//------------------------------// // Chapter 3: Five Hearts, One That Hurts, One That Weeps, One That Longs, One That Fears, and One That Hates // Story: The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter // by TalonMach5 //------------------------------// The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter A Story by TalonMach5 Chapter 3: Five Hearts, One That Hurts, One That Weeps, One That Longs, One That Fears, and One That Hates He tightly gripped the armrests of his stone throne. Though he was still weak from the foul curse that had beset him, he felt his all familiar rage coursing through his veins. He wanted to rise up and hunt down the vermin that thought to wrong him inside his own home. The green flames burning in his eyes flared from beneath his arcanum crown, as he tapped into his power to punish those who’d sought to harm him. But before he could send his fury through the earthen ley lines in retribution, he felt her using her magic on his left hand. With her magic, she raised and placed his hand lightly against her muzzle. Looking into her affectionate teal eyes, he found his fury somewhat lessened, as she placed her hoof against his hand. He closed his eyes trying to get away from her gentle gaze, but her accursed magic seemed to have affected him. He found himself desperately wanting to crush his enemies with all the fury of the Earth, but found to his chagrin that he couldn’t Exhaling in frustration, he looked at her briefly, before returning his attention to Melody and the others. “So you’re absolutely sure it was a changeling then?” he rumbled, thrumming the metal fingers of his right hand methodically. “Yes, king da…” she said, before catching a venomous look from her sister Harmony. “I mean, yes, Slave King.” “Can you confirm this?” he said to the others, looking Chrysalis squarely in the eye. “Absolutely,” Chrysalis the changeling turned diamond dog said, pleased that the one that had harmed her so would finally get what was coming to them. “As can I, Slave King,” Dame Squall, the Relentless said, giving him a curt bow. Though she found him distasteful, the words that Scourge, the Doomhound had spoken to her earlier, still echoed in her heart, and made her resolve to find some common ground with his servants. “This changeling was the same as the one who interfered during Shadow Knight Sombra’s and Sir Hurricane’s contest, as well as the identity of the ghast that attacked Aria.” The Slave King looked down at the light green seapony, and stroked his greying beard thoughtfully. Beneath her purple flowing locks, were a pair of vibrant green eyes that shone with the same spirit of justice that he’d seen once before so long ago. One had been an elderly minotaur knight, and the other his loyal seapony companion. So great had been their bond, that not even his great power had managed to break them. Looking thoughtfully at his arcanum arm for a moment, he returned his gaze to her. “Whether by choice or chance, this is twice you’ve served me, chevaleresse,” he said, giving the trident she had strapped to her back a thoughtful look. “You may keep the weapon with my blessing. It once belonged to another knight of the Lawgiver that aided me in my time of need. Perhaps, it might serve me once more.” Dame Squall nodded respectfully to him. “As long as it allows me to protect the weak and punish the wicked,” she said, pondering the weapon’s history. “I’ll gladly accept it.” Looking into his empty cup, he looked towards the reindeer, Gunhilde. “I thirst, cupbearer,” he said, holding out his cup for her to fill. “Of course, Slave King,” she said, levitating a bottle of the Draught of Renewal with her magic. Slowly filling his cup halfway, she waited for him to drain it, so she could fill it once more. Looking thoughtfully into the iridescent emerald liquid, he looked at her, and offered her a small smile. “I missed you this morning, Gunhilde,” he said, draining his goblet dry. “Some of the others thought you had betrayed me. I’m pleased that wasn’t the case.” Looking at her flank, she saw the brand that linked him and her to each other. She could feel his divinity and power ebb and flow against it, as she contemplated her fate as his slave. Though she hated being his slave, she found she didn’t hate him. With this new found knowledge, she bowed respectfully to the one she was being forced to serve. “And what would be the point in running away, master,” she said, accepting her lot for now. “As long as I bear your mark, there’s no escaping.” “That’s true, Gunhilde,” he replied, giving his wife a thoughtful look, as he examined his own brands that now bore her cutie mark. What had once been an act of silent defiance against her and her sister, had now become his new mark of ownership. Without her magic supporting him, he was as helpless as a newborn babe. Truly, without her aid, he would’ve died to the curse that had struck him down. “You and the others, are excused for now.” “Oh, before I forget, Slave King,” Melody said, recalling the words the serpent had told her. “Yes, what is it, Melody,” he asked, curious to discover what she wished to tell him. “It’s about Jormungandr,” she said, frowning slightly when she unsuccessfully tried remembering the warning he’d offered her. "What of the Winding One?” he said, while his throne room became deathly silent. When she heard that Jormungandr had made himself known, and to a mortal no less, Princess Luna wondered what great new machination he was plotting. It was no secret that whenever his name was evoked, plots and schemes were sure to follow. Why the last time he’d involved himself in the affairs of gods and ponies, he’d successfully managed to entangle everypony in a plot to save the Slave King from himself, and had blessed Equestria greatly. In fact, the Slave King’s ascension to godhood was almost singlehoofedly secured by his scheming. “Daughter, thou hast seen the Winding One with thine own eyes?” she worriedly asked, fearful that some new plot was conspiring against her and her husband. When Harmony heard Princess Luna address Melody as daughter, she furrowed her brow disapprovingly. Didn’t she know the Slave King had no children? Speaking to his servants with such familiarity would only breed resentment in the long run. “With respect, Princess Luna,” she said as diplomatically as possible. “Our mother is Lady Suzaku.” “We know this, daughter,” Princess Luna replied, giving the magister a knowing look. “But art we not wed to thy father? We pledged to accept all his children as our own.” “But, Princess Luna…” she objected, before being silenced by a look from the Slave King. “Wife,” he rumbled, suggesting he didn’t much care for the direction the conversation was taking. “I believe we’re being sidetracked from the more important issue, that of Jormungandr.” Laying back her ears, she bowed to him. Though she was sure the root of his cold heart lay in the rejection of his children, she yielded to him for now. There would time enough later to make him see things her way. After all, she was determined that their foals wouldn’t suffer the same fate as their siblings had. “As you wish, husband,” she submissively said. Looking towards Melody, she was delighted when she saw that she seemed amicable enough to accepting her as kin. “So, Melody,” the Slave King said, leaning slightly forward in his throne. “Tell me what tidings does the Winding One offer the Earth?” Why had he chosen until now to remain hidden? he wondered to himself. Surely amongst the Pantheon in its entirety, none owed him more than himself. Without his intervention, he