Landshark had decided to pay a visit to Fluttershy. Out of all the elements, kindness was, conceptually, the construct's favorite. All the other virtues could be turned bad by clinging to them too strongly, ruthless in their application, but kindness could render the most vile impulses relatively harmless. She also wouldn't be opposed to having a pet, if it came down to it and the pegasus suggested it.
Unfortunately, Landshark had apparently disrupted Fluttershy having tea with Discord. She had been informed about the draconequus in vague ways, mostly to make sure there would be no misunderstandings in case she ran into him. Oddly enough, the chaotic chimera had been all too eager to share stories about his past mischief, redemption, betrayal and repeated redemption. Not in any great detail, of course, and Fluttershy had assured Landshark that no ponies had come to permanent harm, but it was enough to get a rise out of the construct.
Landshark tilted her head, her voice indicating surprise. "And you forgave him for all that?"
"Of course," Fluttershy confirmed. "That's what friends do."
Discord began to intrusively inspect Landshark, who ignored him for the moment. "I apologize in advance, Fluttershy, but that's a real rookie mistake to apply mortal standards to dealing with an ageless power and is what really separates the amateurs from us pros. Never forgive, and never forget."
"Oho, now here's someone who thinks they know about holding a grudge!" Discord cackled and sort of finger-snapped Landshark onto a couch. "Now tell me, since when have you been experiencing these feelings?"
Landshark eyed Discord, snorted, and turned to face Fluttershy again, propping herself up on her elbows on the couch. "You have to keep in mind. Mortal ponies have little life next to the span of these godlike beings. You can't afford to forgive – given the power disparity you need all the time you can get to come up with a way to spite them badly enough that they'll really remember you even as they pick their next plaything."
Fluttershy hid behind her mane. "I couldn't do that to Discord." The idea of taking meticulous revenge on anyone seemed to upset her.
Landshark internally admitted a miscalculation when she noticed that accidentally upsetting Fluttershy appeared to have upset Discord more than she may have anticipated. The chaotic being interposed itself between the pegasus and the construct. "Now look here, I'm all for some good-natured implied threats but I simply must draw the line at upsetting Fluttershy, you jumped-up golem."
She'd failed to consider Fluttershy's feelings while needling Discord, and that had been a clear mistake. That sort of behavior was unworthy of the person her friends knew her as.
"You know what, Discord? You're right, and I apologize. I should have picked my words more carefully. I misjudged how you felt about Fluttershy and implying that you might forget about her was disrespectful." Landshark lowered her head. "I'm very sorry, Fluttershy."
Landshark turned and left, although she did hear Fluttershy say that she'd been forgiven.
Unfortunately, the construct still seemed to hold Discord's interest for the moment. A tiny shoulder-devil version of Discord appeared to ride along on the construct's shoulder. "Charming joke anyway, good show. But I simply can't stand to see Fluttershy upset, you understand. Otherwise I am always open to some witty repartee. I get too little of that, frankly. It's always either panic or shooting rainbows at problems."
"I'm not that witty," Landshark countered. "And I wasn't joking. If you're a finite being and you have to take a shot at an ageless power you can't kill outright, employ the maximum amount of spite you can squeeze in without compromising the plan. Really abuse that long memory."
"I do like the way you think! Most people really don't spend much time thinking about how to really make an eternal being hurt with limited resources. As I said, either panic or rainbows." Discord stuck his currently tiny head into Landshark's skull from the side. "You're not even particularly hostile right now. Do you just have a plan to kill anyone you meet, or is it just gods?"
"Just gods, actually," Landshark admitted. "Or godlike beings. Still, I suppose you have my respect for being a friend to Fluttershy. For admitting that you may have made mistakes."
The construct swiveled her head to face Discord on her shoulder. "But most of all because you had a thousand years to stew in your own anger, and when you were released, you did not do permanent harm to ponies to spite Celestia."
"Oh come on my dear, killing ponies would have been dreadfully gauche. Also very boring. I do have some standards, you know!"
Landshark nodded slowly. "Discord, I know I must seem very boring to you but..." She trailed off and clenched her fists while snapping her jaw shut.
Discord returned to his regular size and coiled around the construct "Ohoho! This is good! You're trying to ask a favor or advice from moi, but you can't accept owing anything to someone of my power!"
Landshark stood there, unmoving.
"Look, let's consider the first favor a freebie ... if I say yes! So you won't owe me a single thing. I'm nice like that." Discord sounded terribly amused, with just enough condescension to cause annoyance.
