It was a busy day in the market despite the early hours I travelled in. The habit of leaving home before dawn to fulfill various errands and pick up some groceries just as my favourite shops started business for the day was a habit I was thankful for and one that allowed me to avoid the rush. Despite this and the relatively few Ponies I found it was still far more busy and excitable than it usually was, and I could not figure out why. Everypony was bubbling in excitement- not that that was any different from what it had been since last week when the war was finally declared over and the Equestrian army had marched through Canterlot.
But there was something different in the air. There was something different behind everypony’s smiles today. The simple and relaxed relief that the war was over and the hope for the return of normalcy before the Canterlot Invasion had been replaced by something else. Something that was giving me the distinct impression that I was missing out on something important.
It was worrying, knowing something had happened but not knowing what. The gnawing feeling of doubt as I was unable to figure out what had occurred. Like being told you were looking at a replica of your favourite painting, but being unable to spot any differences no matter where or how hard you looked.
Still, life went on, and while I silently promised to myself to keep an eye out I didn’t let that stop me from continuing my daily routine as if nothing was wrong.
“Just one carton of eggs for today, Missus Milk.” I answered the cashier of the delightful little corner grocery that had just about everything I needed for my shopping. The milky white mare behind the counter absently brushed the rosy pink curtains that made her mane out of her eyes and gave me a look of amused exasperation.
“I keep telling you Flower, you can call me Carton.” She said, smiling at me and placing the carton of eggs in my bag with practiced ease, right on top of the rest of my groceries so that there was little chance they would get damaged if I was ever jostled on my walk home.
I gave the older mare a kind smile and as I lifted the bag off the counter in the light blue aura of my magic, “Maybe next time, Missus Milk.”
She continued to smile in return, if adding a touch more of her faux-exasperation to it, and gave me a small chuckle for my trouble as I placed the finicky bag and its straps onto my back.
“You really should get something easier to use dearie,” It was a suggestion, one she had made a few times before, but now it was more out of amusement than any of the confusion or seriousness she had asked before.
“Oh you know I can’t do that Missus Milk, Gran would be devastated if she ever knew I threw her gift away or stopped using it, and there isn’t much that makes her happy these days.”
“I know, I know, such a good grandchild she has, looking out for her like that. I hope that my grandchildren grow up to be like you Flower.”
The last strap pulled tight with one final tug, securing it tightly to my barrel. With my focus no longer required I turned to give the mare across the counter a curious look, “Grandchildren? I didn’t even know you and your husband had any foals.”
“Not yet but…” She paused for a moment before leaning towards me with a mischievous glint in her eyes and faux-secretiveness in her voice, “I’m starting to think we might start trying to expand the family sometime soon.”
“Oh? Oh! What are you waiting for then? Don’t tell me Almond’s getting cold hooves.” I didn’t particularly enjoy gossiping, but I knew Carton Milk did and I wasn’t about to ruin one of her hobbies for her by asking her to stop or being unwilling to play along when it was obvious what she wanted me to say, even if it did make me feel a bit uncomfortable sometimes.
Plus, even if it was a bit gossipy, it was a lovely conversation, and Carton Milk loved having something to share.
“No no, it’s me getting cold hooves this time dearie, sometimes I think I’m finally about to bring it up but then Almond will say something about how perfect he thinks life is- and I keep thinking ‘is this as good as its going to get, or can it be more perfect?’” Carton Milk gave a dramatic sigh, and I nodded along, I was pretty sure she just liked to talk about it out loud rather than have my thoughts on the matter, but I wasn’t ever that good at reading Ponies.
Carton Milk looked back at me, going from stewed longing to spicy mischief in a matter of heartbeats, “But enough about me dearie, is there anypony special in your life yet, hmm? What do you have to say, Orchid Flower? The mares must be lusting after a kind stallion like you- or maybe some stallions are doing the lusting?”
