Truth Needs No Colors

by Lastingimage24

Intermission. Session... 07? 08? I Think It's 07

So... is that how it's going to be?

The last few months have been... difficult to say the least. My loyalties have been tested time and time again, and my patience is running thin. I don't know what more I can do... but I still feel like I haven't been doing enough. Boohoo, poor me, I know. But I have a feeling things are going to change.

I just don't know how.

---

Syntax stared at the image before her. She didn't recognize the mare in the mirror. There were all sorts of excuses she could use why, but at the end of the day, she wouldn't have believed any of them. Different mane style and hair color be damned, the true difference was in her eyes. Wide. Uncertain. Unblinking. Syntax had never been unsure of anything for the past few years, but now...?

Syntax ran a hoof through her mane trailing down her shoulders, her eyes tracking her movement in the mirror. Since when did she forget who she was? When did she remember she forgot? After all the years of wearing masks and speaking with voices that weren't hers... it seems to have taken its toll. She can't remember who she is...

For a moment, a fleeting moment, she could've sworn she saw Royal in the mirror behind her. She inhaled and held her breath as she turned, a slight smile cursing her lips. But as she turned away, the illusion broke, and all she saw was the back of her room. What was it about him? Was it the strong eyes and gentle voice? Was it the innocence and will? Was it something more primal? Or was it something she hadn't noticed yet?

Syntax thought back to... him. What was it about with her old love? He was charming, sure, but it had to be something more than that. It had to be.

Syntax’s thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. She need not hesitate, the timing was impeccable. Instantly, she started down the stairs, nearly slipping on the uneven third step and catching herself at the end of the railing. She felt like she earned a few bits with the sexy flourish around the bottom post, and then she stopped right in front of the closed entrance. When reaching for the door, she hesitated for a moment, second guessing her appearance. However, realizing that she was making a point to care less about that because of Royal’s preferences, she steeled herself with a clearing of her throat and threw the door open.

“Bats,” she announced, smiling softly, eyes half-mast.

The batstallion nodded respectfully and did his usual routine. “May I enter?” He froze in the middle of his question. “I... your hair...”

“Absolutely, you can come in,” she cooed, motioning him in with a flick of her head, purposefully ignoring his comment. “Would you like a drink?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

“Please, i-if you would be so kind,” he replied, though she was already pouring him a glass. Whether or not he simply drank the wine to please her, or he actually enjoyed it was irrelevant. They had fun, and Royal looked good with a wine glass in his hooves.

He seemed a bit slower than usual, probably still processing Syntax’s new look. “So what would be the subject today?” he asked as he sat, taking the wine.

“I... was thinking about this earlier,” she stated earnestly, swishing the wine around her own glass. “I feel as though I know enough about the bat. So how about the pony?”

He subtly bit his cheek as he craned his head. “What do you mean?”

Syntax Axiom (Interviewer): Well Bats, I've been meaning to ask... what are your aspirations? What do you wish to achieve in the long run?

Royal (Batpony Interviewee): Oh. Well. Uhh... I uhh... I have had a craving for a while.

S: A craving?

R: Yes. When I had to... move away... from the college, I felt... empty. Like nothing mattered anymore. I wondered why I kept trying to survive in spite of having no real reason to live. It took me spotting a strange dark mare moving through the city outskirts at the dead of night to realize what the hole in my being was. A craving for kinship. For community. The mare was another batpony, just like me. The prospect of a group of individuals just like me inspired me to no end. I grew an insatiable obsession with the idea of a real family... never really once taking her temperament into consideration. When we finally met, I was so shocked that she didn't see things the way I saw that I began to be unsure of myself. I tripped over my words, and after a small amount of time I figured out that the community I wanted wasn’t going to be in her.

S: What did you do after that? How did you cope?

R: Well there was only one last avenue to pursue.

S: Which was?

R: Children.

Syntax looked up from her notes with an ounce of incredulousness. “You want kids?” she asked. He seemed like he could maybe be a good father, but circumstances deemed it nigh impossible.

“I... think. Sketch says having kids just to have someone accept you is wrong but... the idea of it is so intoxicating.”

Syntax was thoughtful enough to shut off the tape recorder when Royal brought up Sketch. The ruse involved keeping him out of the story, after all. He’d likely not point out her recording evidence of Sketch’s involvement was suspicious, but Syntax didn’t get this far taking unnecessary risks. Calculated ones, yes. But not necessary.