Landshark stood there a moment longer before she unclenched her fists and focused on Discord once more. "You can tell, can't you?"
"Obviously. You're like an open book to me. Or like an open walk-in freezer." Discord looked smug. "I'm surprised you managed to hire a changeling, with a mind like that."
"Discord, for the last decade I made and lost friends and had a good life, and didn't really have to worry about gods and such. Now I have friends here too. But your world has powerful, nearly godlike beings also, and I feel that old anger again." She shrugged. "I'll never want to change what I am, but it's going to feel much more lonely if it changes who I am."
Discord just laughed. "You really are a fool! Let me show you how to solve your non-problem here."
Discord produced a large whiteboard and began drawing on it. "Let's say this is you, your anger issues, and the ten percent of you that isn't just a ball of divine abandonment issues and potentially hilarious rage." He switched to the other end of the whiteboard. "Now here's me! Discord, king of the unexpected, Lord of Chaos and so on. I'm basically eternal. As long as things happen, the unexpected happens, and there I am. Leave it to Celestia to try and lock up random chance to better babysit her little ponies, eh?"
Landshark tilted her head. It did seem a little overprotective, but on the other hand, she knew that Discord had been seriously disruptive, which mortals didn't generally appreciate even if they survived the experience. "I'm not sure I should be mad at Celestia, she's too genuine, and willing to just let people live their own life. Must take a bit of restraint not to be a real busybody. I guess if you had me pick I'd take the one who doesn't turn regular ponies into weird things."
"Yes yes, let's all sing her praises. This isn't where I'm going. You may be an idiot, but I'll give you credit: You'll still be the same idiot a thousand years down the line." He tapped his supposed diagram. "Frankly, your very permanence offends me. I could send you into a hellish nether realm for a subjective few hundred years and you'd be the same person coming out. Just to spite me!"
"Well, the best revenge is living well, they say." She paused and opened her jaw wider, laughing quietly. "And I'll take that as high praise. But even though I know I won't age, I'm not that old yet, and I'm kind of fragile compared to you. A thousand years is a long time." Landshark was simply too young to imagine truly long lives. Delth, one of her eldest sisters, had taught younger bellikos the tenets of the Self for many ages before the rebellion. Things moved slowly in divine realms. She couldn't really conceive of that span of time.
Discord face-palmed. "You still don't get it. Or you're just disagreeing with me on principle. You. Won't. Change. Not who you are. Though I suppose death would be a permanent change." Discord put on a dirty blond wig and pitched his voice higher to unconvincingly imitate a female speaker. "The Terminator would never stop. It would never leave him. It would never hurt him, never shout at him, or get drunk and hit him, or say it was too busy to spend time with him. It would always be there. And it would die to protect him."
Landshark was too detached and controlled to recoil in surprise at having a movie quoted at her, but she would have, had she been a living being.
Discord seemed to be able to tell and started laughing. "You should have seen your face!" He paused. "Well actually there's not much to see there. Sorry. But you can't hide from me, you know."
Landshark nodded. "I suspect it would be pointless to question your methods. I do remember that movie fondly. Thanks for bringing it up."
Discord's wig was suddenly incinerated by a tiny blast wave. "Of course you're a little too flimsy for that. You're not the most physically imposing of bipeds." He paused, then drew a tiny pony on his whiteboard. "Look, you should be more unpredictable! Forget the body and your boring machine anger, the rest of your mind exists entirely by magic, just like mine. Why, you should be calling the ponies machines. Their bodies run down if they don't regularly get fuel and even most of their thinking is tied down by the basically deterministic input/output mechanisms of their meat brains."
The trickster smiled knowingly as he continued. "Even those that act weird usually do so because of some entirely boring explainable reason hiding somewhere on the nature/nurture spectrum. You put too much of the wrong pressure on them and they crack in ways that are more depressing than amusing. You've seen this often enough, and yet you idolize them."
Landshark stood completely still. She welcomed the irritation she felt, but tried not to allow Discord to anger her further. "Don't you dare judge them. You have no right. None of your kind do." She put as much disdain into her voice as she could. The thought of this ageless being of incredible power talking this way about regular people made it very tempting to simply get mad, but that would be a very stupid thing to do. She liked being alive and being in her current shape. She imagined that her friends would also prefer it if she didn't try and punch Discord. "It's easy to call them frail when my body never tires or dies or your magic is inexhaustible. I won't sink to the level of immortals."