would’ve suffered imprisonment in stone, or worse. If the timetable had been accelerated, surely he would’ve sought him out. But no, he’d not even seen fit to send his coterie of followers to speak with him. Thinking back to his wedding, unless he was paranoid, he determined that his marriage to Luna must have been a part of his plan all along. And that’s why he’d avoided him for so long. But now that he was shackled to her, why not speak with him directly? The sooner he was made aware of the plan, the sooner he could extricate himself from the machinations of the game, and thus be able to resume his vital work. “Slave King,” Melody said, looking her father in the eye. “Jormungandr sends his apologies for not being there when you needed his aid.” “That’s it? An apology?” he said, slightly annoyed Jormungandr hadn’t bothered to do so in person. “No, there’s more, Slave King,” Harmony said, shaking her head at her sister. “Go on Melody, tell him about the Elements.” “Dost thou mean the Elements of Harmony?” Princess Luna asked, surprised that any mortal was aware of their existence. “Yes, moth… I mean, Princess Luna,” she said, remembering to practice proper court etiquette. “Wife, what are the Elements of Harmony?” the Slave King asked, wondering what they had to do with him. “The Elements of Harmony, are how we first created the world,” she explained, creating a magical illusion of six brilliantly colored gems floating before them. “In the first Age of Ponies, our sister and we, together with the Prime Elements, created all Equestria from the elemental void of chaos.” “Wife, I take it that was a bit before my time” the Slave King said with a wry grin. “Verily, husband,” she said, returning his smile with one of her own. “For a time there wast harmony amongst us all, until the destroyer came, and with him disharmony and war.” “Oh, you must mean Tiroc, right?” Melody said, before receiving scathing looks from Harmony and the others. “Melody, how could you?” Harmony accused, chastising her sister for saying his name aloud. “Oh, what’s the big deal?” she replied, with a cheeky grin. “He’s safely tucked away in the Pit right?” “Fie, Melody, for shame,” Princess Luna said, scolding her for speaking the destroyer’s hateful name aloud. “The unmentionable one, is known thus for good reason. Remember this well, to speak one’s name, empowers them.” “As interesting as all this is,” the Slave King said, annoyed by these distractions. “What do the Elements of Harmony and the unmentionable one have to do with us?” “The changeling tried stealing them from you,” Melody said, wishing she’d managed to save at least one of them from the current that had swept them away. “I’m sorry I failed you.” “Husband, thou heldst the Elements within thy grasp, and never told us of such?” Princess Luna accused him, wondering what else he had hidden from the rest of the Pantheon. “We believed them lost forever.” Curious as to how he could come to possess such power unknown, he looked to his harper questioningly. “Since when have I ever possessed such a thing, Melody?” he asked, wondering what else the Winding One had told her. “They were your tears, king daddy,” Melody said, feeling guilty that she’d failed to save even one. “They were lost, when they fell into the current and washed away.” “My tears…” he murmured, remembering how Celestia had comforted him in his time of sorrow. He’d had no more tears left to shed, and yet in that moment as he lay lost in the shadows of despair, her light chased away the darkness covering his heart and soul. In that moment of healing, the love he’d held for the ones he’d lost so long ago, escaped as tears, crystallizing into six cloudy gems. Though initially he’d wondered what value they might’ve held, he’d determined they held no innate magic of their own. He’d only bothering holding onto them for their value as mementos, a reminder to himself that even in the darkness there’s still a hope for redemption. “So the changelings think to steal my treasures, and slay my servants,” he said, feeling his earlier rage threatening to escape. “After I spared them from my wrath for their queen’s transgression, and granted them a refuge in my domain?” “No, Slave King,” Chrysalis said, worried for her hive’s safety. “We would never… I mean what profit would the changeling race gain by earning your enmity?” “Is that so, Chrysalis?” he said, glowering at her. “Very well, the changeling queen shall speak on behalf of her race. If she can convince me that this was the work of a rogue element, I shall spare them. If not, they shall share the Diamond Vale’s fate.” Once, he might have slain her and the rest of her wretched race for such acts, but he was that man no longer. To punish all for the crimes of a few wasn’t just and wasn’t right. Though the years had tempered him, the demands of justice still had to be attended to. The scales had been imbalanced, and they needed to be righted. Princess Luna looked at husband approvingly, she’d been worried at first that he would’ve smote half their domain in anger, when he first received the terrible news. But he’d shown such restraint today, it made her heart swell with affection for him. She could tell now, he was nothing like the arrogant vengeful monster of his youth. She simply needed to ensure he stayed on the path to harmony, and all would eventually be made right. Still serving your sister’s whims I see, princess, the always present and ever insidious voice teased, chuckling at her surprise. What… What dost thou want, thou treacherous beast? she demanded, furious that the voice saw fit to return once more, to mock and deride her. Is that anyway to thank me, Luna? After all, without me, you wouldn’t have friend to call your own in all Equestria, the voice said, feigning hurt at her insult. Why cans’t thou leavest us alone, she implored, fearful that the voice might tempt her into darker paths once more. Cans’t thou see, we art happy now? Our husband warms to us, and shall soon return our selfsame feelings of love and affection. Luna, you are a foal if you think the Slave King does anything more than tolerate your presence, the voice said, allowing the venom of its cruel words to burrow deep into her psyche. Thou art a liar! she roared, refusing to believe anything further that the voice said. He truly loves us. We know it. Our love is true, and none of thy wicked lies cans’t corrupt its purity. Oh, I’m sure it is, little princess, the voice mocked, its voice dripping with sarcasm. But does your husband know that? Our husband… she murmured, looking down at the hand that should be wrapped around her hoof. Gently prodding his hand with her hoof, she waited with baited breath to see if he would hold it of his own accord. Feeling her hoof tapping against him, the Slave King looked at her questioningly, before placing his hands in his lap. See, Luna, the voice derided. He doesn’t care for you at all. I’m sure if he was married to Celestia instead, he would be more than willing to hold her hooves. In fact, they’d probably still be in bed together, having wild… Silence, fiend! Luna cried out, as the graphic images depicting her husband and sister together made her profusely blush from the passions the voice had managed to elicit from her, and felt furious that the Slave King had failed to hold her hoof when she’d clearly desired him to. Surely as her husband, he could do this one small thing for her, without having to be told. “Husband,” she whined, interrupting the letter the Slave King was dictating to Harmony. “What is it, wife?” he asked, rolling his eyes at