Chapter Text
So.
I can't help but feel like I've done this before, but...
Welp!
I died!
F u c k .
Now I'm in some kind of limbo?
fuuuuck.
I don't have a body, but it feels like I'm spinning in this abyss.
There’s no up or down, just motion, like my soul got tossed into a washing machine set to ‘existential crisis.’
I try to blink.
Can’t.
I try to scream.
Nothing comes out, but I feel it anyway, echoing through whatever the hell this is.
Great, I don’t get a mouth.
Something ripples nearby. Is that... another person?
What are they saying?
Wait- what's that?
Oh light-
AH LIGHT!
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-
"-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"
I scream with my voice being very high pitched? Everything is too bright, I just scream and cry and I don't know why..
"Well, aren't you a loud one."
"They're both loud."
I blink my eyes trying to see as I'm wrapped up in cloth? I just keep crying and screaming as it just feels- better to scream. Everything ached, my throat hurt. Actually, everything hurt.
"Aw she has your mane." Something pokes my cheek as my crying slowly dies out into hiccups.
Was that... a Hoof?
I slowly blink my eyes before gazing up at a... Unicorn?
The unicorn had long silver hair with some red strands, she stared at me with two amethyst eyes and a dark blue pelt.
WhAt ThE fUcK.
"Hopefully her being noisy is a sign she'll be stronger." She turned looking at another unicorn who seemed more scruff, a male? He had short black hair and a dark red pelt with onyx-colored eyes.
They were both wearing a crown.
What.
"What should we name the two? This one is quieter. He might end up more of a strategist." The male unicorn looked beside her and she- did she have a name in this life? She didn't know but she looked beside her and wrapped up in their own bundle being held by their... mother? Was a brother.
I have a brother.
The queen hummed softly, shifting me a little in her forelegs while I tried very hard not to have another complete nervous breakdown.
It was not working very well.
I was still stuck on the fact I had hooves.
I lifted one of my tiny legs weakly, staring at the little dark red hoof at the end of it before my brain immediately rejected the information.
Nope. Absolutely not.
I started crying again.
"Oh dear." The queen laughed quietly. "She certainly has opinions already."
The king barely reacted, his sharp gaze fixed on me instead.
Not lovingly. Not warmly.
He looked at me the same way someone looked at a sword before buying it.
Testing quality.
Judging worth.
"Her magic is unstable," he said calmly.
Magic.
Sure.
Why not add magic to the list of things ruining my afterlife.
The queen glanced down at me again. "She’s a newborn."
"Newborns still possess traces of magical alignment."
He leaned closer, his horn began to glow.
I froze.
There was pressure suddenly.
Not physical pressure.
Something else.
Like invisible fingers brushing against my skull.
I immediately hated it.
It hurts.
ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!ITHURTS!
"MUSTANG! They're too young for that!" My mother? Yelled yet I couldn't hear anything.
All I could feel was the pressure on my skull as I started screaming again, crying as I was faintly aware of my brother doing the same beside me.
Mustang? let out a disappointed huff as his horn stopped glowing, the pain vanishing yet I still kept crying.
"Fine, I'll evaluate them when their cutie marks appear." He said sounding almost annoyed, was this bastard really about to break my skull open?
The pressure on my skull was gone, but the feeling of it lingered like a bad memory that my body had not even finished growing yet.
I kept crying anyway, because stopping felt impossible, like my entire existence had started as screaming and my brain had not been given an update patch.
The queen adjusted her hold on me slightly, and I felt something soft and warm against my side that I assumed was meant to be comforting, though I was far too busy panicking to appreciate it.
“There, there,” she said gently, her voice closer now, softer than before. “You’re safe.”
Safe did not feel like the correct word for anything that was happening to me.
The king, Mustang, stepped back a fraction, his horn dimming completely as he studied me again with that same measuring stare.
Not angry anymore, just focused, like I was a problem he was calculating instead of a newborn being held by someone who just got yanked into existence.
“Strong reaction,” he said flatly.
The queen let out a small sigh, almost amused but tired around the edges. “She is a foal, Mustang. Not a weapon.”
He did not respond to that immediately, which felt like an answer on its own.
Instead, his gaze shifted to the bundle beside me, the one I had been told was my brother.
“He is calmer,” he noted.
As if that mattered more than anything else.
I twisted my tiny head as best as I could and finally caught sight of him properly.
A smaller bundle, same kind of wrapping, same fragile shape, but he was quieter, his movements faint and slow instead of my chaotic thrashing.
He had a light cyan pelt, and white mane with cyan strands.
"Winter Mane." My mother? decided for his name.
King Mustang let out a hum, "Prince Winter, the name fits, strong. What about her?"
His gaze returns to me, this guy is definingly going to be an abusive father considering they almost shattered my skull open with magic.
"Nova, she will be named Nova."
Nova.
The name... resonates with me as I blink.
“Nova,” she says again, more certain this time. “Yes. That feels right.”
Winter beside me shifts slightly in his bundle, still quiet in that unsettlingly composed way that makes me feel even more like I am the defective one in this set.
I do not like that comparison. I do not like being compared at all.
Footsteps approach from somewhere beyond the bright haze of the room. They are measured, careful, like whoever is coming in is trying very hard not to be noticed too quickly. I cannot turn my head much, but I catch glimpses of movement between the queen’s forelegs and the edge of the room.
