//------------------------------// // 18-A Long Time to Think // Story: A Changeling Queen Under the Griffon's Crown // by DungeonMiner //------------------------------// Chapter 18 Markus Ironclaw looked up at the Tree of Gryphus. The Silverwood tree stood tall, flanked by two guards dressed in golden armor. The lion-head themed soldiers were duty bound to protect the tree no matter the circumstances, and they carried it out to the letter. The Tree Guard stood fast, their covered faces betrayed no emotion, but the griffon king could detect a slight shake in the left one. He would not strike unless the tree was touched, but even so, the griffon King decided he would get the poor boy’s hope’s up. He hovered around the silver tree, looking up at the thin, long pale leaves, and smirked as he got incredibly close. “You wanted to see me, sir?” a voice said. Ironclaw turned to the source of the new voice. A griffon in a cloak approached. “Hello, Conrat Darkblade,” Ironclaw said, stepping away from the tree. “How have you been?” Darkblade shifted, revealing the dagger at his side and bracer on his arm. “Well, sir.” “Good, good,” Ironclaw said, taking a few steps closer to the cloaked griffon. "Tell me, Darkblade, when I was still rising to power, what did I send you out to do? I just can’t seem to remember,” “You wanted me to send a message.” “Yes, that’s right,” he said, looking back up at the tree. “Now, how did I want that message sent, do you remember?” “You had me kill the Pendragon on his wedding day.” “Ah, yes...that’s it, isn’t it? Kill the Pendragon. So let me ask you a question, Darkblade,” he said as he began to descend on the murderer. “If I sent you to kill him, then why is he alive?” “What? That-that can’t be right, sir. The gem, it said he died. That was Doomspinner venom, there is no way he could have survived that.” “Then how do you explain the reports of the Pendragon himself walking into my fortress?!” “Wh-what?” “The Pendragon is here, Darkblade. He is alive. I sent you to kill him, I armed you with the best the Hive had to offer you, and he is still alive!” “I-I—” “Do you know what he did to me when I last saw him? Do you know what he said?” Ironclaw said stepping closer and closer to the would-be killer. “Do you know the hatred and power in his green and red eyes?! Did you see your own fate there!?” Darkblade did his best to sink into the ground, and lifted a claw as he made his rebuttal. “His...his eyes are brown, sir…” Ironclaw snarled before he grabbed the griffon by the throat. “You are a failure. You are useless to me, Darkblade. Do you know what the Hive does to those who are useless?” Darkblade tried to answer, but only a gurgle escaped his throat. “We dispose of them,” he said, before he threw the griffon into the tree. The second the attacker hit the bark, the two guards moved, slashing with their bladed and barbed spears, and slicing the cloaked griffon to pieces. “It is a messier method than I’m use to, but it serves its purpose,” Ironclaw said, before he left the room, his green eyes shining as he chuckled all the way. <<<|Ω|>>> Alan ducked underneath the green ball of magical energy that the changeling had thrown at him. “Okay, I admit it, this was a bad idea.” A soot covered Julius sent him a glare. “You think?” “Hey!” Alan said, swinging three hard-mana knives as well as Judgement to hold back the incoming tide. “You were the one who was going on about how the Black Griffon was a boogieman. I was just trying to use that against them!” “And I’m telling you, the Black Griffon never wore the Laurels of Victory!” “Well if someone had taken the armor off!” “I was not taking three-hundred-year-old armor and leaving it in this rat-hole part of the fortress!” “It’s your fortress! “I’ve never been to this part of the fortress!” Julius yelled, plunging his claws into the space between two armor plates of the changeling in front of him. “Well whose fault is that?!” Alan said, before a dozen of mana knives shout outward in a fan of death. The were forced back to back as the changelings shot off magical bolts and attacked with hooves and horns. “Okay, so plans?” Alan asked. “Other than getting out of here?” “Obviously.” “Head up through that corridor,” Julius said, taking a second to point before attacking the next target. “I think that leads up to the barracks.” “You think?” “I have never been down here!” Julius yelled. “Then why were you leading us!?” “We were supposed to come up near one of the prison cells! I know the way from there!” “Well that’s