her. Looking into her turquoise eyes, he saw a glimmer of hope and despair reflected back at him. Remembering how she’d been prodding his hand with her hoof, he knew what she desired. Centuries ago, both Lady Zephyr and Lady Suzaku had pined for his attention in a similar manner. Thankful to her for stopping him from blindly lashing out in anger, and knowing he’d know no peace until he’d acquiesced, he took hold of her hoof, and squeezed it gently. When she felt his strong hand wrap around her hoof, enveloping it with his warmth, she silently exalted with joy. She was right after all! He did love her, and all the lies and vicious rumors the voice might utter, would never change that. Looking into his burning eyes, she smiled, grateful that he’d reaffirmed her faith in their love. “Husband,” she said, worried for his health. “Art thou fatigued? Dost thou wish to retire, or see to thy other tasks?” He thought for a moment, before shaking his head slightly. True, he was feeling a bit fatigued, but so far Luna’s magic had sustained him well enough. Resting for a spell did seem tempting. However, until he had resolved the changeling problem to his satisfaction, he couldn’t afford to. “Wife, thank you, but no,” he said, looking to Harmony. “Did you wish to add anything else to the summons, Slave King?” Harmony asked, holding her quill at the ready. “How about, Your presence is requested, courtesy of one of your changelings,” he rumbled, liking how polite, yet ominous the wording made the summons seem. “We look forward to discussing this matter with you in person – The Slave King, Lord of Earth.” “Alright, Slave King,” Harmony said, rolling up the scroll, pouring wax on it, and pressing her seal to the parchment. “I’ll have it sent by royal courier.” “Good, Harmony,” he said, giving her an appreciative nod. Turning towards Luna, he stroked her fetlock with his finger. “Wife, it appears we’ll be entertaining royalty.” “Husband, why dids’t thy vassal fail to come bearing gifts and glad tidings for our wedding?” she inquired, wondering why any would dare snub a prime element, let alone herself. Looking towards Chrysalis, who was standing beside her keeper, Gunhilde, he gently squoze her hoof once more. “Queen Ambrosia knows better than to enter my domain unbidden, as do most of her children,” he said, slumping back into his throne, as he remembered what the queen had done to earn his animosity. “Share with us thy pain, husband,” Luna implored, when she felt the frigid chill that seemed to have overtaken him. Releasing a greater portion of her magic into him, in the hopes of bolstering his strength, she laid her head on his shoulder. The Slave King, felt the warmth of her breath on his ear, and offered her a sidewise glance. “Wife,” he said, as the weight of the bitter memory faded into oblivion. “One day I might share my pain with you, but today is not that day.” Closing her eyes in sorrow, because the stallion she loved with all her might, still refused to open his heart to her. Nuzzling him affectionately, she gently kissed his cheek, and withdrew to her own throne. “We understand, husband,” she said, wishing she possessed the key that bound his heart from hers. “We look forward to the day thou art willing to share thyself with us.” “Don’t hold your breath,” he muttered under his breath, awaiting for a response from the changeling queen. All the while, Melody plucked a gentle yet sad tune on her lute. Knowing she was supposed to say something more, yet couldn’t quite remember exactly what it was that she was supposed to say. ***** She looked towards where her master was resting, before returning to her silent vigil. She still couldn’t believe they’d been tasked with caring for Nightmare of all feathers. Nightmare, the first creation. Nightmare, the shadow stalker. Nightmare, the warden of the Diamond Vale ruins. Nightmare, the terror that even death itself feared. Though it had been over a day, she hadn’t moved a muscle, and was still soundly asleep. Of all of the Slave King’s servants, Nightmare was probably her least favorite to deal with. Being mercurial, temperamental, and constantly insubordinate, even on her good days, she was always difficult to work with. Narrowing her golden eyes, she looked down at the black shape sleeping peacefully on her master’s bed disapprovingly, and frowned. This monster had the gall to call her beloved master a traitor. But in reality the only traitor here, was the one they each served. He was a traitor to those who would call him family and friend. Had he accepted her as his, she would’ve have gladly fought for him until the ends of the earth if need be. But instead of affection, all he’d ever offered her was cold indifference. And even Master Scourge, his oldest and most loyal of servants, he’d cast aside without a second thought. Running her fingers through her blood red plumage, she studied her hands. Ten. That’s how many fingers she possessed, five on each hand, just like his. She wondered when he was all alone, did thoughts of her sisters and she ever fill his mind. He knew he cared somewhat for her sisters. She’d seen him spend hours listening to Melody playing her lute, as he sat on his throne. And it was no secret Harmony was his favorite member of the court, he’d even seen fit to offer her praises for the work she’d done for him over the years. But not once, in all the years she’d ever served him, had he ever praised her for anything. And now with the appearance of his son, Dawson, the griffin-half, he had the perfect opportunity to get rid of both Master Scourge and herself. Sure the ‘Order of the Shadow’s’ morale might suffer for a time, but judging by how well her griffin-half, half-brother had fought, he’d win over the old timers in short order. She thought back to all the awards and honors she’d won, just hoping that he’d offer her some small sliver of praise. But he never had. She knew that no matter how well she fought, how many victories she gave him, he’d never see her as anything more than an expendable asset. Looking at their shared quarters, the feathered folk tried looking for something, anything that bound her to this place, to her father, but found nothing. She could melt away into the shadows, and never be missed. She supposed this day had been long coming. It was time to leave her father’s employ and domain behind her. Knowing that her master would try dissuading her from leaving, she decided to leave before he woke up. But where could she possibly go? There was always the Summer Palace in the Domain of Fire, but somehow she suspected her mother wouldn’t approve of her leaving. Mother had always encouraged the feathered folk to seek out their father in the South. She wasn’t quite sure why, perhaps to protect them from Lord Ouroboros’s servants. But she’d always suspected it was her way to become closer to the Slave King. With so many of them in the South, she supposed he couldn’t ignore that they had once been close. Though her mother was always warm and loving, she suspected that she’d find the lifestyle in the Summer Palace stifling and boring. She was a feather of action, she needed more than endless parties and gossip. And though the Domain of Fire was the land of her birth, the Fire Tyrant had long ago made clear his disgust with the beastfolk tribes. She was sure she’d find no welcome amongst his kin. But if there was no place for her in the East, perhaps the North might provide her refuge. Though she didn’t particularly mind ponies, she wasn’t quite sure they wouldn’t mind her. As a result of their policy of slavery, the South had few