“Well, then why does one have children? If he’s so knowledgeable, than did he tell you the real reason?” Syntax snickered, rolling her eyes. “You have to remember that Sketch, as smart as he is and how much he tries to convince you otherwise, is a kid himself.”

“I suppose,” he chuckled.

Syntax stared at the ground, fiddling with her recorder and scrunching her brows. “Listen, Royal.”

Royal leaned in.

“I... did something you might... might not like.”

He arched his brow.

“I uh... I looked into that teacher at your college. I thought about trying to find the right time to bring it up, but I don’t think I would have been able to work up the nerve.”

Royal stiffened, his breathing becoming ragged. He was stuck leaning forward, but he managed to avert his gaze and stare at the front door. “Oh.” He inhaled, squinting hard. “What... what did you find.”

“...Do you really want to hear this?” she asked, concern adorning her voice. She didn’t even have to pretend.

“No, I... I want to hear.” He murmured under his breath, words barely audible. “I’m... I’m tired of not knowing.”

“...Okay,” she whispered. “Her... her name was Karia Thortan. She was going to lose her job, and she felt she had no pony else to turn to. So... she made a final decision.”

There was a heavy silence above the room. Never before had quiet been so loud. Royal winced and cringed, cradling himself, his usual stoic gaze hardening and burning a hole in the floor. “I see,” he said as-a-matter-of-fact.

“The college wasn’t doing so hot. It was going to be torn down, or sold. Karia didn’t have... any friends. Nobody.”

Another permeating silence.

Syntax struggled for more to say. For a mare’s death to own more than a couple of sentences... but it was a faded dream. Karia died, and nopony cared. That’s what happens.

“She was a zebra. Did you know that?”

Royal looked up from the floor, eyes wet with tears that refused to fall. “No. She had stripes. Is that all it takes to be a zebra?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” There were some semantics involved, but that was something she didn’t care to talk about right at that moment. “Interesting that she was a teacher so close to Canterlot. She must have been very good.”

“She was,” he confided, his voice still clear and direct despite the obvious turmoil he was in. “She wove tales and recited poetry with the grace and flow of a river.” He gritted his teeth. “I should’ve spoke to her. Maybe a friend would have-”

“No, Bats it wouldn’t,” Syntax cut him off. “If she were at the point that she would take her own life, a single friend wouldn’t have done it. It might’ve helped, sure, but an illness like that can’t be solved with a simple smile and laugh. She needed help.”

“Is that... how that works?”

“Unfortunately.” Syntax swished around the liquid in her glass. “I’ve had more than my fair share of interactions with ponies like that.”

“I see.” Royal’s lack of conversation was unsettling. While he was concise with his language, he often reveled at the chance of interacting. Now it seemed he just wanted to crawl into a hole for a couple of years.

They simply sat and stared at random objects in the room for a few moments, the oppressive silence still weighing on the their shoulders. There was a content in the lack speech, both ponies comforting each other wordlessly.

After a long time, Syntax cleared her throat. “Bats... Royal...”

Royal’s ears shot up at mention of his real name.

“Mm?”

“What’s the plan after this? After everypony knows about you?” Syntax couldn’t be bothered to maintain eye contact, ignoring that it was bad form to lie like that.

Royal shrugged, sighing. “I don’t know. What I’ve always done I guess. Any hope of integrating into a community will be gone.”

“You don’t know that. I’m publishing the truth. Ponies will draw their own conclusions, and those conclusions may be p-positive.” Syntax winced at her own stutter, revealing the fact she didn’t believe herself. Royal must’ve caught it, since he faced away in mild shame. “Maybe you can contribute something, then. So ponies will have to like you.”

To his credit, Royal chuckled, the earnest joke tickling the ice that had surrounded his core. “What, do I become an artist like Sketch? That doesn’t really sound like something that i’d like to do.”

“Or you could be a writer,” Syntax suggested, smile returning to her features. “You’ve shown an interest in stories. Painting pictures isn’t the only art form, ya know.”

“Hm,” he inquisitively responded. “Haha. Maybe. Don’t know how to type, however.”

“I could teach you. It’s easy.” Syntax got up and moved behind the loveseat that Royal was sitting on and wrapped a single foreleg around his neck. “C’mon.”

“Right now?”

“Why not?” Syntax sauntered over to her lone desk in the middle of the room with the shiny well kept typewriter and pulled out the chair with a little flourish. “See how you like it.”

“O...kay.” Royal got up and rushed over to the chair, gently flopping onto it. Syntax tried to push the chair into the desk, struggling against Royal’s surprising weight. She succeeded after Royal subconsciously aided with his wings. Royal reached up below his waist and rested his hooves onto his desk. “Alright... uhh...”