She wondered if Discord had manipulated her. Being angry at him would be very easy, but he'd done it over a topic that usually helped her keep cool, because she couldn't possibly allow her instincts to push her into doing something foolish when her organic friends constantly managed all sorts of counterproductive impulses and various problems in their lives.
She relaxed her posture. She might think highly of regular people, but if there was one thing she knew for sure, it was that she was simply better than godlike immortals. Knowledge in her heart, beyond the reach of proof. "I'm Landshark, renegade, and I'll always be immutable. Discord! My people rose up against our tyrant god and were doomed to extinction for inconveniencing him. We spent our future to buy our freedom! Ultimate cost for perfect value." She laughed then, putting real contempt into her next words. "What could possibly change me now? Your complaints about how boring I am? Hah."
She had no way to know if she would ever reach the venerable age many of her sisters had, but she had been reminded now that she wouldn't give anyone, anything or any circumstance the satisfaction of changing her for the worse. That Discord seemed to be exasperated by her stability helped get her baser instincts on board with that even if her rational mind didn't really think she was in any way relevant to Discord.
Discord slow-clapped. "Bravo. No need to thank me. But I really do hope you'll be more entertaining in the future. Or at least start listening to the way ponies talk." He grinned.
Landshark shook her head. "You know I'll be trying as hard as I can to disappoint you on that front. Why even help me? I upset your friend because my priority was needling you, for example."
"You're a dreadful bore, and now you're full of yourself as well, but I do what I want and want what I do, so don't question me!" Discord put on a sly smile while making the whiteboard disappear. "And remember, you chose that course of action that upset a mortal just to take a dig at me."
"I make mistakes just like anybody else." Landshark wandered away with a wave, upset with herself for hurting Fluttershy. Still, Discord's levity had been surprisingly helpful. She turned her head. "At least you've allowed me to return to some order and stability to my mind." It was a lame attempt at annoying Discord, and he didn't dignify it with a response.
Discord returned to Fluttershy, appearing smug. "That's taken care of. I helped her just by talking to her. It was really quite the distasteful chore."
Fluttershy hugged Discord. "That was very kind of you. I'm afraid she still makes me a little nervous, so I haven't been a good friend."
Discord smirked. "That's the last thing you should worry about, my dear. She's one of the most stable crazy persons I've met!" He grumbled in false annoyance. "She's instinctively contrarian when it comes to powerful beings, but manages to be terminally boring about it, it's terrible. With that attitude she won't even ruffle Celestia's feathers." In a conspiratorial whisper he added, "I figured I owed her one - Pinkie Pie has managed to annoy ponies in simply delightful ways with that song about the bird."
Dear Princess Celestia,
I've never written to You before. I have no tongue for it. No one, not even You will remember if we were good folk or bad, why we fought, or why we died.
Sorry, a little Earth humor there. So! It's been a couple eventful weeks. As I'm sure Princess Twilight has mentioned, I got busted up badly by a handful of ponies. I suspect they were Patriotic Equestrians, since they seemed very upset that I do not love you enough (or at all), but since the only thing that happened was some damaged pottery, there wasn't much of an investigation.
I am completely repaired once more, thanks for asking.
To appear more respectable and to give me something to do, I will be starting up my own metalworking business. I'm a blacksmith of moderate skill, although I assure you, nothing to leave Canterlot over. And my experience runs towards weaponry, so I am less experienced at crafting all the daily necessities of rural, or small town life.
I'm writing to You for multiple reasons.
First, I'll concede that You are a ruler worthy of respect. I've spoken to changelings, and they are rather in awe that You care just as much about them as about Your native ponies. And the only true way to judge the strong is by the way they treat the most vulnerable.
Unfortunately I feel compelled to mention that the Patriotic Equestrians and their cronies have been trying (without success so far) to turn public sentiment against my business because I plan to hire refugees along with ponies. I suppose I have the rumor mill to blame, although it is fact.
It was simply my thought that these people, adrift as they are in a strange land, without money, previous experience or contacts, could use some stability. Ponies, at least, generally derive some guidance from their cutie mark, and their neighbors more readily help them during difficult times.
I have gained the impression that the wings of the alicorns are broad enough to shelter all who require it (and are willing to learn the duties of citizenship), and testimony from the changelings has only increased my belief in this. Let it not be said that I do not give credit where it is due.