friends amongst the other domains. And even if the ponies at large weren’t outright hostile towards her, she was sure that every mare and stallion who had ever lost somefeather to slavery might decide on getting a little payback. And that was to say nothing of the griffins, though Dawson and Lady Zephyr had been cordial enough towards her. That sentiment wasn’t exactly shared by everyfeather else in their domain. It was no secret that many griffins outright hated the Slave King, and by extension anyfeather that had ever had anything to do with him. She was sure once word got around that not only was she from the South, but had also been second only to Master Scourge, she’d know no peace, as everyfeather who had ever possessed a grievance against the Slave King would surely come to her doorstep to collect. Then if all other paths were barred to her, perhaps she might find gainful employment amongst the seaponies in the West. She knew from personal experience, that Lord Triton’s children appreciated martial skill, and she had that in droves. However, they also despised the Slave King and all his mudslinger servants, for what they considered his disdain for Lord Triton’s laws. So even though she was skilled, most likely nofeather would trust her enough to offer her a chance to prove herself. Deciding she had no other alternative, she decided she’d head towards the Western Sea, offering her services as a sell sword for hire to any traveling merchants. And if nofeather would hire her, then she’d book passage on a ship sailing to the Zebrakan, and make her living there. Surely in the wilds of that place, she could make her mark. Having made her decision, she looked down at the sleeping form of her master, and lowered her head. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be patient, Master Scourge,” she whispered, wishing that somehow she could take him with her, away from her father and this hateful place. Preparing to depart the palace for the last time, she grabbed her sheathed arcanum long knife, and secured it to her belt. Drawing the knife from its sheath, she studied its black, dull surface. Placing it back inside its sheath, she grabbed her satchel, and looking inside, pulled out a large golden coin, her boon for winning the archery contest last week. She saw her father’s face engraved on the coin looking up at her, staring at her with those same cold uncaring eyes. She was about to leave the coin on her dresser, when she saw her hand. It had five fingers, just like his. She felt something wet against her cheek, touching a finger to her face, she pulled back and saw it was her tears. Placing the coin on the dresser, she grabbed her cloak, gave her beloved master one last look, and left her room in tears. Walking through the dimly lit corridors of the palace, she drew her hood over her face to hide her reddened eyes and the tear stained feathers on her face from view. She thought about Melody and Harmony, and how much she’d miss them both. Wiping her eyes on her sleeve, she walked through the darkened corridor to reach her destination, the exit to the gardens. Stepping out of the shadows, she flinched as sunlight from the broken dome above her, hit her eyes. Once they had adjusted to the brightness, she walked into the garden. Passing one of the statues of her father, she stopped to look at it. He was depicted sitting on his throne, with an outstretched arm and stern demeanor. She saw his hand, and counter the number of fingers. Five, just like hers. Gingerly reaching out to touch it, she rested her hand against the statue’s much larger one, and felt the cool unyielding stone beneath her palm. Looking into the statue’s lifeless eyes, she felt years of anger, longing, and sorrow welling up inside her. “I hate you,” she whispered, finally voicing the feelings she’d kept bottled up inside her for so long. When the statue’s stony visage didn’t respond, she lowered her head, and buried her face in her hands, hoping to hide her tears from the world. Dropping to her knees, she hugged its legs, and wept. She remembered as a child, how she longed to meet her father, to be with him, to be held by him. “Why… Why don’t you love me, father?” she sobbed, gripping the statue as hard as she could, hoping that maybe somehow it might respond to her heartfelt pleas. “Remember, little pup, all parents love their children,” she heard somefeather say from behind her. “Master Scourge?” she said in surprise. Standing up to greet her master, she hastily wiped her eyes on her sleeves, trying her best to hide any evidence of her tears. “Little pup,” he said, approaching her. “Where are you going?” “Master, I… um,” she stammered, tripping over her words, and feeling totally flustered and incredibly vulnerable. “It’s alright,” he said, walking forward and standing beside her trembling frame. Feeling guilty for nearly leaving him without saying goodbye, she knelt down and embraced his arcanum armor. “Oh, master,” she cried out, while her heart broke for the father who had rejected her. “Always remember, little pup, I love you,” he said, returning her embrace. Sniffing several times and wiping her puffy eyes with her tunic’s sleeves, she looked up at the statue of the Slave King. “Master Scourge,” she said, refusing to look away from the statue. “I’m leaving.” “I know, Aria,” he sadly said, leaning his head against her. Placing a large gold coin into her hand, he closed her fingers around it. “But before you left, I wanted to make sure you didn’t leave anything behind.” “Oh,” she said, seeing the familiar coin once more, wishing to cast it away from her as far as possible. Seeing her uncertainty and internal conflict, he reached out with his armored paw, and moved her hand to her satchel. “Take the boon with you,” he instructed, looking her in the eye. “To remember me… us by.” “Alright, Master Scourge,” she promised, slipping it inside her satchel. Part of her wanted to beg him to come with her, but she knew in her heart that he would remain by her father until the end. Such loyalty, she bitterly thought, giving the statue of the Slave King one last dour look. He doesn’t deserve it. Extending her wings, she prepared to leave the palace behind. She involuntarily trembled, brushing a few stray red feathers out of her eyes, as she prepared to say goodbye to the only home she’d known since she was a child. Seeing her hesitancy, Scourge stood beside his disciple. “Aria,” he said, looking up at her with his ethereal blue eyes. “I know wherever you go, whatever you do, you’ll bring great honor and distinction to your name.” “I promise you, master, you’ll never have cause for shame by my hand,” she said, grasping his arcanum armor with her hand. “I’ll always remember your teachings.” “Little pup,” he said, making the longing and regret in his voice echo in her heart. “If I was ever blessed to have a daughter, I’d want her to be you.” “I love you, Master Scourge,” she said embracing his cold iron armor as tightly as she could manage. “I love you too, Aria,” he said, grasping her with his metal shod paws, cursing the fact that he couldn’t hold her with his own flesh and bones. “Good luck to you, little pup, and remember you’ll always be welcome in the South.” Buoyed by the love he held for her, she forgot all her tears, and leapt into the air, seeking her destiny in the West. Offering her master one last wave goodbye, she headed towards the Western Sea with the sun at her back. Catching a western blowing headwind, she smiled, knowing that even though the Slave King didn’t love her, her father did. ***** She awoke, finding herself