. Or maybe, it had been the guard yelling at her to get up.
“PRISONER ROSE! YOU NEED TO GET UP NOW!”
“What?” asked Rose. The room was shaded and fuzzy as her eyes adjusted to the waking world. The screams and rumbling were incessant, even as they were muffled as her ears adjusted to the frequencies of reality. The solider in front of her was yelling but she could not understand the words.
The thumping grew louder as the buildings creaked under the pressure.
Looking out the window she noticed the sky above the shield was dark. Then she saw the darkness move.
Immediately her brain awoke as she simultaneously arrived at a few conclusions. The invasion was happening, there was chaos in the streets, the shield would not hold, and she needed more information.
She turned to the guard at the door.
“What happened?”
“Under the direct orders of Captain Shining Armor, you are to be released from this prison in the event of a changeling attack. His orders state that in such a scenario you are pardoned from all crimes and should head to find shelter since the changelings will no doubt make you a target. The plan was to move you to the castle but it has been compromised. As such you can go wherever you want but are free to hide in the armory. Wherever you decide you need to go, WE NEED TO LEAVE NOW!”
Rose looked out the window again, seeing parts of the shield show the strain of the attacks.
“It won’t be long now,” Rose thought to herself. “Ok, think. Where do you need to be right now?”
She thought of Octavia, with her first impulse being that of going to her side. And yet, Octavia could take care of herself. She was strong, brash, and smart, not to mention that Rose had gone through a lot of trouble to ensure she would not be singled out.
“Ok, that’s not the best place to be useful. Where else?”
She thought of what the guard had said: ‘the castle’s been compromised’. She could go there to help fight. However, the princesses were there and so was Shining Armor. If the castle had fallen there was nothing Rose could do to sway the battle.
“What else?” she asked herself, stopping in her tracks as a thought struck her.
“Slant is still with my family, if we somehow fight them off they would still be used as bargaining chips,” she thought. “They’re not afraid to kill.”
Having made her choice, she turned to the guard who had refused to leave her side until she was safely out of the soon-to-be-attacked compound.
“Thank you,” she said. “Stay safe.”
The guard nodded as he gave her back her bag, grabbed a spear, and headed outside.
Rose followed after him.
Then came a sound.
Rose had only just exited the compound as it occurred, a screeching type of rumble followed by the sound of cracking glass. Rose was very familiar with this sound, but was still ill-prepared for the echoing bolt of noise that occurred as the shield shattered.
For a second there was silence, allowing the sound of shattering glass to dance in the air, as undisturbed as a passing cloud, until it rang into nonexistence. The world was mute, staring as if hypnotized, allowing the spell of quiet to drown out all sound waves.
No pony spoke, no pony breathed, and for a single moment, not a single heart beat.
Then the first segment of the protective dome hit the ground, shattering in a colossal explosion of sound that in turn shattered all sense of order, harmony, and peace.
If there had been chaos before the defenses fell, it had been nothing compared to this.
Ponies ran for cover, trying desperately to keep the groups of families and friends together. They ran, as if herded by invisible shepherds, trying to avoid the falling pieces of the spell meant to ensure their safety. The swarm attacked, littering the street with darkness as the giant mass of insectoid beings hovered over the ground, picking their prey.
As it often happens, the groups were unable to stay together. Groups of friends got separated in the scuffles, families were torn apart by crowds running in different directions, and the solitary ponies left behind ran without a destination.
In the world of ponies there was panic, fear, and horror. What was lacking was hope.
Not a pony rose to fight, not a pony stood their ground. Their hope and will to resist had been shattered along with the protection the magical shield had garnered.
It was amongst this madness in which Rose ran. She ran towards a destination, with a purpose, and with the will to fight.
As she ran, she could not help but feel impressed, and sickened, by the precision with which the attack was being carried out.
There was a large cloud of changelings attacking the general populous, but Rose could clearly pick out small groups heading towards the key points of the city, securing more noble blood to barter with and taking down the main transportation routes. They were making sure there would be no escape from Canterlot, and it was all thanks to her.
