Bugs
Even though he was sitting in the sun, Sundance shivered. The sisters had spoken at length about bugs. Changelings. And not just any changelings, but special changelings, ones that had been modified—changelings that could now breed. Even worse, the sisters had to know his thoughts, how he felt about all of this, which made everything complicated. Yet, even knowing his mind, his thoughts, his revulsion, his hesitation, the sisters were all smiles, and moved among their subjects as if there was absolutely nothing wrong.
The exchange—a brief one—had relayed the basic facts. Changelings, victims of Queen Chrysalis' cruel tyranny, had been modified; this left them unable to breed, and with no way to propagate their species, they faced a crisis of extinction. What precious eggs that were recovered were slowly hatched in small batches—but these eggs were almost gone. Brilliant minds had been put to work, and Princess Celestia had mentioned one by name: Doctor Honey Dew. Sundance would be meeting with her at some point in the future, but he knew not when.
The changelings had been freed from the cruel yoke of slavery, and with the freedom to reproduce again, the final shackle of bondage had been severed. They were now a species no longer dependent upon their cruel queen. A species with an uncertain future. The sisters had made their desires quite clear: a protector was needed so that this fledgling species could establish themselves in safety.
More would be known come summer.
For now, he had time to think. To ponder. Time to consider. He’d been told that he could say no without worry of consequences, and while he believed that to be true, he would still have to live with himself. Even if the sisters did nothing to punish him for refusing them, he would most certainly berate himself. His sense of duty and his sense of revulsion were now at war, with the outcome unknown.
A game of volleyball was played; a makeshift net had been set up and now, a fierce battle took place. Corduroy was among them and her long arms gave her quite an unfair advantage. No magic was allowed, just heads, wings, and hooves for the ponies present. Unicorns were at a distinct disadvantage, due to the pointy magic-dispensing organ protruding from their foreheads. A prick with a sharp horn would pop the ball, a dreadful outcome that nopony wanted.
Drink flowed. Good Spirits had rolled several casks of aged cider out of the barn cave to serve the thirsty masses. Away in a cellar, speaking about bugs, Sundance had missed Prince Gosling making a big to-do and cracking jokes about how it was his duty to tap bungholes. Sundance felt alone in a crowd, mostly because everypony was having a fantastic time, all while he was wrestling with his own thoughts.
“You look troubled.”
Pulled from his thoughts, he turned to look at Skyla. She too, sat at the table, and it appeared as though she’d recovered from whatever it was that was bothering her earlier. Skyla had spent much of her time here working, which meant that he hadn't had a chance to get to know her better, at least not as much as he’d hoped. But, there was still time—like right now.
“Feeling better?”
“Yes, actually.” The filly took a moment to adjust her dark glasses. “I get headaches. Bad ones. For all kinds of reasons. Anxiety makes the worst ones happen. Plus, I think being away from home does bad things to me. The Crystal Heart is powerful, and we don’t really understand it. There is also the fact that I derive all of my power from the love my subjects have for me, and being away from the place I was meant to rule leaves me rather weak and powerless.”
“That sounds… complicated,” he replied.
“You have no idea,” she said in return. “It’s complicated being an alicorn. At least, one like me. Does it surprise you that I get headaches? Or need glasses? Do my weaknesses and my anxiety confuse you?”
“Just a little,” he confessed.
She drew in a deep breath before saying, “Alicorns aren’t perfect creatures. Not even my aunts. Aunt Celestia is an obsessive-compulsive introvert with multiple observable anxiety disorders. As for Aunt Luna, she cycles through personalities in much the same way the moon goes through phases and shifts. She has highs and lows aplenty. My sister, Flurry, sure, she’s nigh-invulnerable—she fulfills that alicorn stereotype—but she’s also got the brains of a brick.”
Half-scowling, half-smiling, she continued, “I’d give anything to be as tough as my sister. She’s been frozen solid in a block of ice by ice orcs. Once, an ogre smashed her with a club. Flurry was a little woozy after that, and one of her friends, Nutmeg, beat the ogre to death with its own club.”
“Huh? His own club? Really?”
“Nutmeg. Megara. One of the founding members of the Wipe-Outs. Manticore spawn. Registered meta-creature. Her cutie mark is a severed teddy bear head. For some reason still unknown, Nutmeg derives strength from friendship, so she’s stronger with friends. When fully powered up, she is terrifying. You know, I think the two of you would get along together.”
Hearing this caused a soft reset in Sundance’s mind. Make friends with a manticore? He blinked as his brain balked at the very idea. Manticores were monsters. It was one thing to make friends with a diamond dog—but a manticore? Yet, clearly this manticore had friends. She even gained strength from having them. Was this a matter of his own prejudices working against him? He thought of the conversation in the cellar and shrank a bit, pulling his wings tight against his sides while his neck sagged.
“Nutmeg is the Manticore-at-Arms for Lulamoon Hollow.” Now thoughtful, almost smiling, Skyla sat rubbing her fuzzy chin with one slender hoof while staring right at Sundance. “The two of you should meet. I sense a compatible relationship.”