all alone in a strange bed. Though normally her powerful muscles surged with strength, right now she found herself feeling weak and lethargic. In fact, she barely possessed the strength to move her tail. Tilting her head to get a better view of her surroundings, she saw another bed on the other side of the room. Near the pillow that lay on the haphazardly strewn about sheets and blanket, was a single red feather. Ah, so she was in the whelp and traitor’s personal quarters. Though she held no more animosity towards her than any other, if not for her master’s orders, she would have rent the whelp to pieces. Because she was the proof of her master’s infidelity, she hated the whelp and her sisters on principal. Long ago when she’d first met the whelp, she’d been no more than a bite size morsel. When her master had first introduced the whelp to her, she’d thought he was offering her a meal. But much to her disappointment, she’d been informed that the whelp was not to be harmed in any way, and was instead to be treated as his honored guest. Though her master made it clear she was no relation of his, she knew better. The whelp carried the scent of one of his whore mistresses on her, the one with feathers she thought, as well as his own. The whelp was definitely his offspring, but humored him for his willingness to at least try keeping up the appearance he was still being faithful to her. After all, it wasn’t his fault that he was nothing more than a weak male, completely unable to withstand the feminine magic of his whore mistresses. Stretching out as well as she could, she yawned and dragged her claws against the room’s stone wall. She was rewarded with a high pitched squeal as her claws scratched the stone, leaving deep gashes in their wake. Taking a deep breath, she sneered when she caught the scent of arcanum and ectoplasm. How dare he! she seethed, remembering well his previous protests against servicing her lust. Taking liberties with me as I sleep, and unable to defend myself. Of course, she knew that was impossible, due to his incorporeal existence as a disembodied spirit. But the lie offered more comfort then the truth, that once again, her master was being unfaithful to her with that whore of a pony. The fact that he’d been married by the authority of the Pantheon didn’t matter to her. As far as she was concerned, the pony whore was nothing more than an interloper, who deserved nothing less than scorn for trying to steal her master away from her. Already, she sought out his bed to corrupt him with her whiles, and here she was weak and unable to protect him when he needed her the most. Whining at the injustice of it all, she stopped when she heard someone enter the room. Traitor, she growled, not even bothering to check if it was Scourge or not. “Lady Nightmare,” the doomhound said, approaching her. “I hope you found my bed to your liking.” It smells like rust and treason, she angrily spat, furious that she’d been forced to share the bed of a traitor. “My apologies, Nightmare,” Scourge said, lowering his head in contrition. “It’s the best I could offer at such short notice.” Where’s the whelp, that might as well be your shadow, doomhound? she asked, not particularly caring in the least where she was, but felt anyone else’s company would be preferable to that of the traitor’s. “She’s gone,” he said, unwilling to elaborate any further. I see that even your shadow couldn’t stand the shame of your treason, Nightmare said, delighting in the pain her words were causing him. For a moment, she saw a flash of rage reflected in his eyes, she’d not seen since he’d still possessed flesh. Back then, like her, he, along with their master, were beings of unparalleled rage and fury. But that all changed when he’d perished in the Dragon’s Necropolis, Utz’ Slith Slaan, and returned from the land of the dead. A change had overcome both he and their master, making them both weak and vulnerable. Didn’t they know that her rage and hate made her powerful and strong? But now their master was a hairbreadth from the shadow lands, and the traitor wasn’t much better. Traitor, she commanded, offering an air of authority that suggested terrible things would happen if her whims weren’t met. I desire to be at the Slave King’s side. Carry me to him. “I’m afraid not, Nightmare,” Scourge replied, towering over her prone form. “The Slave King commanded me to tend to you, and tend you I shall.” Baring her teeth at the traitor, she whined in frustration when he refused to do as she demanded. But unable to do little more than voice her displeasure, she let out a sigh. It was going to be a long day. ***** She was flying to that dark and terrible place as swiftly as she could. Normally, if someone ever dared make such demands of her, she’d have slain the messenger, and sent her subjects to harass the foal that thought to command her. But this was a summons from the Slave King, and it was best not to provoke his ire. It wasn’t like he was either Princess Celestia or Lord Triton. With them, they were predictable, manageable. But the Lord of Earth, he was another matter altogether. Centuries ago she’d learned that lesson the hard way. When news of Lord Darkpaw’s passing had reached her ears, she thought it a cause of great rejoicing. Very rarely were there ever openings on the Pantheon, so this was an opportunity of an age. Finally, she could move to expand her holdings and influence. Perhaps, she might even be able to convince them to restore her to her former place amongst their number. Long ago, during the first Age of Ponies, she’d been greedy, and her ambition had exceeded her grasp. As a result, she’d been stripped of her divinity, and cast into the wastes to eke out a living. Though she’d hadn’t expected to be raised to the position of Lady of Earth, she thought that with one of their number being promoted, that the resulting vacancy might be extended to her. After all, it’s not as if they’d offer the position to a mortal, or dare she say it, the unmentionable one. But fate had pulled a cruel trick on her, and instead of her, a mortal had ascended and claimed Darkpaw’s seat of power. Though it wasn’t all a loss, the resulting chaos from the Slave King’s rise to power, had allowed her changelings to infiltrate the other domains in greater numbers. All she had to do was be patient, and wait for an opportunity to present itself. And then an opportunity fell into her lap. Originally she’d thought to enthrall the Slave King as her lover, but Lady Suzaku and Lady Zephyr’s oft ill repeated attempts had all ended in failure. She’d nearly decided to scrap her plans for him, when she discovered something, the Slave King’s perpetual attempts at Neighcromancy. At first, she paid it no mind. After all he was once mortal, and didn’t possess good enough sense to leave the forbidden arts alone. But then she discovered what he sought after in the Land of the Dead, the soul of a unicorn filly. She wanted to laugh when she’d discovered his secret. Originally, she’d thought he was merely a merciless, black hearted monster. But instead, he was in mourning for her. Didn’t the fool know, that death was the fate of all living things? But regardless of whether he knew not, or cared not, it didn’t matter. With this knowledge she could easily bend him to her will and control him. She simply needed to wait for the right moment. And then the moment came. The Slave King was summoning the unicorn’s soul from the portal he’d created, and was attempting to fashion a body for it from the earth at his feet. She knew then that his attempt at resurrecting her was