A few changelings appeared in Rose’s line of sight, but they were of very little concern to her. She avoided most of them by simply running past them, as it would take more effort to chase her than to pick another prey. Those who attacked her were not as lucky, as she quickly dispersed of the offensive changelings with a well place kick or tackle, all without breaking her stride.
At least until she encountered a wall of changelings attempting to blockade the street.
“I don’t have time for this,” yelled Rose as she took flight, kicking at the roof of a house and forcing for the roofing to collapse onto the awaiting changelings below.
She landed and kept running, knowing that she would attract less attention on the ground.
And so, Rose galloped past the chaos, avoiding the still falling pieces of the shield and dispersing the changelings in her path as she rushed to her destination.
“There it is,” she commented as she reached her old home.
Rose quickly and quietly went through the secret passage to the side of the house that had been crafted for Octavia’s use, leading to Rose’s old room. She swiftly opened the window to her room, finding it empty. She quietly listened, catching a conversation in another room. She followed the voices.
“I think we should evacuate while we still have the chance,” said Rich Rhyme. “We’re pegasi - it would prove much harder to catch us; we can simply jump off the mountain and fly away.”
“No,” said Slant Rhyme. “We need to remain hidden. We’ll be fine in here; it’s more important that they don’t find us. We don’t know if we can outrun them or how many of them there are!”
Then Rose kicked the door down.
They were inside the living room. Ilene Rhyme was holding Perfect Rhyme in the safety of the corner, away from the now closed curtains and from the two arguing stallions. Rich Rhyme was standing near the front door, which had been barricaded with a couch and a tipped bookshelf; his face one of utter confusion and disbelief. Next to him was Slant, who had nothing but anger on his face.
“You,” he had begun to say, but Rose would not let him speak.
With a powerful beat of her wings she charged him, tackling him into a table. Slant recovered quickly from the impact and began punching Rose, who simply kicked him onto the other side of the room. They both stood and readied for the next round.
Rose charged again, but this time Slant side stepped her, bucking her as she passed by and making her land on the floor. Rose got up again, feinting a charge to catch Slant in his reaction. Slant, however, did not flinch, sending a powerful kick at Rose’s head which she barely managed to avoid. She rolled away from his reach before charging him. He side-stepped but she bounced off the wall to catch him from behind. Slant was prepared for this, using his wings to roll out of the way, smirking at Rose as she landed on the floor.
“How are you doing this?” she asked.
“It’s actually quite simple with ponies like you,” Slant laughed. “You think you’re so noble carrying your emotions on your sleeve, but it makes you predictable.”
“You couldn’t do this before,” Rose replied. “What changed?”
“Before, your emotions were clouded,” Slant mocked. “But now they’re clear and easy to interpret. The good thing is that you don’t have enough emotional control to make it so I can’t read them. You can mask how visible they are, but not how they make you feel.”
Rose glared, unsure of how to proceed.
“He can tell when I’m going to attack or feint,” she thought to herself. “The only way to stop him is outmaneuver him, but the room’s too small to gather speed. I can’t control my emotions enough to fool him. How did I do it last time?”
Rose thought back to their last encounter, looking for anything that might help.
Slant noticed the distraction and charged her, pinning her to the floor, hoof against her neck.
It was becoming harder to breathe but still Rose thought in desperation for any detail that might help.
“It’s no use,” she thought. “All I can remember is him insulting me about my father and brother.”
Remembering the incident caused a great pain to resurface in her mind. Slant’s attack lessened in intensity.
“Really?” Rose muttered.
Rose used a well place hoof hit and a throw to launch Slant a far away enough distance from her. She got to her hooves with a smile on her face.
“Really? Pain?” she asked, “That’s what you can’t read?”
She took a small step forward.
“I guess it makes sense; pain can combine a lot of emotions,” she continued. “A pony in pain can collapse, or attack, be angry or restrained, and the emotion is still the same one, pain, right?”
She took another step.