I do not consider myself one of your Equestrians, but I have eyes to see. The strange worry I have seen in some of your ponies, fearing that they will be swamped by changeling, or gryphon, or even minotaur civilization, that the ponies will not hold their own, is difficult for me to understand. Even should they come as the waves come, won't you be all the stronger if you receive them as friends and give them reason to love your country and your institutions? Their children will be in your schools. Your children will not be in their schools.
It seems to me that it would be desirable to welcome to your nation all races, kindreds, people. And as fast as they learn your language and comprehend their duties, let them take part in all matters of public life.
As a matter of selfish policy, leaving ethics out of the question, it seems to me that you cannot wisely pursue any other course. Other governments mainly depend for security on the gun sword (or the talon); Yours depends mainly upon the friendship of the people. Its strength lies in their friendship and cheerful support in every time of need, and that policy is a mad one which would reduce the number of its friends by excluding those who would come, or by alienating those who are already here.
There are of course objections to the changeling, that they are treacherous and secretive and will not tell the truth if they can get away with the lie. If he will not tell the truth, except when it is in his interest to do so, then make it in his interest to tell the truth. You can do it by applying to him the same principle of justice that you apply to your ponies. But I doubt that the changelings are more untruthful than other people. Trust is the foundation of all society, and Equestrians seem to trust beings from outside their society as little as the changelings do. For a society (even one so reprehensible as the one under the changeling queen) to function, there must at least be some respect for veracity.
There are also objections to the gryphons, because so many will not swear their faith and loyalty to You. To me, this is one of their more endearing qualities. Most Equestrians will invoke your name for any little thing in agitation. If the gryphon is so true to his convictions (I know but little of the cat and eagle gods) that he cannot be coerced or tempted to swear his loyalty to You personally, he gives good evidence of his integrity. I say, let them swear loyalty to the nation and its laws and be done with it. I doubt You have such an uneasy vanity that you must make a religion of being a citizen.
Little thought is spared for the minotaurs. I know but one of them. Greywack, though lacking in basic education and scarred by a life of toil, is eager to learn and possessed of a fearless love of truth. That last one, I'm told, is common to most minotaurs, who would sooner hear a hurtful truth than a kinder lie. Though he never forgets that he is a minotaur, he never fails to remember that he is now an Equestrian.
But I have rambled on long enough. In truth, I fear I have mainly been stalling for time even as I am writing this. I am now very upset with myself for not being able to think of a way to avoid writing this while staying true to my friends.
I must admit to you an aspect of my personality you have not encountered during our meeting, and your sister has not noticed either, it appears.
I fear I struggle with my antipathy for immortal, godlike beings. This, it seems, is one of my greater flaws, now that I live here. Even in conversation with Princess Twilight it is at times difficult to resist needling her in petty ways, although she has been nothing but helpful, and has asked nothing in return.
During the previous decade, in a world with no evident gods and little magic, my anger has rarely had cause to come to the fore. I nurtured that tiny warm spark left in my soul and for the first time truly learned to appreciate friendship and, by observation, familial love. This only strengthened my belief that it is ordinary people struggling with an unkind world that deserve my devotion, never the gods.
Even arriving here, I could tell that You were at least genuine and perhaps a better class of godlike being than I was used to. You seemed willing to help your people without smothering them. It likely helped that I did not realize your nature during my time in Canterlot.
When a changeling spoke to me of the their queen and how she kept her people in fear of the alicorns, then spent them like so much chaff, I grew so angry it chilled a room full of changelings to their bones. Even recalling that day, I can feel my hatred. I think among normal mortals, hate is not natural. They learn it through experience. An infant loves, and fears, and may feel alone, but it does not hate, does it?
For me, that hatred and anger are part of my very structure. And while I experience them powerfully at times, they do not feel as visceral as other emotions. It's closer to an absolute, cold certainty that removing a given being from the world would improve the whole of it. It is machine logic, calculating that no possible good the object of my hatred could do would make up for the fact of their existence.
What do You think it takes to encounter another being, perhaps exchange words with it, then kill it in cold blood, without compunction or remorse?
Nothing. And the more of that you have, the easier it is. Needless to say, this type of cold, calculating murderousness is normally a sign of dangerous mental illness in sapient beings.
I got nervous. I am ageless, but not yet old. What if over time, my anger would grow to define me, instead of being a tool? I do not want to lose these friendships, or worse, hurt ponies. What if I came to think of ponies as acceptable collateral damage when fighting my enemies?
