14. Enter the Hive
In the courtyard beneath the castle and near the slowly spinning Crystal Heart at the dead center of the city, a colt and his father were preparing to take a walk. The colt carried saddlebags and wore a ballcap. The morning sun peered under the massive arches supporting the crystal fortress, bathing the pair and their contingency of guards in warm light. A slight breeze stirred, reminding everypony there was a perpetual winter raging beyond the influence of the Crystal Heart.
There was talk the ancient talisman had a means to extend its reach to even the mountain range, but Shining Armor had told his curious son once it would take a population ten times its current size, in theory. So much damage had been done under Sombra’s rule, erasing more than half of what the archives once held. Empty books were still being found in the vast library as tomes were still being catalogued since the fall of the tyrant.
There were guards in formation, ready to fall in step and follow the duo as they would eventually begin their short trip to the changeling district and end at the steps of a florist shop.
Reign Cloud snorted, feeling the last remnants of the location spell weave its way uncomfortably through his pelt and chitin. It felt as though tiny bolts of lightning were dancing through the tiny capillaries beneath his skin, causing him to itch where there was none. He glared up at his father, who returned the stare with good humor and a ruffle of the colt’s mane.
“I hate that,” he announced to Shining Armor, flicking an ear and curling his lips back in irritation. His little fangs were bared briefly before an unsettling chill raced down his spine as the spell was finally finished with messing with his body. He really, really detested having magic cast on him. It always felt as though something was going to rise up from deep within him and leap out of his body and assail whoever it was who used magic. It felt weird. Every time.
Magic did strange things to him. It was as though something tried to fight it, but gave up the struggle before it could be noticed. The colt had mentioned it before and often during his medical exams, but nothing more than a notation to his records was done. Further examinations had proven fruitless.
“I know, sport,” sighed the stallion. “I’m going to know where you are at all times.”
“Did you and Momma fight?” asked Reign in a sad little voice. He already knew. Their emotions still rang in his heart. He could not understand them. It was very confusing.
Shining blinked at his son. “What makes you ask that?”
“You two were yelling last night, Poppa. You said my name. Did I do something wrong?” The colt’s ears went flat against the back of his skull, his eyes earnestly searching his father’s face. “Are you getting a divorce?” His tone had crumbled to a wavering, frightened burbling, like a fear of the dark.
Shining mentally berated himself for not thinking to soundproof his bedroom. For some reason, it had been forgotten. “No! Of course not! Eh, look… Nevermind,” came a stammering rebuttal. The stallion felt sheepish and stupid. “We’re just worried about you. We ‘disagreed’ on some things. I—look, just nevermind, okay?” He tussled the colt’s mane again, a bit harder this time. “You’re a good boy, Reign. Always remember your mother and I are very proud of you. Your mother and I are not getting a divorce. I’ll apologize to her and everything will be all right. I promise.”
“Are you sure this is okay?” Reign blurted another question, worried his father would find a reason to tell him he could not have this grand adventure. “You’ve never let me out of the castle before without you or Momma with me. Is this how you say ‘I’m sorry’ to Momma?”
“I guess.” The Prince Consort sighed, trying to find something interesting in the cobblestone beneath a forehoof. “Also… I’m...afraid of you getting hurt, son. You’ve had your illness ever since you were gifted to us. It’s made me a very protective father. I just want to protect you and do what is best for you. Your mother has pointed out I may have gone a bit overboard. Ever since before you were born—” He still had a hard time trying to explain the wedding to his son. “—Gah! Look..ugh. Your birth mo— No, I’ll just say you and your mother are what is most important to me. It’s taken your mother many years to get it through my thick head.” He chuckled more to himself as he let his thoughts wander to his willful wife. “Remember, Reign, parents can make mistakes. Ponies always make mistakes. It’s a part of life. You’ll make mistakes. I want to stop making that mistake and help you to enjoy your life.” He heaved a great sigh and fixed his son a warm gaze. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for not seeing that sooner.”
“Why isn’t Momma coming?” Reign asked curiously, tilting his head to one side. His ears were perked as he watched his father stumble through his composure like a drunken sailor on shore leave.
“She still has a lot of work to do with Ambassador Seeadler and won’t be able to put it off,” Shining replied as he started forward. “Walk and talk, son. Let’s go.”
Reign was silent for a moment, wishing she was there. It was nothing against his father. No! Not at all! As Maggie once pointed out, he was unashamedly a mama’s boy. Shifting his wings and resettling against his sides, the colt trotted after his father, having to do so in order to keep up with the stallion’s long strides.