“The problem is that if pain is how I break your ability to anticipate my moves,” she glared with malice in her eyes. “You’ve picked the wrong pony to impersonate.”
Rose allowed her memories to flow to her, and as she did so, she relived them. She saw herself, standing in front of the mirror, cursing at fate for her body. She turned to stare at the stallion that was her reflection.
Tears welled up in Rose’s eyes as she opened them to find that same stallion standing before her.
Slant could only stare in terror as the room was filled with the unreadable emotion. It masked all others and seeped through the air like a fragrance or vapor. To his emotion-sensing skill, there was no longer an Evening Rose, just a mass of pain and anguish.
Rose jumped into the air, attacking Slant from overhead. She delivered a powerful kick before bouncing off the wall behind him to a safe distance. Slant readied for the next charge.
Rose saw herself lying in the hospital after having relived Granite’s attack. She would now always worry about coming out to a lover. Not only that, but Granite had robbed her of the chance to be a mare in Ponyville: because of him, they all knew now that she was trans.
Rose charged again, feinting a hit to the muzzle but dropping at the last second to knock Slant off his hooves. While on the floor, Rose delivered a powerful kick, sending Slant rolling away from her.
Rose saw herself, standing in front of a cliff as her father landed behind her.
Rose got up and delivered the strongest punch she could at Slant’s face. It was not a feint, and it connected, sending him tumbling onto a wall.
Rose walked towards him as memories from her past rolled by her eyelids, an obelisk of anguish and misery. Slant could read nothing else about her other than the pain she was reliving with every step she took; he was bleeding profusely, and he was tired. And yet, Slant had a smile on his face.
Slant got up and charged against Rose. Rose dropped to the floor, allowing Slant to pass over her and prepared for him to turn around, but he did not. Instead Slant charged directly towards Perfect Rhyme.
The Rhyme family had been watching the fight with confusion and fear. It was as if the event was separate from reality, with them being merely spectators. As such they were not prepared for this sudden charge, and neither Rich nor Ilene were in any position to protect their son.
Rose struggled to catch up to Slant, urging her wings to go past their limit in the short space of the living room. She did not notice when Slant’s wings flared.
In a quick move, Slant opened his wings propelling him backwards and onto the speeding Rose. The combination of his backwards momentum and Rose’s speed ensured that when Slant’s hooves connected with her head, Rose was knocked onto the floor.
Slant quickly pinned her, punching her in the face and stomach with as much force as was possible. Rose turned to watch as Slant turned his hoof into a sharp triangular point. He prepared to strike.
However, as his hoof struck down, the point was embedded into the floor, rather than into Evening Rose.
Rose watched in astonishment as Perfect Rhyme, having broken free from his mother’s grasp, tackled Slant Rhyme, throwing off his aim.
Slant had not been hurt by the attack, and the confusion Perfect had caused lasted only for a second, but that second had saved Rose’s life.
Slant in frustration used his free hoof to smack Perfect out of the air and onto the floor.
Anger consumed Evening Rose.
Slant sensed the anger break through the misery a split second before Rose attacked him. It was a split second too late.
In one fluid motion Rose overpowered her attacker, pinning him against the ground, and once again withdrew the blade that Octavia had given her, the same blade that Chrysalis had returned to her as a sign of trust.
“Trust can be a dangerous thing,” Rose thought.
Slant frantically searched for the feeling of hesitation and restraint that had assured him last time that the mare that had pinned him would not kill.
It was not there: instead there was only anger, bitterness, and pain.
Rose lowered her blade against Slant’s neck, preparing to strike, when she heard it. She quickly got up as a burst of energy rushed through the house, eliminating Slant’s morphed form and pushing him out of Canterlot.
As she stared out the window, Rose noted that the shield had been recast, and that all the changelings seemed to have been exiled from Canterlot completely. She took a deep breath, reveling on the fact that she had gotten through a fight without being rendered unconscious. Then she turned around.
The sound of Octavia’s blade hitting the stone floor echoed through the house as Rose came to face her family.