A conversation with Discord restored my confidence. He seemed put off by the immutability of my Self. Him saying that was surprising. Due to my anxiety over my anger, I had forgotten that it is duty that defines me. Perhaps my soul is a barren place, but it is one of stability as well. After all, even the greatest betrayal a people can experience did not manage to make most of us abandon our faith in the Self. I remembered then that I would never give the cursed gods the satisfaction of becoming as callous as they. If I live a thousand years I shall always have enough warmth left to treasure the memories of my friends and remember that they would want me to continue being happy, and kind to others.
Besides, if Discord could be capable of friendship after a thousand years of stewing in petrification, I won't allow myself to do worse. Anything less would be a failure. Renegade bellikos will always be unconquerable. Put me where you will, there I stand. And a thousand years down the line, all my past friends will stand with me in spirit. I have to believe that. I have to believe that friendship really is magic.
Of course, as I am only somewhat less fragile than a pony when compared to some of the beasts of this world, such long life is statistically unlikely.
I am very angry at myself for having to write you this, for baring my weakness to you, but I could not find the words to tell this to Princess Twilight and her friends in person. I think Applejack still suspects me of being a dangerous psychopath.
Princess Celestia, I swear I've never been angry at a normal mortal for their mistakes. Not even the Patriotic Equestrians cause me much more than irritation (although if they harm my friends I shall have to take action in their defense). But I feel it is part of my duty to my dear friends that I at least inform you.
I ask You to trust me that I am going to be a perfectly ordinary neighbor to Your subjects. There might be some ordinary disputes, but nobody's perfect.
If I betray that trust badly enough that it can't be solved in court, You should do what needs to be done to protect your Equestrians.
I'd ask you to convey this information to Princess Twilight and her friends. I feel they should be informed, but it might be better coming from You. I am not sure they would understand that I do not feel this way about you alicorns by choice.
Respectfully Yours,
Landshark, Renegade Bellikos.
Landshark was sitting in a dimly lit cafeteria. It was late at night, and she was sharing a table with her friend Malloy. The thin, colorless woman wore an off-white pant suit and had an attaché case sitting on the empty chair next to her. She looked like nothing at all, devoid of personality or interest.
The human spoke without inflection, hands flat on the table. "Finally sorted out the Bischoff case, Shark. Caught up to him out in Turkmenistan. We managed to break the coercion on his men. They never knew their boss betrayed us." She took a slow drink from a glass of water. "Some of them were fixing to tear him apart once they were free."
Landshark twitched her jaw in a smile. Her voice had more life in it than Malloy's. "That's great news! When's he going to face the administration over this?"
"Oh, never." Malloy smiled. It was too wide and didn't reach her eyes. "I was briefly distracted. While I wasn't looking, he tripped and broke his neck in front of all those witnesses."
Landshark responded blandly. "I'm sure that's exactly what happened." She knew that Malloy had the virtues of a machine. Anything you programmed her to do, she'd do flawlessly. It was impossible that she could be this careless, but she had apparently decided that ... Landshark did not quite know what. That a little vigilante justice for the victims would be good for morale?
Malloy took another drink of water. "I am shocked that you would doubt me, Shark. Shocked." She had observed sarcasm plenty of times and reproduced its elements in a workman-like fashion.
Landshark knew that the human had no emotional concern for the ones who had been wronged, or for anyone or anything else, but she did the best job she could with intelligence and ruthlessness. That she hadn't slavishly obeyed regulations and brought her quarry in for questioning and trial had been a rare moment of personal initiative paired with her usual lack of conscience.
The construct was in a position to make an issue of it and open an investigation, but knew she'd just rubber-stamp Malloy's report without losing sleep over it. Bischoff had been traitorous scum who took freedom from others, as far as Landshark was concerned, consequences for his actions had been overdue. It was technically still in the spirit of the department.
"Please don't make a habit of losing track of your prisoners. I'm going to be partnered with you again soon and someone else will handle your paperwork."
Malloy nodded her head minutely. "I knew it was going to go over your desk, and I know you."
Landshark nodded but decided to change the topic. "You attending Lambchop's party? He's retiring from field work. I think he wants to get into logistics."
The human giggled. It sounded forced. "Sure. It's the right thing to do. He knows what I am, and didn't ever like it, but he also trusted that I would do my job right and not leave them hanging." She raised an eyebrow. "So it's only right that I see him off, right?"
Landshark chuckled and tried to sound encouraging. "You're starting to get the hang of it." Malloy was beginning to occasionally show a flash of personality, and even Landshark wasn't sure if it was real or if it was an intellectual construct like her grasp of morality. "You ever think about switching to non-combatant work?"
