Slow Falling Snow
It was cold, frigid even in Canterlot. It was the dead of winter and snow lay in drifts along the roadsides as a lone figure trudged along the black abandoned streets of the outer city, snow crunching under its hooves. It was a portion of town long forgotten, filled with abandoned buildings and over growing bushes, a land that most ponies had forgotten.
In fact, most ponies had even forgotten why it was abandoned; only that it was and nopony dared to tread there, nopony, but Midnight Sky. The small purple stallion pulled his crimson red scarf tighter around his neck to guard against the biting wind that blew through his mane and stung at his eyes. His sole source of light came from the violet glow of his horn which caused the snow to turn a ghastly color as he made his way down the empty streets.
He looked upwards towards the heavens, but found no light there, the blizzard that now engulfed the majority of Equestria had swallowed up both moon and stars alike. Snowflakes once again began falling by ones and twos, like fairies dancing in the winter winds.
He adjusted his steel framed glasses and once again trudged on, the cold air stung his throat and lungs as he continued to make his way through the deep drifts and banks of hard packed snow. Most other ponies would not dare be out in these conditions, Canterlot nobles least of all, but he did not brave these conditions by choice, but for necessity.
About two blocks down, he stopped and stood on the frozen ground; before him stood a large, dilapidated building, about four stories tall. The siding was chipping and crumbling, and a few windows were shattered causing the tattered curtains behind them to dance and billow in the wind. It had been a fine building in its day, the abode of a very wealthy family, now it was home to a single occupant.
Midnight walked down the short pathway to the main door. The snow was relatively shallow here which made the brief walk easier. He shuddered as he made his way; the branches of the gnarled, dead skeletons of the trees that lined the walkway seemed to be reaching out to grab him like the fingers of a monster. He was used to making this journey, but called it the longest thirty feet he had ever had to walk.
The tired pony let out a small sigh of relief upon reaching the large, wooden door. It was an impressive structure, dark brown, ancient looking, and filled with character. The seal of the previous occupants was ingrained upon it, a large shield with a lightning bolt adorning the center.
Midnight turned around and looked out over the landscape, as far as his light would let him see. He listened intently for nearly two minutes for any unnatural sounds or signs that he had been followed. However, there was nothing to be heard, but the whistle of the wind and the snow softly falling. A small smile formed on the edges of his mouth after he was satisfied that it was indeed safe for him to go inside. With a strained grunt and gritted teeth, he pushed open the hefty door, which creaked and groaned on its rusty hinges in protest. However, with the proper coaxing, it slowly, but not willing opened and allowed the pony to enter. Once inside, he closed it behind him with a loud boom, letting out an exasperated sigh. Outside, however, in the cold darkness of night, a branch snapped.
Inside, the old Gothic style home was just as dark and cold as the outside. Midnight strode across a large, red carpet with golden ivy trim towards a spiral staircase. Grey, marble statues of menacing dragons flanked it on both sides and the carpet continued up the ancient oaken steps. The stallion did not know to whom the mansion had belonged in the past, only, what dwelt here now. However, he guessed that the previous owner had had a flare for the dark. His reason for believing this of this was strengthened by the fact that dark red and black seemed to be the dominant colors in the house. The eerie gloom was only enhanced by the pale glow coming from the pony’s horn.
He made his way up the stairs in silence; the only sounds came from the muffled thump of his hooves on the carpet and the whistle of the wind blowing through the broken windows. Thankfully the staircase was not very tall and reached the top with ease. There, was found another door, though much smaller and lighter than the main entrance.
He produced an old key from underneath his scarf and slid it into the keyhole and turned it with his magic, the lock making a firm click in response. Midnight then turned the door handle with a creak, pushed the door open, and slipped inside, closing it behind him. There was a chain and padlock on the other side in addition to the door’s original locking mechanism, though it was not in place at the moment. It was relatively new; Midnight had actually put it there when he had first started frequenting this place, only a few months before. He once again slid the key into the lock and used his hoof to lock the door on the off chance that somepony, or more likely, something, decided to pay him an unwelcomed visit. Then he put the chain in place and slapped the padlock onto it, nodding in approval of a job well done.