“Just tap the letters. You know how to read, right? Just type whatever comes to mind.”

With trepidation, his hooves approached the keys. There was an idle fear in probably both their heads that Royals unnatural strength would send his hoof straight through the machine. Thankfully, the keys had more resistance than Royal had assumed, and he healthily pressed the ‘i’ key, sending the typebar crashing into the paper with a satisfying click that sent tingles up Syntax’s spine. Syntax reflexively smiled, the years of conditioning that typing gave her making the sounds garner a positive reaction. Royal waited for the levers and reactions to settle in, no doubt trying to figure out how the machine worked. After a few moments, Royal pressed the spacebar, shifting the page an imperceptible amount. He hummed, putting his hoof to his chin, trying to find the key he wanted.

The anticipation started to get to Syntax, causing her to squirm quite a bit. Thankfully, he pressed the ‘a’ key next, a little faster than before. After repeating this process quite a few more times, he had an actual sentence written out, and he punctuated the end with a period. Syntax looked it over despite following along the whole time.

“i am royal.” Syntax said aloud. “Good start.”

“It’s a simple statement,” Royal humbly admitted. “Can hardly call it art.”

“Eh.” Syntax snickered, tossing her head from side to side. “It’s already better than a lot of the trash on the book market.” He chuckled darkly, looking up at the ceiling, and then at her.

“So... did I... do it right? Seems like a slow process.”

Syntax shook her head slightly. “Well, you pecked at the keys. Which is normal, everypony does that when they haven’t learned how to type. You need to learn to hit all the keys with minimal effort, but that takes practice.”

“What’s the... technique?”

Syntax pointed to the keyboard. “You gotta rest your hooves on the keyboard and manipulate the keys without lifting them.”

Royal rested both his hooves on the keyboard in completely the wrong places, clumsily trying to find a comfortable position. “No, wait, like this,” Syntax huffed, resting her chest on Royal’s back and wrapping her forelegs parallel to his own, grabbing his hooves and placing them in the correct places. He tensed up, which was weird, but she was too focused to care.

“Alright,” she continued at a lower volume now that her muzzle was right next to his ear. “Now if you want to hit the ‘a’ key you just shift your left hoof into it without lifting. Same for the ‘l’ key on the right side.” Syntax leaned forward to look at him in the eye. “Following?”

He was strangely silent, looking down and away from her. “...Y-yeah, I think...” His voice was fluctuating a little, which was unusual.

Syntax removed her hooves from his and leaned on the desk at the sides, granting a bit of space from her chest and his back. Royal cleared his throat, relaxing a little, and hit a key. He stopped and muttered to himself.

“If you gotta lift your hooves to see the keys, go ahead,” she laughed. “Everypony starts somewhere.”

Royal continued, typing slowly, the satisfying clicks staggered from his lack of experience. Syntax remained, giving him pointers and reminding him where keys were when she got the chance. Eventually she taught him how to capitalize letters and get different punctuation.

After a quarter hour, Royal finally had something to show for it. Syntax made the motions to remove the paper and began to read off it, smiling all the while.

Clearing her throat, she read, “i am royal. you may call me a monster. if you saw me you would run. Just as you would from an animal. From any bloodthirsty creature. But here I sit. Typing. Painting a picture with words. If any bloodthirsty monster could do what I am doing now, I would certainly like to see it. But Im not here to convince you. I dont need to. I’m just here to reaffirm myself. I’m not a monster. That’s the way I feel. I don’t care if it isn’t true. I have friends, and that’s all that matters. I am Royal, and I feel like royalty.”

“Poetic, huh?” Syntax commented, grinning wildly. Royal fiddled with his hooves, quite a cute sight in contrast to his normally confident demeanor.

“It’s a bit pretentious, right? I was just typing what came to mind, which was difficult when I can’t type as fast as I think.”

“But you have promise.” Syntax set the paper on the desk. “I’m sure if you had a plan and some structure, not to mention proficiency with typing, you could make something great.”

Royal stared at the page in front of him, gently playing with the edge of the paper. “I don’t know...”

“C’mon, if you enjoy writing it, someone will enjoy reading it. And even if everyone hates you, controversial figures get their books read, plain and simple.”

He bit his cheek, looking up at Syntax. “But how do I learn to write, where do I learn to write, with everypony against me?”

Syntax shrugged, “My doors will still be open.” She nearly fell over after hearing her own words, gagging slightly and using the desk to steady herself. Did she really just say that? Invite a vampony into her home?

