The dungeons of Newcanter Castle were, in a word, depressing. An endlessly-convoluted maze of claustrophobic stone corridors spread out across three separate levels, lined on either side with small, cramped cells. Many of them were without windows or any reliable form of light, leaving their occupants to sit and wallow in darkness with nothing but their own thoughts and the voices of their fellow prisoners for company. The only thing chasing the darkness away was the occasional lantern hanging from hooks on the walls, but even those weren’t always lit.
Scarlet stood in the threshold that separated the dungeons from the rest of the castle with a wrinkled nose and an ugly grimace. She had yet to actually set foot in this wretched place, and already she despised it with all of her being. She could make out the distant wails of slowly maddening prisoners at the edge of her hearing, accompanied by the skittering of rats. Her eyes strained to see through the low light, and a thick, musty smell invaded her nostrils with all the subtlety of an angry minotaur.
All of it set her on edge and the fur on the back of her neck standing on end. There were ponies down here, ponies trapped inside. Many were guilty of truly monstrous crimes; of that, there could be no question, and they deserved whatever they were getting down there. But it would be foolish to believe that it was only the guilty stored in this labyrinth. Innocent ponies were trapped down here, too, and even ponies who had committed only minor crimes.
“And they are forced to spend their time here… Are we truly capable of being this cruel?” she thought to herself, her ears lowering in dismay. Sadly, there was little and less she could do for any of them right now. She was here for Protea, nothing more.
Resisting the urge to sigh, Scarlet slipped down into the dungeons, carefully closing the door behind her with her magic. In moments, what little light the moon had afforded through a nearby window was snuffed out, and her heart skipped a beat when she lost all sight of the world around her. She waited patiently for her eyes to adjust before slowly and carefully inching down the stairs before her, keeping one hoof on the wall for stability all the way.
Shortly after reaching the bottom of the steps, she was pulled from her thoughts by voices up ahead. She came to a stop and pressed herself up against the wall to minimize visibility. Her ears stood up to listen in on the discussion.
“Yer my relief?” a thickly accented stallion’s voice asked.
The guard she had been tailing answered in a low, annoyed growl. “Aye, that I am, bullshit that it is.”
The accent chuckled, and the scraping of wood on stone indicated he was rising from a chair. “Oh, quit yer bitchin' and get on with it. These wasted won’t watch ‘emselves.”
“Meh.”
Scarlet resisted the urge to snarl in frustration when she spied a stallion at the end of the corridor marching her way, a lantern hanging loosely from his jaw. An earth pony; tall, well built, dressed in lunar guard armor. She could tell at a glance that he was significantly stronger than her physically, so a direct confrontation was out of the question. But with nowhere to go to hide, she was going to have to face him one way or the other.
“And if I start a fight, his buddy will hear me and come to his defense in a heartbeat. I need to be fast about this…”
A few seconds later, the light from the lantern crept up on her hooves, and the stallion came to a stop. “What the-”
Scarlet’s horn flashed with light as she conjured one of her swords in her magic and swung it into the side of the startled guard’s helmet. He cried out as his head was lurched off to one side, his eyes rolling in their sockets. Scarlet could already hear his ally scrambling in the corridor beyond.
Acting fast, she grasped the stunned guard’s helmet with his head still inside with her magic. With a grunt of effort, she pushed his head into the wall with as much force as she could muster, another clang of metal echoing down the hall. The guard slumped in place, but just to be sure, Scarlet pulled his head towards her to meet her rising hoof. A loud crack echoed up and down the hall, and the guard fell back with a bloody nose, out cold.
And then his comrade came into view, eyes wide in surprise. “What the fuck-”
“Shut!” Scarlet snapped back at him, lifting up his companion in her magic and throwing the limp body as hard as she could muster. The standing guard grunted as he caught the full force of the flying body in his hooves before falling back onto his rump, struggling to stay upright.
“UGH! Intruder!”
Scarlet darted forward, lifting up her conjured blade and driving the pommel into the guard’s face, right between his eyes. He fell back to the floor with the other grunt, his hooves flailing wildly about. Scarlet flinched back, realizing that he was wearing studded horseshoes. One solid blow from any of those could easily break bones.
The guard went to shove off the useless body of his companion, but Scarlet was faster. She ensnared his hooves in her magic before repeatedly—and rapidly—driving the pommel of her sword into the front of his helmet.
A few seconds later, the very swollen and very brutalized face of the guard fell back, his eyes drifting closed as he passed out. Scarlet let off a quiet sigh of relief, dispelling her sword. “Sorry, boys,” she said softly before searching the bodies. It only took her a moment to find a rusty iron keyring on the second guard’s person. It jangled and rattled as she lifted it up, making her ears lay back.