I didn’t stop the chuckle rising in my throat, although I did my best to stamp down on the nervousness it held, “No, I have to say there are no stallions or mares lusting after me, but I’ll make sure to let you know if I do find a special somepony.”
“If? I think you mean ‘when’ dearie. It’s only a matter of time. Sooner or later somepony’s going to take notice and tell their friends and you’ll be left having to chase them all off with a stick.”
“But you’ll help me if that happens, right? I can rely on you for a spare stick?” I asked with a lighthearted chuckle, something that was becoming less and less fake with each passing day, as my hooves shuffled in preparation for the long walk after leaving the grocer.
“Of course you can, now you run along. I’ll see you the day after tomorrow.” Missus Milk smiled and nodded towards the store’s doorway.
With a wave goodbye I step out of the store, calling out “See you then!” just as I passed the threshold.
The street was sparse compared to home, although I had learned that for this particular time and corner of Canterlot it was considered crowded at the moment. As the late morning sun lit the streets Ponies had begun crawling out of their homes with expressions ranging from wondrously happy for the new day to agonised exhaustion from having to wake up so early in the day.
I personally never understood the second type, it was just a time of day, surely it didn’t matter when you slept and when you woke so long as everything you had to do got done?
That bubbling joy was still there though, many Ponies seemed to have it mixed with some kind of anticipation as news of whatever was happening (or had it happened already?) seemed to spread through Canterlot like vines along a wall.
Patiently I began to trot home so that I could drop off my groceries. Hopefully by the time I returned the mailpony would have dropped off the morning’s newspaper and I could find whatever it was that was leading to the subtle change in atmosphere.
The streets were getting more and more crowded as I neared the end of my trip home. A strange feeling of uncanny nostalgia prickled at the edge of my senses, but I did my best to stamp down on the unhelpful feelings.
A roll of newspaper had been stuffed haphazardly in my apartment mailbox, sticking out of the metal slot the same way a difficult branch sticks out of a tree. Odd, crunched, and while not particularly eye-catching enough so that it draws your attention back to it every once and awhile after you become aware of it.
The paper was light in my magical grip and balanced evenly and without complaint as I placed the little roll on my back and continued my way up the single flight of narrow and twisting stairs that in more busy hours choked passage and prevented me from reaching my second floor apartment.
The stairway was surprisingly empty for how busy it felt on the streets.
It brought to mind a strange haunted house, empty halls utterly devoid of life, but just on the other side you could hear the hustle and bustle of Canterlot morning life, the images of streets filled with bodies crawling over and on top of each other to get from place to place with single minded determination flooded into your mind.
Then you looked out a window or out a balcony and saw how few Ponies were actually there.
A few rapid blinks brought my wandering mind back to focus, and a small frown grew on my face. Maybe the night shift was harder on me than I thought? An early night might be better suited.
The apartment door clicked and swung open easily, revealing the space that had become my shelter and hitting me with a small rush of nostalgia for home.
The few Ponies that had seen my apartment had called it pleasant, but had questioned me on my choice of furniture.
Or rather, the lack thereof.
My confusion had led them to showing off their homes and giving me advice on interior decoration - something I was thankful for even if I was unused and unfamiliar to such things.
They showed me large spaces cluttered with all kinds of things, chairs, couches, tables, coffee tables, benches, cushions, curtains, candles, paintings, a multitude of different rugs, and so many different things and knick-knacks that it was hard to keep track of.
I really didn’t see the point in it, and I didn’t have much of a budget for it anyway.
So I thanked them, explained how I’d only recently moved in and still wasn’t comfortable spending a lot on furniture, and did my best to evade the topic every time it was brought up again, even if doing so made me feel a little bad.
I had gotten everything I needed though, during the short trip I took so I could at least honestly say I had gone and gotten some furniture. A new rug to cover the cold wooden floor and provide a comfortable place to rest, a small ‘coffee table’ for me to rest things on when something came up or when I needed to check something in my studies, and some simple curtains to block the view of the apartment from the outside.