The Rhyme family living room was not the location of a natural disaster, but looking around the room it would prove hard to find evidence to support that claim. For starters, there was still a rudimentary blockade set up by an overturned bookshelf and a couch. The other bookshelves in the room were still standing and functional, but were bare of any books, as these were strewn all across the living room floor. On the floor one could also see the splintered remains of a table and a few chairs, kindling in their current form. Normally the destruction of this room would have induced an outcry of anger and blame, but today there were bigger issues to deal with.
Rose stood, awkwardly staring at her family. For the first time since she boarded the train from Ponyville, she became completely aware of and engrossed by her appearance. Rose was currently wearing her black skirt and purple shirt, both of which were torn, tattered, and ripped in places from her fight in Canterlot, her escape from the changeling hive, and her recent fight with the changeling impersonating Slant Rhyme. Her clothes were also heavily stained with blood, as was her mane and various spots on the floor, both from the changeling she had fought and from her own injuries.
She felt self-conscious for the first time in months, wishing she had her black cloak, and it was through great efforts that she refrained from fixing her messed-up mane. She did not want to risk movement, and it seemed that neither did her family.
The Rhymes stood there, staring at the pony in front of them with an odd mix of confusion, fear, and understanding. No pony in the room dared to make a sound other than the soft breathing of the ponies that lived there and the labored breathing of the wounded pony that had just saved their lives.
Rose could not help but notice that she felt more tension and restrained panic in this room now than she had during the changeling invasion.
Eventually her mother spoke.
“Are… Are you?” was all she managed to ask.
Rose gave a slow nod before responding.
“Yes, I mean,” her voice had come out at her lower register out of habit of seeing her parents. She coughed a few times, fixing her register in the process. “Yes, it’s me.”
Another minute of silence passed before it was broken by her father.
“Why are you dressed like that?”
Rose let out an annoyed snort. Normally she would have shied away from a question like that, but today she was tired, hurt, and had suffered enough pain and shame to last her a lifetime. Instead she focused on another emotion, anger.
“This is who I am, Dad. This is how I’ve been living. This is the real me, the one I tried telling you about last summer, before you made me leave,” she said with venom in her voice.
“Why did you come back, Slant?”
“My name is Evening Rose, and I came back to see who this impostor was and what he was up to. I also figured I might ask him how he got you to forgive him, but honestly, I stopped caring about that aspect almost immediately. I don’t need your approval.”
Rose waited for any type of response, after a while, her father spoke again.
“Did anyone see you?”
The fury Rose felt was immense.
“Seriously? The invasion of Canterlot just happened, I just fought a changeling in front of you, and all you care about is who might have seen your freak of a child?” She was practically yelling at this point. “You actually miss him, don’t you? The changeling? You’re probably mad that you didn’t get to keep him even though he tried to kill both your children!”
Rose glared at both her parents: Rich, the stallion who cared more for appearances than the lessons from any of his rants about family, and Ilene, the loving wife who was content to watch horrors being committed without uttering so much as a word. Rose spat at the floor in distaste.
“Don’t worry, nopony saw me,” she snarled. “And no one ever will. I just came here to save your lives. You won’t see me again.”
Rose turned away from her family, with tears in her eyes and anger in her heart.
“Why do you still care?” she thought to herself. “You didn’t come here to make amends. You weren’t planning on seeing them and you were perfectly aware that you would never be welcomed back. So why do you still care this much?”
Rose took a deep breath as she collected her thoughts.
“I guess I thought that maybe they would change,” she thought as she picked up the blade from the floor, putting it in her bag. “Everypony else has, even I have, so why haven’t they? Why won’t they?”
It hurt to get to the realization that her parents would never accept her, but the sooner she did the less it would hurt. She opened the window to leave when she was stopped by a timid question.
“Do you really have to go?”
The voice had been soft, nervous, and frightened. For a second Rose imagined that if she turned around she would see Fluttershy sitting in the living room, looking abashed at having asked a question. Instead, she found her brother.