doomed to failure, but his ignorance of things would play right into her hoof. All she needed to do was time things just right, and he would be hers. Waiting for the right moment, she watched from the shadows, as the clay body he’d made broke apart when the soul refused to merge with it. Then she saw him howl in despair, as the golden spirit returned from whence it came. And then when the Slave King was weak and vulnerable, she searched him for that which he so desperately sought, and assumed its form. And just as she’d suspected, he bought it, hook, line, and sinker. “Daddy?” she’d called out to him, mimicking the foal’s voice perfectly. Lifting his head up, he stared at her in disbelief with his sputtering fiery green eyes. When he saw her, he slowly reached out with his hand, trying to convince himself of the reality of what he was seeing before him. “Little Bleu…” he murmured, trembling as he moved forth his hand to touch her. His emotions then, had been so raw and delicious. As she fed on them, she felt herself surging with power. Needing more, she approached him, and reached out to him with her tiny hooves. She nearly panicked as he snatched her and held her tightly to his breast. She was nearly drunk now, with the power that his emotions offered her. She’d only needed a little more, and she would’ve been able to cement her hold over him. But then disaster struck, the golden spirit had returned through the portal, and landed between them. What happened next, she’d never forget to the end of her days. She saw in his burning green eyes, a rage that not even the unmentionable one had ever managed to express. Pushing her away from him, he released another howl, this time it was decidedly angrier. It resounded with such a fury, that it shook the very foundations of the Earth. It was then, that she regretted her mistake. The entire room burst into green flames, as he rose to his full height, and pointed a finger accusingly at her. “Why have you done this?” he’d seethed, filling her heart with dread. “I hungered,” is all she said, shrinking back from his burning eyes and terrible visage. For a moment she’d thought he was going to end her, but then he looked towards the golden spirit floating beside him, and looked away. “Go,” he’d commanded in a voice void of any emotion, pointing a finger towards the exit. Not needing to be told twice, she galloped as hard as her hooves would allow, and left him and that terrible place behind her. It wasn’t until later that she’d realized just how lucky she’d been. Not a day had passed before the casualty reports came flooding in. Changelings by the thousands, many wounded, had flooded back to the hive in a panic. The reports she’d received were mostly the same. The Slave King had declared a purge, and had devoted the entirety of his enormous assets to ridding his domain of her influence. In the end, when her people’s backs were to the wall, and he had it within his power to snuff their race out. He recalled his armies, and put a stop to the indiscriminate slaughter of her people. It was then he’d sent her his servant, the Arch Duke, Fifi le Yipyap, to discuss the terms of their unconditional surrender. She thanked creation, that his demands had been relatively simple. As long as she, and all her subjects stayed within their own territory, he’d not pursue them any further. Any changelings they caught within his Domain, would be dealt with appropriately. Of course, she’d broken the terms of the treaty almost immediately, necessity required they do so. They had to feed after all, and the wastelands offered them little in the way of nourishment. But somehow, she believed he knew they were breaking the treaty almost daily. But as long as they played lip service to it, and their trespasses weren’t too egregious, the Slave King seemed content enough allowing things return to how they once were. In fact, over the last four centuries, beyond the odd changeling being killed due to their own stupidity, he’d been a rather benign overlord towards her people. Which made this summons she’d received from him all the more troubling, had someone actually been foolish enough to assault the Slave King within his own palace? The thefts it mentioned were bad enough, but actually trying to kill members of his inner circle was beyond the pale. Killing anyone, beyond self-defense, was wasteful and foolish. Not only did it destroy an irreplaceable food source, it brought unwanted attention to the hive. Changelings, like shadows, couldn’t survive when the light touched them. She growled in annoyance, as the sun overhead warmed her dark carapace. Normally she’d never dream of flying out in the open like this, but with the Slave King as angry as he might be, she didn’t want to take any chances offending him any further. Passing over the great metal city of Neo Vale, she saw tens of thousands of its citizens milling about its wide streets and avenues, going about their business. The city had always been a source of great nourishment for her subjects, and she was determined to keep it that way. It was true they collected much love from the slaves freed from time to time. However, the great contributions of the city to the hive, couldn’t be discounted. Hundreds of her fellow changelings lived there, collecting emotional energy to bring back to the hive. And if they lost access to it, the loss of such an invaluable food source in this otherwise harsh land would cause irreparable harm to the hive. Leaving Neo Vale behind her, she saw her destination in the distance. Though not much to look at, the broken lava dome held both terror and wealth without measure. Beyond the Slave King of course, the ruins of the Diamond Vale held ten thousand horrors, each wandering the streets waiting to devour the unwitting without remorse or pity. But beyond the undead dangers of the city, treasures lurked in every corner. In fact, the city was so wealthy, she’d tapped the unclaimed treasures of the dead city as a revenue stream for nearly a century. Every fortnight, her changeling infiltrators braved the city looking for valuables, which she then used to finance her other operations. Of course, the city would eventually run dry, but until then she’d gladly loot it. After all, if the Slave King didn’t care about the vast riches to be had there, why shouldn’t someone more enterprising be able to enjoy the wealth? Spying the broken doors of the city, she landed in front of great stone gate, pulled the waiting platinum chain, and waited to be admitted inside. As the great bells pealed, alerting the Slave King to her presence, she nervously pawed at the dry broken earth beneath her hooves. Shaking her silken amber mane, she exhaled, as she licked her dry lips. She hoped that the one he sent to usher her inside, wouldn’t be her. Nightmare, even her name sent chills through her soft velveteen covered chitin. “He’s been expecting you, Queen Ambrosia,” a familiar voice said. Stepping out of the shadows of the broken city, she saw a diamond dog approach her. What she saw, nearly made her forget all her previous fears, as she burst into raucous laughter. It was none other than the arch duke. But he wasn’t the cause of her amusement, well he was… but rather it was how he looked that tickled her funny bone. He was gaily dressed in satin and lace, his fur had been styled in the most ridiculous manner she’d ever seen, and his whiskers, oh how they made her want to laugh even harder. “Starting a new trend in fashion, Arch Duke Yipyap?” she tittered, trying her best to stifle her laughter at his expense. “This is my punishment for