Stepping over the bodies, she emerged into a small room that looked to be a hybrid between an office and a lobby. A simple desk sat against the left wall, a collection of candles providing faint illumination for the stacks of parchment scattered across the surface. A heavily-reinforced wooden door sat against the back wall with a barred window set into its top at around eye height. The horrid sounds she had heard at the entrance were coming from there.
A deafening, spine-chilling creak echoed up and down the corridor beyond where Scarlet opened the door, making her teeth grind together. The limited light cast into the narrow hallway beyond was just enough to let her see the eyes of the first few prisoners. They looked at her in confusion, and, to her regret, with a small amount of hope.
There was a modest chance that, somewhere in all of this, she would find Protea.
Scarlet swallowed heavily.
Before descending any further, she had to deal with the guards. It had taken her a bit of thinking, and a few beads of sweat, but she was able to deal with them satisfactorily. She tore off long strips of fabric from her cloak, wincing as she did so, and used them to gag the guards. Then, with the keys she had taken, she unlocked the first empty cell she came across, chucked the guards inside with their hooves shackled together, and locked it up again.
She’d leave the keys on the desk after she left. Somepony would come along and let them out later.
With that done, she began her long, harrowing trip through the dungeons, taking a lantern with her to light the way. She didn’t bother sticking around on the top floor; instead, making directly for the stairs heading down. Almost everypony up here was only guilty of minor crimes, and would probably be out within a few weeks at most, if she had to crack a guess. Petty thieves or drunkards with otherwise-decent morals. No, her target would most likely be in the lowest levels of this hellhole, where only the most dangerous and unpredictable prisoners were kept.
She did her best to ignore the whimpered pleas of the ponies behind the bars as she passed, did her best not to look into their anguished eyes. But even as she passed, she could hear many begging for her to let them out, to free them from this living nightmare.
“I’m sorry… that’s not why I am here,” she thought regretfully to herself.
As maze-like as the dungeons were, they were, mercifully, consistent with what she had been subjected to before. It hadn’t been a common job, but guarding dangerous prisoners of war in the dungeons of other castles had been a duty she carried out during the war, and Newcanter Castle shared the same basic layout as others she had guarded previously, allowing her to find her way with minimal difficulty.
The second level was worse by an immeasurable degree. The worst of the common scum filled these reinforced anti-magic cells. Murderers, rapists, and other such filth filled the cells here, all of them staring back at her as she passed. Their eyes were cold, unfeeling, and more than enough to send a chill down her spine.
She shuddered in revulsion, several primal instincts telling her that none of the ponies around her had good intentions for her. But despite that and the rapidly-growing desire to turn and run, she forced herself to slow down and peer into the cells as she passed. While it was likely that Protea would be on the third level over any other, the chances of her being in the second were high enough to warrant her keeping her eyes open.
“Hoo wee, lookit ye lass, ain’t you a pretty one,” one of the stallions, a lanky, wrinkly pegasus with one eye missing croaked out from farther ahead. Everything about him made Scarlet’s skin crawl, and she made no effort to hide her disgust.
He curled his hooves around the bars of his cell as she drew near, his lips curling back into a crooked, lecherous grin. “Ye look soft, filly, but firm too… Hey, now, no need to look at me like that…”
“Bite your tongue, or I will rip it out,” Scarlet warned quietly, the back of her skull starting to burn.
The stallion cackled quietly before reaching his hoof out as far as he could as she passed. “Aw, lady, don’t be like that. C’mon, why not open this cell and lemme have a nice look at ye, eh? I promise it’ll be fun.”
There was a pull on Scarlet’s tail.
Barely withholding a roar of rage, her horn lit up, tearing her tail free from his grasp and shoving his foreleg down against the crossbar halfway between the shoulder and elbow. A blood-curdling snap filled the air as the bone snapped, his foreleg bending at a sharp angle where no joint existed. The pervert’s eyes widened, the blood draining from his face. A long, withering, agonized wail tore past his lips as he fell back into the cell.
Scarlet turned to glare at him, the light of her lantern reflecting like coals in her eyes. She watched the pathetic wretch writhing on the ground in the cell, his agonized whimpers the only sound in her ears. After a moment, she took a deep breath and turned to press on.
Nopony else had the nerve to try anything like that again, thankfully. All of them watched her as she passed with fearful eyes, no doubt taken aback by her sudden display of violence. The guards stationed to keep these ponies here had no doubt been ordered to show restraint wherever possible, and limit physical violence unless absolutely necessary. The prisoners probably weren’t used to their visitors fighting back with such brutality.