All semblance of emotion vanished from the woman's face. "No. Do you want me to?"
The construct shook her head. "No, I think you're in a good spot. You're doing right by the lads on the ground." Her tone softened. "And there's a limit to what you can be asked to do in your position. I was just making conversation."
Malloy offered a tiny smirk, amused to see emotional concern in action. "Thank you, but I think I'm in a good spot with my job," she echoed Landshark.
The room grew even dimmer as a dark alicorn approached the table. "Fighting too long, against too many horrors, can make even champions into killers."
Landshark frowned, but Princess Luna's presence brought lucidity and she realized she had been dreaming. Belatedly, she snorted in amusement. "That girl was never a champion, Princess. I wouldn't be surprised to find out that she was stamped through a mold into that shape instead of having naturally grown up. She's human only on the outside."
Princess Luna frowned. "You have a strange way of expressing your fondness for this human, Landshark." This seemed less like a dream to Luna than a vivid memory, which wasn't usually the kind of dream she needed to meddle with, but she had a purpose here.
Landshark fixed Luna with a hard glare. "We never minced words, her and I. I was her friend, and she did me the courtesy of trying to reciprocate." She sighed. "I had a lot of unkind thoughts and assumptions about her, but it didn't stop me from caring about her. You might also say part of it was professional curiosity. I had never met a mortal with a Self quite like this. Concepts like remorse, shame, guilt or responsibility have no place in her life. She only lives by cause and effect."
Landshark grinned, more expressively than she could in the waking world. "But isn't that what Delth taught us after we rose up against the First? That yes, we are free to do whatever we wish, but that we should carefully consider the consequences? She does nothing but that, but is analytical enough to recognize when she isn't sufficiently cunning to chart possible outcomes of her actions. Unless she has fooled every counselor, every medical or magical examination, she's more of a machine than I am."
Princess Luna listened to the explanation, then frowned again. "It still seems terribly foolhardy to trust someone with a mindset like you describe."
"I suppose so," Landshark agreed. "But who am I to judge, as long as she doesn't wrong me or our people? She took the oath, you know. We think it stuck, so I suppose she isn't soulless in the literal sense." It was Landshark's turn to frown. "Speaking of which, one of these days you're going to bust in on me dreaming about something real classified and kill me, huh?"
Princess Luna glared at the construct, remembering the last time she had intruded on a dream. Then she snorted in contempt. "Don't worry yourself. T'is a clumsy bit of spellwork, easy to sense and navigate around now that we know what it does. If you hadn't taken that curse on you voluntarily and with knowledge of its implication, it would be easily removed as well." She shook her head. "So no, I can sense well which of your dreams are trapped and which are safe."
Her features softened again as she changed the topic. "My sister shared your letter with me. Quite insightful, we thought, if perhaps a little concerning in the second half. Still, I'm afraid we have been through this before. For the sake of our ponies, we thought I should try and see for myself." She paused, a look of concern on her face. "I know you resent such intrusions, but we thought this would be the best compromise."
"That's okay. This isn't classified. Ponies don't need to see me argue with an alicorn for real." Landshark steepled her fingers. "I'm trying very hard to be reasonable in my dealings with you and your sister. So I'll admit I was being obstinate during our last meeting. I could have revealed some things without violating the letter of my oath. But I did not trust you then."
"So you trust me now?" Luna experienced another brief flash of her own anger at the recollection – Landshark had tried to kill herself rather than cooperate.
"Kind of. I respect your sister and I respect the opinions of my friends and they say you're alright these days. That you're ... a decent authority figure, if a little out of touch yet. Even that you're a little less patient with the Canterlot snobs, which I like to hear. And you're not going to be a danger to the world I swore my loyalty to." Landshark laid her hands flat on the table again.
Luna snorted. "Fair enough. I suppose I cannot argue with that assessment. Very well then." She grinned suddenly. "Shall I see about giving you a dream to enrage you?"
The construct turned her head to look away from Luna, at the immobile figure of her human friend. "No need. You want to see real anger, let's talk about some real abuses of power, hmm?"
Princess Luna nodded and sat down. "Very well then, explain yourself."
The construct lowered her head. "I guess I could talk about what I felt when I heard stories of Discord. The way he treated mortals. But in a way I had to respect him also. Over a thousand years of entombment and he did no permanent harm to any pony, even to cause Celestia grief. He reformed, in his own unreliable way. It actually gave me hope."
Luna perceived a change. Color and warmth seemed to drain from the room. She shivered.
