The garden was quiet as Blankety slowly followed in step with Care. Statues stood cloaked in shadow, illuminated at the edges by the residual light of the gala. The monument known as Justice glared down at him, its face impassive, its scales carefully balanced. His nostrils flared at the harsh mintiness of Care’s mingled nervousness and preparedness. His ears burned as Queen Chrysalis II gave him every ounce of her attention, questions and confusion bombarding him as they thundered through her heart.
“Where did you go?” Chrysalis asked, her voice strained, her disguised pink eyes pleading. “I thought for sure you were dead! Especially when you didn’t…”
Blankety Blank shut his eyes, trying and failing to hide his heart from the onslaught of pain. Spice and salt, both poured on a burning wound. Disbelief and denial, doing their all to defend from a startling realization.
“Why didn’t you come back, Mandible?” she whispered.
Blank turned away, his ears drooping. “I—I couldn’t. Not after seeing everything Queen Chrysalis—”
“I killed her, Mandible!” Chrysalis sobbed, gulping down breaths where she could. “I killed her and it was safe and you could have come back!”
Blankety flinched at the bite in her voice and the fire in her heart.
“I…” Chrysalis shrunk in on herself, her wings shivering against her back. “I’m all alone.”
He nearly choked on his tongue. He opened his mouth slowly, hesitantly, certain of what needed to be said but unsure of whether he ought to say it just yet.
“Th-the others don’t understand friendship,” she said. “I don’t really get it, either. I need help, Blankety. I need you back. You were there. You saw how Thorax changed everything.” Tears dripped down her cheeks in unconstrained streams. “I don’t know how to do it. I don’t understand. Nobody can find his hive to ask him.” She reached a cloven hoof out for him, hoping to touch his cheek. “Can’t you help me?”
Blank stopped her hoof midway. “Lissie. If I could, don’t you think I’d have d-done it by now?”
“B-but together—”
“I can’t.” Blankety moved away from her, to stand beside Care. Captain Carrot looked at him with her eyebrows low, weighing the conversation as carefully as Justice behind them. “After what happened, I—I can’t help the changelings, Lissie, because—”
There it was. Potent as poison. Vile as bile. Tucked so tightly into one corner of his heart that it couldn’t be removed without shattering it. Wedged so firmly into his soul that he could never untangle the knots.
“Lissie, I hate the changelings. I hate them so much it hurts.”
The reaction from Care was expected, yet still strong enough to be noticed above his own churning stomach. Surprise, confusion, a little anger, even. Her thoughts could be sorted through. Her emotions would find a center, from which she could glean strength.
Chrysalis, on the other hoof…
“What?” Her disguised, slitted pupils shrunk. Her face fell. But what he could see was only the surface effects of her emotions. Within, radiating from her heart, was pure, unbridled brokenness.
She saw truth, and didn’t like it one bit.
“Blankety…” Care placed a hoof on his shoulder. “Captain Obvious, here, but you are a changeling. A good one. And I think the queen is, too—”
“I know, Care. I know.” He thumped a hoof against his chest. “I know! And it tears me up whenever I think about it! Whenever I look into my reflection, I see a face that has committed atrocities! Do you know what it’s like to hate everything about yourself? To see yourself in the mirror and know it’s wrong, despised, pure evil? I ran as far as I could as soon as I got the chance, because I can’t handle it!”
The volcano erupted, and was just as quickly quenched. The magma of his anger hissed to a cold stone. He turned his eyes to the ground, away from the shock on Care’s face. “Th-that’s why I couldn’t go back. The only way I could live with myself was… was to throw m-my old life away. Become a pony in every way I could. Reject my given name, my g-given face, and become something better.”
He looked at Chrysalis with a sigh. “Do you know what it’s like to hate yourself more than anything else in the world?”
His heart sank. Chrysalis glared at him with fire behind her eyes. He jaw clenched tightly behind the carapace of her mouth. She hissed out her words clearly, carefully, enunciating every word so that he would never miss their meaning. “Why do you think I killed my mother? Because every time I looked at her, I could only see what she had done to make me.”