Besides those few items (and the bed that had come with the apartment) I had nothing of note. I had briefly considered getting candles for light instead of relying on the electric ones, but I had buckled down and done the math to find that it was better to use the electric lights rather than continuously buy new candles. So long as I remembered to turn the lights off when I wasn’t using them.
We never had paintings at home, and I didn’t feel the need to change that now. Everything else just seemed exuberant and unnecessary.
Maybe once things had settled down I would look into some furniture.
But that was decadence for another time.
I finished putting away the last of my groceries in all the appropriate places. Setting away everything into their snug little draws and shelves for when they will be later called upon when I next need to make a cake.
It was a strange method, but I had found the recipe in one of the journal’s I had taken when I left for Canterlot, and while it left me initially puzzled, the detailed instructions and confidence which it was spoken in was enough to persuade me to give it a try.
It turned out to be absolutely correct, and delicious.
My eyes settled onto the rolled up newspaper, and my magic reached out to unfurl it. Reading the news had never been something I had done before Canterlot, and I had yet to find a good place to put the necessary tasks in my daily schedule, but I could see its importance to staying up to date with the going ons in Canterlot.
My eyes flickered over to the first heading, where the biggest news was normally shown. A good indication of what I might have to expect for conversation topics for the close future. Even if it was the smaller articles and headlines that I really enjoyed, the journals also said reading them was a good idea. I silently promised to give them a more thorough reading afterwards.
“Princess Celestia announces Queen Chrysalis of the Changelings to face judgement from the Elements of Harmony”
Those were the words at the very top of the first page.
The newspaper fell out of my suddenly non-existent magical grip, the paper landing unsatisfyingly half-way on the rug, although my mind was occupied by other things as slow realisation began to grip me and panic burned at my throat.
Mother!
I had finally found the Ponies of Canterlot. A warm mass of equine bodies travelled in the direction of Canterlot Palace, many likely already eagerly awaiting Princess Celestia to announce the results from the traditional balcony that overlooked Canterlot Palace Square.
To announce what the ‘Elements of Harmony’ had chosen to do to Queen Chrysalis.
But Chrysalis had said the Elements of Harmony were no more, that they could not be used as a weapon against them for a generation at minimum.
So if the Elements were no more, what would happen to Mother?
Whatever the princesses of Equestria decided, of course.
As I danced through the crowd, darting around and between bodies both slow and fast, my mind struggled to figure out what came next.
That Ponies were still making their way, and that few to none were travelling away from Canterlot square gave me hope.
If the announcement had been made, there wouldn’t be a crowd.
If the announcement hadn’t been made, there was still hope, wasn’t there?
I didn’t know. The few journals I had brought with me told me nothing like this. Not that I had studied anyway.
But… they did tell of how to sneak into a building.
The methods were old, and the Equestrians had to have developed some ways to counter them…
But I did not know what else to do.
I had to know what had happened, what Mother’s last words were, if only so I could send a message out of Canterlot, tell the other survivors what had happened.
I just hoped I didn’t get caught.
A Changeling sneaking into Canterlot Palace… I repressed the urge to glance at the Ponies that surrounded me.
It would be bad. I wasn’t as smart as the Queen, I didn’t have the experience of hundreds of years… but we had been taught how to lie, how to find opportunities, and how to figure out how someone thought.
The Ponies had their win, as far as they were concerned Changelings weren’t a threat anymore, they had their peace. It was more nuanced than that, but the Ponies had their win. They thought they were safe now.
And if I got caught… if Ponies saw a Changeling trying to break into Canterlot Palace…?
Ponies would know we hadn’t been beaten. That we were still fighting for our survival.
It would shine a spotlight on the Changelings slinking back into the shadows.
I promised not to get caught. I did not want my brothers and sisters to involve myself in my idotic plan.
The bustle of Canterlot streets had thickened to the consistency of honey the closer I got to Canterlot Palace, but compared to the narrow corridors of the Hive it moved about as fast as honey as well.
