//------------------------------//
// Breaking Point 
// Story: Body And Mind 
// by Starman Ghost 
//------------------------------//

It seemed that the ponies had liked the reaction Twilight had gotten from Pincer; she'd taken over the Royal Guards' duty of interrogating him. She was warmer than the guards at first, more open to talking about personal matters such as asking about his tastes in literature and whether there was anything she could do to make him more comfortable in between her questions. Unlike the guards, she seemed more curious about scientific matters than military intelligence, asking about his muscular structure, his transformative magic flow, and a dozen other things he wouldn't have remotely understood even if he hadn't had pounding headache from his hunger.

He'd been doing his best to hide his symptoms of hunger from her, but gradually they had progressed from aggravating to intolerable. The pounding in his head had grown persistent enough that he couldn't read more than a page or two at a time without stopping to shut his eyes, and it had made listening to Twilight for extended amounts of time exhausting. His shaking and trembling, meanwhile, had gotten so bad that standing for more than a few minutes at a time was impossible. He lay down and shut her out the best he could in the hope that she would take it for stubbornness rather than weakness, but he couldn't stop his shivering.

Lacking the Guards' professionalism, Twilight had at first grown irritated at his continued silence. Even in the beginning she rarely questioned him for more than half an hour at a time before storming away, grumbling about how she'd probably have better luck in the library. Despite her frustration and his own attempts to hide it, his deteriorating health hadn't escaped her notice. Her questions had taken on an almost pleading tone lately, and she'd actually stopped a few sessions early not because she was angry, but because he'd reached the point where he could barely focus on her. Her anger faded a bit each day, gradually giving way to nothing but sadness.

Each time, she gave a parting promise that she'd find a way to feed him soon. It always sounded insincere, but that didn't seem to be out of any lack of commitment to the task on her part. She just sounded very doubtful about her own ability to do so.

The idea of someone feeling pity for him was a hard one to bear, but by every indication Twilight was. He'd never imagined that a pony could feel pity for a changeling, but he'd been training all of his life to catch false displays of emotion, and he saw none of the signs. Of course, he reminded himself, Twilight was a formidable magician who no doubt had the support of many other unicorns, a species known for their magical powers. Surely it wouldn't be difficult for them to cast a spell that altered his perception so that her pity appeared genuine, or brew a potion that could temporarily make Twilight a perfect liar.

But if they were willing to do that, why not just hypnotize him? No, that must have been beyond their capability; otherwise they would have just done so upon capturing him. It wasn't genuine pity, then. It was magical trickery. It had to be. There was nothing to do but remain on his guard for however long he had left.

Finally, one day, Twilight brought him a gift. As soon as she'd seated herself in front of his cell, her saddlebag popped open and a book floated out of it. She made no effort to hide the hopeful look on her face.

"I bought this at a bookstore here in Canterlot. It's called Becoming Your Character, and it's all about method acting techniques used by theater ponies. I'd heard from the guards that you liked reading about this kind of thing, so I thought I'd get this for you."

She turned the book to its side to slip it through the bars, setting it down at Pincer's front hooves. He looked down at it, then back at Twilight, who was silently begging him to open it. His face was uncomprehending.

"You're giving me this?"

Twilight nodded.

"To keep?"

She nodded again.

"And in return?"

Twilight frowned. "You're not going to start that again, are you? It's yours. Have it. No one's going to take it away. I know how hard this has been for you, and I thought you could use something to cheer you up."

With some effort, Pincer managed to steady his hoof long enough to wedge it between two of the pages and crack the book open. He flipped back and forth, trying to force himself to scan paragraphs through his headache, but the throbbing pain forced him to clamp his eyes shut.

"Are you okay? Is there something else I can get you?"

He shook his head and opened his eyes, concentrating as well as he could despite his body's weakness. He hadn't read more than a few words when he felt his quivering legs buckle beneath him, causing him to hit the ground jarringly.

"Stay with me, please." Twilight's voice cracked on the last word.

At a glance, he could tell it seemed far more detailed on the subject than any of the books he'd been permitted to borrow had been. It was something he would very much like to read, and it was his. He once again looked to Twilight, whose face showed no expectation that he give her information in exchange. The doubts he'd suppressed earlier burst into his mind again before he could throttle them.

