//------------------------------// // Chapter 5 // Story: To Change a Life // by Amaranthine Thought //------------------------------// I wake troubled, and distressed. My heart beats hard and fast from dim emotions that swiftly fade from me. Sounds and images, blurred together, warped and twisted beyond any identification, rage within my head for a fleeting instant before they are gone. In the moment after, as I lie disorientated and confused, pain grips me, strong and firm. That destroys what little knowledge I did retain, and I scream into the void around me. It thankfully fades soon as I shudder, leaving me with a persistent and potent ache, and… … A tiny call. I can feel it more than hear it, sensing how my cry of pain is disrupted ever so slightly. I force myself to silence, trying to hear. Its voice is nothing, barely anything, but I hear it. It is a babble of confusion, fear, even terror. Trembling in those emotions, yet having a determined, detailed desire to help woven ever so delicately in the trembles. Is this the voice I heard before? Again, it is as if it is mad, a mass of thought and emotion all twisted together, sent out weakly and distantly, difficult to hear or understand. It begins to fade, and I call out, Wait! I feel it no longer, but I still reach for where it was, and call out, Are you there!? Do not leave yet, for I am here! For a few moments, my voice alone rings out into the void around me. And then, weakly, I feel it again, its tiny voice again disrupting my own as it radiates out. It is weaker at first, but then calls out its own cry. It is barely anything, a nothing cry, but it is the strongest call it has made yet. I do not have to listen to hear it, but find its message, or lack of message, confusing. What does it mean by it? Who are you? I call out to it, trying to move closer, listening closely. I feel it again, though it is someplace other than where I have gone. I hear it whisper of recognition, but even as I try to follow it, I find I cannot. Each ripple comes from a single point, but it as if the mind lies everywhere save where I am. I find it incredibly upsetting that I cannot. It is my sole companion in this void of mind I exist within, and to be unable to do more than hear it distantly and weakly is unacceptable. I wish to know of it, be able to actually talk with it, find out why it babbles. Where are you!? I call out. How do I find you!? Again, I feel it respond. Weak and distant and ever shifting, somehow incredibly distant and yet so very close to me. Confusion lies dominant, a weak sensation of happiness and another of wonder buried under the fog of ignorance. Why can I not reach it? Why can I not find it? It doesn’t… I sense it before it comes. I cannot respond to it, quailing in fear before it. A wave, a sea, an ocean of pain and agony washes across the void. It screams, even before it truly arrives, of pain and sorrows and regrets enough to rip things apart. It hits me, and I scream within it, shutting the gates of my mind too late and finding even my capable barriers not enough to prevent it from leaking within. At first, it shreds me apart, cutting and slicing and stripping me down to the lowest part of my mind. It washes all around me without end, a sea of fire and blades I am caught within. And yet, this pain, this regret, this sorrow… My own is stronger. The pain of nearly dying. The pain of having my body near crippled, the pain of crashing and breaking and shattering upon unforgiving earth and trees. It is more. The regret of my past, the regrets that mount ever higher with each memory recalled. The regret that led me to condemn myself. It is more. The sadness I felt when I realized what I lost, and what I had and never noticed until it was gone. The agony when my last child died in my legs, not just him, but them all, forgiving me. It is more. They are all stronger, and this ocean cannot overcome them. It rips and tears and screams, but I will not be overcome. For my children, I endure. … I feel… warm, and wet. Weightless, in part, a wonderful encompassing wet warmth holding me. I remember when I first woke inside my egg. The comforting embrace of the fluid within, supporting my growing body, feeding me as I required. It was only a short time before it dried and I had to break free, but each instant of floating in that paradise was perfection. This is nothing in comparison, but similar. My mind is weak and confused, memories weakly coming and fading away. It is difficult to think. And painful, in part. My body aches, even in the forgiving and kind warm, and my mind itself feels pained. The wave. That is what caused that. I endured it then. My mind remains unbroken. I am still alive. What about the other? Has the strange mind survived as well? Was its strangeness enough to protect it from the crushing ocean? I cannot listen for now. Perhaps, when I first assumed my place, I felt the same strain on my mind as I first became aware of the swarm and the mind scape, but this is different. I was born to claim command of the swarm. It was the most I had ever done, but all I was meant to accept and bear that. This strain, on the other hoof, was born of some unnatural ocean of agony, and I should likely rest before attempting