She stomped a hoof feebly, and put the strength in her voice rather than her muscles. “I came here because I know the changelings can become better than what my mother transformed them into. We can become a people again, and rise above the evil we’ve become. We can matter again.”
He sat in the soft grass, his disguised white tail falling in line with his hind leg. He bowed his head, his throat tight. “The creatures you rule are the same changelings that fought against Thorax.”
Chrysalis II jerked her head back. “H-how do you know?”
“First, because you’re too young to have children.” Blankety Blank shook his head. “Second, because Queen Chrysalis scraped the barrel dry when building her new hive. She found all the changelings she could, sent us to war, and left us an endangered species. Your subjects are all as guilty as she is.”
“They were confused.” Chrysalis spread her wings, her tail lashing behind her. “But we can lead them on if you just help me.”
Blankety’s dry tongue rasped against the top of his mouth. “I’m sorry.”
Chrysalis stumbled back as though he had kicked her in the chest. He supposed she felt like he had. She scowled, her face twisting into a frightful Nightmare Night mask of teeth and anger. “I wish you had died! At least then I’d still miss you!”
She ran deeper into the garden. In the sky, Blank noted a Royal Guardspony team hovering after her, keeping an eye on her activities without interfering. He suspected they’d seen more than they’d bargained for.
“Blankety…” Care grasped his shoulder and shook it. “Blank, what the heck was that?”
Blank turned away. “Care—”
“All the talk we’ve had of family. After everything you said to me ab—”
“Care, please.”
“You’re just gonna sit there and deny the people who need you—”
“Shut! Up!”
“She’s your family, Blank!” Care prevented him from pulling away by tightening her grip on his shoulder. She thrust her other foreleg out to point at the garden. “That’s what family looks like when it gets hurt! She needs you and you’re just gonna—”
“You’re my family, Care!” He grasped at the collar of her jacket in the hopes of getting a little more breathing room. He couldn’t quite push her back. “You, and Daring, and Celestia. You are more of a family than the changelings will ever be. The changelings are a curse.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about this?”
“Everybody who hears about it tries to fix it.” He whispered, keeping his words away from potential prying eyes. “You can’t fix loathing this deep, Care; this personal. I’ve seen the evil changelings do. The lying, thievery, murder, extortion, treason, r—worse. I had to run.”
Care released him. He slumped back, surprised that she’d basically been supporting his weight. She clicked her tongue. “All peoples have individuals guilty of that sort of thing, Blank. It’s not just the changelings.”
“But what have the changelings done,” he asked, “besides those things?”
“You saved Celestia’s life and mine.” She prodded his chest with her horn. “Thorax started a movement that is still having effects today. Queen Chrysalis the Second…” Care looked after the departed queen, who had long ago vanished into the greenery. “She’s trying to change the world.”
Care’s ears twitched as she searched his pinkish eyes. “Are you gonna make her do it alone?”
“No.” Blank licked his lips. “But she’ll d-do it without me.”
Care opened her mouth to speak, but apparently thought better of it. She sighed, closing her eyes and standing. She cast one last glance after the queen. “We should get back to the party.”
She gave him a lingering, pointed look. “And get ready for our mission.”
When they returned, the changeling soldiers were waiting. The bigger one, with the missing eye, growled under his breath. “We felt the torment. What did you do to our queen?”
“I told her…” Blank coughed. His first instinct was to lash out at Commander Bugly, but cooler heads prevailed. “I told her I c-couldn’t help you.”
Bugly and the other soldier shared a silent conversation. Bugly waved at Blankety to carry on. “I guess there wasn’t much to hope for from a deserter.”
“I d-didn’t desert.” Blank hissed. “I was n-nearly murdered. By. You.”
Bugly’s ear twitched. He brushed at the eyepatch strapped to his head. “The death of Chrysalis the Tyrant freed us from a lot of things, Mandible. But I still don’t like you.”
He and his fellow soldier ran into the garden, pursuing their queen in the hopes of comforting her. Judging from Bugly’s track record in such things, they had a rocky road ahead of them.
Care laid a soft foreleg over his back. “It’ll be quieter in the balcony.”