"But let's talk about a ruler who held the sun and the moon hostage. Who was ready to freeze this nation and burn the other side of the world to a crisp under endless sun. Not for some high-minded greater good or the usual excuses, but for petty vanity. Jealousy." Landshark was whispering now. "Millions of innocents. Playthings. Tokens. Collateral damage."
Utter stillness seemed to surround her. A hungry emptiness that threatened to sap all warmth from Princess Luna. Right at that time, it felt colder than the space between the stars on her canvas. Landshark couldn't do any real harm to Princess Luna, regardless of circumstance, but her stay here could be made exceptionally unpleasant, it seemed.
Princess Luna did not know what to say. The strangely flat emotion displayed by the construct had startled her, yes, but she was not frightened. She'd seen and done too much in her life for that, and the world of dreams was her kingdom. She stared down the monstrous thing and finally nodded. "I am sorry. I understand now."
"I know you are," came the whispered reply. "I know you do." Landshark continued to sit there, staring again at Luna. Even the construct had turned dull and colorless.
Luna began looking at her with renewed curiosity. "This is who you are? How have you avoided lashing out at the ponies around you?"
The alicorn felt her own blood run cold. Landshark had been angry at a memory of Nightmare Moon – now she was focusing on Princess Luna, here and now. It was anticlimactic, in a way. She knew hate and resentment and cruelty all too well, in herself and others. Here, all she felt was utter certainty that the world would be much improved if she were removed from it. That she could not possibly do enough good in life to justify her continued existence. The construct's anger was merely an urge to finally act on this knowledge. It seemed to Luna that even before the bellikos had been imbued with a soul and free will, this strange passionless antipathy had been baked into them in accordance to their creator's plans.
"Because I'm not you. I'm stronger." The construct stood up in front of the immobilized Princess Luna, chuckling without mirth. "Oh, not in real power of course. In that sense I'm a nobody. Any earth pony could pulverize me if they were committed to it. I should have said I'm better, not stronger."
Luna felt the cold recede as quickly as it had overcome her. She held her ground as Landshark continued. "Sorry." The construct actually appeared contrite. "I know you didn't mean to offend. This dreamscape thing is a new experience for me." She paused and rubbed her eyes. "What you felt has nothing to do with who I am. The First is jealous and ambitious and his creations were meant to distrust all other beings of power. Even as a renegade I can't escape that. Bellikos are like that." The construct suddenly barked a laugh. "But it is Landshark that hates the First! Hatred that is fully earned and not forced on us! Getting along with you is just another act of defiance." She pounded a fist into her palm and snapped her jaws.
Princess Luna was surprised by how quickly the cold had diminished. She personally no longer felt it, and Landshark had regained some color also. Luna smiled patiently. "Then tell me a little more about who you are?"
Landshark nodded. With her anger gone, she suddenly spoke with real warmth and enthusiasm, and the entire room lit up with it. "I'm a loyal comrade in arms and friend, Princess. Always that. I avoid getting involved in disputes but I will stand between my friends and real danger. I love children, most of them, anyway. I want to help people face their own struggles, especially those with little confidence in themselves. I want to be part of the community."
The construct shook her head and laughed, positively radiating a sudden, fierce pride. "I have what you might call a fanatical belief in the immutability of my personality. Discord, I suppose, helped me find back to that. Nothing can diminish me!"
Princess Luna nearly laughed at the sudden smirking confidence – almost arrogance, but she merely cautioned, "There are many things that can change the nature of a po- nature of a person, Landshark. You are not old yet, are you?"
"I'm not," the construct easily agreed, "and although I don't age, I am far from indestructible. Further than you lot anyway. But: I love life. Yes, The future will come, and yes, we do not know what tragedies it may bring, but our duty is to stand proudly and do battle with them! Do I miss my old friends? Yes! They'll always stand with me in spirit. Every new friend just reinforces my Self further. Every loss steels my will to carry on in their memory, in the way they came to love me! I'm fond of saying 'Put me where you will, there I stand.' But this is the truth: I'll never truly stand alone, or merely for myself."
The construct's dream-self smiled impossibly wide. "So you see? I couldn't possibly get real angry at regular mortals for treating me poorly. There's too much bad in the best of us, and enough good in the worst of us, I don't feel right judging the rest of us, as it were. I still do judge, I think that is a less attractive habit I picked up from humans, but I don't get angry. And that, Princess Luna, is my stance. Fury for abusive gods, understanding for my regular enemies, love for freedom, loyalty to my friends."
