The Twilight of the Crystal Heart

by WanderingPony

Chapter 14: A Lion Body With the Head of a Pony

Changeling venom, often delivered by oral contact shares certain virtues with the bites of many parasites- it both loosens the inhibitions of victims and delivers a potent narcotic kick that renders the struggles of prey being violently drained of emotions feeble, at best. Both serve a changeling in gathering food with a minimum of fuss, and even a kiss to an unsuspecting victim can easily pass enough along to leave the target a dopey, vulnerable puddle of love snacks.

It is also a popular component in Zebrican alchemy, rendered into a less toxic "Milk of the Legends" used by many shamans to explore their spiritual and mystical past. Such brews to peer into history require massive infusions of mystical energy, either over months of preparation and ritual or powerful magi on the peer of the most powerful of unicorns or even the Princesses themselves.

Or, you know. You could always just swallow some changeling spit and get zapped by an alicorn-powered ritual. We don't suggest that.

---

Roughly one thousand, two hundred years before the present day:

Blueblood opened his eyes to the scene of carnage. Ponies, changelings, pieces of ponies and changelings scattered across a field that had been scorched down to blackened earth. In the midst of the charnel field, tents had been set up, a camp where ponies in battered armor moved with the weary sway of a victorious but exhausted army- tending the wounded, burying the dead, burning the remains of the enemy. The first cool breezes of early evening only brought an eloquent description of exactly how much remains remained to Blueblood's nose, mixed with a miasma of maimings and mordant misery.

Any trace of bliss vanished, replaced with a serious need to be violently ill.

Ducking into the nearby triage tent to stop seeing the battlefield was not helpful.

The second, larger tent he ran into in search of a discreet bucket would be, beyond his wildest dreams- even if he didn't notice the banner hanging above it. The scents of charred and abused flesh vanished behind the tent flaps as if by a gate, replaced with the scents of candles, fragrant oils, and a familiar mix of scents that soothed as much as the outdoors had outraged.

He gasped in the tranquility like a drowning stallion, an experience he had plentiful experience at of the late.

The three other occupants of the Royal tent seemed not to notice. Two Princesses...and Blueblood. Another Blueblood. Well, a rather rough copy, but dashing none the less for his lack of polish. Nothing quite like the original.

About ten deep breaths and one open set of eyes later, he realized he was standing about twenty feet from his aunties and the somewhat brutish "Blueblood" before them. Clearly, etiquette had left them studiously ignoring his moment of horrid grooming and brusque entry, and without thinking, old colthood memories kicked in. He hid in a corner like a good little Blueblood and snooped.

"What would we do with thee, hero?", Celestia said in a distinctly noble accent that would have made the Canterlot nobility deliver a standing ovation for sheer snobby properness.

"Duke Blueblood, who hast led the flower of yon army into the Bridlelands and slaughtered a horde of the wicked changelings."

"E'en as a second horde attacked his army in turn, saved but by our actions most drastic.", followed Luna. "They have dubbed what was verdant plains the "Badlands", for after mine sister laid about with her Sun to burn the hive to the very bottom, the earth ponies say it will ne'er grow crops or a sheaf of grass again."

The tall white unicorn facing them was unbowed, even angered. Plentiful lines across his coat marked freshly tended wounds, and old ones, crossed and recrossed through the white. Clearly, he had been through a war and was ready for more.

"Aye, Princesses. We cleansed the nest of the filthy crawling things that had been stealing our bodies and throwing the horned heads that lead your little kingdom into chaos, because you wanted to talk to them. While we found the ponies who'd called for diplomacy with the blackshells had already been replaced by their brood and were planning to enslave us all! And you STILL had the temerity to chatter of "negotiations" and "co-existing", "patience" while HALF OF MY ENTIRE FAMILY was rotting at the bottom of one of those hives?"

Present-Blueblood cringed at the sound of his doppleganger's voice. Huddling behind a broad table, the crack of the last snarling line was enough to flatten his ears in distress. Such....such disasters were not the proper talk of a noblepony, destined to be above the mud and...and...

Luna muzzled the unicorn in a coating of magic as he opened his mouth to berate them further.

"Your kin were ne'er in that hive to begin with.", she said, gentler than her sister's snob or his boiling anger.

Four boxes floated from behind the wood-worked thrones that sat in the shadowy reaches of the canvas-ringed space. Each was opened. What had been a mare, a half-grown stallion, and two foals filled them, reduced to bones. Some gnawed.

"Twas the Duchess Garland, thine cousin Argent Squire, and your daughters Golden Crown and Silver Tiara. We did find them hidden, when an earth pony prospector in the San Palomino discovered a changeling hive exploring what he thought was an abandoned mine."

The muzzle dissolved into glittering moonlight.