Perfect Rhyme was sitting on the floor with a dark bruise appearing on his cheek. Both of his parents stared intently at him, mouths agape at the question he had just asked. Perfect, however, ignored them, instead focusing his attention at the pony by the window. He repeated his question.
“I’ve missed you,” he said. “That other you wasn’t the same. He wasn’t caring, or fun, or anything you were. Do you really have to go?”
For a moment Rose had been tempted to answer ‘no’. As she stared at her brother’s face, all she wanted was to move back and for things to be how they had been before she had become aware of herself. However, Rose then turned to look at her parents.
Both of the elder Rhymes focused their attention on her with a pleading look in their eyes. Their stance looked like they were trying to shield Perfect from a threat and, judging from the fear on their faces, they may have been doing just that. Rose allowed herself a sad smile as she realized that even if her parents eventually came around to accepting her, the damage had been done and this place would never be her home again.
She turned to face her brother with the most comforting look she could spare, while uttering the words she knew her brother least wanted to hear.
“I’m sorry, Perfect,” she said softly. “But I do.”
Rose saw tears form in the colt’s eyes before he stared at the ground. She hated doing this to him, but even if she stayed, it would be nothing but pain. She was no longer part of the Rhyme family and nothing could change that. However, that did not mean she had to shut her brother out of her life again.
“I’m sorry, I really am,” Rose said. “But we can still talk Perfect, whenever you want.”
Perfect raised his head, eyeing her with hope.
“Really?” he said, a small smile forming in his lips.
“Yes, you can write to me whenever you want and I promise to write back. I live in Ponyville; it’s a small enough town that, if you address the letter to Evening Rose, the letter will make its way to me,” she said. “You are also welcome to visit any time you want. I don’t have a very big place, but you could stay the weekend sometime or something.”
Rose glared at her parents as if daring them to disagree. They remained silent.
“I know it’s hard to hear, but I have to go, ok?” she said. “I have to go but this time you know where I am and how to find me. I’ll always make time for you, you understand?”
Perfect dried his eyes before answering.
“I understand,” he said. “Take care, ok, sis?”
“You too.”
Rose turned with a smile on her face as she left her family home once again.
The sun was bright and shining as the train rumbled slowly through the countryside. It was a day chillier than most spring days, but not to the point to render it unpleasant. Indeed, ponies of every age could be seen enjoying the outside world with a few ponies having picnics, running through the woods, or flying kites. Rose watched them with mild interest as the ponies and locations passed through her line of sight.
Rose was feeling pensive today, barely registering the sights she was observing before they were gone and fading into the distance. A cool breeze coursed through her mane as the chilled wind entered through the window. She looked around, ensuring that her open window was not disturbing anypony, before remembering that she was in the cart alone. Rose allowed herself a sigh of relief, as she would have been hesitant to forgo the spring breeze even if had been at the expense of somepony else. It was something familiar, as very few things seemed to be nowadays.
She stared at the passing countryside again, trying to clear her thoughts, but they proved unrelenting.
“Who am I?” Rose asked herself.
Rose waited a minute in silence, as if expecting somepony else to answer. The silence remained.
“Who am I?” That had been the question that had plagued Rose’s mind as of late, tainting the otherwise joyful resolution to the most wearing and precarious month of her life.
Not to say that the end of the changeling invasion had not been a joyful event altogether.
After leaving her family’s home, Rose found the tattered city of Canterlot as it attempted to shake off the effects of the attack. The city had been decimated, but as ponies started taking to the streets, it was no longer despair that gripped them, but joy.
Rose had watched as many a pony rejoiced and cheered in spite of the state of things. They may have lost their home, or their business, or their things, but the changeling attack had resulted with no fatalities, and as ponies reunited with their loved ones, that proved to be enough. Rose walked through the festivities as the laughter and cheers increased to a volume and intensity that could be heard for miles, fading into the horizon.
Eventually she had reached the castle and was granted an audience with Shining Armor.
The captain was tired, but smiling, and seemed surprised to see Rose.
“Well what brings you back here, Miss Rose?” he gently asked. “Are you searching for a thank you? Because if so, you’re in luck. I have a spare few that I’d be glad to give you.”