Blank nodded and followed her up the stairs. He wallowed silently in his thoughts, wishing for all the world that he could still be dead to Lissie.
***
Queen Chrysalis II huddled beside a towering hedge, curled up in a ball of misery and tears. She could sense the two Equestrian guards above her, and the two changelings searching her out, but didn’t reveal herself. Not just yet. She had earned a moment of alone time. A moment where she didn’t have to explain herself. A moment where she could just be tired, and scared, and sorry.
She didn’t mean what she said, there at the end. She didn’t want Mandible to be dead. She was glad he had a life he felt good living. But… Couldn’t she be part of it, too?
Voices startled her out of her reverie. She shrunk back against the leaves and branches, rejecting the instinct to disguise herself as a plant. It would be too much work to get her current disguise exactly right again. She didn’t dare showcase her true self. Not even one bit.
She saw a couple walking slowly through the flowers and trees. Their tails intertwined, her wing on his back, their faces cheek to cheek. Love blossomed between them, and just the ambient aroma of it nearly overwhelmed Chrysalis. She allowed it to seep in, steady her core, offer some semblance of relief. Truly, if such love existed, the world could not be such a terrible place.
“I think we should throw more galas in the Crystal Empire,” the stallion said. “You know; the kind of parties just busy enough to not notice that we’ve slipped away.”
“Oh come on, you saw what happened in Ponyville,” the mare—the alicorn mare—replied. “If we start overbudgeting for parties, all of Equestria will notice just how far you’ll go for a good ‘inconvenience.’”
The fragile peace within Chrysalis shattered. She stepped out from her hiding spot, ready to run as far away from the happy couple as she could. But, unfortunately, she underestimated their closeness. She came out nearly right in their line of sight. At first their jaws dropped as their conversation ground to a halt, but then the stallion offered a hoof.
“Um. Hello! I’m Prince Shining Armor.” He grinned at her, the sort of way a dad grins at a terrible joke, or a child grins when they’re about to eat too much ice cream. “I don’t think we’ve formally met, Your Majesty.”
She looked into his eyes, sensed the depths of his heart, and immediately understood that everything ponies said about him was true. In those blue wells of magic lay an immense quiet strength. A power kept carefully in check. An assurance that it could and would help the needy, save the oppressed, and fight the oppressor. At the same moment, there was a softness to it; a genuine gentleness that could be trusted without fear. A heart willing to believe the best in others. A voice welcoming to those he once considered an enemy.
She couldn’t stand it any longer. She looked to the mare beside him, who glowed with a immensely powerful aura of kindness and mercy. Though buffeted by lingering anger and deep hurt, she contained those behind a cage made of love. Cadence, too, was willing to put aside her pain for the sake of Chrysalis II. “And I’m Princess Cadenza. But you already knew that.”
“You two are wonderful ponies,” Chrysalis said, and immediately regretted it. That wasn’t a greeting; that was a lovesick little filly grasping at warmth. “I-I would… Love to talk with you, but… I have, um, somewhere I was going.”
“Do you know the way?” Shining Armor said. “We could probably help you find it quicker.”
“I’m fine!” Chrysalis trotted her way between the hedges, not daring to look back. “I have a map and stuff, so yeah.”
“But—” Cadence pointed. “That’s the hedge maze.”
“Yeah, I’ve wanted to see it since I got here!” Chrysalis waved. “Thanks for all the help, bye!”
She was hopelessly lost within moments. Just as well. She could always fly out once she felt better, and until then, she had no danger of being discovered. This deep in the maze, there was no light from the moon overhead, nor from the gala several meters away. Instead, she found her path lit by bioluminescent flowers, shimmering a soft blue. Just like Shining Armor’s eyes.
She lay down in the midst of the maze and covered her face with a foreleg. Light still leaked through the holes in her shin. Love still bloomed all around her. But none of the love was for her. None of the light warmed her. There was silence and there were tears.
“You are so much greater than they.”
Chrysalis gasped at the sudden intrusion on her privacy. The thoughts were spoken directly into her heart, not a word uttered, not a sound heard. The maze seemed so much colder than before, the flowers’ illumination lacking. “Who’s there?”