just perfect for us then!” Alan said, before roaring an order. “Back up!” Julius swiveled around, letting Alan swing around to face the oncoming horde. “Vistes!” An inferno engulfed them, red flame eating the changelings whole. “Hurry up! Let’s go, I can only buy us so much time!” Julius nodded, before spreading his wings and taking a massive leap up to the corridor. Alan galloped after him. “Hurry!” Julius said, running down the corridor. Alan galloped behind him. Dead end. “Gjok!” Julius cried before he began to search the wall. “Julius,” Alan said, worriedly, looking back at the tidal wave of changelings that were about to flood them. “Give me one second,” he said, checking the bricks. “We don’t have one second," Alan said, before sending another knife blade flying into a changeling’s neck joints. “Give me a second!” the griffon shot back, as he began to push on a few of the bricks. Alan sighed before shouting again. “Fastali!” “Here it is!” Julius said, before the wall pulled away. Both defenders quickly pulled back, and the wall sealed shut behind them. “Will the wall hold?” Alan asked, gasping for breath. “It will hold,” Julius said, gasping, “the Onyx Keep was built with so many magical locks and wards, it bankrupted the country for a few years. Apparently, it was worth it.” “Alright, where does this one go?” “No idea. Again, I’ve never been down here before. It could come out to the sewers for all I know.” Alan sighed. “It’s better than nothing.” <<<|Ω|>>> The two moved quietly through the darkness of the secret passage, their path winding back and forth through unseen obstacles. There had been silence for a long while between the blood brothers as they walked, Judgement having been slid home, and the Prince’s talon caps cleaned of clear, changeling blood. “Well, brother,” Julius said, “I will say this, your plan worked well against my people.” “I was hoping it would scare them at least,” Alan confirmed. “The less griffons that die, the better.” Julius nodded. “I am glad that your mercy has not left you, especially if it means that my people are safer for it.” Alan nodded. “Innocent until proven guilty,” he said simply. “Until I know for sure that the changelings aren’t holding them hostage, I will act as though they are. If proven otherwise, then I will let you deal with them.” “If you wanted to deal with them you could,” Julius said. “You have the authority as a prince.” “Yeah, but I just feel that Equestria is more my realm.” “Realm?” “Responsibility,” Alan corrected. “I see.” The two went quiet again for a second. “So what happens when we get to the throne room?” The Pendragon asked. “Well,” Julius said, taking a deep breath, “There is a word spell, that I can shout to send any dangers out of the Keep, but I need to learn it. I have not had the chance to read the Book of Power yet.” Alan nodded. “Wait...what about Ironclaw?” “Hm?” “Does he have the Book?” Julius’ eyes went wide as he froze. “Julius?” “N-no...no, he couldn’t have it.” “Are you sure?” “Y-yes. If he had the book, we would be in front of him now. There is a spell to summon trespassers, if he wanted to meet us, we would have been Called. He...he mustn’t have it but...but he should…” “Julius?” “By rights, he should have it. It wouldn’t have taken him long to find it and unlock it. We...we should be in the throne room now, bound even. This...this doesn’t make any sense…” “So what does that mean?” Alan asked. “Either he...doesn’t want to catch us, or...or...I don’t know…” Alan nodded. “Very strange.” <<<|Ω|>>> For the past week, Alan had been having dreams. Odd dreams. He had seen the Onyx Keep become engulfed in flame. He had seen Julius sit on the throne. He had seen griffons fighting changelings. He had seen Ironclaw in chains. He had seen the whole rebellion fail. He had seen fire burn auburn on the mountain side. He had seen the clouds come down and flood the halls with rain. All of this and more. He saw things that were and were not. He saw things that are and are not. He even saw things that had not yet come to pass, and may never do so. But of all the things he had seen, there was one thing that kept coming back to him. It was a voice, repeating the same sentence again and again through the dreams. “You are not a pawn,” it said, “I will put you on the board where you need to be, but you are the one who chooses what action to take.” <<<|Ω|>>> A section of hallway slid open, and Julius led the way in. “We’re clear.” Alan followed, two mana knives hovering around his head. “Know where we are?” he