A door opens.
The light changes slightly.
A figure enters, and immediately I feel something like hesitation from everyone else in the room.
The newcomer is smaller than the king, dressed in a simple doctor's uniform with small glasses on their face and their eyes flick up immediately to King Mustang before dropping again like they have been trained not to hold that gaze for too long.
“Oh,” the doctor says quietly. “They are awake already.”
Their voice is careful. Measured. Not afraid of babies. Afraid of something else.
King Mustang does not move much, but the air around him still feels heavier, like the room is waiting for his permission to continue existing normally.
The doctor approaches anyway, slower now, focusing on Winter first. A faint glow from their horn brushes over him, gentle and controlled.
“Prince Winter is stable,” they murmur after a moment, almost to themselves. “Good. Very good.”
Then they shift toward me, their magic brushes over me.
It is lighter than Mustang’s had been. Less like fingers trying to pry something open and more like a careful scan, like someone checking for damage without wanting to break anything further.
Still feels weird.
I let out a small, angry sound that is supposed to be threatening but probably just sounds like malfunctioning squeaking.
“Your Majesty,” they say carefully. “She is… quite reactive.”
The queen lets out a soft, almost proud laugh. “She is spirited.”
The doctor nods once, like they are not allowed to disagree with that wording.
“Both foals are healthy,” they say. “Magic signature is… strong. Especially in the princess.”
Princess.
That word lands in me like a dropped object I was not prepared to catch.
Princess.
I am a princess.
That feels wrong in a way I cannot properly describe yet, like putting the wrong label on something that was never meant to be categorized at all.
"That's to be expected, she's my daughter afterall." King Mustang said confidentally.
His daughter.
The idea does not feel real. It feels like something someone would say in a story that I was not supposed to be inside of.
King Mustang continues speaking like I am not even processing it.
“Her magic is already responding,” he says, still calm. “It will be refined. Controlled.”
Controlled. I do not like that word either.
The doctor bows their head slightly. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
The queen shifts me again and I catch a glimpse of her expression. It is softer than the king’s, but it still carries something distant, like she is already thinking about expectations. I have not even learned how to fail yet.
Then the door opens again, this time the room changes.
Not the pressure like before, but a shift in attention. Like everyone is briefly aware that something ordinary is about to interrupt something important.
An earth pony steps inside.
No horn. No wings. Just a simple coat of muted brown and a short, tied mane. She is wearing simple caretaker clothes, nothing regal at all. She does not look at the king. She does not look at the queen. Her eyes stay low, respectful but unreadable.
She walks in without hesitation.
“Daycare transfer,” she says quietly.
Her voice is flat, practiced. Like she has said it a thousand times in places where no one really listens to her.
The queen exhales softly. “Already?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” the earth pony replies.
King Mustang studies her for a moment. He looks almost disgusted at her.
He says nothing.
That seems to be permission enough.
The earth pony moves closer.
Up close, I realize she is not looking at me or Winter at all. Not even once. Her attention is on the bundles themselves, like we are fragile objects that might break if acknowledged too directly.
She carefully adjusts the cloth around my body, then lifts me.
I do not have time to react properly before I am on her back, secured gently but firmly. My tiny limbs barely move. I try anyway. It does nothing.
Winter is lifted too and placed beside me, still quiet.
We are carried out.
The room changes as we leave it.
The bright, heavy presence of royalty fades behind us, replaced by quieter halls. The air feels less sharp here. Less like it is waiting for judgment.
I hear voices behind us as we move.
King Mustang speaking, low and controlled.
The queen responded softer, almost tired.
I catch fragments as we pass through the doorway.
“The Prismori Kingdom finally has proper heirs." Mustang says at one point, like he is confirming something.
The words stick.
Prismori Kingdom.
So that is where I am.
I do not know what that means. I do not know where it is. The name does not attach itself to anything familiar in my memory, which is becoming increasingly useless anyway.
We turn another corner.
The earth pony keeps walking. She does not rush. She does not hesitate. Just steady steps.
Eventually, we reached a different room.
It is quieter here. Warmer too. Smaller cribs line the space, each one neatly arranged. Soft bedding. Careful spacing. Everything looks structured, maintained, controlled.
Like even childhood has rules here.
The earth pony lowers Winter into one crib first, then me into another beside him.
I feel the cloth loosen then I am placed down.
The moment my body touches the bedding, something in me goes still.
The earth pony adjusts the blanket over me, tucking it in gently. She does the same for Winter without looking at either of us.
Then she steps back.
I hear her hooves turn toward the door.
And she is gone.
The room is quiet after that.
Winter lies beside me, still unmoving. Quiet in a way that feels almost normal compared to everything I have been doing since I arrived.
I stare up at the ceiling.
My tiny body feels impossibly real now.
Hooves. Weight. Breath. A heartbeat that is not mine from before.
It hits me slowly at first, like a thought I am not ready to finish forming.
Then all at once.
I am not there anymore. Not the place I remember. Not the body I had.
Not the life I thought I was done with.
I am here. In a crib. In a kingdom called Prismori.
As something else entirely.
I do not scream this time.
I just lie there, staring, as the realization finally settles in fully.
I am in another life.