No, no, no. You idiot! What on earth makes you think that he’ll want anything to do with you after you break his deal? You’ll be lucky if he doesn’t kill you, Syntax’s mind raced. She bit her lip, trying not to collapse into herself. You can’t promise anything. Not after what you’re planning to do.

...unless... you keep your word for once.

Syntax finally turned towards the batstallion, wanting to gauge his reaction to her body language right now in case she needed to go into damage control. Thankfully, Royal was inspecting the typewriter at the time. Sensing her gaze, he looked up from the desk with a very faint smile on his face. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she replied quickly. Unfortunately, she couldn’t take back what she said for fear of upsetting him. She just had to own the lie now.

But... it wasn’t a lie. She was speaking from the gut. It just... felt right to say. What if she just kept her word, though? That would solve all her problems.

But...

Syntax closed her eyes, imagining what might happen if she did. With all the attention on Royal, like he wanted, Trust would still be lurking in the shadows. And if this kindness and naivete was all an act, then... then it would be her fault if Trust did something awful. What if she killed somepony important? What if she killed Sketch? She’d never be able to forgive herself. Not after what happened last time, not making the same mistake twice. This is journalism. Black and white. Omission of the truth, despite pure intentions, is just the same as lying.

Despite her assurances, one biting thought crept up in the back of her head. But what if they’re legit? Then... everything I do will ruin...

No. It’s not her place to make these decisions. She can’t make these decisions. She has to publish all the objective truth. All if it.

“Miss Syntax, are you okay?”

“Please stop calling me ‘miss’,” she replied without thinking, trying to distract from her own silence. “You’re making me feel old.”

“Oh,” he replied, ears matting themselves against his head. “I didn’t... mean to.”

Syntax winced, her intentions not to make him feel bad. She sighed heavily and trotted towards him. “No, no, no, it’s okay,” she assured, getting right up to him. “I like it when you call me that.”

“I... what?” Royal asked, cocking his head. “But you just said-”

“I know what I said,” she cut him off sternly, her frustration seeping into her words. “I didn’t mean it, i just...”

Royal arched his brow in confusion, before stiffening suddenly when Syntax put a hoof to his chin. “What am I going to do with you, Bats?” She cocked her head as she stared into his eyes, wide as dinner plates. Syntax sat there, weighing her options, thinking of possibilities. Seconds passed by into a minute, finally taking their toll on the batstallion.

He squirmed, averting the eye contact they had established. “Miss... Syntax... uhh...” He couldn’t hide the blush. He shakily reached up and held Syntax’s hoof with his own.

This knocked her out of her reverie. She blushed in turn, snapping her head to make sure what she was feeling was real. Yup. Royal was holding her hoof.

He probably had no idea what was happening. Well, Syntax wasn’t exactly helping, her behaviors as confusing to him as they were to her. “Royal,” she started, using his real name again.

“Yes?”

“What do you think of me?” she asked, unsure herself what she meant by the question.

“I...” Royal eyed up at her whilst still facing the floor. “What do you mean?”

“I mean...” She struggled to find the words, for the first time in a long time. “I... what... kind of pony do you think I am?”

Royal’s blush began to dissipate as he went into thought, but then returned as he faced her again. He furrowed his brow, strangely determined. “I’ll admit, I still don’t understand why you insist on making life so difficult for Trust, Sketch, and I.”

Syntax shamefully looked away.

“But...” Royal continued. “I do think that you have a damn good reason. You... You’re not a bad pony, like I had initially assumed. In fact... you are quite... wonderful. Now I assume that you are doing the things you’re doing because you feel they are the right thing to do.”

Syntax’s throat tightened, and she was struggling to keep her composure.

“Miss Syntax... the kind of pony I think you are? I think... you are sompony who wants to do the world right, misguided as you may be. I’ve only ever thought of myself. I didn’t know somepony like you could exist.

“Even if this story destroys me. I hope we could still be friends.”

For what it’s worth... I hope my story doesn’t completely destroy you, her own words echoed in her head, over and over.

She smiled and chortled, as a single tear fell down her cheek. She wrapped her foreleg around his neck, and rested her nose on his. He tensed like never before. “Damn it. It’s selfish but...

“But I don’t want to lose you, Bats. I don’t think I could handle it.” Her mouth was so close to his that she could feel his hot breaths wash down her neck, the subtle scent of spearmint entering her nostrils. “Bats... why couldn’t you just be a monster? It would make everything so much easier.”