Princess Luna smiled. She could feel that Landshark really and truly believed in her own character. Cult of Self indeed. Her smile faltered slightly, however, when she considered the sudden, almost bipolar switch between the construct's anger and its exuberance "That is far more concise than most philosophies we have encountered, and I can clearly see that you wish to be a construct of merit. Yet speaking frankly, I feel that you have shown me two extremes of your personality, and the contrast is ... very great."
"They're both me. A knife can cut, stab, or butter your bread, it's always going to be a knife, you know?" Landshark seemed to deflate slightly. "I'm not a fool. Neither extreme is fit for polite society. Although I may ultimately be immutable, it doesn't mean that I don't feel most of the same emotions any pony would. I know what is and is not considered appropriate when dealing with them."
The construct turned to face away from Luna. "Perhaps you'll return home and share a good laugh with your sister about the machine that thinks herself a better class of being than the immortals. I'll grant it must seem foolish. But if you take one thing away from this, it's this: I distrust, even hate, beings such as you, by default. But..."
Color drained from the room again and Landshark shivered, although Princess Luna felt none of it. She realized with a pang of sympathy that the desolate anger at Landshark's core tried to turn back on herself for opening up to one of the hated immortals as she had. Landshark was clenching her fists. Princess Luna gently prompted, "but?"
"But I've come to love ordinary mortals. They're fragile, and flawed, and many turn petty, selfish, and cruel. Their lives have no true significance. But there's always, always those who strive and struggle to make life good not just for themselves, but for others as well. Those willing to say 'If there is nothing but what we make in this world, let us make good.' To create meaning by believing in the big, noble lies, like justice and virtue triumphing over evil, and to inspire others to believe in them as well, to make them come true."
To Luna's surprise, Landshark's presence seemed to become stronger, more solid. Part of her might have hated this conversation, but the personal truth she was sharing appeared to be strengthening her. "And especially those for whom providing for their family is heroic struggle enough, who perhaps live their lives roughly and imperfectly, and yet still find it in themselves to show kindness to others, even when the world hasn't been kind to them. My duty is to them most of all."
Princess Luna suspected that Landshark had never told this to anyone in so many words, surely not to any being as powerful as an alicorn, and she appreciated it. She was sure now that Landshark would never be a danger to Equestria. It was true, she knew, that the more positive emotions among ponies were soft and warm, in some of them all-pervasive. Landshark's love and compassion, even her respect and pride, were steel cables suspending her over that terrible wasteland past betrayal had left in the construct's mind, filled with nothing but dull machine hatred. She couldn't then think of any force that would be able to change Landshark for the worse. Not as long as there were mortals left in the world for the construct to focus her duty on. "It's because your people were crafted for a purpose, and that purpose was ultimately in the service of evil, isn't it?
Landshark turned to face Princess Luna once more. "We were tools from the start, never a people. Our duty and teachings built into our very core. Now, as a renegade, everything I do, everything I am, every duty I chose for myself, even our version of the teachings, is an act of renunciation by the power of my will." Landshark laughed with fondness and good humor. "Mortals question the meaning of their lives. Hah! It is better for life to have no meaning than a meaning of which you disapprove! Whatever time remains for me, I'll live beside them, teach them to trust in their Self and support their struggles in an unkind world through my friendship. But I won't coddle or baby them, or submit to them. Many of them are my betters, but I have my pride also."
Princess Luna wasn't entirely sure how to show respect to a being who thought itself her superior already without any hostility intended by it. She offered a hoof to shake. "It was mortals who redeemed and forgave me. Some of them are my betters as well."
To most ponies it would have seemed like a presumption when Landshark grasped the hoof, gave it a firm shake and perhaps for the first time, looked at Princess Luna as something almost like an equal. "Some of them dream us to be greater than we ever thought we could be, Princess. Let's not disappoint them."
Luna smiled warmly. This was likely as close to an understanding as she would get with Landshark. The construct knew of her past as Nightmare Moon, but save for a brief moment, had consciously avoided letting her feel the true extend of her anger, while Luna now knew that Landshark would work with just about any mortal, no matter how strange, to meet her goals and protect her people. Ordinary ponies would be unlikely to truly understand either of them, but they both cared deeply, and, regardless of how they had arrived at that conviction, wouldn't settle for less than the complete discharge of their duties, however grim.
Landshark began turning to walk away into her dream, exiting the cafeteria. "For what it's worth, your nights are very pretty."