What difference did it make, though? He would be going soon anyway. It was unheard of for a changeling to survive without love much longer than he had. He had a few days, a week at most. He'd been holding his silence for over a month; he didn't think another week would be difficult for him no matter how many gifts they showered him with. He wondered if he could finish this book before he was too weak to move.

If nothing else, he supposed, he could be thankful that his last days of consciousness would be at least minimally comfortable and free of guilt or shame. He'd held out. He had something to occupy his last few days without having had to ask for it or give the enemy information for it. Though he would never see his podmates again, at least he could take solace in the fact that he'd been able to keep them safe by taking his species' secrets to his grave.

Then he felt it.

It had been so long that at first he hadn't recognized it for what it was, but his instincts quickly took over and he immediately swelled with joy on a primal level.

Twilight Sparkle was giving him selflessness. Concern. Compassion. Something he could feed on. More importantly, it was love.

Automatically, he closed his eyes and began to draw in the energy flowing over him with every bit of strength his weary body could muster. Every ounce of awareness he had was focused on feeding and only on feeding, and he drank it as though he were a pony dying of thirst who'd been pushed beneath a dripping pump.

His source of nourishment had run dry long before he'd had his fill, and he grappled fruitlessly at the last traces as they ebbed away. It wasn't nearly enough to completely replenish him, not after he'd gone so long without, but slowly he could feel his terrible helplessness giving way to mere exhausting weakness. Each time his head pounded was less forceful than the last, and after testing a front leg he found he had the strength to lift it, and in fact had enough left over to plant it on the ground and start using it to push himself up.

Twilight was on the ground. For a moment he could only stare in confusion, but then the events that had just happened truly sank in. He'd really done it. He'd drained love from her, and that always caused physical exhaustion in the source of the meal. He hadn't been able to take much, so it was surprising at first to see that she had apparently lost a great deal of strength, but she had surely been just as surprised as he was.

He was still wrapping his mind around the seeming impossibility of a pony voluntarily and freely caring enough about him enough that he could feed off of it when cantering hoofsteps and shouts from somewhere to the right captured his attention. A pair of pegasus guards then trotted over to Twilight, one leaning down to examine her face and the other glaring at Pincer.

"What have you done to her?"

He tried and failed to find words.

"Don't give me that look. She was right in front of you. Make no mistake. If you've seriously hurt her, you will answer to Princess Celestia."

"She's conscious," said the second pegasus guard, glancing up. "Are you okay? Can you stand?"

Twilight nodded, and the guard standing over her stepped back. Slowly, swaying as she did so, she pulled herself to a standing position. After assuring the guard that she was fine, she turned to Pincer, mouth agape and eyes wide.

"Wh—how... since when..." She took a step forward and pointed her horn at him. "Okay, I'm done playing nice! You'd better start talking! What was that? How could you possibly do something like that? Your magic was blocked, and besides, you didn't even have the strength to st—"

Twilight raised her head and blinked.

"You... you're standing." She looked up and down, eyes narrowed slightly in concentration. "And you're not shaky, and you've got your head up and you're listening attentively. You're definitely more lively than you were, but there's only one way that could happen."

She smiled in apparent satisfaction, then looked over her shoulder at the guards. "Thanks for your help, but I've got it from here."

"Miss Sparkle," said one with concern, "that prisoner just attacked you with some sort of magic despite his restraints. It's too dangerous for you to be with unattended."

Twilight's smile didn't waver. "You don't have to worry. Trust me on this. I know exactly what he did and how to handle it."

The guard glanced at his companion, then back at Twilight. "Are you absolutely sure, Miss Sparkle?"

Twilight nodded. After a wary glance at Pincer, the guard sighed. "Very well, Miss Sparkle. If you need us, we'll remain in shouting distance."

"I appreciate the concern, but really, I'll be fine," Twilight said, now frowning. The guard nodded again and slowly began trotting away, his companion trailing behind him.

"Now," Twilight said, turning to Pincer and looking as though he might start trotting in place. "I'm glad I figured out a way to feed you love. I can't say I was expecting it to happen that way, but I'm glad you're on your hooves again!"