asked. “I...it looks familiar,” he said, looking down the hallway. “It’s a start,” Alan said with a smirk as he looked around. “Left or right?” “Let’s go left,” Julius said, before following the pony down the hall. They moved silently, Julius’ golden armor never clinked and Alan’s coat didn’t flutter as they walked. “You okay with your claws?” Alan asked. “I can try to get you a knife or something.” “They are sufficient,” Julius said. “Alright, can’t say I didn’t offer.” The two went quiet again, moving slowly through the darkness. “I see a something ahead,” Julius whispered. “Where?” “Right there, see?” Alan strained his eyes a moment. “I think griffon eyes are better than pony eyes.” “I think that’s a room,” he said, “and I think that’s a changeling.” “How many?” “It looks like just one.” Alan smiled. “Sounds like we may need to apply some excessive force.” “Brother,” Julius said, placing a claw on Alan’s back, “I love the way you think.” <<<|Ω|>>> The changeling moved along the hallway, every now and then lighting up his horn to check his way. So far, he had found nothing. and he was not happy about it. Here he was, wasting his time, looking for some intruder, instead of enjoying some of that ripened joy from one of the griffons in the pods higher up. He wasn’t entirely sure if it was a good idea, though. The pods always provided a more flavorful emotion, but it was a finite source. When he was alone for longer periods of time, he sometimes developed an opinion. His was, more often than not that a longer lasting love was better than a tastier one. But he was back in the hive, and opinions did not exist in the hive. He continued his search, almost mindlessly moving down the hall, when he felt something tap his shoulder. He looked up. A silver axe haft had tapped him, and there was a pony standing next to it. “Hello there,” the pony said, “I don’t suppose you can help me, can you?” <<<|Ω|>>> Four griffons sat around a table playing cards, while three changelings milled around the room. “Go fish,” one of the griffons growled. The griffon opposite him snarled, and reached into the pile of cards in the middle of the table when the door suddenly slammed open. A changeling went flying into the room, slamming down on the card table, splintering it and sending cards flying everywhere. “I’m sorry,” a figure said, entering the room, a long-hafted, silver, hard-mana axe floating next to him, “but we can’t seem to find the right room. Perhaps you could direct us?” The griffon’s eyes went wide. “It-it can’t be!” “Can’t be?” Alan asked. “It can’t be? Just who the hell do you think I am?” <<<|Ω|>>> Apparently, Alan was someone who was not good at holding back a swarm of changelings. “Okay, so this was a bad idea!” Alan admitted. “I told you it was a bad idea!” Julius yelled, as he tried to rip out another changeling throat. “You did not!” Alan yelled back. “You said it was a great idea!” “I did not!” “Did too!” Julius wanted to make another rebuttal, but was interrupted by a charging mass of chitin. Alan’s axe swung in a wide arc, the large blade smashing more than cutting through the enemies before him. “We need to find a more defensible position!” “Lead the way, Oh Mighty Pendragon,” Julius growled. Alan growled in response as he tried to look for a way out, trying to find their escape without becoming a red stain on the wall. He needed some space. “Vistes Fastali!” he roared, flame erupting from his mouth before a shockwave threw the scorched bodies backwards. Alan looked around, before coughing. “Julius! This way!” he yelled, before ducking down a hallway. The griffon king followed, wings flapping to pick up speed. They both ran down the hallway, running as fast as they could. This hall looked oddly familiar. They ran down the hall, quickly picking a door and sliding the deadbolt open to get inside a small room. They slammed the door shut behind them, keeping their weight against it and trying to slow their breathing This room looked familiar. Alan kept his ears pressed to the wall, listening intently for the sound of the passing horde. Alan waited, listening to the hissing and thudding run by them. A second of silence. “I think they’ve gone,” Alan said. “I think you’re right,” Julius agreed. Alan nodded. “Alright, we should probably give them a second or two before…” he trailed off as he wandered around the room. Julius followed his gaze. Behind them was a door. A heavy, iron door studded with rivets and a small grate over a slit. A cell door. An oubliette cell. His