to listen or call, lest I invite more pain. It might not be gone just yet. So, refocus. What is wet and warm and not, I now notice, fully encompassing me? My form resists me, and I find it uninviting. Pain is there to greet me, and it is no little thing. Still, curiosity drives me onward, and I groan as I come to myself. The warmth helps, but the pain is an ache, one that near forces me to try and move despite the pain such actions bring. It spikes as I shift, but as I do so, it calms again as I finish, leaving me with an uncomfortable, but not too bad, ache everywhere. I hear the splash of water. A shift of a leg makes enough, and I feel it leave the wet before another splash heralds its return. I open an eye to see a rocky surface, possibly the ceiling. I groan again as I move to try and sit up, only for a spike of agony to make me gasp and hiss, a sudden shift in balance making me slip further into the water and leave my head resting on the side of something. That’s the bed I was on I see in front of me. And as I continue to become aware, numbness fading away, I’m fairly sure I’m in some giant bucket of water. Bubbly water. “Falls?” I croak, finding my voice a touch weak. A few coughs later and I try again, “Falls!” …Nothing. Either he’s too far way to hear, or I’m being far too quiet for him to hear anyway. I don’t think I’m up to screaming for him, so I’m going to relax and wait instead. Shifting my head and very carefully lowering myself more into the water, I try and take stock of myself. I ache and the ache seems born of stillness based on the need to move. A good sign, as that means my body has healed enough to want to try moving again. My left hind leg still stings from my attempt to sit up, more so than any other leg as well. A tinge of irritation comes to mind as I recall Ebony was particularly rough with that one. She likely caused that. Based on how the wood of the bucket isn’t irritating or painful, I am likely growing my new chitin. I am not going to thank Ebony for that even if her ripping all the old off was likely the impetus for the new growth. The rest of me still feels weak and my wings remain firmly on my back. Not unexpected, as they are going to be the last thing to recover and will likely require me to shift at least twice, to one form and then back again, before they can recover. Still, I feel better. Last I remember… I was planning revenge. Now though, I wonder if I really should be doing so as I look for the little figurine Nugget gave me. …Still there. Good. As for the revenge via minotaur plan. If I were to do so at all, I would have to take care to ensure my old mistakes didn’t repeat. And then I would have to think of a new plan involving minotaur, because the ponies weren’t about to have another royal wedding and be far more cautious and aware of changeling infiltration otherwise. And because minotaur cannot fly and thus would have to climb the mountain. However, is it really the best thing for me to do? Wouldn’t chasing after revenge only be ultimately useless and possibly disastrous again? Given a new chance, I could just build a whole new life amongst the minotaur. Maybe I could find a happy and peaceful life amongst them for the rest of my life span and find some other way of life outside of being a changeling queen. Maybe I could simply forget that ponies humiliated me. That is was ponies who saw to my breaking. That it was ponies who slaughtered my precious children when they laid helpless and terrified in the dark of the night. Definitely a ‘minotaur storming Canterlot’ plan it is then. If I could have it so the minotaur did it willingly and supplied me with love in the process would be the icing on the cake. The look on their faces when they find out that the minotaur aren’t being mind controlled or manipulated would be glorious. I can already see it. Ponies are so stupid, so weak, so small. Earth ponies would crumple under them, magic would do nothing. And they’d never see a minotaur infiltrator coming. I chuckle as I imagine it, relaxing in the water, smiling. “Chrys?” Calls for mercy unanswered, their heroes humiliated and broken before them. “Chrys!” I jolt from my happy daydream and see Falls, grinning hugely as he enters. “Yer up!” he says, kneeling next to the bucket to get more no my level. I smile again, and I’m not totally sure why. “I was gettin real worried bout you.” “Were you?” I asked him, finding a rather unfamiliar concern, “Why?” “Ya slept fer a couple o days. Ya looked mighty troubled fer most o it too.” Falls tells me. “Ya kept on thrashin about.” A moment passes before he asks me, “Is something real wrong Chrys?” with sincere worry for me. I find his concern for me stunning, for some reason. I find I worry in turn, and wonder why, precisely, he so easily rouses emotion from me as I try to think what to tell him. I cannot describe the mind scape to him, his mind isolated and alone in perfection. At the same time, I don’t want to show weakness… or perhaps I don’t want to worry him farther. … “…I likely slept that long due to my healing.” I say. “I am recovering, but I was shattered before; and even healing is painful, due to that.” He nods, vaguely understanding, and… I didn’t like lying to him like that. “…Why