The world around me is emptiness. Not the emptiness of sleep, but a new form of emptiness. The sun is slowly rising and drifts across the sky, as though Celestia herself knows I have become Mouraiie and seeks to right this wrong. But that is just it.
The sun does nothing. The light on my hoof does nothing. The ceiling I stare at does nothing and the clock ticking on my wall does nothing. Nothing breathes in and out of me and I, too, do nothing.
I have not slept. My eyes have not closed. And yet, I feel as though I have fallen asleep and have been asleep for weeks now. Months. The instant my eyes closed was when that axe went through my love’s neck. The emotions I have felt have been merely fleeting dreams. Now, I am fully asleep and there is no waking up.
There is something interesting about the lack of sleep in my waking sleep. I have not had a nightmare. The change is welcome. I have had dreams upon dreams of my love dying, or myself dying, of worse things - and better - that cannot be classified as anything but nightmares. And yet… I have been released from that horror, at least for a day. Perhaps I have them still, but I do not realize. I feel nothing now.
It is a relief. But the taste fades in my mouth to ash. All tastes do now. Even the ash tastes… different. Like nothing. My world is so empty now. I realize now that it has been empty for such a very… very long time. It has only taken me this long to realize that simple, easy fact to accept. That I am empty.
I do not wish to get out of my bed. In fact, I know I should not. I feel very weak, albeit I do not care. I should rest and stay in bed. It will not help and I shall rot away to the ash I taste.
And I don’t care.
The holes in my body are much larger, I notice once more, my thoughts simply remarking on the fact over and over again as time drones on. My mane is piecemeal and my wings are wilted. They droop like the willow trees I have seen by the Everfree Forest on my few wanderings. I shift very slightly and see black dust turning white beneath my body. Am I molting? Or simply rotting away so soon?
It is odd. But I could not care less.
I watch the ceiling and do not shift for an indeterminate amount of time.
I am at peace.
*~*~*~
Maskra’s mind races the entire night through, and he is set on pacing out the extra buzzing in his skull that he’s unused to. But, he can feel exhaustion take over as Twilight goes to bed. With a sigh, he of course realizes that while he could stay up the whole night through, fretting and pacing would do him no good. He finds himself curling up at the floor of Twilight’s bed, resting his eyes and buzzing his wings lightly.
He dreams.
It is odd, now, to dream. As a drone, in the hive, his dreams were often shared, and rarely were they about anything but gathering. Harvesting. It was with Camille that it changed. It was when he felt those… those odd sparks of love that his mind began to separate from the Hive.
That strangeness only grew since his time spent in Equestria. At first, with Camille, his dreams had been… dark. Literally dark, in the sense of an empty mind. He hadn’t known what to dream. But then, in the darkness…
There were always flowers.
And, eventually, there was her.
At the Hive, they did not notice the lack of input from his mental buzzing. There was so much noise from even birth, and particularly the Joining ceremony, that a single changeling’s mind flickering out of the Hive was lost. He was of noble birth, from the Queen’s Clutch, and thus he found ease, shutting his mind off from the others. Other drones heard the buzzing all their lives, trained to shut the noise off…
But he lived in silence with his thoughts for so long. In silence… In dreams.
And then, the invasion… The horribleness. The sheer hatred in the air every instant. He felt the pain of every pony he had come to infiltrate the hearts of, every pony he had come to… to know.
Of the pony he had come to love.
How could he possibly stay connected to that buzzing? That droning? That… that hatred?
And so he severed his mind. He severed himself from them, severed his very identity and soul from that of the Hive and vowed to never go back. He lived in silence with his own thoughts, mind, consciousness. He thrived. Loved. Lived.
But now…
Now, his mind buzzes. Now, he can feel the buzzing in the air, faintly, and yet it is so loud because it is new. Because he can hear her.
You are unworthy. You should be dead. It should have been you.
His tastes sour.
You are unfit for this duty. You are weak. You are diseased. You are Mouraiie.
He shivers in his sleep, wings buzzing gently against his sides.
I know you can be a good queen.
When he wakes, it is morning, and he can hear his friend’s voice, like the last remnants of a good dream, fade in his mind as he hears a knock at the door. He stands promptly, seeing that Twilight is already awake. He takes a sharp breath inward and bows his head before changing into the all too familiar guard form he has come to take on for the past few months.
The Princess is here. He must not let his guard slip. He must protect His Queen.
‘His Queen’. Ha.
He could hear her once more. Despite severing himself, despite tearing himself away from who he had been and leaving behind everything he had ever known, despite living in the wonderful, tranquil silence he had come to love!...
He could hear her once more.
His form shifts over his body, and the tears he had shed with the dreams vanish along with the memory of his friend’s voice.