Past-Blueblood looked at the boxes as horror, sorrow, and rage competed for the inadequate space within his skull. A faint gobbling noise managed to escape the back of his throat. Present-Blueblood was spared the sight of what rested in the boxes, but the words alone were enough to paralyze him down to the bottom of his hooves.

Celestia did not relent.

"The changelings used thee to strike at a rival they could not otherwise- replacing your kin and pointing horns at another hive, one they wanted out of the way. Then, they waited until you had gone to war and swarmed your hindquarters whilst the rest of your army was locked hoof-to-hoof with the hive We had been negotiating with in the name of "defending their brood-sisters against the unwarranted aggression of the ponies and their lying Princesses." The Hives will no longer negotiate, and if another hive is attacked, they will bring the full weight of the entire swarm upon Equestria. All of them, Blueblood. Because to save your little ponies and most of the spears of Equestria, you have made me kill an entire hive of innocent changelings down to the last grub."

The gobbling noise became words from the unicorn, even as tears streaked down his muzzle.

"But...my wife, my foals...they're filthy lovesuckers, they murdered my...and you won't let me..., Spirits, WHY?"

"The price for your revenge would be war. And war like this, where fire and magic would kill the very land until everypony, everyone would end. YOU struck first, in the midst of what should have been our friends or neighbors, and now...we cannot. Destroying one hive has united what would have been an uncaring audience into a horde ready to prevent another."

"We will claim thine family was found here, Blueblood. If we do not, the war you started will roll on, and every pony will join them.", Luna added. "It ends here, or Equestria will be fire where the Old Lands have ceded to ice."

Pride remained, and took it's swing uncaring of mere rationality.

"I...I am the DUKE! The blood of my little fillies is on their ugly hooves! It is my DESTINY to guide ponies in war, and it tells me to END them. One! All! EVERY ONE, or by my cutie mark, they will have you in a cocoon in your own throne room in the end!"

Past-Blueblood's cutie mark seemed to glimmer in the candlelit tent, a match for the one on Present-Blueblood in every way.

"I...cannot. I...SHALL NOT! You will tell me where the hive that took my Garland from me was hidden, and if I have to cleanse it single-horned, it SHALL BE DONE! And if I fall, my son will take up the task, and HIS son, until the honor of ponies is cleansed in their green, slimy blood! Not just for me, but for everypony who has lost so much to the....to....to..."

"Dorme diabolos, Blueblood."

*klonk*

The compulsion to nap briefly washed over present-Blueblood, but faded as the warrior-unicorn fell to one side and began to snore. Luna's hornlight, barely visible, faded to nothingness.

"What wouldst we do with such a stallion, sister mine? If he wakes, he will not stop until Our ponies are locked in endless war- and if the fires do not consume them, the Windigoes will. Or other spirits. Verily, discord seems to stir to a life of it's own and reaches out to muddle all into the muck. Do I...end this? One for many, one for all?"

Luna's horn lit again, the brighter blue of witchlight and worse.

"Twas a head wound, unseen and unknown until he collapsed while receiving Our accolades for his heroism. For his services to the land, we shall name him and his heirs honored kin to the Royal Family. Posthumously, in his case. He passed without pain."

Present-Blueblood covered his head with his hooves at the ice that crawled under Luna's voice. A faint thread of black crawled up the spirals in Luna's horn, and deep down, he knew that when it reached the tip, it would strike, and the end would be swift.

White struck against blue-black, and Celestia's horn banged against Luna's hard enough to break the growing spell and the hungry look in Luna's eyes.

"Nay, we shall NOT! No more killing, or murder- for this would be no execution for the Kingdom, but as vile an act as the changelings who brought Blueblood to this. But..."

The eldest Princess stopped, trapped in the spell of thought.

"...canst thou keep him in pleasant dreaming? Of what was, before all fell into sorrow and revenge? Til' dreams bring forgetfulness of what he learned here, blurs the lines of hatred and grief into scars in the memory alone? Once he wakes, the tale will be but the one we have told the kingdom, that the matter was sadly but truly done."

Luna looked doubtful. "In dreams I can keep him, for you know I am their steward. But the wounds in his heart are deep, and it may be...years. More. Aye, it can be done. Better an old stallion at peace than....this, you say? When he spoke at the end, twas more truth than I liked. Truly, he sees Equestria's heart in a changeling cage. Thine or mine, or both. Would you have that?"

"I would bow my head to a changeling queen if it would give my little ponies a thousand years of peace. Because ponies like this would save me, whether I wanted it or not. They...mortals...are like that. The loyalty of a lion in a pony's heart, and the longer we have to let the changelings cool their anger, the better we shall turn their next stings. For that, I am sure. Tend to him, Luna. Sleeping, sweet dreaming to draw the poison from his heart. So dear to Equestria that We shall care for our adopted brother, Prince Blueblood, and his son, and his son's sons until the sun rises not and the moon is dust."