“What’s going on? I heard screaming.” a weak whisper of a feminine voice suddenly asked from her right, making her come to a stop. Scarlet turned to peer into the cell, squinting to see through the darkness. Even with the light provided by her lantern, she could only barely make out the faintest silhouette of an equine shape huddled in the back.
After a moment of contemplation, Scarlet shook her head. “That is none of your business,” She stated in a dry voice before turning to move on.
She came to a stop when two glowing blue eyes opened in the back of the cell.
Scarlet sucked in a deep breath, her blood going cold. By reflex, her horn flared, and one of her swords flashed into existence. She staggered back, her tail pressed against the bars of the cell behind her. She watched with bated breath as the creature in the cell slowly drew closer, its hooves clacking against the stone floor in a manner very different from regular hooves.
What stepped into the light was a full-grown changeling female. Her eyes were a soft ocean blue, while her chitin was a muted shade of purple. A tattered, red fin ran down the back of her neck, it's color shared by her ragged wings and short tail. Myriad ugly scars covered her body, and it didn’t take much effort for Scarlet to tell that this creature had suffered all kinds of physical abuse.
Scarlet took a deep breath, allowing her sword to dissipate. She reigned in her hostility, reminding herself about what had happened at the inn, and Lens’ harsh scolding of her behavior. With her mind calmed down, she came up to the bars to stand face-to-face with the changeling. “You… you’re a free changeling,” she observed quietly, calling back on the term Protea had used.
The changeling let out an unamused snort. “A free changeling trapped behind bars... a cruel twist of irony,” she answered in a cold, tired tone, the natural distortions in her voice becoming clear now that Scarlet was listening for them. She blinked at Scarlet a few times, squinting as if to see a tiny detail through a thick haze. “But I am surprised you know that term… most ponies don’t.”
“I am surprised that you’re even alive,” Scarlet countered with a raised eyebrow. “It isn’t exactly common that ponies let changelings live, much less keep them as prisoners. But then again, I understand you are a rare and special breed, are you not?”
The drone gave a slow nod of her head, settling down onto her haunches. “In a manner of speaking… The Lunar Council wants me alive… for questioning…” her eyes wandered down to her body, and her hooves wandered over her scars. She shuddered. “...For testing.”
Scarlet fell silent for several seconds, her ears slowly drooping. Despite a large chunk of her brain telling her to ignore this and move on, some small part of her couldn’t help but feel sorry for the creature in front of her. She turned away and let off a quiet hum. “...Perhaps you can help me, then. I am looking for another free changeling, as it so happens. A child, perhaps 10 years old. It is possible she was disguised as an earth pony filly. Have you seen anything like that over the last day?”
The changeling slowly shook her head. “I am afraid I have not seen any other changelings in… years, much less in the last day,” she mumbled regretfully, her eyes lowering. After a few seconds, the changeling began to back away into the shadows once more, her eyes slowly closing. “I am sorry I cannot be of more help to you… I do not wish another of my kind to suffer as I have.”
Scarlet turned away to look back the way she had come. So Protea wasn’t in the dungeons… that meant she was most likely being kept in the Lunar Wing, somewhere, which meant Scarlet was wasting her time by staying here. “...I see. Then I should resume my search elsewhere.”
Scarlet turned to leave but came to another halt when the changeling’s voice called after her. “What is her name?”
Scarlet turned around to see those two glowing blue eyes staring back at her from the darkness. “Pardon?”
“The child you seek… may I know her name?” the changeling asked again.
Scarlet narrowed her eyes skeptically for several seconds, not entirely sure she should answer. It didn’t take her long to relent, however. The changeling was a twig at best, and clearly drained of all her strength. There was no harm in it. Scarlet nodded and spoke. “If she was disguised as a pony, she would have gone by the name Primrose. In her true form, however, she is Protea.”
The changeling stared back at her for several long seconds, her eyes slowly going wide behind her bars. With a few shaky steps, she emerged back into the lantern-light. Scarlet winced, taken aback to see the drone’s lip beginning to quiver.
“F-forgive me, but... I can only assume I misheard. Did you say… P-Protea?” she choked out in slow, hesitant words, almost as if she were afraid that she did not want to know the answer.
Scarlet raised an eyebrow, turning to face the drone directly. “I did… why? What is it to you? Do you know her?”
The changeling stared at her for several long seconds, her jaw working up and down as she fished helplessly for words. Scarlet felt a small tug of concern in her breast, compelling her to take a step forward. Suddenly, the drone closed her eyes, barely stifling a sob. The choking noise she made echoed up and down the dungeon corridors in a way that made Scarlet’s heart skip a beat.