Even without access to a whole third dimension of movement it was easy to slink through the crowds with a busy haste that would be the envy of beleaguered parents and excitable foals. The press of bodies and mixing emotions swirling about like a veritabel fog the deeper I weaved through the crowd.
Old advice filtered through my ears as the rhapsody of unaimed anticipation clung and dragged at me. Pulling at me and dragging myself into the will of the crowd with its honey-like thickness.
Adapt and change. Seek out new ways and paths. That is the only way we will survive.
Mother had meant everyone of those words. When staying hidden in the shadows was failing us, she had chosen to change to fit the world. If we could not hide we would conquer.
I pulled myself between two families, muttering hushed apologies when my pushing body jostled them from their tight and rapid conversations. They let it go easily and gave the busy and apologetic stranger a short wave goodbye. Ponies were easy-going like that.
When conquest and confrontation failed, she chose to adapt once more. Hurt the Ponies so severely that all support for the war would fall away and we would be safe once again.
We were just like a cornered animal really. Nothing more.
But that didn’t work either. Not when entire legions of Equestrians were taken in surprise attacks. Not when squads of Changelings snuck into Equestria to destroy trains and infrastructure. Not even when Mother bit Princess Celestia’s offered hoof did they ever relent in any meaningful way.
So we needed to adapt once more.
I ducked beneath a hovering Pegasus in the crowd. My ears vaguely picked up the startled voices amidst the hum of everypony around me as I made my way deeper into the crowd and towards the palace.
We broke into smaller groups. Rather than one large hive, many smaller ones. Some hiding in the Pony cities, others in the wilderness (well, as wilderness as wilderness gets in Equestria), some spread out between clustered towns. Some fled to make the long trek to leave Equestria entirely.
The Queen insisted we not tell her our plans, and for us to decide it ourselves. Ordered us to choose what was best for us and leave her out of it.
She wanted to be left out of it. She wouldn’t approve of my plan to break into the palace.
But it's our turn to decide, though, and I choose her.
I stumbled through the thick press of bodies into an opening. A line of golden clad Ponies blocking the conventional path towards Canterlot Palace, a gleaming white runway up to Canterlot’s highest point and where the palace gates stood.
I turned to my left, where not a few steps before me the gardens of a park stretched out before me. Ponies milled about here and there in tight groups, some would still call it crowded.
But it was not a crowd, and there would certainly be some places where there were no eyes watching.
I gave a polite and thankful nod to the nearest guard, who returned it with one of their own for I was just one of their citizens, not a Changeling, thankful for their work and protection, and made my way towards the nearby gardens.
No one questioned or stopped the harried looking Unicorn maid that made her way through the halls of Canterlot Palace.
The staff was hiring again, and she was a new face, obviously unfamiliar with the layout of the palace.
She couldn’t be a Changeling. They were already defeated, and a Changeling trying to sneak in would’ve already been caught. Plus, she didn’t look anywhere near shifty enough to be a Changeling with her rumpled uniform and that cute bow in her pearl mane. Plus, she looked busy, it was best to stay out of her way, maybe offer her directions if she started to look lost and confused.
Those were the exact thoughts that went through Canterlot Palace’s guard. Much to the disappointment of many of their more experienced members if they heard about it. Probably.
But those more experienced guards were taxed, exhausted, and thankful for the break the Princesses had given them now that the war had come to a close. So no one was really there to complain at the moment.
Breaking into a Palace really shouldn’t be this easy. Although the concentration of guards were getting greater the closer I got to my target.
… Mostly because I was following those concentrations to find my target. Hopefully I’d be correct and this was the right way.
It wasn’t much to be noticeable, just an additional Pony by the occasional door. Then maybe two. Then every door in that wing had more and more guards. Then guards began to more frequently patrol the area. Then the patrols grew larger and larger in size.