Rose solemnly shook her head.
“No, I’m here to await any judgment you may have on me,” she said.
Shining looked confused.
“Um, I don’t think you understand how this works,” he said. “You helped us prepare for an invasion. Yes, we miscalculated and the queen got in anyway, but without you we would have been even more outmatched than we found ourselves today. You did your part in that, and you’ve been pardoned. You’re cleared of all charges.”
Once again Rose shook her head.
“I know I had a part in fighting it,” she responded. “But only after I gave them the information they needed to attack in the first place. I know that the deal you put forth when you booked me meant that I was to be released should my warnings prove correct, but I feel like that was done as a courtesy extended with the coming threat. Now that the threat is over, I’m here if you want to re-evaluate.”
Shining Armor gave her a smile.
“You were never actually charged,” he said.
Rose looked at him in confusion.
“What?” she asked.
Shining gave a soft sigh.
“Well, you technically were but the paperwork ‘got lost’, as it were,” he explained. “And I may have had a hoof in losing it. Look, if the threat had not been real, then we would’ve charged you with misinformation and spreading panic. We wouldn’t have done that, though, until after a long period of time without an invasion. However, without an invasion, we couldn’t really ascertain that you, in fact, cooperated with an enemy. All we had was your word.”
He checked to make sure she understood before continuing.
“However, we were willing to pardon you if the invasion was real, for coming to us. So really, the only way you would’ve been charged was if you had been lying. We kept you in the cell for your protection.”
Understanding flowed through Rose’s features as Shining Armor spoke.
“Besides, booking you now would take a lot of paperwork, meetings, and work on my part. I have a wedding to get ready for soon, so it wouldn’t be at all impossible for a certain conspirator to slip my mind for a while. Yeah, I might remember at some point that by accidentally putting your paperwork in the trash I allowed a pony to go free, but we all need to have ‘the one that got away’, right?”
He winked at her as he finished his sentence.
“Thank you, Captain,” Rose replied.
“No problem.”
“So what happens now?” she asked.
Shining Armor gave his answer some thought before responding.
“Well, we have had no word on where the changelings ended up or anything of the sort, but we no longer believe them to be a threat. Each town and city of Equestria is going to be implementing policies and programs in order to identify changeling threats, so an attack like this one will not happen again. As far as you’re concerned, your involvement has been completely omitted from every record, meaning that as long as you don’t tell anypony what transpired, no pony will know. That means you’re free to go. As for me, I’m getting married soon and since I used my vows on a changeling queen, I need to come up with better ones.”
Rose gave a small giggle.
“Fair enough. It’s been a pleasure to meet you, Captain.”
“The pleasure was mine, Miss Rose.”
A particularly strong wind shook Rose from her thoughts, startling her.
“All things considered,” she thought to herself after a second. “Returning to Canterlot was not all that bad.”
Rose’s thoughts turned to her family, as they often did when she thought of Canterlot, but for the first time she felt no pain.
It was true that she had not managed to make any progress with her parents, but she had never expected to. However, they no longer haunted her in her thoughts. Having seen them as Rose, having had interacted with them as the mare she was, took away the supernatural fear she had held of them ever since the incident. Now she saw them as nothing more than disapproving parents, with no more power over her than any other mortal being. They would not hunt her in Ponyville, and she did not need to fear them.
Her thoughts then turned to her brother.
To be honest she had not really considered her brother in the equation of how her identity would be received. Perfect and his acceptance, or lack thereof, were always thoughts that Rose did not bother indulging, as they would be dealt with later. However, she had not had to explain things to him. He had looked upon Rose and seen the sister he had and not the brother he lost. She would always be thankful for that.
Then there was the concept of Perfect re-entering Rose’s life through letters and occasional visits, for which Rose could not help but feel excited.
These had been major gains that could not and would not be trivialized.
And yet…
Rose took out Octavia’s blade from her bag. She had tried to return it once she went to visit Octavia before leaving Canterlot, but Octavia had insisted on having Rose keep it.