It was here that he finally let out a sigh of relief. “Hearts Warming Eve Eve and I spend it in a place like this.” He said to himself. He took a moment to breath; the air was much warmer here and there was no draft; all of the windows on the second floor were intact.
He turned around and walked down the long corridor that lay before him. Again, it was very dark and it had the same red carpet that led from the doorway to the stairs. The walls were adorned with odd paintings of even stranger ponies or animals, as well as the occasional mirror or two. Midnight knew the way by heart and ceased using his illumination spell; he no longer needed it.
A left, a right, another left; he navigated the maze of halls and passages with ease. Eventually he found his way to a door on the right side of the hall. The yellow glow of a fire light danced in the crack between the door and the carpeted floor. He stopped in front of it and put his hoof to the door with a soft thump. It felt warmer than the surrounding air and hot air flowed out from under the door. It was gentle; it was welcoming and put butterflies in his inner core. The unicorn smiled. This was the reason that he had trekked this far in the freezing snow and stinging wind. This was…home.
He grabbed hold of the door handle and pushed it open with the creak of old hinges and stepped inside, closing the door gently behind him. He was instantly met with a rush of warm air against his coat and the sound of a crackling fire. He looked around the small room, it was mostly shadow, the sole source of light coming from the fire place along the back wall, the guard rails casting tooth like shadows across the bed chamber. In the left corner of the room, there was a small, neatly made bed with thick, warm blankets with a plaid pattern, made by earth ponies of some of the finest wool around. In front of the bed, single, dusty mirror framed in chestnut brown wood fashioned into a pair of wings hung over a long chest of drawers with brass drawer handles that glittered in the firelight. A few ancient jewelry boxes sat atop the impressive piece of furniture. Midnight knew not if they were empty or filled with a dazzling array gems and other treasures, for he had not been tempted to open them. In the right corner of the room, dark red curtains partitioned off a small dressing area. It was radically different than the rest of the house in terms of how it was decorated, and the warm, friendly feeling that one felt upon entering it.
Other than that, the room was bare except for a lone figure cloaked in a white blanket bundled up on a circular rug in front of the fireplace. There was a gentle slurping sound and cratered black hooves extended from the shroud to place a steaming cup of liquid in front of it, the porcelain making a chinking sound as it made contact with the brick floor in front of the hearth.
“Hello.” Midnight greeted in a soft and gentle voice, standing just a few feet behind the figure.
“It is about time you got here.” a mare’s voice giggled from underneath the shroud of blankets.
The unicorn stallion stood behind her with a warm and pleasant smile of his face, the reflection of the fire dancing across his glasses. The figure turned around to face him, the blanket pulled tightly over her head in a hood like manner. A chitin covered hoof pushed the hood back to reveal a pale bluish green mane that resembled silk, two gleaming white fangs fixed into a happy smile, a gnarled, crooked horn, and a pair of milky white eyes. It was enough to make the unicorn’s heart melt.
“The snow was deeper than I originally anticipated.” Midnight sighed, gingerly placing a hoof on the changeling’s cheek, looking warmly down at her. “At least you can make a proper fire, I just wish you would finally move in with me, you know how I feel about you living by yourself, and in a tenement no less.”
“You know why I cannot do that Midnight.” She sighed and placed one of her hooves over his. “If they discovered me, we’d both die.” It was a sad fact that ponies utterly despised changelings since the invasion of Canterlot. It hurt both of their hearts, knowing that a culture of fear of one another surrounded both species.
“I would rather die with you than have you die alone in this place.” Midnight said with conviction. “What if something were to happen? What if the roof were to give way? Or the floor? What if the fire gets out of control and you do not notice?” he lectured her, something that he was good at. Most would have found it annoying, but the changeling had accepted the fact that he was who he was and that there was nothing that she could say that would change that.
