A Mockery of Sorrow

by Farseer


History

As Lemon broke the embrace, tears in her eyes, she turned over to where Colgate was laying- or, rather, laid no more. With a truly mad smile on her face, her horn flickered to life. "I will return, Lemon. And when I do... I'll get you, my pretty ..." she turned to Mockingbird. "And your little Mockingbird, too!" Lemon, rapidly shot a bolt of magic at her, but Colgate vanished, and it impacted against the wall, leaving a dent and the echoes of her maniacal laughter.

She sighed and shook her head, wiping the tears from her eyes and the blood from her scar. She turned to Mockingbird, shivering slightly on the ground. It was late, and they did need to go to bed.

But not just yet.

They embrace again.


The next morning, I stand up on my cloud and stretch, remembering the horrid events from last night. Shivering as I remember the expressions on her face. But, right now, I don't want to think about it. Instead, as I am waking up, I let my memories flow through my mind. A newborn foal. A new pony at the school house. Everything seems to be in common with something. The word Ponyville comes to mind for some reason. Ponyville? What or where is that?

I decide I should get up as I glide down from my cloud bed that Lemon gave me a few days ago and land in the center of the room. Making me remember all that has happened in the short space of a mere three months. Reminding me of that first day, suddenly becoming conscious into this world of friends and horrors. A black-cloaked pony that I have never seen again fro a while. I think that's a good question to ask Lemon once she woke up. She needed her rest after yesterday's events.

I find a nearby mirror, slightly chipped on the edges but still functional. I find my comb- it had scattered underneath the table, scratched by unharmed, and begin brushing my mane. A satisfying task that at least made my hair look better.

As I brush, I look at my scarred and patchworked body. If all these souls, fused into mine... I can see where the memories came from. I flap my six wings, sore and tired from them being crunched the previous evening. I shook my head, brushing my hair over one of my three horns. It makes me look less of a freak that way, I guess, but it doesn't help that almost every part of me is a different color. Or the fact that I have eight legs. I look like a spider pony. I giggle at that for some reason. Seeing myself in the mirror again makes me wonder where all the pieces of me come from.

Speaking of pieces...

I turn around to see the puzzle that I made for Lemon a week ago, featuring the Royal Sisters on the front. One edge is charred, another has a small hole in it. Some of it is soaked the blood of the guard from last night. Most of it is in pieces. Yet, I can still clearly see the picture of the Princesses embracing each other. I wonder what it would have been like to live under their rule. Would they have accepted me? I think so. They seem wise enough not to judge a pony by their appearance.

I am looking at the pictures when I hear the door open with Lemon come out of it, looking around her ruined workshop. She smiles softly at me and I smile back. Yet another reminder of who I truly am underneath this patchwork body and this fractured soul.

I am Mockingbird.


As Lemon opened the door to the workshop, she found Mockingbird standing among the ruins of the workshop. Smiling slightly. She couldn't help but smile back. This nightmare was over. For now, at least. She would have to be more wary of Colgate from now on, and she could guess the first thing that she would go to. It was what she would do.

But, for now, she would content herself by repairing her home, before preparing the long and arduous process of repairing her mind. But now, she had a friend she could lean on.

And she knew she could make it through with the help of someone to love her, and someone to love in return.


As Colgate staggered out of her room, she made yet another oath that she would have her revenge on Lemon Hearts for the death of her apprentice and to stop her plans. She was actually still getting over the fact that Mockingbird was sapient. How interesting. And yet another way for her to hurt Lemon.

She smiled as she drew attention with her stumbling and the large, jagged, self-made stitching in the open wound that Lemon had inflicted on her. She even had one or two of the Euphories come over and try to help her. Of course she shooed them away. Lunatics.

The smile grew in diameter as she approached a large, red pair of double doors. She rapidly hid her smile behind a hurt, painful expression, then raised her hoof to knock on the door, wincing as the wound on her shoulder stretched.

Time for my revenge, Lemon.