cell. “H-hello?” A voice called from inside the cell. Alan blinked. Julius blinked. There was no way. “Hello? Is someone there?” the voice called again. No way in Tartarus. Alan stepped forward, sliding the deadbolt open. “Who’s there? I know you’re there, I heard the lock!” Alan pulled the handle, and the door swung inward. There, on the opposite wall, hung a chained griffon. His stomach was thin, revealing ribs through his skin, his fur and feathers stained with dirt, blood, and many other things that Alan didn’t want to think about. There was a scar over his ruined, left eye, and a line of dried blood on his neck. Silver armbands surrounded horribly atrophied forelegs, and the wrists of his claws were worn raw by the manacles. The griffon smirked. “Well, hello Pendragon, nephew,” Markus Ironclaw said, looking up at the two, “to what do I owe the pleasure?” <<<|Ω|>>> Markus Ironclaw stood in the throne room of Onyx Keep, pacing along the red carpet, his brow furrowed deep in thought as he walked. Chrysalis entered the room, her long, sweeping strides eating the ground beneath her. She paused a distance away and spoke. “Your majesty.” “What?!” he snapped. “There is a report for you.” Ironclaw turned to her. “Is the Pendragon dead?” “No, your majesty, but we have reports that confirm that he is here.” Ironclaw’s yellow eyes flashed green. “I don’t care about reports! I want the Pendragon’s head!” “We are working on it, your majesty.” “Working on it! Working on it!?” Ironclaw roared. “Do you know what he did to me? Did to all of the others with me that day in Canterlot?” Chrysalis said nothing. “He killed them, all of them! Slaughtered them all like sheep! Do you want that here? In front of us?” Chrysalis didn’t answer. “Make sure he dies, Chrysalis,” Ironclaw spat, “Or I will find a new queen.” “Yes, your majesty.” <<<|Ω|>>> “It...it can’t be,” Julius said, staring into the eyes of his uncle. “What can’t be?” Ironclaw asked. “That I can still be alive after all this time? I think one of your guards has a soft heart,” he said with a mirthless smirk. The griffon king turned to the Pendragon. “Tell me I’ve gone insane, brother.” Alan sighed, and hung his head. “I hate changelings.” “Ch-you mean a changeling is now sitting on the throne?” “If that’s the real Ironclaw,” Alan said, pointing. Markus tilted his head. “What? What are you talking about? What in the Nine Hells is a changeling?” Alan sighed, before sitting. “Should we bother telling him?” Julius growled, “I hardly see the point.” “What are you two talking about? Why are you even down here? What’s going on?” “Yeah, you’re probably right,” Alan agreed. “What is it?” Markus asked again. “We should just leave, Alan,” Julius said. “I don’t understand, what is happening?” “We need to wait for the changelings to run by first,” the Pendragon argued. “What is a changeling?” Alan growled. “A changeling is a monster that can change its form and disguise itself as anyone else. Currently, there is one, disguised as you, sitting on the throne and beginning a civil war in the empire. Now will you shut up?” Markus’ eyes went wide. Alan sighed again. “Alright, Julius, can you find your way to the throne room from here?” “Yes, it shouldn’t be too hard. The issue would be the hordes between us and it.” “I-I could help.” Both Alan and Julius looked at him. “Honestly, I could,” Markus said. “I know the secret passageways better than you, Ironblood,” he said, calling his nephew by his last name. “I am not letting you go free, prisoner,” Julius growled. “Your name was stricken from all of the record books. You no longer exist.” “Nephew, I—” “I am your king and you will address me as such!” Markus winced. “Your Majesty, please. I can help.” “And why would you help us, Prisoner?” “I...I’ve had a long time to think, your Majesty. And all I really want...is to see the sun again.” Julius stared at him for a long time. If looks could kill, then Markus would be having a funeral at this exact moment. “I wash my claws of you, Prisoner. I will leave the Pendragon to deal with you.” “Julius?” Alan asked as the griffon king turned to walk out of the cell and back into the other room. “Keep him, kill him. I don’t care,” Julius growled. “I want nothing to do with him.” Alan blinked before turning to face the griffon. “Your enemy,” a voice in his skull corrected. “Pendragon, listen to me,” he heard Judgement call. “There is more here than—” “He was your enemy, Pendragon,” the deeper voice interrupted. “He was and he always will be.” Alan began to draw his