“I might be blind, Midnight, but I can take care of myself.” She said calmly. How many times had they had this conversation? More than she could remember. They had had it nearly every time they had seen each other since the day that they had met one another.
“I am aware….but that does not stop me from worrying about you, My Sweet.” He half whispered and flattened his ears.
“And you think that I do not worry about you, being cooped up in the palace all day, living in an apartment by yourself, one face in a million, living amongst ponies who are taught from day one that their city is the best, growing up in the lap of luxury and looking for any sign of weakness so that they can destroy it? Midnight, you are a sheep among timber wolves and you do not even realize it. The ponies that you are around might seem polite and proper to you, but only because you are from there. Canterlot is ruled by the classist elitists that will tear you apart in a heartbeat if they sense any dissent.”
“Yeah, I know. But over the years I’ve learned to wear a mask. I can do my duty to the Royal City, while hiding my disgust and utter contempt for its inhabitants. It is not for them that I work, I want to help bring a change about however I can. If it means mindlessly filing paperwork, then so be it.”
“Midnight…” the changeling went to say something but Midnight interrupted her.
“Silk…I’m loyal to the Princesses, I just want the common pony to have more of a say instead of the Royal Court being made up of fat, Canterlot elitists, is that too much to ask?”
“Yes, it’s a dangerous idea to have…the Princesses will likely never hear word of it before you are tried and hung for treason.”
“Indeed, that is possible….” Midnight turned his head away from her and looked down to the ground. “I’m such a hopeless romantic sometimes. I have dreams, but realistically, they are not feasible.”
“We all do, it’s called hope.” The changeling responded in a sweet, smooth voice. “Darn we sound sappy.” She giggled and took his hoof, smiling at him happily.
“Extremely.” Midnight chuckled, putting his free hoof around her as he lifted his head to stare into the fire. “We sound like Romeo and Juliet.” He let out a mock gag, despising the characters in that story with a fiery passion, despite the fact that he was sometimes a hopeless romantic, and the fact that, like those characters, his relationship with Silk was forbidden.
“Who?” Silk asked, leaning against the stallion’s shoulder, heart a flutter as she closed her ears and listened to his gentle heartbeat. Being raised in a changeling hive did not exactly translate into being familiar with pony stories, unless of course they happened to pick up on pony history and culture while out on food gathering missions. Silk, however, had never had that chance because of her disability.
Midnight, stumped by her ignorance of classical Equestrian literature, just turned his head to stare at her blankly, not sure if she was serious.
“I can feel your eyes on me….I’m supposed to know who they are aren’t I?” she asked, gripping her blanket in her cratered hooves. It was times like this, when her ignorance showed that she was reminded how her blindness had limited her as a larva and she felt useless.
“Have you heard of Hoovespear?” Midnight asked, arching an eyebrow in curiosity. He needed to know just how much needed to be explained to the changeling.
She nodded a few times before pausing and shaking her head, a slight tinge of red appearing over her chitin clad cheeks.
Midnight chuckled and pulled her in closer. “William Hoovespear was a famous writer from the time before Nightmare Moon. He is famous for his tragedies, one of which is the Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet.” He explained in his teacher voice. “As the story goes, the son of a noble from one family falls in love with the daughter of a noble from another family. However, the two noble families are the bitterest of enemies and forbid their contact.” He paused. “Anyway.” He waved his hoof. “They are both halfwits. Romeo becomes physically ill because he has fallen in love and Juliet is, quite honestly, no better. Sappy melodrama plays out until the story, thankfully, ends in both of their deaths when Juliet kills Romeo and then herself. Something about forbidden love and being together in the next life and all that nonsense.”
“…..That’s stupid.” Silk huffed after a short pause. “They could have runaway or something.” She said as if it should be the obvious solution to the fictional dilemma. “But love sickness is real.” She said in a matter of fact tone and nodded in affirmation, sitting back up to look up at Midnight.