Pincer eased himself into a sitting position. "This... this wasn't supposed to be possible," he said, more to himself than her.

"What do you mean?"

"I shouldn't have been able to feed off that. That can't happen if you just wanted me alive for what I knew. You would've had to..." He sighed. "Cadance did something, didn't she?"

Twilight couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Cadance isn't here. She's never once come to this cell."

"She can cast love spells. She's the only one. It's the only way. She... she must be hiding or something."

"Cadance can only create mutual love. If she'd somehow turned invisible and been involved, you'd have felt it too."

"That I know of. That's what they told us."

"Well, do you trust what 'they' told you?"

"But... they also said... they said a pony would never care about a changeling if they knew what we were. So... then..."

"Then something they told you had to be wrong, didn't it?"

"Well...what we thought we knew about Cadance was wrong. It had to be. Either that or you somehow managed to change her spell and cast it yourself."

"Have you ever heard of a spell that could be cast without anypony nearby noticing?"

"No, but that doesn't mean it can't happen!"

"Then doesn't that apply to a pony caring about a changeling, too?"

"No, it doesn't!" Pincer waved a hoof in the air. "Look at us! Ponies don't like bugs, certainly not large bugs, and especially not large bugs that try to overthrow their government to feed off them!"

"Well, actually, I don't think you're some horribly ugly monster. In fact, to me you look kind of fascinating."

"Like an exotic test subject."

Twilight looked mortified. "What? Oh, no! I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way. Oh, I'm not sure how to put this..." She cleared her throat.

"Look, you're different from us and I find that interesting, but that doesn't make you any worse than a gryphon or a zebra. I don't think you're just some unusual life form to analyze and measure. Have I ever treated you that way?" She sounded as if there were a right answer to this question and she was expecting him to say it.

It was the sort of thing Pod Leader Scarab liked to do. Would Scarab have been proud of Pincer, of how well he'd resisted their interrogation techniques and how he'd refused to fall for their tricks? Or would it not have been enough? Certainly there were things Pincer could have handled better than he did. He took a breath, knowing he would have to die without getting that answer. There was nothing to do but continue to resist, as was his duty.

"You wanted me to trust you," he said evenly. "You don't care. You're faking it."

Twilight huffed, then took a moment to rub her eye with a hoof. She abruptly stopped and gasped, and Pincer found himself hoping she'd injured herself or remembered an important appointment or anything else that might end the interrogation.

His hopes were dashed when he saw her raise her head with an anticipating, hopeful look.

"Are you familiar with a spell called 'Want It, Need It'?"

Pincer didn't have to think long to pin it down. He'd recalled hearing from Antenna a few months before the invasion about a time when she'd been infiltrating Ponyville and had fallen victim to a spell that had seized her with an irresistible urge to take possession of a simple child's doll at any cost. She would've given up the world just to touch it, she'd said.

Terror seized him. Was she going to—?

"Why? What are you planning? Tell me! Why do you want to know?"

"You know what it does, then."

"Yes! Yes, I know! Now tell me! Why? What're you doing?!"

"I just want you to answer one question. If getting you to talk was the only thing I cared about, why didn't I enchant, say..." She glanced down. "...my saddlebag would work, and hold it out of your reach? Then I could get you to tell me everything if I told you I'd give it to you in return."

Pincer's training was not enough to stop him from shaking. "You... this is it... you... you're really going to..."

Twilight rapidly shook her head. "No. I didn't, and I won't. Because that would be a horrible thing to do to somepony. Can't you understand? I want to help you!"

Pincer stood there for a moment, taking in her words. As much as he hated to admit it, what he'd been seeing just didn't line up at all with what he thought he knew. There was no conceivable gambit he could think of her going through that would've been worth the trouble of not simply casting the spell on him and being done with it. It certainly wasn't worth the considerable effort that would've gone into the undoubtedly difficult task of finding some way to create love for him to feed on if Twilight had none.

Surely, though, there were some reasons she might have been unable or unwilling to cast the spell on him? Maybe it couldn't actually be used to get information out of someone because they would be too driven to get the object to even engage in conversation. Did that contradict what information Antenna had been able to gather? He didn't want to think it did, but he had the nagging feeling he'd heard somewhere that ponies under the influence of the spell still talked. Maybe they thought that having him willingly give them information would make good propaganda? Hardly. If anything, knowledge of a willingly cooperating changeling would turn public opinion against total destruction of The Hive.