He has a Queen to protect. There is no time for tears now.
*~*~*~
The hoofsteps are loud and clatter throughout the room as ponies, this way and that, dart out of the way of the stallion. A few mutter minor curses at his rushing while others simply dust themselves off and move on. Only the nearby guards who wander the halls seem to take pause when he gallops past them, and those of the most intelligent breed have to question: just why is he in such a rush?
He is an unassuming looking stallion. His hair is white, possibly from age, with just a tint of a minty, faded green. It is short, kept tidy and clean, and his body is a too-dark umber shade, almost black instead, and his amber eyes are narrowed with a determined sheen to them. His cutie mark is of little interest, a simple shield with a crystal inlaid inside. He is a protector, clearly, someone born to protect the ones he loved.
That is why he gallops.
Ponies continue to dodge him, but soon, there are no ponies in his way, yet more guards watch him cautiously. After all, he is headed for a heavily secured area. The most secured area in the entire castle, actually, aside from the places Princess Celestia herself has wards on. This area is, of course, the throne room.
He nears the doors and stands tall, facing the two guards that stare him down. They look at each other and back at him. “I am here to speak with Princess Celestia,” he says, his deep voice steady and sure.
Both guards spread their wings in a way to show the inaccessibility of the room. “Day court had ended for the day,” the guard on the right says gruffly - through no fault of his own, but simply the way his voice has grown after so long of shouting affirmations to his commanding officers. “If you wish to speak with the Princess, you will need to return tomorrow.”
The stallion growls, a sound unheard of from the ponies in Canterlot. The guards both share a look of surprise. He digs his hoof into the tile, hearing the sharp clack of his hoof against the smooth surface. “I will see her. Now. You know not the importance of my calling.”
“We cannot let you speak with the Princess without a proper audience,” the guard on the left says next, growing defensive. Most ponies simply left. This pony was… different, somehow.
“How’s this for a proper audience, you foalish colts?” The stallion steps forward, hunkering down ever so slightly. “A diplomat currently living within the boards of Equestria is on her deathbed and you’re keeping me from discussing the issue with the only mare whom I trust to share the full details with.”
By now, he is in their faces, glaring at them as they tremble from the sheer power of his voice. It was the voice of a stallion with years - decades, no, centuries of experience in making soldiers just like them quiver in fear and obey his orders without the slightest hesitation. He stares them down, command in his eyes before it reaches his mouth. “Now. Let me speak with Princess Celestia.”
“S-She has retired to her room,” the guard on the left says, trembling. “Y-You will have to wait-”
“You’ve wasted enough of my time.” The stallion takes a step back, eyes narrowing. “If an enemy of Equestria is found in the middle of Canterlot Castle, you will have to discuss it with at least one of the princesses that seem to be everywhere in this kingdom. So I’ll get to talk to someone.”
In a flash of light, his disguise falls, his wings sharp and flared out behind him as he lifts his hoof, filled with holes that gradually seemed to be getting smaller these past few weeks, and his amber eyes shining with a challenge. “My name is Tskari. I am the General under the command of Queen Chrysalis. And I demand to see Princess Celestia.”
The guards look at each other before immediately drawing their spears. Tskari makes no move to run or flee. He stares them down and grins, his fangs glinting in the light of the windows around him. “Now this is more like it.”
*~*~*~
The situation is quickly explained the moment the door to Twilight’s closes. The sensation of love hits him in the same instant, powerful and overwhelming. He physically pauses, feeling breathless for a moment.
It is… It is wonderful. Terrifying. It fills him to the core, a burning, spicy taste that sends his heart beating faster, but a cooling, vanilla taste that eases the concern in his body. He drowns in it, wallows in love, he loses himself to the sensation for but a moment - a moment is all he allows because, deep within, the taste stirs something he had grown to forget was there.
Sorrow.
Camille.
He swallows the love and sorrow, letting the flavors mix as Twilight begins to share with Princess Cadance - yes, that was the name this princess went by - a small introduction of who he was. He could not focus on his love now. Time for that when his queen - not his anymore, he has to remind himself - was safe.
Maskra is uneasy to drop his disguise for the mare, especially given the past relations with her… But, surprisingly, Princess Cadance doesn't even flinch when he reveals his true form.
“Princess Celestia never said outright what she did with the changelings her sister captured,” she says softly, “but I always knew she kept them alive. She was distraught after what happened to the drone.”
Maskra nods. He had felt as much in the dungeons from Celestia. Her emotions were… strong, to say the least. “There are many others who chose to stay under the Princess’s rule. Some chose to wander outside the kingdoms instead. None chose to return to Chrysalis.”
Cadance nods, looking between Twilight and Maskra. “And you said in your letter that she’s sick?”