Many had stopped to question me, but none held any substantial suspicion and were quick to give directions and wave goodbye whenever their suspicion was forced to question the confused maid. It was easy to follow their directions until I was out of sight, only to promptly begin to go my own way once more.
Plus, it was their job to make sure a prisoner didn’t break out. Even if they were to stop someone sneaking in, the presence of the Queen Chrysalis was no doubt a distraction on their minds.
And distantly, so faint my ears strained to hear it in the near-silence my clopping hooves on guarded halls, I heard it.
I frowned and paused, feigning looking around in confusion as my ears twitched and searched for the faint sound.
My attention turned to one of the numerous nearby guards, at how their ears perked slightly and pointed down a nearby hall, unease radiated off of them like mist from a fog.
Was it that way?
Approaching the nearest guard, I asked for directions once more. My voice hushed and embarrassed.
The altogether pleasant alabaster Pegasus responded kindly to the apparently lost and embarrassed maid and pointed me to where I needed to go. Following their directions I made my way to the nearest bathroom.
Slipping inside I fought the urge to squint. Gleaming white tiles mirrors so polished the old myth of mirrors revealing the true form of a Changeling came to mind. White partitions and doors with simple locks sat opposite the mirrors, no doubt cloaking something else immaculate. Whatever the actual staff of the palace were paid, I assumed it wasn’t nearly enough.
Actually, an immortal spending all their time in a palace would probably splurge a bit on their cleaning staff’s budget to make sure everything is as clean as it could be. I doubt I could stand to live in the same rooms day in and day out for hundreds of years and not find myself annoyed if they were consistently dirty to any degree.
I peeked my head at the mirrors above the taps and sinks, the silly nervousness that pestered my flame was banished away when I saw yellow eyes looking back at me instead of the usual insectoid blue.
Taking the time and opportunity to wash my face- a basic cover that few would question unless I was in here for far too long- I began to think.
The maid disguise wouldn’t get me any closer, and they’d recognise an out-of-place guard no matter how new they were or unfamiliar with their position. Similarly a new guard being sent to relay a message would be shooed away.
Someone they would trust, someone they wouldn’t question, someone who would have reason to be there but might not already. Someone who didn’t say much and many wouldn’t meet, but would be recognisable enough to not be dissuaded.
As my brain swirled I heard the sound of the bathroom door opening.
Pausing briefly in the repetitive motions I watched the most clinically dressed mare I had ever seen step inside. Her mane and tail were done up in neat buns tied by simple red ribbon, similarly red… I think it’s called a cravat? A red cravat (or was that a scarf?) and collar were tied around her neck, the faint impression that the attire worked as a symbol of station more than just simple accessories clung to my mind like an upcoming sneeze that refused to occur.
She walked into the bathroom with unmatched professional poise, and as my gaze slipped to the mark on her flank I remembered the name to match the face.
Raven Inkwell walked with a certain unquestionable poise and dignity. It didn’t demand attention or recognition, it did not shout loudly or strut its stuff to draw your attention, but it was always there, an exuding aura of unquestionable professionalism so thick that it no doubt extended to everyone Raven Inkwell came across. Infecting them with the same professional spirit that possessed her.
A fluttering and amusing thought made me wonder if her parents referred to her by her full name and title as well or if they were exempt from the infecting professionalism.
I chased the thought away. It wasn’t important. I had to find a new disguise to get closer to the Queen.
My mind drifted back to Raven Inkwell and her unquestioned professional aura.
I looked up into the slow mirror, my false yellow eyes briefly meeting Raven Inkwell’s brown as she stepped with purpose towards a cubicle.
That would work.
I turned away from the sink, my face turning to the roll of paper that Ponies apparently used to clean their hooves after washing them. How decadent.
A sickly green glow burned through my horn, and Raven Inkwell didn’t even turn to look as my magic struck her with a spell to incapacitate that nearly all Changelings learned.