“Of course I know her…” the changeling said before lifting her tearful eyes to look into Scarlet’s again. The unicorn was taken aback when she saw the look of pure, unfiltered joy in the changeling’s smile. “Protea is my daughter.”
Scarlet went rigid, her eyes flying wide as saucers. Cool ice began to pool into her veins, and her swords dissipated. She mouthed uselessly, fishing for words that could adequately convey her shock.
There was no way this changeling was Protea’s mother. It was impossible. Protea had said it herself—her mother was dead! Silent Edge had killed her the night he attacked the family campsite!
Scarlet was about to make that point in no uncertain terms when a memory, small, fleeting, began to worm its way into the front of her mind.
“M-mom took me away, and we hid by some rocks. She gave me the lamp, and she told me to run into town and hide, and that she’d come to find me. But… she… she made me promise to take care of the lamp and protect it with my life if she didn’t. Then she went back, and I ran, and… and I never saw her again…”
Protea had never seen her mother die… she had just assumed…
Swallowing heavily, Scarlet stepped forward until she was face-to-face with the drone—no, with Sclera—again. “...How did you survive?” she asked in barely even a whisper. “Protea has believed you to be dead all this time.”
Sclera looked down, her smile fading. “...I got lucky… I pleaded for them to spare my life, talking to them to buy Protea time to escape… They d-didn’t know what to do about me, a talking changeling. They argued for a time, until Silent Edge, that rancid son of a bitch… he had one of his subordinates lock me in irons and drag me here to stand before the councils for questioning…”
More tears rolled down her cheeks. “I thought my little girl was dead all this time…” she choked out before looking up into Scarlet’s eyes again. “Is it true? Is she alive?”
“She is,” Scarlet acknowledged with a slow nod. “Silent won’t kill her as long as she is in Newcanter. The council wants her alive.”
“Does she… does she still carry the lamp?”
Scarlet frowned at that. That lamp was one of the driving causes behind the council’s relentless pursuit of the changeling filly. Now that they had captured her, had they taken the liberty of confiscating it yet? Or had they kept it near her so she could better answer their questions?
In the end, though, Scarlet offered up a small smile and a nod. “Yes, she does. That thing has caused us no end of trouble since we met.”
Sclera let out a weak, humorless laugh before sniffling to fight back more tears. She lifted her hoof up to her muzzle for a few seconds before grabbing onto the bars again. “Please… let me out of here,” she begged, her ears folded back. “I was ready to accept my fate, ready to lay down and die, but if my daughter is still out there, alive and well, then, please… please… I have to find her… I have to hold her…”
Scarlet stared at Sclera for several seconds. A small part of her was still telling her to ignore her and move on. Sclera was in terrible shape. She was weak, malnourished, skinny, and no doubt low on magic. Bringing her along was likely to be a liability, jeopardizing both her and Protea.
Scarlet’s mind wandered to the filly in question, specifically her pony form and the smile she had worn more and more as time had gone on. Could Scarlet truly afford the extra risk of getting the owner of that face harmed?
Suddenly, the face of Primrose was replaced with the face of Crystal Clear in her mind.
Scarlet’s heart twisted in her chest, her pupils dilating.
With a flash of light from her horn, Scarlet’s sword rematerialized and came down, hard, on the lock of Sclera’s cell. The shrill screech of metal being carved by a magical blade pierced the darkness of the dungeons, making all who could hear it wince and cringe in discomfort. The metal softened and contorted around the emotionally-charged blade, sparks flying before the door began to lazily swing open, emitting a spine-tingling creak as it went.
Sclera tentatively stepped out of her cell, her legs quivering with anticipation and weakness. It had been five years since she had set a hoof outside of that cell of her own free will… and she had just learned her only remaining child was still alive after so much time believing she was dead in the ground with the rest of her family. Scarlet could barely imagine the storm of emotions raging inside the drone right now.
But she did know one thing...
“Come,” Scarlet said quietly as, for the first time in her life, she held out her hoof for a changeling. “Let’s go save your filly.”
As Sclera nodded and took her hoof, Scarlet turned her eyes back down the corridor, a newfound resolve burning in her heart, along with the subtle, ever-present ache that had plagued her since her daughter’s death. It was an agony that no effort could ease, a hole that could never be filled no matter how hard she tried. It was a pain she would never wish even on her worst enemies…
“...But now I have a chance to take that pain away from another,” she thought to herself as she set off at a slow trot, careful to make sure Sclera could keep up. “And I will. Nothing deserves to feel that pain… not even a changeling.”
With that resolution, the two mothers took their leave of the dungeons, their hooves of hard chitin and soft fur wound tightly together.