“More than sick,” Maskra says, impatient already with the explanations. “She is Mouraiie, a disease that claims Changelings who stifle emotions. They bond with one singular emotion until they can no longer feel any. Once those are gone, they fade to dust, feeling nothing.”
Cadance nods, concern evident in her eyes and in the air. It is a taste Maskra knows well. “And the emotion she bonded with was love.” She looks at him seriously. “But I thought changelings couldn't-”
“The rumors of our inability to love are evidently greatly exaggerated,” he says dryly. Twilight smiles sheepishly, likely due to the crassness of his response. It is of no matter to him, however; there are far more pressing concerns at the moment than etiquette. “She bonded with the changeling that was killed after the invasion. How do you plan to help? I highly doubt you’ve a talent for necromancy.”
Twilight looks uneasy by his tone, but he doesn’t care. He’s losing patience. It’s something he had in abundance when it was required, but time was not a luxury they had at this moment. They had to heal her, fast, if Changeling kind was ever to be unified with Pony kind.
Cadance seems to agree. “You’re right, I don’t. But there’s more than just romantic love in the world. We just need to help her feel love for other things and show her love in return. We need to surround her in it. She needs to know what she can get from Ponies, and that’s… well. Life.”
Maskra frowns. “And how do we do that? Simply having you around her will let her feel the emotion, but without meaning, it will just be ash.”
Cadance nods. “I considered that. I can explain on the way - we shouldn’t waste any time.” Maskra nods as well - that, at least, he knows for sure. They have to get moving.
Before this disease claims her.
*~*~*~
“Finally,” Tskari says, shifting lightly in his seat as the door opens, revealing not another guard, but a blue furred princess. Luna, then. He frowns when he sees she has not been followed. “Your sister isn’t showing up, then?”
“Silence.” Luna stares him down, nodding to the guards who opened the door. Some of her personal ones, judging from the variant armor they wore. They nod and close the door, leaving him alone with her. Tskari is plainly surprised by this, easily marked on his features. Luna smirks. “What? Didst thou not expect to see us alone?”
Oh, joy. He groans. “Drop the archaic language. I had enough of that with the old queen.” He sits up more in his chair, feeling the restraints on his hooves tug. “You’re obviously safe in here alone with me. My magic’s been dampened by this cheeky little toy on my horn, and I’m tied up. I’m flattered, really, but buy me dinner first.”
Clearly, humor is not what she was expecting. She blinks, processing what he said, seemingly at a lack for words. He just lets her process, relaxing again, sighing boredly. This isn’t what he wants. He wants Celestia, the lenient one, and not the one with trust issues. She shakes her head, finally coming to her senses. “We do not see how-”
“Look. Luna, right?” She stiffens at the informality of his tone. He sighs again. “I have very important business to discuss with your sister about Queen Chrysalis. I really don’t wish to wade through pleasantries of interrogation and the thees and thous.”
Luna blinks and glares at him. “... The guards have already discussed with me your claims.” He sits taller now that she seems to be receptive to his conversation. “You are the general of Chrysalis’s forces, meaning she has broken the terms of the peace acc-”
“I lied.”
She stutters to a stop, putting her raised hoof down. “I… you… What?”
Tskari shrugs as best he can with the restraints still on. “I lied. I retired from my position a little more than a month ago. I am no longer a servant of the Queen and thus I am here in Equestria of my own volition. There is no crime in a singular changeling taking a vacation.”
“But the threat-”
“-was entirely fabricated by the guards who I spoke with. I was arrested, but don’t worry, I don’t mind. It means I actually get to talk to someone official.” His eyes narrow. “Now, can we please discuss the bigger issue of Chrysie dying? Because that’s something I think we all want to avoid - if even just for political reasons for you.”
Luna watches him and her eyes narrow ever so slightly for a moment. “... Very well.” She knocks on the door with her wing. A grunt comes in reply from the lunar guard outside. “Fetch my sister, please. Tell her our guest and I shall be conducting a meeting in the throne room. It is of dire importance.”
“Yes, Princess.”
Tskari shivers as the cool touch of magic pulls his restraints and horn-dampener off. He rubs his hooves softly and stands quickly. “Happy I changed your mind, Luna.”
“You have not changed it.” Luna glares at him. “I still do not trust your motives, or Queen Chrysalis’s, for that matter.” She looks away. “But you clearly care for her as more than a servant, judging from the name you’ve called her. And you seem to be intelligent, at least. Her death would be tragic, and I detect no dishonesty in what you’ve said - despite your nature for falsehoods.”
“Glowing endorsement.”
“Come. We will discuss this with my sister.” Luna’s horn bursts in a flash of magic, and they are suddenly in the throne room. Tskari quickly gets his bearings, looking around rapidly. No danger.