“Speak as a changeling speaks, child.” The voice buzzed within her chest, solemn and purposeful. “Speak with the heart, and the thoughts, that lie deep within your soul.”
Chrysalis swallowed hard. She spoke with the heart, humming with the power of her magic. “Who are you, and why do you speak to me?”
One of the flowers danced without a single touch of wind. The blue light dimmed and flickered, before it was finally snuffed out. The flower slumped to the ground, no longer filled with life, no longer strong in the stem. Yet still, though it was dead, it twitched. Magic sparkled around it, hoisting it with what appeared to be a great effort. Before Chrysalis could react, the flower stood upright, glowing from the core with a brilliant green.
Chrysalis II tasted the magic with the edge of her tongue. The flowers around her remained the same, with their natural, innate magic bursting from within. The flower that had died… the magic was wrong. Sickly, weak, damaged, uncertain. Yet at the same time, it felt quite familiar. It shared many of its qualities with changeling magic. Not transformation, but the other, more invasive methods of using it.
You worry for the changelings. As befits one who would be their leader.” The voice spoke from the flower to her heart, a steady buzz that did little to rise and fall as most voices would. A monotone, if thoughts could be such a thing. “You, Chrysalis the Second, who would seek help from the most powerful creatures in the world.”
“I have delayed it too long.” Chrysalis tilted her head to examine the flower from every angle. No water stiffened the stem. No sugar was created within the chlorophyll. The petal browned at the edges. “Soon we will be extinct, and no one will miss us. I had to approach Princess Celestia for aid.”
“The ponies will not help you. Not as they should.” The flower seemed to wilt before gathering up its strength. “They see the changelings not as their own nation, but a people to be added to theirs. Too dangerous to be left alone. Too useful to reject. You will save the changelings, but leave them in slavery.”
“What choice do I have?” Chrysalis spoke aloud, quietly so as not to let her voice break through the hedges. “Of course the changelings will be a protectorate of Equestria. We aren’t a self-sustaining people. We rely on others for our food, our magic, our lives. Our only hope is friendship and protection.”
“You do not understand, do you?” Magic flared from the flower. Sparks trailed through the air, drawing a lined afterimage. Chrysalis held her tongue as a face appeared before her; aged and angled, yet all too familiar. “The changelings were made to rule.”
It was the face of a changeling. Not her mother, as her mother would never have depicted herself as anything but utterly beautiful. This face was aged, wizened, far older than any changeling Chrysalis had ever seen. She couldn’t see the eyes in the afterimage, but the mouth gave her all the expression she needed; the ghostly changeling was disappointed.
“Who are you?” Chrysalis asked, returning the conversation to a heart-to-heart.
The face did not change expression, nor did the mouth move. “I am Queen River Cicada of the Changeling Empire. I am the first in the lineage of Changeling Queens, and your ancestor.”
“You!” Chrysalis leapt to her hooves with righteous fury, ready to stamp the flower into the dust. “You started the whole thing, didn’t you? The kidnappings, and the impersonations, and the murd—”
“Silence! Learn what I have to teach!” The head flared with magic, just enough to cut Chrysalis short. “I come from a time before such things were necessary for sheer survival. I come from a time when changelings were hailed as heroes. As protectors. As lords of the age.”
Chrysalis spread her wings. “How could this be?”
“Because, my child,” Cicada said, “we wielded the Elements of Harmony.”
Chrysalis’ heart burned. Her head swam. Her hooves itched. “Why should I believe you?”
Cicada’s eyeless pits bored into Chrysalis’ head. She wanted more than anything to shout, to look away, to flee, but found herself rooted as firmly as the flowers. “You need only look at how the Princesses of Equestria so easily cover up our accomplishments. Go to the ruined Palace of the Royal Pony Sisters and look beneath, and there you will find the evidence of our greatest achievements.”
For the first time since she’d first spoken, Cicada’s voice lowered, softened. The head melted away in a shower of sparks, and the flower flickered. “You are the last hope for the changelings now, child. The last Changeling Queen. The last chance for us to grow beyond the chains the ponies have lashed around our ankles. The last light to once again regain the glory of the Elements. Go!”