annoying him,” he drolly replied, directing her to follow him inside. “If you’re lucky, perhaps all you’ll suffer is a little embarrassment as well.” When she heard the words punishment, her heart raced, any further thoughts of mockery towards him immediately evaporated into the aether. “Tell me, arch duke,” she said, feeling worried for the continued survival of her hive. “What is his temperament of late like?” “The Slave King’s temperament,” he mused, taking great pleasure in her uncertainty. “Well considering the events that transpired this past week, all the interdomain intrigue, his recent marriage, and now the reports of a changeling within his palace walls…” “Yes?” she said, hanging on his words and feeling impatient as he dragged out his response. “Queen Ambrosia, have you prepared a line of succession?” he pointedly asked her, paying her back tenfold for her previous barbs against him. “Wha… What is that supposed to mean?” she stammered, temporarily losing her poise, as she contemplated his meaning. “Nothing,” he said, allowing the weight of his words to bear down oppressively on her soul. Smiling at her discomfort, he guided her through the main courtyard, and into the palace proper. Looking at his brand, she shivered. She was well aware of the storied history between the arch duke and the Slave King, and what he’d ended up doing to him. She felt her heart skip a beat, was such a fate awaiting her? She felt herself shiver as they drew closer to his throne room. As they walked down the corridor, each step she took seemed to reverberate through her soul. Looking at the walls, she saw the various murals celebrating the previous Lord of Earth in various states of disrepair. She saw Lord Darkpaw standing triumphantly over his enemies, and wondered if such a scene would play out between herself and the Slave King. They came to a stop in front of a set of ornately carved stone doors. Turning towards her, the arch duke held up a paw. “Queen Ambrosia, wait here until we announce you,” he said, pulling his whiskers thoughtfully. “Very well,” she agreed, watching him enter the throne room, grateful for an opportunity to mull over her thoughts regarding these latest developments. After a few moments the door opened, revealing the Slave King’s spacious throne room. Looking in, she saw that apparently he’d been doing some redecorating since she’d last seen him. Though most of the palace’s structural damage remained, much of the superficial damage had been repaired. She saw him sitting on his great stone throne, listening as the arch duke whispered something into his ear. He was just as terrible as she recalled. Looking into his flickering green eyes, and spying a burning desire for vengeance, she saw that time’s passing hadn’t yet worn him down. Looking above his throne, she saw the smiling skull of Lord Darkpaw, staring down at her. She nervously flicked her tail, as she scanned the rest of the room for any detail that might spare her from his wrath. Sitting beside the Slave King’s great stone throne, on a raised dais of silver was his new wife, Princess Luna. Though she’d only had limited dealings with ponies of late, as opposed to the races in the South which she dealt with regularly, she knew about her current reputation. She was the more tumultuous of the alicorn sisters. Whereas Princess Celestia was more calm and collected, the nigh omniscient diplomat. Her sister was much more prone to emotional outbursts, and an impassioned plea would most likely make her take immediate action. Which was a stark contrast to her husband’s much more aloof and cool approach to politics. Watching the two sitting together, she suddenly felt a pang of jealousy. Had she not been so hasty in her previous attempt at enthralling him, she might have been the one sitting there as his wife. And then she felt it, Lunar magic of all things! Following it to its source, she found it emanating from Luna and entering the Slave King, something that she found rather odd. Because if her spies’ reports were correct, he’d always eschewed any contact with the goddesses of the Pantheon, and their many repeated attempts at joining with him. Very curious, she thought to herself, wondering what had changed with him recently, that he’d allow anyone to be so intimate with him in public. But before she could tease an answer from this new puzzle, his raspy voice filled her ears. “Queen Ambrosia,” he said, filling her with a renewed sense of dread. “I bid you welcome to my domain. Enter.” Taking a deep breath, she approached his throne and studied him, looking for anything that might aid her against him in there upcoming battle of wills. Walking towards his throne, she felt the eyes of everyone in the room staring at her. Though she was no stranger to being the center of attention for her multitude of subjects, she found their gazes rather unsettling. Strengthening her resolve, she held her head up high, boldly walking towards him as she ignored them. Once at the foot of his throne, she gracefully bowed before him as low as she could, and waited for him to grant her permission to rise. “Rise, Queen Ambrosia,” he said, looking into her amber eyes, searching them for the slightest hint of treachery. Returning his gaze with a defiant one of her own, she stood proud and unshaken as she waited for his accusation. Minutes passed, and still he said nothing, instead choosing to remain silent. The only thing she heard pass his lips was the rhythmic sound of his steady breathing. She found it quite unnerving. Why wasn’t he saying anything, did he just summon her here, to drive the fear of the Pit into her heart? Well if that was the case, he was certainly doing an excellent job. Deciding that she couldn’t bare anymore of the oppressive silence, she flashed her eyes angrily at him. “If you aren’t going to speak, Slave King,” she said, looking back towards the way she’d came. “I shall take my leave of your domain.” Leaning forward in his throne, his thrummed his fingers rhythmically against the throne’s armrest, before nodding once to the arch duke. “Do you know why I summoned you here?” he said, neither rising his voice nor expressing the outrage she’d fully expected from him. Levitating the summons in front of her, she prepared to defend herself from his spurious claims. ***** He lay low before the summoning circle, silently praying that his master wouldn’t fulfill his promise to drag him down into the Pit. The oppressive silence felt heavy, and the pungent scent of brimstone burned his nostrils. Beside him, the changeling assassin, Bazzt Zzzt, stood wearing a neutral expression. Narrowing his eyes angrily at the changeling, he quickly resumed his prostrated posture, hoping that his dark master would pour the full measure of his wrath on him instead for his incompetent bungling. May the Pit take you! he silently cursed, hoping his master felt the same way. Things were threatening to unravel, and unless he came up with a suitable excuse, a way of shifting blame from himself, or some sort of contingency plan, he was doomed. And the irony of it all was things had been progressing exactly as his master had foretold. From getting Sombra installed as the administrator over the Crystal Dominion, to knocking Scourge and Nightmare out of the picture, and finally ensuring that the Slave King ended up marrying Princess Luna. Then disaster struck, Bazzt Zzzt had managed to eavesdrop on a private conversation between himself and his master, and had managed to worm his way into his master’s employ via blackmail. And then, instead of killing the miserable insect, his