//------------------------------// // Choice // Story: A Change of Heart // by Silver Malice //------------------------------// Mandrake brought Hemlock back to his chambers just as Chrysalis and Wicker were finishing up their own relaxation time. The queen nuzzled her young son affectionately while Wicker saluted the elder changeling who returned the gesture swiftly. Mandrake was not one to stay in one place long, his duties and the needs of the hive were never over. As he turned to leave Chrysalis approached the older changeling and they whispered to one another. As they conversed silently Hemlock bumped into Wicker’s leg. Wicker peered down to see how tired his son clearly was. The poor thing was swiveling back and forth on shaky legs, his eyes half closed. “Alright Hem why we don’t get you to bed,” leaning his neck down he gently gave the young prince a nudge with his snout. Hemlock didn’t even bother to complain, he was too sleepy and his head was full of too many conflicting thoughts. “So, what did you and Mandrake discuss tonight Hem?” inquired Wicker, his interest piqued with how quiet Hemlock was being. Normally the little sprite was a handful to put to bed, and yet he was quiet as a mute right now. “Oh um Mandrake just kind of told me, where we come from...and why we have no hearts.” The young changeling looked almost downtrodden as he crawled slowly towards his hammock. “Oh,” began Wicker, a bit taken by surprise at that. “Why would he possibly do that for? You’re way too young to know that yet.” Hemlock could only stare uneasy at him, guilt and worry splashed across his young face. His bright green eyes hardly flashed once. “I kind of told him how Juniper and I were pretending to be Thorax vs. mom,” he said dejectedly. Wicker gave a grimace. “Oh yeah, that would do it alright,” he gently stroked his hoof across Hemlock’s top mane. “Mom and Mandrake really hate Thorax don’t they?” whispered Hemlock pushing into his father’s hoof. Leaning his body against the older changelings leg for the comfort and support the limb provided. “Yes they do,” stated Wicker holding his son close. “They both feel a lot of anger and betrayal towards him.” Wicker himself had seen Chrysalis fume for days just by mentioning Thorax’s name, her rants and destructive mood swings often frightened the entire hive. “But I don’t hate him,” squeaked Hemlock. The young prince was overly conflicted by his feelings toward Thorax, his half brother. The attitudes of his mother and Mandrake towards his brother also greatly conflicted how he should feel. It felt like he was being forced to pick sides he didn’t want to pick. To him they were all family, and having one set of members hating the other only made Hemlock feel like he was being caught in the middle. “Of course not Hem, there’s no hatred in you...I’d like to think those are my genes honestly, given your mother,” whimpered Wicker. The captain knew all too well that his mate had a very... conflicting personality , even at the best of times. “Your mother feels angry and betrayed by Thorax stealing her throne and her subjects, while Mandrake...Mandrake feels betrayed by his son and angry at the natural order of things being flipped upside down.” Wicker continued his stroking of Hemlock’s mane soothingly. He could sense through their hive mind the feelings of uncertainty and unhappiness still deep in the young princeling. “Mandrake said Thorax and the others were trying to corrupt me, to turn me against the hive...against you and mom,” whimpered Hemlock fearfully, the old elder’s words coming back to him. “He said that Thorax and his new order were not changelings like us, that they were ashamed of being changeling and they’d make me ashamed of being changeling too.” Tears began to swell in his eyes as the young prince hugged his father’s leg even tighter.”I don’t want to hate myself, or my family dad. I don’t want to hate you.” Wicker gently pulled his son from his leg, bringing his head down to stare into the young one’s eyes. “That’s a load of milkweed my son, no one could ever make one with strength like yours do anything you didn’t want to...I can vouch for that.” Wicker shuddered as he briefly thought of the numerous times he had been injured and or broken something trying to get Hemlock to stay in line. “But Mandrake said Thorax was a her-her-heretic,” he squeaked. “That he and the others were not like us and are ashamed to be changelings.” “Nonsense Hemlock,” Wicker hefted himself into the cocoon hammock dangling his hooves over the side. With a flash of green energy he ignited his horn and lifted Hemlock with his magic until the young colt was sitting on his lap, looking up at him with wide eyes. Hemlock had yet to master levitation but his father was a pro at it. Just a result of having to use it almost every day with Hemlock on his hooves while his mother ruled the Hive. “Just because Thorax and the others look different from us, act different and yes--even have different values, it does not mean they are any less changeling than you or I.” “B-b-but Mandrake...” began Hemlock shakily, his words catching due to the sobs in his throat. “Mandrake and you’re mother are wrong son,” stated Wicker firmly. “Mandrake is...old school. To him there is only one way changelings must look and act, same with your mother. They both hold to a system and hierarchy that has lasted centuries, one they helped to establish.” Wicker paused a moment to sigh, realizing he had finally become the lesson delivering father cliché he had often mocked when he was Hemlock’s age. It was funny how life could go full circle like that sometimes. “Yeah but dad, that is...that is really stupid,” mocked Hemlock his eyes lighting up with a green glow as he looked up