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// The Tear Bottle (Don't read, failed chapter) 
// Story: New Pony Tales 
// by Gabriel LaVedier 
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	Once upon a time there was a nation of lies. It was not like Equestria at all, even though it was ruled by a prince. The prince stayed out of sight, though made his will known through proclamations and laws that supported a large and very highly-insular noble class. The lower classes were made to think of their lot as acceptable. It was not because it was, but because they could ignore when things were not well. When the nobles needed something, it was given, and certain peasants vanished. It was peaceful, because none would complain with guards in the streets.
The Prince, a singularly cold and unpleasant unicorn, was so disconnected from all things commonly known as normal life that he regarded lesser ponies as not even ponies. His greatest tool in his contempt was another sign of his brutish coldness. He had used his guards to wipe out a community of Changelings that had been living inoffensively near his own land, sparing only a few of the new-hatched. Over time, he even rid himself of those, save for one that succeeded in the hard and unforgiving training that he had put him through.
The Changeling was educated, and taught to believe in the power of the Prince and the good of the state. He was told that the ponies were served by the state and the power of the great Prince. The most important aspect of all the propagandistic preparation of the Changeling's mind was never seeing the weakness of the Prince's supposed morals. He was always held up as a paragon, rather than the petty, cruel tyrant he really was. It was what let the Changeling serve as, according to the Prince, 'Right-Hoof of Justice' and believe it was so.
The Changeling was not wholly controlled, as all those trained in that direction had eventually gone mad and attempted to break free. He was allowed his habits and personal techniques, encouraged with a proper focus towards the end goal. His method used pressure and incapacitation, which left enough time for the one being killed to realize what was happening and forced tears from their eyes. The Changeling had the habit of letting those tears fall into a bottle he kept around his neck. His rationale was, “These are the last tainted drops of an evil soul pouring from a body. I will seal them away and stop them from tainting the world ever again.”
The requirements of the job were eclectic, as he was meant to be a representation of the Prince's power, yet also a sort of mysterious force that suggested truly supernatural power on the part of the prince. He took on different bodies in each task that was seen by the public, and his own form, dark and mysterious and unknown to the under-educated peasantry.
Some days he was a simple executioner, told he was exterminating dangerous radicals, never knowing he was eliminating nobles that could not muster enough favors to keep their holdings or who did not perform the same acts of entertainment as the great mass of others. Some days it was for entertainment, the eliminated innocents who displeased their employers or who were used to take the blame for wrongdoings of the nobility. Worst of all, peasants swept up or targeted at home for the crime of defiance of noble will, or for having holdings the nobles wanted or wanted out of the way of their own interests.
Through it all there was one solid lesson. The lower ponies were always selfish, interested only in themselves and were criminals that could never possibly care for anypony else. The transparent lie was supported by a careful control of targets and situations, ensuring that the Changeling was never exposed to contrary views. He was kept far away from the truth.
One careless mistake changed everything. A mare brought before the Prince, who had no knowledge of his ways, rejected his advances on the grounds that she still loved her husband, even though he was gone. Though he seethed, the Prince let her go. “My champion of justice, there is a task that must be done.”
“I obey, my righteous lord,” The Changeling said.
“You will be given the location of a mare, a dangerous spy and clear hazard to the land. She was here, attempting to force me to accept her advances but I was strong. I only today found the true danger she posed. She is hiding among the lower classes, plotting horrible things. She is crafty and skilled. You are the only one who could put her down without fear of destruction. It must be done quietly and discreetly. Can this be done?” The Prince asked, doing his best to appear honest.
“It can and will, most benevolent and just lord,” the Changeling replied, bowing down to the ground and wrapping himself in a disguise that would let him stalk the streets of the capital city, unnoticed in the crush of ponies. He was given the location of the mare, her description and a reminder of the rightness of his endeavor before he was set loose to do his duty.
He cut through the dirty streets of the city, constables nodding as they recognized the Prince's mark on his cloak. To others, he was just a strange unicorn in a ragged hooded-cloak, nothing unusual. Others ignored him, as they were good at ignoring all things, merely as a means of surviving. He pierced far into the heart of the low class hovels, to the place indicated. To the Changeling it seemed like the right place for a traitor to live.
There was no lock on the door, which barely seemed to be hanging onto the frame, though there was some noise as it opened. A clever means of appearing innocent while guarding security. He was too clever by far to be taken in by such a thing. He slipped into the poor place without making a further sound.
The internal space was very open, a simple large room arranged around a fire pit whose flame had long since gone out. Not even embers smouldered in the gray ash. The darkness within was barely banished by the sun pouring in through cracked or missing windows. Such cheap squalor, of course a villainous heart beat within, desperate to lash out at the great and pure Prince. There were few items, primarily scraps of cloth and small objects. Rickety stairs led up to a higher point in the building, but they were unimportant. The criminal was on the ground.