Just what did that mean, anyhow? Compatible relationship? Was this some sort of alicorn thing, or was Skyla a busybody? He wasn’t sure he liked how he was being sized up at the moment, and he’d seen that same intense expression on the face of Princess Celestia. After a moment of intense discomfort, he made peace with it. This was simply what alicorns did, he decided, and being friends with them, being on good terms with them, meant being subjected to this—whatever this was.
Friendship with alicorns meant never being comfortable ever again.
With a resigned sigh and a nod, he said to Skyla, “I’d like to meet your friend.” The words horrified him even as they left his mouth. A manticore? Really? What was he getting himself into? A challenging friendship, potentially. He reconsidered, thoughtful for a time, and reminded himself that being friends with Corduroy had worked out extraordinarily well.
Corduroy was his best friend, his confidant, and the creature he trusted most.
It could be said that a diamond dog was a pony’s best possible friend…
So why not a manticore?
Or changelings.
The mere thought of alien, insectoid, shapeshifting mutant bughorse creatures caused him to have violent, spastic shudders. How many movies had he watched where the villainous changelings did awful, unspeakable things to ponies? Once, he’d watched a flick where the horrible bughorse mutants had laid their eggs inside of a paralysed pony, who was then devoured from the inside by changeling larvae.
Which now that he thought about it, didn’t make a lot of sense.
Changelings could not breed. Without Queen Chrysalis, no new eggs had been laid for over a decade. Sundance wasn’t even sure how long. His brain suggested that as was the case with diamond dogs, the movies played and preyed upon his persistent fears as a pony. Which meant that his fear of bugs was conditioned. Were his feelings even his own? Could hatred be manufactured? Created in some awful fear factory in the form of film strips and melodramatic radio plays? A hot sense of defiance bubbled within him, and it felt very much like a boiling mudpit down in his guts.
But still…
Bugs.
When confronted with his prejudice about diamond dogs, he’d slowly come around.
“You look like you’re having a tough time,” Skyla remarked.
“I am,” Sundance was quick to say, though he cringed at the idea of sharing his thoughts aloud. Plus, he wasn’t supposed to talk about this just yet, and a variety of reasons compelled his dutiful silence.
“I assure you, Nutmeg is very nice.” Then, she added, “Well, unless you’re a mook. She gets that from her father. What is it with meta-equines and their innate dislike of mooks? Sunburst thinks it has something to do with their rejection of mediocrity, a compulsion made physical. My father, he’s a comic book nerd, and he says it’s because mooks are just plain unlikeable, which is why they are mooks. Daring Do says that mooks are victims of circumstance. I don’t know where I stand on the issue just yet. Clearly, mooks are a symptom of society, a manifestation of some fault in the system, and the fact that we have them suggests that something needs to change. My dad says otherwise though.” Her expression turned deadpan and her ears splayed out sideways. “Mooks aren’t just there for the meta-equines to beat up on. He’s wrong.”
For whatever reason, Sundance thought of Hollyhock. She wasn’t a mook, not by a longshot, but society had failed her in some vague way that he had trouble putting into words. No matter what his mother might say or think, Hollyhock was a victim, a creature to be pitied and helped, so that she might get better. His mother, Officer Mom, would suggest prison, or some horrific penal colony. But Hollyhock seemed to be making the most of her second chance here at the barony, even if he didn’t particularly like her at times. He didn’t have to like her, he just had to do right by her, and so he would.
“You know, Nutmeg has had some trouble finding a mate.” Scary, keen intelligence glittered in Skyla’s eyes now, cold, calculating cunning a magnitude greater than the common pony. “You should try dating. See if there are sparks.”
This drew Sundance out of his stupour. “Dating?”
“Yes.” Skyla nodded and a maniacal gleam could be seen in her eyes.
“Dating.” This time, the word was not a question, but it was hard to say, because Sundance’s throat was a bit too dry for his liking. He grabbed the mug of cider that had been put down before him quite some time ago, and drank about half of it in one gulp. “Well, I uh… do need to find a baroness… or a baron, I suppose,” he muttered as foam dribbled from his lips.
“I know some ponies… and even some non-ponies. What sort of friend would I be if I didn’t help you find a date?” Skyla’s smile turned predatory. “I wonder how you and Chalcedony would get along? She’s blind. You wouldn’t reject somepony because of blindness, would you?”
“Well, no, not—”
“Excellent,” Skyla said while rubbing her front hooves together. “You know, it’s easy to understand why my mother gets a rush out of doing this. All the possibilities. It’s like putting a puzzle together.”
Only the puzzle pieces are lives, Sundance thought to himself while he had another drink.
“What do you want from a potential mate?” Skyla asked.
“Somepony like you,” Sundance replied without thinking, and he immediately regretted it. Was it possible to drown oneself to death in cider? He was about to find out. Skyla was now a particularly vivid shade of pastel pink, perhaps no longer pastel at all, and she was avoiding his gaze.