am I in this bath?” I ask him, trying to ignore that dislike. “At first, cause ya needed one.” Falls tells me. “But when I got ya in, ya made a happy sigh an smiled, so I decided ta leave ya in. Yer enjoyin it, right?” … “Yes.” I tell him, sighing. It feels wrong to admit it, but I truly do enjoy this. More so, I trust Falls… I think. “That’s good.” He says, and he reaches towards me. I only idly wonder why, even when he reaches into the water to gently pick up one of my legs, holding it up to examine. The chitin is regrowing, my leg mostly black once again. I know it will be uncomfortable once it starts to truly return, but it is pleasant to see it doing so. Falls gently shifts it, and I wince a little in response. “Still hurt, huh?” he asks, and I sigh and nod. “I was shattered, Falls.” I repeat. “I am getting better, but my legs are still broken.” Falls nods, replacing my leg with a surprising gentleness. I wonder a moment, and then, thoughtful, ask, “What do you know about changeling queens, Falls?” He hesitates, and then says “Not much.” “I heard something that did, before. Who was that, and why did they know when you didn’t?” “That was Granma.” Falls tells me. “An she knows lots o stuff I don’t. Bet ya heard her yellin, but ya don’t have ta worry; we’re on yer side, an nothing’s gonna change that.” … I really need to get a grip on this ‘half’ love thing. I just felt Falls give me a bit of love. That was normal, if a touch surprising. I just felt me give him a bit of love, which is very not normal and I suddenly have a pressing need to figure out what’s going on with me. Thank the mother that Falls cannot sense emotions. “Could you ask her what she knows, and why?” I ask him, doing my best to ensure I’m not blushing or something equally stupid. My own voice sounded strange at the start of that… “Sure.” Falls says, nodding, and giving no indication he felt anything was strange, to my relief. “Any reason why?” he asks. There is a reason; it has to do with that great wave from before. But right now, I mostly have very vague ideas, and I don’t want to try to explain to Falls. “Curiosity.” I tell him, and take some refuge in that that wasn’t a strict lie; I am curious, and feel that knowing that might help me understand. He nods, and I tell him, “Get me back to bed and rewrap me; the water’s getting cold.” “I think ya forgot a word in there.” I hesitate, staring at him, confused. Forgot a word? “Come on Chrys, we went over this.” He says, and I feel a tinge of irritation; he has a vague disappointment mixed with amusement. “Th magic words!” he says, smiling. … “Please.” I say, feeling… I don’t even know! I can’t look him in the eyes and I don’t know the name for this feeling, but I don’t like it! “Please what?” Dear mother, no, stop! “Falls, stop!” I yell, wanting to cover my face with my hooves but finding that I can’t. Instead, I lean back, and stare at the ceiling. He only laughs, and repeats, “Please what, Chrys?” …I, I need to focus. He’s not being the worst thing ever; he’s trying to help me. This is the worst thing ever, but it’s supposed to help me. I hate it, I hate how it makes me feel, I hate that he can see what I’m feeling, and I really hate that stupid grin he has! It takes a little while, but, eventually, I manage to say, “Please get me back to the bed and rewrap me.” “There we go!” Falls says happily, which makes it worse in some ways as he gently grabs my barrel and lifts me up. “You did good Chrys!” “Stop. Please.” I mutter, again feeling that… This is terrible and horrible and the worst thing ever; I know what he wants and why he’s trying to be encouraging but it’s all horrible. And yet, somehow, it’s… nice? A good thing? Meant to help, and I… I don’t actually know how I feel about it anymore. At least once I’m dried and rewrapped, I can relax in some comfort. My pain is mostly gone; and I note I don’t like Falls leaving, though I remain silent as he does so. …The only bonds in the world I know of are love, and hate. Stronger, weaker, it doesn’t really matter; other than the occasional lack of any love or hate, all thinking things love or hate those they know. And yet, and yet, this… whatever it is I feel towards Falls is neither love nor hate. But what could it be? Why do I feel safe and comfortable around him? Why do I allow him to speak to me like he does, to force me to embarrass myself like he just did? Why was he so clearly determined to protect me? Why is he so clearly worried at the slightest hint of something troubling me? Why is he so determined to… reform me, I suppose; to help me not become the old scarred queen. It would be so, so easy to say it’s love, but that’s not true! I do not love Falls, and he does not love me! And yet, and yet, this, this thing is like love, close enough that I sometimes misidentify it, and yet, so different it’s silly to think it love. …Maybe it doesn’t matter. I’m almost able to stand on my own legs again. With Falls’… donation, I’ll be better much… By the mother, why am I embarrassed, thinking about that? …I don’t care anymore! Sleep, get back on my legs, and then I can bother with trying to understand this stupid thing! It will make much more sense once I am no longer helpless, I’m sure. …Pretty sure. I hope.