“Wait….really?” Midnight asked, leaning back to look into her smiling face, arching his eyebrow, not entirely certain if she was serious or merely joking with him. She knew that he took things too literally.
“Oh, yes.” The changeling nodded, smiling brightly up at the colt, her fangs gleaming in the firelight. “It’s a serious condition that effects a large number of ponies.” She said in a mockingly scary voice, drawing a hoof down the stallion’s chest. After a short and absentminded pause her ears pricked up and a sly smirk appeared on her face. “And it’s very contagious.”
“Mmm, is it?” Midnight asked seductively, putting a hoof to his chin and smiled slyly, finally catching on to her little game.
“And, Midnight?” she whispered tantalizingly in his ear sending a shiver down the unicorn’s spine.
“Yes?” he squeaked nervously, uncertain of what was coming next.
“I have it!” she squealed and tackled the colt to the floor and nibbling on his neck and play biting his hooves when he tried to fend off the vicious attack.
The colt let out an ooff as his back was suddenly pressed to the floor. “Heheh! N-no!” he said through a serious of giggles. “St-stop! That tickles! Stop it!” he laughed and squirmed beneath the changeling that was now mauling him savagely.
After about thirty seconds of biting and nibbling, the changeling burst into laughter and rolled off of Midnight, who sat back up and chuckled, taking deep breaths and pushing his glasses back up his nose. “MUAHAHA!” the nonpony laughed evilly. “You’ve been infected!”
“Nuuuu! I’m dooooomed!” Midnight chuckled, closing his eyes and letting out a contented sigh, the changeling grinning and lying beside him.
“Haha! Now you have to do the most horrible thing imaginable! It’s the only cure!” he grinned and placed a firm hoof on Midnight’s chest.
“Oh heavens no!” Midnight let out a fake wail and threw his hooves up in complete disgust as the scene faded into black.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________
The changeling’s heart thumped inside her chitin covered body and she let out a long, yet contended sigh as she let his warmth wash over her, magnified by the thick covering of blankets that they were wrapped in. She wriggled her way deeper into the unicorn’s embrace and wrapped her hooves a little tighter around his thin neck, pressing their two frames together even further. His love was intoxicating, sweet ambrosia fit for a queen. Even if it were not her only source of food, even if she weren’t a changeling, she would still have desired it above all else and horded it like a dragon hordes treasure. She let out a contented coo as one of his hooves slid gently up her back and around her delicate and sensitive wing joints to scratch her behind her ear as if she were a cat.
“Silk?” he asked in a low voice, pulling the blankets a little tighter around them to keep them warm. The fire had burned down to a nice bed of coals and bathed the room in a faint red light that only seemed to magnify the crimson color of his eyes.
“Hmmm?” she purred and nuzzled his chest, her nose brushing against his soft fur.
“Why don’t other changelings have a mane but you do?” he asked curiously, moving a hoof through the silky strands thoughtfully.
“And here I thought you had some deep romantic statement you wanted to get off your chest.” She giggled without looking up. “It’s like the Royal Guard in a way; soldier changelings shave their manes off and groom their tails a certain way. It makes them look the same.”
“I see, I guess that that makes sense. Uniformity appears to be a trend in changeling society though.” The purple stallion remarked.
“It is….but it’s overrated.” She yawned, giving a momentary buzz from her insect like wings.
Minutes passed the couple by as they lay secure under their covers, the howling, angry swirling of the winter winds were just audible through the thick walls of the old home, but seemed to Midnight to be a dark and distant memory that had melted away with the warmth of the fire. They both lay conscious but silent and with warm, merry hearts as the night marched on. However, whether it was because of the blankets, or the fire, or the sappy idea of true love, the odd couple did not seem to notice the time slipping past them. A few hours went carelessly by before sleep wrapped his tender hooves about the minds of the changeling and her mate and the coals of the hearth burned down until they were naught but a pile of chalky grey ash.