He wondered what the penal colony would be like.
“A sense of duty,” he blurted out, trying to save himself. “I need somepony who places duty above all else. Even me.” He lifted his mug to his lips, but it was now empty, so he put it down. “I would want somepony like you, somepony prepared to put their obligations ahead of their own needs.” Pushing his mug away, he wondered if he’d ever drink again, because that was surely the cause of this catastrophic faux pas.
“That”—Skyla’s voice was squeakier than a hinge in need of oiling—“is, uh, quite flattering. Thank you. You’re very nice.” Some of the colour subsided from her face, but not much. “When I was younger, I had a thing for arranged marriage. Flurry you see… there was a cotillion, and my sister and I both got it into our minds that our parents wanted Flurry to be with Sumac. It caused quite a kerfuffle…”
Her words faded, but she was quick to recover. “It left a lasting impression on me. I secretly wanted an arranged marriage. A part of me still does, I think. I don’t want the stress and anxiety of trying to pick and choose. That’s a dangerous minefield that I want no part of. There are times when I think it would be a relief to hear my mother and father say that they’ve found the pony they want me to marry. I could just accept it, move on, and get on with life. One less thing to worry about. That’s just me, though. I trust my mother and father to do right by me.”
“It would make things easier,” Sundance said whilst he squirmed.
“One day, I will be Empress of the Crystal Empire… and my parents will go on to become more active in ruling Equestria at large. There’s a plan in place, a plan that spans whole lives. Eventually, my mother will foal again, when the time is right, and my replacement will be born, another future empress or little emperor, another alicorn groomed to rule. My life is complicated. So much is expected of me. All of my foalhood is spent preparing to rule. An arranged marriage would be one less thing for me to worry about, and I know that whomever my mother finds would be a good helpmate for my future task.”
“But… but what about what you want?” he asked.
“Why does what I want matter?” she replied in a cool deadpan. “It’s not a matter of what I want. What I want is irrelevant. There is only what is necessary. You… you understand that. I sense it within you. Typically, alicorns feel this way, but this sense of duty is not exclusive to just us. Sure, I could have my way, but at what cost? How many lives might suffer because of my selfish whims? If I shirk my duties as the Empress-to-be, the ripple-effect would be astounding. How many lives would I harm? Just how much suffering would I cause? Numbers beyond counting. And that’s what it comes down to… numbers. You and I, we’re about the numbers. I sense that in you. My aunts do too. If we ourselves can suffer, and prevent the suffering of hundreds of others, we do. Is this not our nature? Am I mistaken? Have I misjudged you?”
Taken aback, Sundance did not respond.
“What I want,” she said, her voice low and somewhat husky, “is for us to be friends. That is what I want. We understand each other. I can talk to you, like I’m doing right now, and there is understanding. I don’t have many friends which I can do that with. Just Quiet, mostly, and that’s cause she’s being groomed just like I am. She and I, we’ve accepted our lot in life. It goes beyond cutie marks, or destiny, or whatever. Being rebellious and going against the plan would do considerable harm. It would damage lives in ways that I cannot even comprehend. On some level, you understand that. Or am I totally wrong? Did my aunts misjudge your character?”
It occured to Sundance that his prejudices didn’t matter as much as he thought they did. For all of his fear, worry, and doubt about bugs, he knew that he would do the right thing, even if the right thing was something he found revolting and unpleasant. He would come around, because, as Skyla had explained, his own feelings didn’t matter much, not compared to the needs of others. He might not be ready to say yes to the proposal of the sisters, but saying no wasn’t an option. The cost of doing right only affected him, but the price of doing wrong would affect so many.
Like Skyla had said, it was a matter of numbers.
It was cost-benefit analysis applied to broad scale.
Something about his bureaucratic nature approved of this.
His friendship with Skyla was a necessity. It was good business. They shared something in common, a connection, an understanding that would give them unique understanding of one another. They were representatives of their demesnes, or empires, and this friendship had little to do with them, as ponies, and everything to do with the lands they ruled. It was… pragmatic friendship? A friendship that existed solely from necessity, but that did not make it any less meaningful, any less valuable. If anything, this friendship was even more important, because it would cause a direct effect upon so many lives, an incalculable number of them.
Quibbles between them would cause great harm, so it was in their best interests to be gregarious and good natured towards one another. For Sundance, this was a profound moment of understanding into his own nature, and he wondered how his natural submissiveness played into all of this.
“Thank you, Skyla.”
“For what?”
“You’ve helped me understand a part of myself. Or perhaps it could be said that I’m on my way towards figuring it out. You… you’ve been a tremendous help. Everything you’ve done here… for me… for my subjects. I cannot possibly thank you enough.”
“Hey,” she replied with a smile. “What are friends for?” Her eyes softened a bit, and her face flushed with fresh colour. “Even if it wasn’t expected of me, I would still want to be your friend. You’re a pony worth knowing, Sundance.”
“Thank you.” He found her words immensely reassuring, and they gave him courage.
Courage to face the hard decisions he was required to make.