No one at The Hive would have believed that ponies would ever treat changelings decently, though, even solely to get information. Cruel manipulation and calculated betrayal of trust just didn't fit with the idea that ponies thought changelings were too mindlessly brutal to pretend to befriend and too lacking in any sort of trust to betray. Ever since he'd gotten here, they'd been providing him with decent meals, proper medical care, recreation, and a reasonably comfortable place to sleep — treatment more like what he would expect ponies to give each other than what he would expect them to give a changeling.

All of that aside, it had been a terribly long time since he'd had the company of someone he could consider a friend. He couldn't be entirely certain he could trust Twilight, but in light of everything that had happened, the odds had become good enough for him to be willing to take the chance. Even if she didn't start out with the intention to, it was quite possible that she'd become invested enough in the role she'd taken to end up being sympathetic to him.

If nothing else, the possibility of gaining a sympathizer was worth the risk.

"Okay. I think... maybe you're not like that. I was just so sure. I never thought a pony could... I'm..." He swallowed and looked down.

"M—my mistake," he mumbled.

The silence that followed felt unreal, as though by uttering the statement he'd crossed the threshold into some impossible world that he was never meant to be in. Still, as when he made a mistake in The Hive, it was only proper to acknowledge his error and accept the consequences. Accepting that the impossible had happened, he looked back up, expecting her to prepare to mete out punishment. Instead, she was smiling delightedly.

"Well, I'm glad to hear you say that. I think we can get a lot more done now that we've opened up a bit."

"Wait... you're not mad?"

Twilight shook her head, then levitated a quill and piece of parchment out of in front of her from her saddlebag. "I was actually getting kind of annoyed you weren't considering that maybe you'd misjudged me. How can I be mad now that I've got the chance to really talk with you?"

"I couldn't really know you'd be different."

"Different from who?"

"The other ponies. Look, maybe you want to help me, but they don't. Ponies hate changelings. They still want to destroy The Hive, and even if you aren't in on it, That's what Celestia and the rest are doing."

She looked taken aback. "That doesn't even make sense! Whenever there's any sort of conflict with the buffalo, or the zebras, or the gryphons, Celestia always tries to settle things peacefully! She's raised me and taught me since I was a filly. Celestia isn't going to burn down your home and kill you all because you attacked us!"

"My Queen says otherwise, and my Queen has known Celestia for a lot longer than you have. This wasn't the first conflict between changelings and ponies, Sparkle. Celestia never liked us. She forced us into hiding long ago, and that's why we've always had to sneak and steal to stay alive."

"What, Chrysalis told you that? She was wrong about me, wasn't she? Don't you think that maybe she could be wrong again?"

"Do you think we chose this?" Pincer asked, baring his fangs. "Being outcasts, barely surviving, and the training... all those threats and beatings, if I'd ever had any choice... it was Celestia's fault!"

"Threats? Beatings?" Twilight frowned in concern. "W—what are you... did they really do that to you over there? How could they? And what would Celestia have to do with that?"

The traces of anger on Pincer's face vanished as quickly as they had appeared. "Ask her. Ask her about the last time your kind learned of us. She was there, and she was the one who sealed our fate," he intoned.

Skepticism colored Twilight's face, but she nodded. "Okay. I will. I'm sure that things aren't as bad as you're telling me, though."

"You'll find out. If she doesn't tell you the truth, she'll decide she's done playing nice and have you use that spell on me so she can go through with her plans. And Sparkle?"

Judging by the way Twilight's ears pricked up at the last two words, she knew he was getting ready to say something he considered important.

"My name is Pincer. When we're gone, will you remember it?"

Twilight frowned, her ears drooping slightly.

"Pincer," she said quietly. "So, you really do have names."

She nodded. "I'll remember it, but you won't be gone. I, along with Celestia, am going to prove we ponies aren't who Chrysalis says we are."

Twilight turned and walked away, back straight and pace steady. Once she was out of sight, Pincer flipped the book she had given him back to the first page and began reading it; after all, this book could very well be his last.