It was almost dawn, and the snow was still falling hard outside when a crash and a bang ripped Midnight and Silk violently from the arms of pleasant dreams and dashed them against the cold, hard ground of reality once more. Midnight started with a jolt as if lightening had struck him and immediately sat upright, his heart lurching inside of his frame. Silk let out a frightened yelp and writhed down further into the covers, gripped in a panic.
All was quiet for a few moments and the purple stallion allowed himself to slip into false security and reasoning. “I think it’s just the wind.” He sighed, heart still pounding in his chest as he gently patted the large, shivering lump that lay next to him. Even if it was just the wind, he was still glad he had placed her on his left side and himself between her and the door.
However, at that moment there was a deafening crack and the sound of many angered voices yelling. The bedroom door was splintered and flew off of its hinges, making the couple’s worst nightmares spring to life before their very eyes and they were both gripped by terror, unable to move out of sheer fright. Eight Royal Guard ponies had filed in through the now unobstructed doorway, baring torches that gave their golden armor a savage and menacing red glow.
“In the name of the Princesses you are under arrest for harboring an enemy of the State!” a large unicorn bellowed.
Two earth pony guards rushed the bed just as Midnight, overcoming his initial shock attempted to cover Silk with his body. But before he even realized what he was doing, he was seized in an iron grip and slammed to the wooden floor, the air was knocked out of his lungs by the force of it. He was temporarily winded, but after maybe two or three seconds began to growl and struggle in protest as the earth pony guard held him down with sheer weight alone. The more Midnight struggled, the more pressure was exerted upon his slender body by the hulk of muscle and metal than had his forelegs twisted behind his back in order to bring him into submission. He thought that he was going to explode under the weight like a watermelon until he felt the shackles secure his forelegs and heard the distinct clink of the locks.
“Unhoof me! You can’t do thi-!” he went to protest until the butt of a spear slammed into his lower jaw, causing the colt to yell out in agony and sending his glasses flying off of his face and onto the floor in front of him. His jaw ached and he could feel the warm blood trickling out of his mouth, his head swam with the metallic taste of it as he lay there panting, now becoming aware of several spearheads being pointed at his head. From behind he felt the long, slender body of a spear press heavily down onto his neck, pressing his head to the floor, his mane covering his face and obstructing his already poor, unaided vision. He wiggled feebly in the firm grip of the guard and felt the second pair of shackles clasp firmly about his back hooves.
An armor clad hoof crushed the pair of glasses that lay in front of his battered muzzle. “Cutter, the Changeling.” The commander huffed and lifted Midnight’s head by his mane, looking into the colt’s crimson eyes with his own amber ones. “Bad colt, bad colt, whatcha gonna do now that we’ve got you?” he asked and let the colt’s head drop back down to the floor with a thump, sending a jolt of pain through the younger pony’s body.
One of the spear ponies saluted and, pike in hoof, proceeded to stab the bed in an animalistic and frenzied fashion. There was the sound of ripping fabric and the bed frame slamming against the floor. Cotton fluff and stuffing began pouring out of the mattress and onto the floor, and even floated about the room as the bed was gauged again and again and again.
Even the other guards seemed taken back by the savagery with which the bed was destroyed, the sheets shredded and the ancient frame broken and splintered. Yet in spite of this most horrific of sites, Midnight Sky shakily lifted his head and smiled as the brute of a guard stood back at attention with a clank of his heavy gold plated armor, his orders completed to the letter.
At first the commander did not understand what reason the colt had to smile. He glared down at as prisoner as if his very gaze would turn him into stone or cause him to burst into flames. But then, his features softened and the venomous, malicious glare was replaced by a look of shock and amazement. “She didn’t….” he looked with wide eyes from Midnight to the wall where the bed had lain and back again several times. “She did.” He growled under his breath.