"For if the warrior wakes with a heart filled with war, sun may fall and moon end all too soon..."

At the word wakes, present-Blueblood's flanks began to burn, and a curious notion began to consume the vapid fumes that had been his spoiled, egotistical existence.

"I am a warrior, of a line of warriors, and....and Auntie Celestia told me my cutie mark was for a leader. But it's to lead ponies to FIGHT? To....save other ponies."

"To be a Blueblood is to fight for other ponies. That's what he said before Auntie Luna made him sleep- that a real Blueblood will do that, because that's our destiny."

Twelve centuries of Bluebloods being guided firmly AWAY from what their cutie marks had been telling them dissolved in the light of revelation. And as it did, something settled in the soft pompous noble that had nothing to do with an inherited title and everything to what the title was supposed to MEAN.

"I am Blueblood, the changelings have come again, and the time for a Prince is war. Let me be the Prince a Blueblood should become, please!"

"PLEASE!"

The tent dissolved into relentless radiance.

---

"Hey! Hey! Equestria to fishbait! You in there?"

"Blueblood? Beloved?"

"Gar.....land?"

"Geez, that changeling gunk is tripping him out."

A cold dousing of water poured across Blueblood's face and horn. From the chill, it wasn't the first.

The prince rose to his hooves like he hadn't been half-drowned or drugged for days. Dozens of minor aches and annoyances that would have sent him to outrage an hour ago were...ignored. A Blueblood ignored such things when it was on the battlefield, after all.

That this wouldn't have crossed his mind an hour ago, EITHER did not matter. He was as sure of the fact as the stars on his flanks, for that was where the thought had come from. Speaking of those stars...

Blueblood levitated a crystalline copy of his cutie mark from where it'd rolled into a heap of netting, shaking off a few flecks of green goop.

"Now, who came up with such a lovely piece of artwork? Sunny?"

The barely-legal mare looked annoyed.

"Sunset, dear. No pet names in front of the commoners. Even if they saved your life."

Blueblood's head swiveled to take in the other pony in the room. A fishing pole floated like a spear, covered with green gore on both ends. The very dead changeling hanging through the cabin wall had a hole to match.

"You killed it?", he inquired. The same tone he'd have used to ask for another slice of honeydew from Auntie Luna, who took no horseapples or flank-kisses.

"Yep!", Scale Balancer returned, in a chipper tone that told Blueblood deep down that this one wasn't all that balanced at the moment. "Blackshell-shocked", an ancient not-memory spoke.

"Good. You're enlisted."

"WHAT?"

"Prince's Own. Captain. We'll work out the pay later. There's a war on. And Bluebloods lead armies, when there's a war."

Something in Blueblood settled over the overworked fishermare, firmed up the shaky bits, smelled like "herd leader", and in a few seconds:

"Yes, sir Blueblood!", followed by saluting with a somewhat battered pole. That snapped in half.

A dead changeling's spear floated in Blueblood's grasp until it leaned against Scale's neck.

"First order, Captain. Guard the Lady Sunset. I'm going on deck."

"But....but..."

"Lady Sunset, you are too young for this and in a delicate state of mind. Stay with the Captain."

And with that, he hefted a somewhat rusty woodcutter's axe from the scattered junk and pushed the cabin door open.

The lady in question huffed, settled down, and slid out an equally glittery sun-stone to study besides the copy of Blueblood's cutie mark.

"So, Lady Sunset...did you make those?"

Sunset Shimmer ignored the question and stared at the two chunks of magicite.

Scale's hoof gently tapped the translucent, sparkling symbol of Blueblood.

Her cutie marks spat fireworks across the room in a spray of white sparks, and sent the blue pony into a dizzy, reeling spin before her head cleared from what had felt like touching a cloud filled with lightning bolts.

Sunset moved her hooves very carefully away from what she'd been about to poke and examined her involuntary test subject.

A sparkly line-copy of Blueblood's cutie mark had added itself to the scales on her guard's flank- which had also gained a few layers of muscle in the process, giving the mare an almost stallion-like build. In fact, she very much resembled...well, one of Celestia's guards minus the armor!

"Well, I don't want to look like someone on the hoofball team. We'll be putting that someplace safe right now before you turn yourself into a minotaur or something."

Scale was too busy admiring her new muscles or something. Whatever.

The "cutie crystals", as she decided to name them were stuffed in two sacks, which were put in two MORE sacks, and tied across her back as impromptu saddlebags. She didn't want her cutie mark covering every filly flank in town. Who knows what they'd end up doing with it?

Being stuck in the cabin with a musclebound jock instead of flanking her Prince's....erm....flank was already bad enough!