master had allowed him to live. When he’d been tasked with retrieving an important artifact, the Elements of Harmony, he’d foolishly commanded Bazzt Zzzt to sneak into the treasury in order to retrieve them. A task that should have been a relatively simple feat for the greatly skilled changeling infiltrator. But instead of returning with the gems in paw, so he could present them to his master, the fool had been bested by mere bitches. And now he had to explain their loss. “Second,” the harsh voice of his master said, making his skin crawl and heart race. “Was your mission a success?” Not daring to look up, he shivered, well aware of the terrible fate that awaited him for failing him. “I must apologize master,” he said, fearing for his safety. “Bazzt Zzzt failed to retrieve the elements for you.” When he heard the blame being shifted to him, Bazzt Zzzt buzzed angrily. “Loozing ze elemetz wazn’t myze faultz,” he protested, trying to save his own neck. The dark form of their master, scowled when he heard that the mission had been a complete failure. “Is that so, Bazzt Zzzt,” he malevolently said, as his heavy and oppressive breathing echoed loudly in the room. “Iz truez, mazterz,” he buzzed, while giving Second an evil look. “Didz’t youze givez azzigmentz toz Secondz?” When he heard Bazzt Zzzt’s counterargument, their master nodded thoughtfully. “Second,” he said, rumbling with displeasure. “The changeling does have a point…” “Master, wait!” Second said, temporarily losing his composure. “I thought the task would be a good opportunity for Bazzt Zzzt to prove himself to you.” Annoyed at having been interrupted by his underling, their master’s eyes burned with a hateful fury. “Second, I’m afraid this calls your judgment into question,” he said, thrumming his long clawed fingers against the ground. “Perhaps I made a mistake in trusting you?” “No!” Second shouted, fearing his master’s wrath. “We can still find them, the aqueduct isn’t that large.” “You fool!” the master shouted, shaking the room with the booming rage of his voice. “Now that the Elements of Harmony are on the move, it’s only a matter of time until they find their bearers. Second, you’ve seriously vexed me, and I’m trying to find a reason I should trust you any further.” Hoping to tip the scales in his favor, Bazzt Zzzt decided to reveal his trump card. “Butz mazter,” he said, buzzing his wings excitedly. “Itz waz a trapz.” Forgetting his anger for the moment, their master turned his attention towards the changeling. “What do you mean a trap?” he asked, his curiosity piqued at this new revelation. “Iz thez truthz,” Bazzt Zzzt said, trying to be as convincing as possible. “Someonez knewz Iz waz comingz. Theyz evenz floodz aqueductz, makez mez loze elementz inz waterz.” “Oh really,” their master said, his voice revealing his amusement at his underling’s futile attempt at saving his skin. “And just who was it that was lying in wait for you?” Bazzt Zzzt gave his master’s terrifying visage a smirk, before using his changeling magic. “I don’t know who it was, master,” he said, speaking in the same low voice he’d heard speaking to him inside the aqueduct. “But they sounded like this.” When he heard Bazzt Zzzt speak, their master gnashed his teeth in anger. “Jormungandr,” he growled, annoyed that his rival had already begun moving against him so quickly. For eons, the Winding One had been a constant thorn in his side. Each intricate plan, every obscure plot, all his intrigue was always for naught. Somehow, Jormungandr always seemed to be at least one step ahead of him. Even his last genius plot, had been foiled thanks to that serpent’s meddling, and by assistance from the most unlikely of people, the Slave King. Who could have possibly foreseen his sudden appearance and subsequent ascension to the Pantheon? Though the Slave King’s part had thrown a gremlin into the gears, it was but a minor setback. He simply had to adjust his scheme slightly to this latest development, the plan was still in effect. No, the Winding One was somehow acutely aware of all his plotting, and had taken steps to mitigate all his scheme. In fact, Jormungandr’s previous violations against him had been so brazen, that he’d been able to get some major concessions from him, regarding their great game. Concessions that he’d been so sure, which should have seriously hampered any future successes against him. However, he’d learn through past experience, to never underestimate the Winding One if he could ever help it. But even with all those new restrictions on him, it appeared that Jormungandr had found out some loophole that allowed him to still effect things from the spirit realm. But he chuckled when he realized that by having meddled so directly, the rules restricting him had also been weakened. Perhaps he could put that to further use with one of his future chats with her. She was showing so much promise too, he was sure that if he just continued giving her the proper encouragement, she’d reach her full potential shortly. And once she’d seen the light, or darkness in her case, he was sure she’d willingly play her part, just as he’d always intended. Even if the Elements somehow managed to get into the bearers hands, he could still mitigate their pull. In fact if he was careful, their placement on the board could be used to his advantage. “Master,” Second said, hoping to salvage the loss of the elements. “If we leave now, we might locate the elements before the Slave King does.” “No, Second,” their master said, shaking his head. “Let Jormungandr have his precious Elements of Harmony. They will only serve to further aid in my grand scheme.” “Then what shall we do, master?” Second asked, confused by his master’s sudden change of heart. “Nothing,” he dismissively said, annoyed that he was being asked such a redundant question. “Just ensure that Sombra follows the plan.” As you wish, master,” Second said with a bow. When he saw his master’s form crumble into a heap inside the summoning circle, he breathed a sigh of relief. He’d managed surviving his master’s displeasure once more, thankfully living to see another day, and if he was careful, live long enough to receive his promised reward. But before he could castigate Bazzt Zzzt for nearly killing him with his incompetence, the runes within the summoning circle came to life, as the earth inside the circle filled with a red tinted magical light. Inside, reforming from the broken earth that lay in the circle’s center, their master looked down at him once more. “And, Second,” he said, staring directly into the doomhound’s red eyes. “Before I forget, one last thing.” “Yes, master,” he said, bowing before his terrifying visage. “What is it?” “If you ever fail me again,” his master warned, giving him a look that chilled him to the bone. “You’ll be joining me inside the Pit.” “Ah, ye… Yes, master,” he said, tripping over his words in fear. “I’ll be sure to remember that.” “Good, Second. See that you do,” his master said, as his earthen form collapsed back inside the summing circle. His master’s echoing words, see that you do, echoed through the room, making him shiver with fright. Snarling, he raked his claws on the summoning circle, destroying it, before his master could return to deliver anymore ultimatums. “Bazzt Zzzt,” he told the changeling, giving the remains of the summoning circle a wary look. “Your next assignment is to deliver a package to Sombra in the Crystal Domain, and to find out what he’s been up to.” For his part, Bazzt Zzzt gave Second a wicked grin, before changing into his mirror image. “I’ll leave immediately.”