The flower fell limp and dark, dead and decayed, browned and spotted.
“My Queen!” Bugly rounded the corner with Scarabaeus in tow. “We have searched everywhere for you. Why would you wander off?”
“I needed… time to think.” Chrysalis glanced down at the flower, which already seemed to fade into the dirt from whence it came. “I think… I am ready to rejoin the gala.”
Scarabaeus saluted. “My Queen, should we ask for Mandible to be escorted out?”
“I don’t think that will be necessary.” Chrysalis II looked up to see the two Royal Guardsponies had also found her. “I believe I shall be spending the evening in conversation with Princess Celestia.” She narrowed her eyes, fighting off the pain that threatened to send her heart off balance once again. “I have a lot of questions to ask.”
***
Martial Paw took a seat beside Rainbow Dash and found that the table was far more populated than it had been a few moments before. He recognized the dragon as Princess Sparkle’s assistant, but the others were strangers. Their eyes turned to face him, briefly widening before glancing to Rainbow.
“Whoa, didn’t know it was gonna be that kinda party!” Rainbow Dash propped herself on her forelegs and grinned at the young ponies. “What brings you here, Rumble? I’ll bet you’ve got a certain somepony hanging off your arm.”
The muscular pegasus she dubbed “Rumble” stared at her with a blank expression. Before the dumb look on his face grew too obvious, Applejack leaned in and put her hoof on his shoulder. “They’re here on account of that business we’re talkin’ ‘bout over dinner, Dash. Ain’t exactly fun and games on the plate tonight.”
Spike nodded, giving the tall mare by his side a sidelong hug. “We’re joining Aunt Yearling on her next mission. It’s gotten… kinda personal. Applejack and Rarity’ll explain it later.”
“Hold up, now.” Martial Paw raised a talon, shaking it ever so slightly. “You’re joining our mission? Who decided this?”
A brown-coated colt—possibly around Rumble’s age—narrowed his eyes. “May we ask who you are?”
Rainbow Dash leaped up to hover over the table. “Okay, too tense, guys. Introductions are in order! Left to right: Apple Bloom, Spike, Rumble, Mutton Hash.”
“Button Mash.”
“Sorry, dude.”
Button Mash shrugged. “I’ve been called worse.”
Rumble, obviously greatly amused, hid a smirk behind his hoof. “Like what?”
“Butt ’n’ Trash was popular on the playground.”
“And this—” Rainbow Dash laid a hoof on the joint of Martial’s wing. “—is Martial Paw. A.K. Yearling’s cartographer, bodyguard, pre-reader, and professional worrywart.”
“I don’t get paid to worry.” Martial steepled his talons. “And yet I worry. What sort of credentials are you bringing to the mission? Who brought you onboard?”
Spike the Dragon glanced around. Not finding who he was looking for, he turned back to Martial. “Captain Care Carrot invited us after a little cajoling. Know her?”
Martial leaned back and raised an eyebrow. “I’ve heard the name but haven’t a face to put to it.”
“Well, she’s the field commander for the rescue.” Spike crossed his forearms over his chest, subtly flexing his muscles and his authority. “So she’s got final say on the issue.”
“Final say, perhaps.” Martial leaned his right foreleg on the table and clicked his beak. “But I have yet to share my say.”
“Easy does it, Marty,” Rainbow Dash said, chuckling lightly. “These are good kids. I’d trust any of them with my life.” She turned an unsteady eye to Rumble and Button Mash. “Well… Half of them. A quarter of them. Maybe.”
Applejack stuffed a caramel tart into her mouth before putting in her two bits. “My little sis is not only strong as all get out, but also a wiz when it comes to potion makin’ and the like. And Rumble just got through a year’s trainin’ for bein’ a Royal Guard.”
Rarity dabbed a handkerchief to the corners of her eyes. “I have it on good authority that Button Mash makes for a rather dashing first-aid responder. And let us not discount the fact that dear Spikey-Wikey is a dragon, with all that it entails.”