The mare’s body stiffened momentarily like a cat on edge before collapsing with all the prompt and flavour of a puppet with their strings dropped. Half-remembered lessons sprung to my mind moments before Raven Inkwell hit the ground. I felt my features crinkle into a grimace. I was meant to catch her, wasn’t I?
Happy no other Changeling and especially not the Queen were around to see that sort of shameful display. I hung my head and trudged over to the mare, dragging her into the bathroom stall as my eyes took in her features and committed her patterns to magic.
A minute later Raven Inkwell left the bathroom and began to head towards the location of Queen Chrysalis of the Changelings. That’s what the guards would have said at least. Mother, or at least a proper infiltrator, would’ve frowned at the shoddy job and the inevitable mess that would arise once the real Raven Inkwell woke up.
But I had broken into the Palace, and as I approached another pair of giant doors white inlaid with gold and decorated with numerous flourishes that probably required a formal and sophisticated Equestrian education to properly understand.
I found myself a bit put out by the knowledge that I couldn’t take the time to appreciate it. Or even take the time to understand it better.
But the radiance of flames beyond the door closed in on my mind. Two powerful flames warring for dominance surrounded by an audience of candles.
What was more concerning were the sounds of metal striking stone, metal striking magic, and metal striking metal.
The room, like every room in the palace, was large. A grand arching ceiling high enough for a Pegasus or Changeling to comfortably hover above the ground if they so wished.
But that was not the most concerning feature.
Despite the audience that was gathered and the spectacle that took place before me, the room was remarkably empty.
The walls were blank, there were no windows, the two chandeliers that hung from each end of the long room and illuminated the space were basic and simple compared to the other chandeliers that decorated the palace, even if they were still ostentatious by my standards.
But the room was unlike the rest of the palace in one unique way. It was cold. Empty.
There were no decorations aside from the now jarringly out-of-place doors, but now that I could see their other side even they were lacking in detail and decoration compared to the artwork that shone outward on their front.
The room simply was… empty. Without evidence of an explanation as to why.
But maybe the duel to the death that was happening in the centre of the room explained why.
In the centre of the room, watched by the Princesses of Equestria, the Captain of the Guard, and the remaining Elements of Harmony, all in various states of emotional disarray, Mother and the Small Queen fought.
Dueled might’ve been a better word, but what occurred didn’t have any of the honour or class the word ‘duel’ implied. The Small Queen very clearly barely knew how to use the sabre she held, and the only reason I could see that explained how Mother was still standing was the fact Mother’s legs had literally petrified from the knee down.
It was a fight to the death, but not in the typical sense, it was not a desperate brawl between two combatants each struggling to come out on top. It was quite obvious that the Small Queen was going to win, and that the only reason she hadn’t was her inexperience and inability to get through the defence of her ailing opponent.
For now, Mother for all intents and purposes was dead on her hooves, holding her sabre loosely through gritted teeth, parrying and defending against the slow and clumsy strikes of the Small Queen and only striking back in the softest of margins, and whenever one of her strikes got anywhere close a pink barrier would spring around the Small Queen and shock the blade away.
It was a parody of a fight. She had neither the strength nor the will to defeat the Small Queen.
It was more an execution than anything else. Although that… that was probably the point.
But the Equestrians- no. The Ponies wouldn’t do this, it’s not in their nature, but it is in Mothers. Her death would be one where she dies standing and fighting.
I snuck to the side of the room, hiding amongst the audience. Finding myself near Princess Celestia’s pupil. I blinked once at the emotional equivalent of a post-it note that was stuck to her. A vicious hooked spike of pain, anger, and frustration.
Infiltrators used something similar as a warning against particularly dangerous Ponies.
I was about to shuffle away once more, but whatever good luck I had to get this far ran out before I got a chance.
“Raven?” Twilight Sparkle whispered, her flame rattling with nervousness. But more than that a deep well of incomprehension.
I didn’t trust myself to talk. I wasn’t sure how Raven Inkwell talked. So I merely raised an eyebrow at the lavender Unicorn.