She was as described, a bright white pegasus mare with a powder blue mane, seemingly asleep atop a pile of battered pillows. Crafty. Dangerous. But even so, he had a job to do. The made his way across the room on silent hooves, preparing for a sudden strike from the mare. However, the spy was lacking, never coming up from her seeming slumber before his hooves were upon her. He struck at her throat and the sides of her neck with great force, stopping any alerting cries or attempts at spreading lies, and also building pressure in her head. Though she struggled, her end was inevitable. His bottle was already uncorked, the mouth slowly scraped up the trails of tears that fell from her large, frightened eyes. Evil always seemed to fear its own end.
His technique was unusual, but efficient. The end came swiftly. After the tears came the shadow. It was another elimination, like all the rest. Given the dangerous nature of the pony he had anticipated worse. A sound from the stairs charged his mind, and he yelled in his mind. Foolish! There was another, perhaps more! At least he would be laying down his life for a truly noble cause.
He turned, expecting armed warriors and found only a foal, a young pegasus colt with with a bright yellow coat and a powder blue mane. “Did... did you come to tell me what happened to daddy?”
The Changeling stood there, silent and stern, looking on the young pony with mistrust. Finally he asked, “What? What do you mean?”
“Mommy said the Prince didn't tell her. She went like he asked but when she came back she just put me to bed and cried. I could hear her,” The small colt said, looking to the still form of his mother, who was thankfully turned away.
“N-no... no, you are mistaken... small colt. This... no, you must be mistaking her for your mother. You are in the wrong house, I am sure. This mare came to the Prince with dangerous ideas. She was a spy.”
The colt turned around and ran upstairs. The Changeling was eager to follow, but the young one returned very quickly with a scroll held in his wing. “I saved this. Mommy wanted to throw it away but I liked it. It's really nice.”
The Changeling used his magic to bring the scroll over and unroll it. It was a royal summons. The Prince had always said such a thing was impossible to forge, and he knew the writing of his great lord. It was his work. It demanded that she come to the palace, for a discussion about her husband. “This... cannot be... right... wait... husband... father... you say that your father was connected to the palace?”
“The Prince told him and mommy to go because the guards had said something about them. She came back because he was supposed to get a job there. But he didn't come back,” The colt replied, looking down.
“And what did your father look like?” The Changeling asked.
“He was a pegasus. He was yellow, with a black mane, and a bee cutie mark,” The colt said, sniffling.
A week before. A dangerous radical caught destroying government property and trying to kill guards. His mouth had been tied shut because he would not stop screaming anti-government things. He did his duty. He did the right thing. “What did your mother say? Tell me what she said.”
The colt shrugged, and started to approach his mother's body. “Ask her. She was just really sad. I think she was scared too. She said that she wanted me to be safe.”
A hoof came out and restricted the colt's movement, the Changeling's mind swirling with doubt and confusion. Evil ponies couldn't love or care for another. Foals had to be raised by the state, by the rich who knew better and were more moral and upright. “You... should not see... I... found her like this.” Lies came easily to him, it seemed. Perhaps they always had. “She... was still crying. Crying over your father, and over what happened. I captured her tears in this bottle, because I did not want them to go to waste.”
The colt looked up at the stoppered bottle around the disguised Changeling's neck. “Can I... have it?”
The bottle came off without hesitation. Innocent tears had no place around the neck of a monster. “Her tears are inside. I...” He dashed off into the city, disguise dropping, ponies scurrying out of his way.
He did not stop for any guards at the palace, they knew better than to interrupt him on his way to the Prince's private chambers. He would normally have been performing some cruel act but he needed to hear from his champion. The room was reasonably opulent, made of marble all over, from floors to furnishings, because it was easy to clean. “You have returned! The deed then is...”
“Why was that mare living in misery with a child?” The Changeling demanded.
Silence reigned, the Prince's eyes going wide. “I do not... what? You are confused...”
“Why did I have to kill her husband? Why did I have to take a foal's father? I did it, you watched me and smiled as he fell to the floor and dropped his tears in my bottle,” The Changeling was panting, fangs exposed as he seethed.
The Prince sighed, affecting the look of a parent with a disobedient child. “You poor creature. Confused by lies. Children are trained to lie, to serve these evil creatures. They cannot love. It is all a lie.”
The Changeling hissed sharply. “You never said that before. You said all children were raised as wards of the state, for the good of it, and for the betterment of all. What else was a lie?”
“Don't speak to me like that!” The Prince demanded, lunging forward with his horn glowing.
The response was immediate and automatic, the Changeling's training too good to be anything else. He thrust out a hoof, stopping the Prince's breath in his throat. He began to gasp and gag, attempting to form words that would not come. “Don't look at me like that. You should have known it would happen. I was a tool for lies. You made me this thing. You made me this monster. You forced this on me!” More blows came in, putting the pressure in the Prince's head. “In the end you brought this on yourself. I do this for the real good of the state.”
Guards entered the chamber much later, finding the Prince alone, save for a large bundle that was quite familiar to them. “Shall we bear away that garbage, your highness?” One of them asked.
“Not yet. For now, summon my friends. I have something to discuss,” The supposed Prince said, thinking of how he could be rid of all the coming bodies. They wanted a monster for their own selfish uses? They had made a fine one. They would see just how fine.