Martial Paw rubbed the gold buttons on his cufflinks. He spent a brief moment marveling at the utter sincerity in her voice when she said “Spikey-Wikey.” With anybody else, he suspected the name would have sounded condescending, rather than genuinely loving. “I admit that we have yet to be truly introduced. I suppose I’ll save my judgement.”
Button Mash tilted his head, his eyes turned upward. “Yeah, but first impressions last forever.”
Martial frowned at the colt. Button’s voice was rather nasally; almost grating. “While true, impressions aren’t everything.”
His ear twitched at a sound beside him. Rainbow Dash had grown inordinately quiet in the last few moments. Frightfully so. Not even a thrown remark, or clever retort, or anything else passed her lips. She looked at the tabletop dourly, her eyes unfocused, her lips parted.
He touched a knuckle to her foreleg. “Is everything alright, Rainbow?”
She jolted as if out of a dream. She grinned at him, with the sort of grin that didn’t quite match what her heart was feeling. With her ears lowered, she pushed her chair back a step. “I think I need some air. I’ll be right back.”
Martial stood alongside her. “M-might I accompany you to the garden?”
“Uh.” Rainbow Dash clicked her teeth shut, maintaining the same synthesized smile. “Sure. Why not. Knock yourself out.”
Applejack mirrored Rainbow’s expression. Her eyes, tired as they were, held a barrel’s worth of sympathy. “Don’t suppose you’ll need a chaperone?”
“Ha ha, no.” Rainbow Dash trotted towards the doors, which led to the outside and cool night air. “I promise, I’ll be right back.”
Martial’s wings itched to fly to wherever they were going. If only to hear what Rainbow had to say; if only to end the agonizing question. Instead, he followed wordlessly, plodding along softly beside her.
She was a tall mare, powerfully built for speed and endurance. Full wings folded across her back. Sturdy hooves clomped firmly against the marbled floor. Yet despite how strong she was, her face was still soft. Kindness lay beneath that strength, leveling it out and lending a firm foundation. Her blue coat was cut short to minimize wind resistance, but the mane was far less carefully managed. She let it run mostly wild down her neck, right to her shoulders.
He supposed the most striking feature, the one that drew his eyes every time, was the way the green streak in her mane curled just beneath her ear. It was a small detail, and yet so uniquely her that he couldn’t help but love it.
There was a stone bench a short walk into the garden, covered in flowering vines. She took a seat on one end, and he at the other. She watched the stars twinkle for a length of time that was both far too long and far too short. “So, I got a question.”
He let the edge of his mouth quirk upward. “I’ll bet I have an answer.”
“Yeah.” Rainbow nodded, her voice and face neutral. “Your mission.”
Martial felt his smile slip away almost unnoticed. “What about it?”
“Spike said it was a rescue.” Rainbow Dash nodded, as if affirming her comment. “He’s here with the other two most adequate bachelors of Ponyville, yet there’s only one Crusader. Applejack and Rares know about it, but don’t wanna talk about it right now.”
She laid her head in her hooves, her voice breaking. “Marty, did something happen to Scootaloo? T-to Sweetie Belle? Is that what this is all about?”
“I don’t know any specifics.” He held out two empty talons. “All I know is that two young mares were kidnapped, Caballeron is behind it, and we are going to stop him.”
When Rainbow didn’t respond, he scooched closer and cupped her shoulders in his talons. “I promise I’ll let no harm come to them.”
“I know. I know you’ll save them.” Rainbow shivered under his touch. She pulled away, and he let his talons drop. She squirmed a bit, fiddling with her hooves. “Marty… I’m sorry, Marty, but if…”
She tried to look him in the eye, but fell away almost immediately. “Martial, if you’re trying to do what I think you’re trying to do… don’t.”
Martial felt his entire body burn from the depths of his soul outward. Not of anger, but of defeat. Embarrassment. Agony. “D-don’t do what?” he said, already guessing at the answer.
“Asking me to dance, trying to comfort me, being all lovey-dovey…” Rainbow Dash shook her head. “Marty, you’re an awesome guy. Not a single doubt in my mind. You’re cool and you’re fun and you’re adventurous and all that.”
Martial felt his bones shrink; as if they were disintegrating into dust right within his body. His heart plummeted. Words tumbled into his mouth, but he refused to release them. He knew that if he were to speak, it would be exactly the wrong thing.