“Can you… nevermind.”
I gave a slow, shallow, nod of understanding - not that I did actually understand anything, but it seemed like the sort of thing Raven Inkwell would do, hopefully the mare would be too distracted to notice if it wasn’t - and began mentally cursing myself as I lingered near the mare.
Said mare turned her gaze to the audience, and mine followed. The Princesses Celestia and Luna watched the fight, sorrow and dissatisfaction emanating from Princess Luna in waves and floods as she watched the fight while the bare tinges of a flame that lurked inside Princess Celestia were arranged in something that probably could’ve been called melancholy if it wasn’t so infected by guilt.
It was a strange sight. Tiny, slivers of flames, imbued with a sorrowful melancholy, rising from the ashes of guilt.
Next was the mare I knew to be Rarity. She was not triumphant over an enemy, nor was there any pride in her, she watched the fight in a state of downcast I had not seen before, in such a state that she was perhaps unable to perceive nor appreciate the bright flame that stood beside her.
A butter yellow Pegasus stood with confidence, fear pouring out of her like blood through an open wound.
But the fear was not for herself, it was a fear tainted with love. The love for a friend. The fear for another, who you cannot help but care about.
A fear directed at Mother.
I almost missed it in her bright flame, but another hook lay within her as well. My senses brushed against it and I felt the-
Safety. Comfort. Peace.
The sensation rushed over me like cold water, as quickly there as they were gone. Mother had deemed that one safe.
I made a mental note to spread word. Fluttershy was a haven. Maybe.
Mother trusted her, and that was probably enough for any of us.
The eyes of the pink mare were on me before my own gaze turned to her. I could feel sorrow and disappointment twisting and distorting her blazing flame like a vice, and as my gaze fell upon her I felt a flare of righteous anger.
Not at me though. At something else.
I shivered all the same.
I didn’t even turn my gaze to Shining Armour. Horror stories told of how a Changeling could get sick from the very presence of his hate, and I wasn’t brave enough to chance the rumours.
“Why are they fighting?”
It was Twilight Sparkle who had spoken, and I turned to see her watching the fight with rapt incomprehension once more.
The words flew out of my mouth before I could stop them. “What do you mean?”
“Queen Chrysalis and Cadance…. Why…? Why did it have to be like this? Couldn’t she have accepted Harmony…? Why does she want to die? Why does she have to kill her?”
My gaze lingered briefly on the purple mare before turning back to the two combatants. Cadance appeared to have nicked one of Mother’s legs, causing Mother to suffer an even more awkward position than before as she half-knelt.
But she still was standing. Still fighting.
“I don’t think she knows how.”
“What do you mean? S-she could’ve taken the time to learn, couldn’t she?” I winced, I hadn’t meant to have spoken out loud, but Twilight Sparkle had caught it and pressed.
I… was already in too deep to back out now…
“If you think in one way too long it starts to become so fundamental that you no longer even question it. It becomes a part of you. If you were pinned down, and someone was threatening to cut away your horn, your very magic, would you fight with your life to keep it?”
Twilight Sparkle’s wide eyes shimmered in uncertainty, twinges and pains of disgust echoing through her body as she seemed to no doubt quite vividly imagine the situation. “Y-yes. I think I would.”
“But an Earth Pony has no horn, and no magic like the ones Unicorns have. It is something so fundamental to you that you struggle to imagine a life without it.” My gaze followed Mother’s graceless movements, flailing her sabre in her jaw with surprising ferocity as she continued to fight on. “I think something like that happened to her. The idea of being against Ponies and everything th- we stand for has been around for so long in her mind that it's become a part of it. That it has become so fundamental that she can’t think around it.”
“But… she could’ve left, couldn’t she? Celestia said that one of her aims for the peace talks was that if she couldn’t convince Queen Chrysalis that we could help her was that we didn’t want to fight her, and that she could leave and didn’t have to fight us.”