“It will keep you safe,” she had said.
She could not have known the reason Rose wanted to return it so badly, and she did not notice as Rose hesitantly put it back in her bag.
Rose held the blade and watched it shake. Rose put it down.
“Who am I?” she asked again.
This question was not regarding her identity as a mare or transpony as it usually was. Indeed, those thoughts that were usually at the forefront of her mind found themselves oddly subdued. No, the question addressed something else.
This trip to Canterlot had changed her.
She had done and contemplated things she never thought herself capable of, and it scared her.
Rose took a deep breath before delving into this particular avenue of thought.
“I almost took a life,” she thought to herself.
Her mind flashed back to the end of the struggle with Slant Rhyme, before the spell took place. She had held the blade to his throat, fueled by rage and anger, and for a moment was prepared to end his life. In fact, had the spell not been cast, Rose was not sure that she would not have followed through. It is entirely possible that Shining Armor’s spell saved the changeling’s life, ensuring that the invasion was one without a fatality.
This scared her immensely.
Rose wanted to believe she would have killed in order to protect her brother or that it was a reaction to the situation and the only possible choice she saw to end the conflict, but she was tired of lying to herself.
Rose had had enough experience killing the body of Slant Rhyme in her mind to know that what fueled her had not been some rightful last resort. It had been anger and pain, plain and simple, as it always was.
And it had almost cost a life.
She looked at her hooves, free from blood by luck only and shivered. It would have been bad enough of a shock to her system to think that she was capable of murder, but worse still was the fact that something else weighed heavier in Rose’s mind.
Rose thought back to the moment in the hive in which she chose to help Queen Chrysalis in her plans.
She could picture the scene quite vividly, seeing the dim glow of the green substance, hearing the low rumble of the changeling wings as their echoes vibrated the tunnel walls. She could see the queen before her, smiling and awaiting her response. She could feel her own hesitation and doubt, and then see her selfish desire for the queen’s magical promise.
She could hear herself accept. She felt disgusted.
Rose frowned as the memory repeated in a constant loop for her to examine.
Yes, it was true that Rose was unhappy with her body. It was true that the mistake nature had made had caused her nothing but agony and strife. However, that did not excuse her actions.
She had chosen selfishly to put her friends in danger for the glimmer of hope that she could be changed. She had endangered friends who had accepted her, supported her, cared for her, and loved her without a second thought because she wanted to be able to look herself in the mirror.
She was conscious that nopony would ever know of what happened, but she would know, and that was enough.
She found herself feeling ashamed, and not just because of this particular event. Now that she thought about it, Rose realized that a lot of her actions recently had been shameful and reprehensible.
She thought back to Ponyville and how she had avoided everypony as much as possible after her release from the hospital. The entire town had made it a point to send her letters, to say they supported her and to show their acceptance, but all Rose had cared about was that they knew she was a transgender pony.
She then thought to the night that Airheart stopped by. This mare had come to apologize for being disrespectful and had openly acknowledged her own ignorance. She had come to make amends and to become Rose’s friend, but Rose had disregarded it all as soon as Airheart talked about the intervention meeting at work. Rose remembered feeling angry that somepony had told the whole weather team about her, even if it had been for her protection. She had been angry despite that talk being the reason Airheart had given Rose a chance.
“This can’t go on,” Rose thought to herself. “Not anymore.”
Rose had some legitimate problems. Her body image issues, her self-hatred, and her insecurities were not the trivial issues of a vain pony. These problems along with the problems of her identity were real tribulations that needed thought and understandably weighed on her.
To some extent, her being seen as a mare was also a legitimate issue. She of course wanted to live as a mare and would continue to do so, not bringing up the trans thing unless it was absolutely necessary.
“But you can’t break down every time somepony finds out,” she thought to herself. “You’re better than that.”
Rose took a deep breath.