“I’m not…” Rainbow Dash rubbed her foreleg with a hoof. “I’m not the romantic sort, Marty. Never have been. I’m not looking for it, thinking about it, anything. It’s not that you’re not totally wicked, I’m just not interested. In anybody. I’m invested in the Wonderbolts and acting and I’m totally going to publish that book one of these days, and…”
Her voice grew quiet. Her blue cheeks flared up with a warm velvet color. “I’m sorry. The last thing I wanna do is break your heart, but I don’t wanna offer you false hopes.”
She finally met his eyes. There were tears in hers. They matched fairly well with his, if he thought about it. She rested a hoof on his forearm—all too briefly—and muttered a goodbye. She returned to the gala by air, making her way into the top floor of the ballroom.
Martial Paw sat on the bench and cleared his mind. He breathed in deep, but when he let it out, it forced its way into a single sob. He covered his eyes, wiping away hot tears and forcing calmness upon himself. He sought a happy place, desperately. A center of peace. A good memory.
Ah, there was one helping Dash on her first movie set. Lovely! Oh, there was the first time he and Dash had met, over the snake pit. Darling! And who could forget just two years before, when he’d been able to visit her home in Ponyville…
“Sheesha kevatch!” He slammed his fist down on the stone, landing a feeble paft sound with the blow. “Kevatch…”
The clink of metal stole his attention. He turned slightly bitter eyes on his newly arrived company. His beak fell open at the sight.
Crested Barbary, Captain of Andean Ursagryph’s personal Praetorian Guard of Blitzwings, stood at attention not a meter away.
Martial gripped the edge of the bench, scratching his talons into the stone. “I’m sorry. I usually try to be out of town when the king visits.”
Crested Barbary, to his credit, remained professional in his outward mannerisms. “His Grace would like to have a word with you.”
“Now isn’t the best time—”
“There may not be another time, Martial.” Crested looked him up and down. “Certainly not if you have your way.”
Martial Paw clicked his beak, rubbing the skin beneath his eye in the hopes of becoming the least bit presentable to the public. False hopes. “Until now, I had thought he wished the same.”
Crested touched his talon to the pommel of the sword at his side. “Life is not a stagnate thing. It moves, flows, changes, and grows. People are much the same.”
Martial stood up and stretched his wings. “Is that Haycartes?”
“Hardly. Haycartes was more invested in the relation between the soul and the world around it, rather than how the soul may change.” Crested came alongside Martial and walked him slowly back to the gala. “You haven’t been keeping up with your studies, have you?”
“I’m afraid my arena of thought drifts more towards the turn of the millennium than the turn of the century.”
“Understandable, considering the company you keep.” Crested’s gaze lowered to the grass before laying itself upon the doorway. “You are happy here, aren’t you?”
Martial ached at the very core of his being, but had to admit the truth. “I am, for the most part. Daring is… well, just about all I have left to love.”
Crested Barbary held the door open for Martial. “I’m sorry.”
Martial turned his head to the side to look Barbary eye-to-eye. “I’m sorry about a great many things, but leaving Felaccia isn’t one of them.”
“Of course not.” Crested scowled lightly and pointed. “I feel that’s the problem.”
Martial followed the path of his talon and caught sight of two large pillars on the far side of the room. A few ponies milled around, but the vast majority kept their distance. A black feather swished its way out of the shadows and into sight.
He picked out six Blitzwings on first glance, placed at perfect intervals at the ready to pounce on any corner of the ballroom. He had missed them completely the first time he’d entered, blinded as he was by Rainbow Dash’s radiance. How stupid. How utterly stupid.
He weaved between clumps of dancers and around conversationalists on his way to the king. Ponies barely gave him notice, concerned as they were with their own troubles. His heartbeat quickened as he neared the pillars; amazing for it to be brought back to life so soon after he thought it dead.
He paused just before seeing the king. He took stock of the surroundings. There were multiple ponies in earshot. High-society types, of the sort a mayor would invite to a fundraising gala. Ponies expecting a lovely, relaxing evening. Certainly King Andean Ursagryph wouldn’t cause a scene in the midst of such a crowd. Certainly he’d know better. There had to be another reason to call Martial to him.