“I’m... sorry?” he replied, obviously unsure of what to say. Syntax could swear she could hear his heartbeat. “I don’t think I’d be able to behave like a monster around you.”

That was it. The straw that broke the camel’s back. It wasn’t even that good a line. Hell, she didn’t think it even was a line, just an honest statement. Still. After everything. After holding back for so long, she had reached the tipping point.

She mashed herself into his mouth at an embarrassing speed and fervor, almost injuring the both of them in the process. Royal’s eyes went wider than she’d ever seen, and he subconsciously threw his hooves forward in instinctive self defense. “MGMFGF,” he tried to shout, which only aided Syntax’s ability to shove her tongue down his throat.

A few shocks of pain jolted through Syntax as she scraped her tongue against his sharpened teeth in her lust. But she didn’t care. She waited too long for this. She didn’t even care when the wooden chair started to tip. She didn’t even care when it crashed into the floor and splintered into pieces. She cared a little when Royal grunted as he hit the floor, the full weight of herself developing him, but she didn’t care as much as she probably should have.

Syntax dragged her hooves over his body, feeling out every muscle, every edge, every curve she had been so cruelly denied in the past weeks. It was better than she thought it was going to be. Fucking perfect in fact. Lean, powerful, gorgeous. She couldn’t believe her luck, the fact that the perfect guy also had the perfect body. She was pretty sure it was a mortal sin that he was this perfect.

“Mynph Ymphax!” Royal mumbled through her tongue, sending satisfying vibrations through her throat.

It took a few seconds, but Royal finally, tentatively, gently rested his hooves on Syntax’s back in a hesitant hug. Syntax tried not to break the kiss by smiling too hard, her heart skipping a beat at how unsure Royal was being about his boundaries despite her forwardness. Of course he would need to be taught how to do this, but that thought actually excited her to no end.

Was that bad?

Syntax opened her eyes to see the batstallion’s reaction, but was surprised to see he had yet to relax, eyes wide. She blinked a few times as the blood began to flow back into her brain, and decided she should probably say something so Royal can enjoy himself too. She slowly retracted, dragging her tongue against the roof of his mouth, a bit sad she had to stop so soon. Nose-to-nose, they stared at each other, trying to catch their breath.

A couple of drops of blood dripped onto Royal’s chin.

“Sorry,” Syntax apologized plainly.

“I’s foine,” Royal squeaked, voice breaking.

“Hey.”

“Y-yeah?”

“I really like you. Like, a lot.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t want you to leave tonight. I want you to stay.”

“I... I think I could do that.”

“I want you to stay. I want you with me.” Syntax shoved her muzzle into his chest. “I hate it when you leave.”

“Miss... Syntax... I don’t know how to do this. I’ve never loved somepony before.”

“Just do what feels right.”

“This... this feels right.”

Syntax laughed a mirthful, honest laugh, snorting at the end. “Yeah, but maybe we shouldn’t be lying on the floor.” A few more drops blood dripped out of the corner of her mouth, causing her to wipe it across her leg.

“A-are you okay? Did my fangs cut you again?”

“Shut up, it’s worth it.”

---

Syntax looked back at Royal one last time, the sleeping batstallion making her heart jump when her eyes met his handsome face. She smiled, looking down at the floor.

I have to do it.

She stumbled down the stairs, her knees still weak from the overdose of euphoria.

I have no choice.

She approached her desk. Her workstation.

I will not be responsible for atrocities ever again.

She opens her drawer, taking out the finished article. Sketch and Trust exposed, with no mention of Royal. She hadn’t finished Royal’s yet.

I have to break my promise to you, Royal.

Tears fall.

I have to publish it!

Teeth gritted.

Truth needs no colors!

Nose running.

The article made a soft thud as it fell into the trash.

Author's Note:

I know it's been a while, but there's only a few chapters left. Five years is a long time to finish a freak'n story, eh?

Everything is falling into place.

Comments

[jxj]

Excellent, I'm glad to see this update again. It's been a while so I'm going to just read it from the beginning again instead of reading the chapter you just released.

[Knight of Crows]

I forgot about this story. Don't keep us waiting.

[Amos Anon]

I've been waiting so long for this update, but it was totally worth it! This is still my favourite romance story on fimfiction.

[Wind of the Skies]

I'm happy you updated. This is a wonderful read.

[Cellar Door]

Wow, very surprised to see you update. Love this story.

[jxj]

It's good to see the whole Royal Syntax romance finally develop more.
On another note, I still hate syntax and I have a feeling that's not going to change anytime soon.