That... sounded likely.
But Mother never listened to the peace talks. She believed them a foregone conclusion and used the opportunity to attack instead.
To do more damage.
To bring more pain.
To drag the war on further.
“I think that… she is a very hurt mare. That couldn’t find the help she needed in time, and perhaps the nicest thing we can do is…” I made a vague and probably very un-Raven Inkwell-like gesture towards the fight.
Twilight Sparkle turned back to the fight.
I turned to the flames so similar they might as well be twins.
Two roaring, dominating infernos of colour and emotion as they clumsily battled to the death.
But there was no rage, no anger, nor even spite or irritation whenever one was struck.
Merely sorrow, love, and reluctant acceptance that this is what had to be done.
Not romantic love, nor familial or that of even a friend or the kind directed towards a pet.
But a love between two paired souls. Of a student eager to learn, a teacher eager to teach, and the separation of time that prevented them.
The flames warred, and the Small Queen managed a lucky hit. The flat of her blade against Mother’s skull.
She staggered, she was weak, she was ill. She couldn’t fight.
But she tried anyway.
Mother’s sabre remained in-between grit teeth as she slowly, slowly got her senses in order.
The Small Queen hesitated.
Then hesitated once more.
I saw her screw her eyes shut and plunged her blade towards Mother’s chest.
I held my eyes tight and shut as I heard the thunk of Mother’s body hitting the floor.
I had left the castle in a daze.
Raven Inkwell had been awoken by a concerned maid, apparently having tripped in the bathroom.
Said maid had left the castle not long after, only to be replaced by a Unicorn stallion when no one was looking.
… I was pretty sure no one was looking at the time, at least.
The Queen was no longer imprisoned.
She was dead.
The streets blurred together.
The apartment was empty when I stepped inside.
My bed was cold when I crawled into it.
At some point during that my disguise burned away.
Mother was gone.
It was just us now.
Alone.
No one to guide us. To lead us. To steer us away from the mistakes of the past.
What are we going to do?
There’s no one….
I blinked, blankets I do not completely remember placing shifting out of the way of my face.
No light shone from behind the drawn curtains.
I felt myself rise, soft fabric catching on chitin as the blankets fell away and I shuffled out of bed.
No one could replace her, but we can still remember her.
And she… I couldn’t ever imagine Mother sitting still. She was never satisfied, never content with how things were, not like the Ponies. Never still, always moving, always planning.
She wouldn’t want us to become still either. Wouldn’t want us to… fade away.
What were we going to do instead? Who would lead us? No one-
No one can replace Mother.
But we weren’t just one.
We were the Hive.
We were many.
No one could replace her.
But we could. We could remember. We could teach each other. More so than before.
All we gather for the Hive.
We can gather more than love, can't we?
Taking a deep breath, I stumbled away from the bed and towards the apartment door.
I had lived up to my promise now, it was about time for a new one.
Mother wanted the Hive to transform into something new, something glorious.
I won’t forget the promise she made.
I won’t let us forget our history, where we came from, now that Mother is no longer here to remember for us.
We’d need to hide it though.
Writing it down was risky and discovery could be disastrous. Word of mouth would have the lessons we learnt change to fit the speaker, our history would mutate into something unrecognisable in time.
Pictures…
Maybe?
It was a new time after all. Perhaps we could hide our history amongst the fiction and art of Ponies.
It would not be the first time we’ve become fiction.
It might be time to hide now anyway, to sink into the shadows where the Ponies aren’t looking, and maybe, once we’ve been forgotten again, show ourselves once more.
But not as monsters. That didn’t work before.
And I won’t let us forget.
Mother had been Chrysalis.
But who would I be?
I no longer had a Queen in front of me to make the promise before, but I had her memory, and if that is not enough then I will make it enough. A new name, and all the standards and challenges it holds.
I will meet them all. I will exceed them.
For I am Memento.
Or, perhaps, I will be.