Right?
Martial Paw sighed and rounded the pillar. He craned his neck to see the familiar, well-worn face of his one-time king. “Hello, Uncle Andy.”
King Andean Ursagryph set down his plate of various desserts. He shuffled himself into a more comfortable position, ruffling the feathers in his wings and beard. “Martial. I was afraid you wouldn’t come.”
“I’m here now.” Martial fought to keep his voice level. Free from emotion. Calm. He wasn’t going to be the one to escalate the encounter into a shouting match. “What did you wish to say?”
Martial caught a flash of something in Andean’s eyes. A faint pain, just on the edge of his awareness. A twinge of an old wound.
“I imagine,” Andean said, “that there is not much left to say.” He tapped a talon against the ground, his eyebrows meeting in the middle of his bald forehead. “I suppose I just… wanted to make sure you were well.”
Martial had no real answer for that. He waited, his throat tight.
Andean nodded, answering some unstated internal question. He fished around in a bag strapped to his side, one just beside the meters-long broadsword sheathed along his flank. He produced a small metallic object and held it out.
Martial took the offered device. A weapon, like a miniaturized volleygun. Thought the main body was crafted from Griffon Wootz Steel, the handle was polished wood. The barrel of the weapon rotated around a center pin, with four openings facing forward. The entire thing fit comfortably in the palm of his talon.
“We call it a Turner Thirty-Eight—to honor A.K. Yearling’s fallen friend.” Andean Ursagryph’s voice took on a low rumble as he continued. “He pioneered the use of multiple rounds before a reload was required. This holds four shots at a time. To ready the next, merely rotate the barrel ninety degrees.” He then handed Martial a smaller bag, this one holding rounds and sparkpowder. “Princess Luna will know how to contact me if you run out.”
Martial couldn’t look away from the gift. He barely found the breath to speak. “You knew you’d see me today.”
“I had hoped to see you during our meeting this afternoon, but you had other matters to attend to.” Andean lifted his heft from the ground. He backed up a few steps, nodding to Crested Barbary. The Captain of the Praetorian Guard lifted a talon, and the Blitzwings vanished one by one out the door. Andean regarded Martial with a bow at the neck. “Your father misses you.”
“And I miss him.” Martial tucked the turner and the ammo bag into his belt. He furrowed his brow and half-spread his wings, uncertain of what else to say. “Stella and Corona must have grown quite a bit, haven’t they?”
“Aye. As have you.” Andean ground his beak lightly. He briefly held it shut with a talon before adding: “As have I.”
He paused a moment longer, his ears drooping, before he found the strength to speak again. “I hope this aids you in some way. In any way. It is what my Fayr would have wanted for you, given the circumstances.”
Martial toyed with the hilt of his rapier. “Aunt Fayr was always the best of us.”
“Your father said as much.” He prowled softly through the gala, to avoid tripping over ponies or knocking over tables. “I’ll trouble you no longer.”
Martial Paw stood alone between the pillars of the ballroom. He held a talon to his chest to slow his heartbeat. Tears threatened to burst forth anew. From the rejection, from the meeting with his uncle, and from some as yet unremembered pain. The ever-present ache would not go away, and he had no idea how he might heal it. Where to even start?
A reddish-orange hoof tapped his shoulder. He glanced down to see a unicorn mare in a soldier’s dress uniform. She bobbed her head in greeting and spoke just above the soft themes played by the quartet. “Martial Paw, Dr. Yearling wants us to meet her in her guest room at the castle. We have some things to go over before we head out tomorrow.”
He nodded with all the strength and certainty of a wet noodle. His voice was a painful croak. “Captain Carrot, I presume.”
“That would be me, yeah.”
“The pleasure’s mine.” The edges of his beak scraped against each other as he examined the middle-distance. “Tell her I’ll be along in a moment.”
“Alright.” Care called over her shoulder as she trotted away. “See you there!”
“I would say so,” Martial said, grabbing a confection from Andean’s abandoned dessert tray. “I would say so.”