at Wicker. “I mean that is really childish right?” Wicker could only grin as he chuckled slowly. Right out of the mouth of foals as it were. “Yes my son it is, but they have their reasons as well,” says Wicker. “Remember you and I were born into this civilization. For us, it is all we know, but your mom and Mandrake—“Wicker trailed off as his eyes closed, searching in his mind for the best way to explain this to a young colt “—they grew up in a different world, and had to watch it collapse around them.” Hemlock perked up at that his eyes wide as he digested his father’s words. “R-really?” “Yes, your mom and Mandrake watched everything they knew, their entire civilization fall, and then they had to build everything anew.” Wicker adjusted his stance on the hammock as he prepared to continue. “They had to do many distasteful things to survive Hem, to protect their people.” Wicker looked away from his son, the memories of his own horrific actions stabbing into his heart. “We all have.” He had stopped crying over the memories a long time ago, but that didn’t mean the urge to cry had ever truly left him. “One way we rationalize it, is by justifying our actions by our nature.” “Why?”was the prince’s innocent reply. It was amazing how such a simple statement could make Wicker seize up with tension. “Because, otherwise my son...all you are left with is nightmares and guilt,” grunted his father dejectedly. Below him Hemlock could feel his father’s conflicting emotions through their bond, the hive link stronger with their close proximity. He could feel darkness and sadness and guilt mingling together in a ball of angst and worry. His father was hurting and he couldn’t understand why. Wicker however, was ready to continue on his own as he breathed deep before starting. “It shames Mandrake and your mother about what they have done, and so they cling to our nature to excuse their guilt away.” “Mandrake told me that we should be what we are and there is no shame in that,” stated Hemlock replaying the elder’s words back in his head. “He’s half right son. You should never be ashamed of what you are, or who you are—“ Wicker nodded while he stroked his hoof across the young princes cheek, “—But that doesn’t mean what you are will be who you are.” “I don’t understand dad.” “It means Hemlock that while you are a changeling; you don’t have to let that be your only identity. You are a prince, an alpha...you are more than a mindless ravenous love eater.” Wicker saw he was getting somewhere when he noticed the intense look of concentration on Hem’s face. Hemlock was indeed lost in thought, his father’s words making sense to him. It was sort of how he liked to jump into mud and be dirty despite his parents always telling him he had to be clean...or how he liked being with Juniper, a changeling who was seen as lesser than him, because she was merely a drone. He may be a prince but that didn’t mean he wasn’t any less a changeling right? “Neither our biology nor nature defines who we are and what we do; only our choices show our true selves...”continued Wicker proudly. “ Don’t let someone tell you how you must act or behave my son, even here in the hive...individuality is not a curse, it is a gift. Such gifts are to be cherished.” “Even if it angers those closest to you?” asked Hemlock thinking back to Mandrake and his mother. They could get pretty nasty when they were angry. “Part of being a king and a mature stallion is standing up for what you believe is right, even if others don’t agree,” finished Wicker. Hemlock thought on his words for minute before he smiled pushing himself onto Wicker to give him a big hug. “How’d you get so wise dad?” he inquired. “Just life my son,” Wicker grinned as he hopped off the hammock allowing Hemlock to have the sling all for himself. Gripping the gryphon feathered pillow he brought it under the prince’s head while his magic levitated the knitted leaf blanket up around hemlock’s shoulder. “When you spend a few years being a follower you start to appreciate the idea of self choice.” A thought flew into Hemlock’s mind as he remembered the sadness and guilt in his father’s mind. “Umm dad?” he began shortly, waiting until he saw his father’s attention focused on him alone. “Have you ever done bad things, like mom and Mandrake?” The question would have made a younger Wicker just turn away from his son. However, he had grown since then. The changeling captain no longer feared or hid from his past, instead he embraced it. It would always be a part of his life, but only as something to learn from and to better himself. “I have son yes...and not a day goes by that I don’t regret them.” His gaze remained firm as he stared into the youngsters eyes. “I have done many terrible things, but I have also done some good things, and that is a solace I can fall back on when I need to.” “What kind of good things” wonder aloud Hemlock tucking himself into the feather pillow while he let the leaf blanket be perfectly content with the warmth it provided him. “Well if I had to pick my greatest...it would be you,” smiled Wicker, leaning down to kiss Hemlock on the forehead. “Goodnight son,” he whispered into his ears. Hemlock pressed his muzzle to his dad’s as he gave him a lick across the cheek. “Goodnight dad.” Wicker flicked his horn to turn down the illumination crystals in the walls, the light dimming until it was barely noticeable, darkness permeating the sleeping cubby. Giving a final smile Wicker left Hemlock to his sleep, wondering what his own father would think if he could see him now. In his bed Hemlock rolled onto his side smiling in his sleep as his dreams were filled with bright colored changelings, chasing one another through the sky...right before jumping into some mud.