Celestia arrives quickly. She seems unsurprised by Tskari as she walks in. Tskari, however, gasps immediately when he feels it - Luna looks over at him in confusion. He does not notice.
Emotion.
Pure, hot, heart-stopping emotion. His breath stutters to a stop for a moment and his eyes widen. He can sense it, feel it, breathe it, as it all surrounds him in a tidal wave of sensation. He feels, for the first time since he was but a hatchling, weak. He forces his hooves to remain steady as they start to tremble under the force of it all.
Concern. Alarm. Love. Confusion. Trust. Love. Confidence.
So much Love.
He gulps, staring at Celestia, wide eyed. He stands taller, out of respect and surprise. “Princess. My Queen is ill. She needs help.”
Celestia looks at him, directing her attention directly to him, and he struggles to stand tall over the curiosity in the air, the concern dripping off of her. He bows his head, what looks like respect, but is instead a sign of his weakness to this Alicorn’s range of feeling. Why was it affecting him this much? How could it be this powerful?
He feels sympathy in the air. “Please. Explain.” Celestia joins her sister, standing beside her, looking at her now - he can taste confusion, concern once more.
He gulps, keeping his eyes down. “It is a changeling disease. I should have caught it before she left, but I was too confident that I knew what was wrong. She can’t feel anything properly at the moment, and it’s causing her to starve herself.”
“Starve?” Celestia’s eyes widen and he struggles once more to remain steady under the feeling of all of her alarm. That emotion doesn’t fade. “Surely she is receiving love? I understand my little ponies are not the most understanding at times, but there is hardly a lack of love in Ponyville.”
“She isn’t getting any nourishment from the paltry stuff in the air. I can feel it. She’s just turning to ash. She’s clearly Mouraiie, and-”
The reaction is instantaneous. He can feel the dim glimmer of realization, then the full weight of alarm, shock, horror, grief, concern-
His legs buckle as he gasps, kneeling before her. He feels the slight concern from Luna, but god. He can’t breathe. He’s drowning. Celestia steps forward and says something, but he can hardly hear her over the flood of emotion that overtakes him. “H-How,” he chokes out, just making out his own voice. “How are you-”
Understanding. And, suddenly, it all just… feels so much less. He takes a breath. He looks up to see Celestia looking nervous. Feeling nervous. She takes a deep breath and he can feel sympathy. “I apologize. It has been a very, very long time since I have had to contain my emotions. I forget who I talk with.”
She offers a hoof and he gratefully takes it. He licks his lips, still tasting all of the emotions still freshly on his tongue. He looks up at her, questioningly. “How are you that powerful? How do you understand what you do to us?” He pauses. "How do you know what Mouraiie is?"
Celestia glances at him and then at Luna. Her sister seems surprised by the glance, as though they have shared something in that glance. Something secret. Something that had long since needed to be said. Celestia takes a deep breath, looking back to Tskari, and in the look he receives, he realizes this story is only beginning. The words he hears next confirm his suspicions.
“Do you remember Velouri?”
*~*~*~
I feel them before they arrive. This is… startling, I would normally say, in better circumstances. But for now, it is simply a variant of the norm. It is enough to make me turn in my bed, feeling my wings flutter weakly. It is another variant of the norm, as my wings have scarcely moved for hours.
I hear a knock at the door, but I do not have the energy to stand at the moment. I do not have the energy for anything. And yet, despite that, I yearn to stand. There is something I want and I cannot describe the drive that I feel. Part of me aches to move, while the rest of me simply aches.
Soon enough, the door swings open of its own accord. I hear the intruders - guests, I presume, enter. A part of me rankles at the intrusion. The feeling does not immediately escape me, but it, too, fades as I do. But I taste an odd taste. Something flavorful, compared to the ash, the nothingness that has coated my very being. Something… delicious. It fades, but at the same time, I feel a renewal. I shift again.
The hoofsteps come nearer. I see my own door swing open and I feel - my heart skips a beat and my wings twitch - I feel concern.
“My Queen,” a broken voice says. I know this voice. Masquerade. But, in a small burst of color, I know the voice better. “My Queen, you…” My changeling guard hisses softly, raising a wary hoof.
“Chrysalis. Oh, Celestia above, you… There’s so much…” That is Twilight. She has seen the white ash under my body, on the bed, from the holes that are disproportionately large, covering my body, littering it. I can feel, again, the concern in the air. I can taste it, just a little. What has caused this change? I watch as the third pony enters.
I feel my question is answered.
Cadance’s eyes widen as she sees me. “This… is worse than I thought.”
My eyes widen as I see her as well. It is for entirely different reasons.
My body tingles. I can feel the love in the air and, for the first time in weeks, a month? In years. I feel my yearning.
I want her love.