Just behind the shattered hulk of wood and cloth that had once been the couple’s bed, a panel had been removed in the wall, revealing a large, square hole in the wall, just big enough for a small pony to slip through. An escape tunnel. The guards gathered around it and stood gawking for a few moments, they had been so sure that they had planned for every possible situation, but not this. The changeling mare could be anywhere in the house, or even city block by now.
“Shall we pursue Sir?” one of the guards asked, looking to his commander for guidance.
“Negative. We’ll take the prisoner and go.” He ordered, hoofs making a loud clumping noise on the floor as he made his way to the doorway.
“You cannot get away with this! I will tell them everything! I have a good lawyer! I have rights! Just wait until my trial! I’ll-“ Midnight’s rant was cut short by the guard commander whipping around and slamming his hooves onto the floor in front of the bound captive, causing him to flinch in fright. The commander gave a nod to his subordinates and they roughly grabbed Midnight and stood him up on his feet.
“You do not get it, do you son?” the guard commander asked, face only inches from his captive’s. It suddenly dawned on Midnight that he was old! Old and grey with a sly look about his eyes, like a pony that had long ago sold his soul and conscience. “Do you think Equestria is just magically as peaceful as it is? Do you honestly believe that the princesses and the Elements of Harmony are capable of keeping the citizens safe all on their own?” he waited a few seconds for the younger pony to respond, but Midnight had nothing to say; he simply waited for the guard to provide the answer to his own questions. “Of course not.” The elder stallion snorted and pulled away. “Every peaceful nation has troublemakers that want to destroy that peace. Beneath the sunshine and rainbow coated veneer of our beloved Equestria, there are forces at work that would undermine all we have accomplished and throw us into chaos.” He paused. “Naturally keeping order and tranquility sometimes comes with a lofty price and you have to get your hooves dirty. That’s what we do. We get our hooves stained so no pony else has to.”
“What are you getting at?” Midnight interrupted.
A sly smile appeared on his captor’s face. “You are familiar with ‘Black Ops’ yes? We remove those pesky obstacles to Equestria’s harmony that the public doesn’t see. We take out the trash for the princesses so to speak. We keep the gutters clean, life marches on, and no pony ever knows. As of now, you don’t exist. You never existed. Your replacement has already been employed.”
“If the princesses had any idea what you were doing-”
“They ordered us to hunt down threats to this country off the record. They trust my judgement and do not wish for me to trouble them with knitty gritty details. We were recently tasked with hunting down changelings, but here we have something even more detrimental to Equestria’s health….a sympathizer.”
Midnight hung his head in defeat. Feelings and memories welled up in him that had been raging and churning, pent up within him for so many years. Things he wished he would have done differently, things he wish he could have said, and things he only now realized upon reflection assaulted his mind. But above all else, he feared that Silk would be found and destroyed.
“Don’t worry. We won’t have to find her. Without a food source and in this cold, she’ll be dead within the week.”
The purple stallion gritted his teeth as anger, hatred, and rage boiled up within him. His cheeks flushed and tears began to stream down his face. His cheeks burned hot as if with fire and his eyes went wide, pupils dilated. With a manic yell of wrath he strained forward and cursed the guards to Tartarus. There was no curse in the tongues of Ponies, Zebras, or Changelings that could equate to the sheer bitterness and hell fire that flowed through him. Though, try as he might, the guards held him fast and with a nod from the commander, they dragged him kicking and screaming from the room.
Though his soldiers exited, the commander stayed in the room for a minute or two in silence. Slowly he walked over to the bed and surveyed the massive hole within the wall. “Perhaps in the next life….Luna help my wretched soul.” He sighed and walked away from the pair of milky white eyes that stared at him, pouring with tears. For the rest of the night the house was filled with the soft mournful sobbing from a broken heart.
Outside, in the Equestria we ponies know and love, nothing had changed. The ground was still being covered in a blanket of slow falling snow.