blade, the surface clouded by dark magics. “Do you see what kind of damage he can cause, even when he himself is innocent? Do you see how just his name is a dangerous weapon.” The sword slid free of its sheath. Markus sighed, and hung his head. “He is too dangerous to leave alive. You should have killed him earlier.” He was too dangerous to leave alive. “Besides, what of those he killed, hm? Don’t they deserve justice? It is the right thing to do to kill him. It’s Justice. And aren’t you a tool of justice? Chosen by Faust herself?” Yes. Yes he was. This was what needed to happen. He had to kill Ironclaw. It was his duty. “Kill him, Pendragon.” He had to. Alan lifted the blade, up ready to bring down the clouded blade. This was Justice. Alan blinked. That was not a griffon hanging from chains. That was a young, pink filly with a white and violet mane. “What can I do, Mister Goldenhoof?” she asked, staring up at him with her azure eyes. “What can I do to say I’m sorry?” He hesitated. And then the cloudy film on Judgement shattered like glass, and Alan heard a sudden roar in his mind. “Stop!” <<<|Ω|>>> Alan stared into the face of Judgement. “Don’t do this, Pendragon.” “Why not?” he asked. “I think Faust wants him spared, Pendragon, she wants him with us.” “Then why doesn’t she release him? Why doesn’t she come down and say so?” Judgement sighed. “Mortals,” he muttered. “Because she wants you to spare him. She doesn’t want Julius to spare him, just you.” “Me?” Alan asked. “You think she wants me to spare him? I am the Bringer of Justice I am Faust's Sword! I am—” Alan was smacked across the face by the anthropomorphic sword. “You want to speak of Justice, Pendragon?” he yelled. “He killed innocent ponies!” Alan yelled back. “And you killed innocent griffons!” Judgement roared. “Shining killed griffons! Silver killed griffons! Twilight killed griffons! Are you going to answer Justice’s call and pay blood for blood for them too? Are you going to avenge the hatchling orphans by executing your own wife?” “You leave her out of this!” “Blood for blood, Pendragon! That is the rule of Justice, regardless of who it is!” Judgement growled. “It’s different!” Alan shouted. “He murdered helpless prisoners!” “And you? Is your memory so bad that you have forgotten the pleas of the changeling?” An image flashed across Alan’s vision. A lone changeling, cradling a broken leg, looking up at him with wide eyes. “M-Mercy…” it whimpered. “And yet Faust brought you back!” Judgement growled. “She brought you back even though you deserved your death!” The metallic man threw Alan backwards, before taking a deep breath. “You want to kill him, fine! Do it! But do not act surprised when Faust takes back her Mercy. She did not give it to you so you could hoard it, Pendragon.” Judgement sighed, before sitting down. “There is more going on than you know.” <<<|Ω|>>> Alan stared down Ironclaw. His blade hovered, poised at the griffon’s throat. The word “Mercy” shone on the blade’s surface. Alan grit his teeth. Judgement came up. And then it came down on the chains, breaking them apart. The sword came around again, and got dangerously close to Markus’ neck. “Do not make me regret this.” Markus nodded, before rubbing his wrists. “Give me a moment, Pendragon, and I will be right with you.” Alan grumbled, walking into the other room. Markus flexed his claws before stepping over to the skull of the previous occupant. He picked it up, and stared into its eye sockets. “Farewell, Yorick. I wish I knew you better.” Julius sighed as he stood next to the door, and Alan joined him. “I...I’m kind of happy you spared him, brother.” Alan looked over at the new king. “There’s a part of me that still sees him as my uncle,” he explained. “Well, let’s hope we were both right.” Markus took a few more seconds to stretch his muscles, before joining the others. “You need to get to the throne room?” Markus asked. “That is what we said, prisoner,” Julius said. “Then we need to go left, up towards the warden’s office. There’s a passageway that will get us to the kitchen. From there we’ll need to get to one of the upper armories, there should be another one there.” Alan nodded, before cracking the door open. Nothing coming after them. “Alright, let’s go.” <<<|Ω|>>> They made it to the Warden’s office without incident, and to Alan’s mild surprise, Markus did in fact lead them to a secret passage. He had walked straight up to one of the sconces in the Warden’s office, the third to the left, and turned it sideways, revealing the door. The