“What do you know?” she asked herself. “My name is Evening Rose, a mare living in Ponyville who happens to be a transpony. I have a lot of issues with my body and my identity, but I am strong enough to deal with them. I am strong enough to not let those issues skew my priorities ever again. I live as a mare because I am a mare, and I want to be seen as that. However, if am outed it should not bother me. I will continue to be a mare, whether others see me as a transpony or not. I will stand against ignorance and hate, but not against supportive friends who happen to know about me. I will not let the perception others have of me dictate my life.”
Rose looked out the window seeing the town of Ponyville approaching. She began to prepare for her arrival, looking forward to seeing her friends and returning to the life she would now be able to appreciate.
“It seems I have been changing all the time,” Rose thought to herself. “Time to make some new changes.”
So, that was Arc 3. What did you think? Personally, I don’t think it’s quite as good as Arc 2. Don’t get me wrong, it was a lot of fun to write, I just don’t think that I’m that good at writing adventure stories. There are more events and less inner turmoil. In any case, I’m still proud of this story and I hope you enjoyed it as well.
Now, I know you’re probably wondering what’s next (if you like the story thus far). Well wonder no more!
As I originally said, I planned the first three arcs together with no earthly idea of where I was going to take the story next. In fact, when I started I wasn’t even sure I’d get to the third arc (I’m notorious for normally not following through on projects), and I felt that if I did make it to the end of the third arc, I would be so tapped out of creative energy that I would just not have anything else to give. That’s actually why I give up on as many projects as I do; I don’t do things if I don’t find them worth doing and a story with no new developments and rehashing old themes would have been just that. As such, Arc 3 was supposed to end with this big finale that tied up all the loose ends of all the Arcs and said “thank you for reading” in a way that would make an Epilogue? redundant.
I will give you a second to check that there is in fact an Epilogue? (you’re reading it) and that the ending of Arc 3 is not an all-encompassing ending. In fact, it seems kind of open-ended, does it not?
Well, as I’d already stated in the last Epilogue? I have an idea for an Arc 0 due to the fact that Octavia hijacked my story as I was writing it. That will be a prequel to the Dysphoria series, looking at the relationship between Octavia and Slant Rhyme when they attended school together. This will be mostly slice of life with a bit of romance, though if you’ve read this far into the series you already know it doesn’t work out. There’s a really good reason as to why though, but alas, no spoilers.
Dysphoria, Arc 0: Octavia will be available here once I’ve posted it.
“Hey prep, that's a prequel to Arc 1, so why the open-ended ending on Arc 3? Also, why is the link not up?”
Oh, thank you for noticing, random reader; I was just getting to that.
The reason why the link isn't up is because I said that Arc 0 will be written and posted once the main story is finished. And the reason for the open ended ending, is because the story is far from over.
While writing Arc 3 I got struck by inspiration, and I pulled some serious overtime into story drafting, writing, and polishing my skills. As such I am proud to announce the posting of Dysphoria, Arc 4: Summer Breeze, which is online and you should go read right now.
This story goes back to the Slice of Life genre, focusing on Rose and transgender themes. However, I take a different approach than I have in the past. Since this was written outside the trilogy, you'll immediately notice the focus is different, the way I write is different, and the way I tell the story is different. also, the chapters are all longer again (longer than Arc 2). Also, by different I mean better (if my pre-reader/editor is to be trusted).
I think you'll like what you'll read.
Oh, and I haven't forgotten about the one-shots I keep saying I'll write. I swear I’m not putting them off on purpose; it’s just that the arcs are very time-consuming to write and it’s just me on the creative side of the whole writing thing with one editor fixing my grammar and spelling (you’re welcome! – editor)
So, to recap:
I hope you enjoyed Dysphoria thus far.
Dysphoria, Arc 0: Octavia is outlined and will be written and posted when I'm done with the main story.
One-shots are outlined and partially written but the main story takes precedence.
Thank you so much for reading. I don’t do pointless things, and you give this story purpose. If you like it please share it with your friends and follow, favorite, etc…
Happy Reading,
-thedarkprep
P.S. If you want to talk about any trans-related things (if you have questions, concerns, or want any information), feel free to send me a private message. I would love to talk to you and inform in any way I can.
