//------------------------------// // Deceit // Story: The Thing About Love // by That One Guy //------------------------------// Four days, two hours, six minutes post - Canterlot Invasion. Silver Star slowly pushed open the front door of her house, horn aglow with the distinctive starry silver that her magic embodied. The rush of heated air from within was a welcome change from the chill accompanying the light snowfall that frequented the little town of Ponyville, yet it was a pleasure lost on the silver-hued unicorn. It was there, on the welcome mat of her own house, the mare stood, staring into the darkened house, unmoving. No sound passed between the sole being within and the sole being outside for several moments, until a nearly inaudible sigh emerged from the darkness, a voice accompanying it shortly. “Please, Silver, come in,” It said, the warped tone betraying the always-happy pony attached to it to be not quite as happy as was the norm. “I have some tea for you on the stove, if you want.” Still standing prone in the doorway, the unicorn shook her head. She opened her mouth, and left it ajar for several endless seconds before words finally emerged in a tone befitting somepony reluctant to speak. “No, thank you - but I’d like to ask you a question, Puzzling Prism.” A moment of cold silence, the beckoning warmth from within chilled from two immovable blocks of ice that seemed to rest upon two hearts in tandem. “Please don’t, Silver, don’t do this,” The echoing voice replied after a little while, pleading, stating its sole desire. “Not after all we’ve been through, after all we’ve achieved together.” “I’m coming in.” “ …. The tea is in the kitchen, I’ve kept it warm for you as best I could. I know how you despise it when it’s cold.” Silver Star raised a hoof, brought it forward, and let it hover above the mahogany floor of the house they’d lived in for nearly five years. Setting it down would mark the end of all she remembered – that much was all she dared to think. All of the memories, the experiences, and the love: none of these things would be as they were if she let her limb touch the floor they built of their sweat and devotion. The pony within heard the distinctive squeak of a hoof settling on the floor, shortly followed by the quiet click of the door. The normal shuffling of a cloak being hung on the gold-hued hook was a sound that failed to reach the being’s ears, the uncompleted action failing to surprise him in the least. The kitchen door failed to open before the familiar sound of hoofsteps rang out behind him. “No tea then, I’m assuming.” The strange, rattling voice noted, letting loose another sigh. A dull flash of green magic, and the stove in the nearby room flickered off. Silver Star stopped walking as she reached the living room, where the only source of light was a fading blaze in the ornate fireplace, and the only inhabitant facing towards it, face obscured by the back of a large red chair. She allowed the glow surrounding her horn to take on a more jagged form, swirling and shifting the calm, heated air. Again, she stood in a state between contemplating and thoughtless - unspeaking and unmoving. The being facing away from her allowed his face to fall into his hooves, trying and failing to remove the guilt that had piled on his shoulders from nine years of joy. He knew she knew, and had long since admitted that there was no way to hide it. “Just ask, Silver. You should know I can’t stop you.” The unicorn made her way to the larger of the two fancy red chairs, where the being sat, and draped her hooves around it, managing to feel the thing that was once her husband for the briefest of moments. “Why?” Another sigh, and the shell of a hoof grasped hers gently in a way that she was all too familiar with. It was there they remained for what seemed like an eternity, silver pony hugging the back of a large red loveseat with a single blackened hoof holding tightly to her own. Silver’s breathing began to grow deeper, and the tightness of her grasp increased with the intensity of the volatile magic burning near the peak of the chair. As the hum of her magic began to overpower the crackling of the fire and the groaning of the poor chair could be heard, the being attached to the hissing voice refused to move, eyes still locked in sadness on the fire. Even as the smell of melting polyester and the splintering of wood could be heard, he didn’t tighten his loose grip. Even when the oak beneath the polyester backing of the chair began to burn and the thousand-year old material that the chair was composed of gave a horrifying snap, he didn’t flinch. “Why did you do this to me, Puzzling Prism?” Spoke the mare, the voice once filled with hollow grief now near to bursting with nothing but raw, volcanic anger. “Why did you lie to me for all this time? Was this one Celestia-damned secret worth more than everything we’ve become?!” The voice gave one last sigh, and let go of her hoof. A hollow clatter rang out as his hooves hit the floor, and a steady, dull clicking could be heard as he walked around the chair to gaze at the unicorn wielding a hail of magical death around her horn and a blazing fire in her eyes with an expression that could be described as nothing but pained. “Because, Silver Star, while it may sound cheesy, I love you.” Replied the coal-black being, allowing his crystalline blue eyes to lock onto her golden-yellow set, just as he’d done so many times before with the emerald set he’d grown to recognize as his own. “I love you with every fiber of my being; I’d do anything for you, Silver – I’ve spent every second, every moment, of my life cherishing what I hold for you.” The creature gave a long blink and looked to the floor in the deepest pits of despair, where he could see clearly the stains of tears long since shed. “And that's why I haven't told you. I... I didn't - I don't - want to give up everything we've made together for something as stupid as this. No amount of truth is worth risking you, Silver. Not again. Never again..." Silver Star blinked. She gave a small smile. And she aimed the aura of death she had conjured at Puzzling Prism’s chest, pointing directly to the hollow that never held a heart. “That should make this all the more satisfying then, changeling.” Prism slowly blinked his eyes shut, accepting whatever was to come. It was at that moment, before any magic had been neither flung nor bodily harm inflicted, Puzzling Prism felt the pain he’d been expecting. It was a peculiar pain that numbed the limbs and sent splinters of emptiness straight to the core of one’s self. A pain that, for lack of better wording, was merciful in how thoroughly it ravaged every aspect of the soul. A pain that drained sorrow, fear, and even hope, leaving nothing but a shell befitting the skin he had tried to leave behind for nearly nine years. A pain he’d have hoped to never feel again.