three of them walked, Markus ahead and Julius and Alan following closely behind, down the dark hall in silence. Alan sighed, staring at the back of Markus’ head. “Well, Faust,” Alan thought with a snort, “I hope you know what you’re doing.” “How long has it been?” Markus asked. “What was that, prisoner?” Julius asked. “How long have it been since I was locked away?” he repeated. “I’ve lost count of the days.” “About three years,” Alan answered. “Really?” Markus asked. “I’m surprised. By rights I should be dead.” Alan wanted to agree. “Alright, we need to take the left coming up, and then we’ll go up the stairs. There should be a way out up there, and we should come out in the kitchens.” “How do you know the passageways so well?” Alan asked. “Training as a General. It’s required to know the layout of the Keep.” Alan nodded. “I…” Markus began. “I don’t suppose…” They waited. “Well?” “Nevermind,” the prisoner said, before continuing down the hallway. They kept marching, moving further and further down the hall. Markus kept moving forward, his face turned into a slight frown. For three years he hung in that room, with only a skull for company. In that time, he did a lot of thinking. A lot of thinking. <<<|Ω|>>> The kitchens of the Onyx Keep were empty, the chefs having long since gone to bed as the early morning ticked by. The large warehouses, filled with barrels of ale and racks of jerky were still and silent. A large keg, set into the wall, sat motionless, it’s varnished oak wood shimmered in the moonlight, and its black iron rim seemed to eat the light up. This keg, as large as it was, could only possibly be a secret entrance. Which was exactly why it wasn’t, and a section of stone next to it was. Masonry pulled aside and two griffons and a pony stepped out of the darkness. Markus’ stomach instantly growled. “Your majesty, if I may?” Markus asked, doing his best not to ogle the jerky. “Go ahead, prisoner.” He pounced on the jerky, devouring it whole as he shoveled it into his mouth. Alan watched him eat with a mixture of horror and disgust. Markus kept eating, wolfing down the food before slowing, and taking deep breaths. He set down another piece of jerky before approaching his captors. “Let’s go. I don’t need to eat myself sick.” Julius nodded, and the three of them began to move out of the kitchen. As they turned the corner, however, they found themselves facing a small swarm of changelings. There was a brief moment of silence as they stared at each other. It seemed to Markus that time seemed to slow. His nephew’s muscles tensed and rippled, the Pendragon’s horn began to shimmer. The changelings began to snarl, horns began to glow as they readied to charge. He saw all of this, and a thought ran through his head. “This is a golden opportunity.” Markus moved first, and he moved fast. Far too fast. Throwing a powerful punch to Julius’ temple, he knocked him out cold, before launching himself onto Alan’s back. Alan moved to pull Judgement out, but was then stopped as he felt a sharp talon at his throat, and a claw over his sword, pinning it in place. Ironclaw had him by the throat. “Move, dear Pendragon, and I’ll kill you.” The Pendragon glared at him, his horn shining. "Or I could kill you first." "You can try, but you risk my friends over there catching you." Alan growled. “I knew it was a mistake to trust you.” “Trust your instincts next time.” Ironclaw said, before turning to the swarm. “You must be what is called a changeling.” The changelings looked at him, confused for a moment before nodding. “We are,” one of them said, stepping forward. “Well, you know who I am don’t you? And what kind of trouble I could cause if I were found by one of my own kind?” The changelings looked at each other. “Are you suggesting something?” “I am,” Ironclaw said with a smirk. “Why don’t we discuss this further once we’ve taken these two upstairs?” -------------------------------- Alright, that’s a chap. “Wow…” Yeah? “I...wow…what...what did you just do?” You’ll have to wait and see, my dear Pinkie. On the note of waiting, however, I do want to say that updates may slow down on the account that I’m going back to college now, but we’ll see. “Oh, Miner~…” Yes, Pinkie? “Guess what day it is?” It’s...oh, hey, yeah. “Happy Birthday, Miner!” Thank you, Pinkie. And thanks to all of you too. So here, have this chapter as a gift from me, to me, to you. “Woo! I’ll guess we’ll see you next time with Twilight and Shining.” That we will. “This means there's plenty of time for a party!” “Bye!”