“How many brothers and sisters does Maggie have?” Shining asked conversationally, arching a brow at his son. “At least a dozen, right?”
“Nineteen. Sixteen sisters and three brothers, if you believe Maggie. The eldest is in Junior Officer School. Dark Shadow. You’ve met him, Poppa.” Shining nodded. “The other two are visiting Wilda’s cousin in Manehatten...something about a family store and them needing help, or something.” It was hard for him not to forget what was going on in Maggie’s family. She was always telling him (with enthusiasm) every little detail of her family’s life. Reign blinked. “No! They came back the other day! Maggie was bragging about them. She always brags about her brothers. It’s annoying,” he mumbled with a snort.
“Sixteen girls?” Shining blinked. A low whistle slowly leaked from his lips. “I don’t know about having sixteen sisters...Twily was more than enough when I was growing up. Why was I not told this before?”
“You never asked, poppa.”
Shining smiled down at the colt. “I guess I never did.”
The journey itself was almost an hour long walk. Shining Armor and Reign Cloud were greeted with bows from the citizenry, to which Shining returned warmly with a smile. Guards politely asked onlookers to not draw too near. They did so respectfully, but it did not prevent some ponies from calling out to the consort and his colt. Part of his military training kept Shining from rolling his eyes at the attention. Reign was rarely seen in public, but the citizens knew who he was. He stayed close to his father, nervous at being in the spotlight. He kept his mother's breathing exercises in mind and remembered to follow his father's lead. Why couldn’t they have taken a coach? Shining insisted on being with the ponies and not come off as being above them. King Sombra had left a permanent impression in that regard.
Entering the changeling district was like entering a completely different city. It was not so much the buildings. The atmosphere felt alien. To Reign, it was a wonderful sensation.
Since entering the district, Rein Cloud could note the differences between here and life in the castle to be decidedly of the culture-shock variety. At home, things were orderly and clean. There were schedules and staff always around to keep things clean and dusted. Down in the city, no matter if it was changeling or pony, there was hustle and bustle completely alien to life in the palace. All walks of life could be found in the city. The prospect both intrigued and frightened Reign. He noticed several changelings giving him strange looks. Most masked their emotions from him. A few made odd gestures, as if to ward off something before scurrying or flying off.
Reign was not sure what to make of that. His father did notice and made a slight scowl. The stallion felt no threats. A pair of old changelings playing chess in a park waved at the group enthusiastically before they began to yell at some of the changelings who had been staring rudely at Reign. They seemed to have some clout as apologetic faces sprouted full of shame.
Here, it was like entering a completely foreign country. But they made it. The shop was unmistakable and the changelings on this block seemed far more sociable. Especially when they noted where the royal entourage was heading. When they had taken the side door into the back of the shop, there was not only the broodmare to greet them, but a literal wall of fillies expectant and smiling little fanged grins.
It was easily the most terrifying scene in the young colt’s life.
This elicited chuckles from the respective parents. Shining Armor and Reign Cloud were ushered inside and given a warm welcome. That welcome came in the form of more than a dozen changeling fillies swarming over Reign, naturally led by Maggie. The saucer eyes from the colt as he squealed at the sudden mass glomping only made his father laugh harder. The brothers of the fillies simply laughed. Introductions were made. Given the number of changelings living under one roof, it took a moment to go through the names. There were curtsies from the fillies and bows from the colts. This embarassed Reign and made Shining Armor uncomfortable.
“Tea?” offered Wilda politely.
"I'd love some," accepted Shining Armor politely and with a smile. The giant changeling mare made him feel like a foal next to her. He had to look up to see her eyes.
This. This was changeling territory. Here, a queen ruled over a tiny nation of nymphs. This was a lively kingdom dedicated to all things of the garden. The smells of warm earth and various blooms gave this den of changelings a certain feel of life that even made Shining Armor give pause to his own views on the race. Everything was clean and spotless. The children smiled and always showed up to beg their mother for a nuzzle intermittently.
His musings were twisted a bit when Reign noted his curiosity and told him plainly, “They’re being given love, Poppa.” What sort of twist it was was in itself curious as the stallion did not know what to make of it.
Reign could picture it in his mind: Here, there was organized chaos. It was loud. There was always the sound of a changeling’s wings buzzing and flitting. The distorted vocal chords of the matriarch were always sounding off, either in greeting a customer or correcting a nymph doing something he or she oughtn’t. Despite what he was already aware of, Shining soon found himself more or less in a state of awe. Wilda ran everything. The big mare seemed very comfortable in her role as store owner, shopkeeper, home maker, incubator (she had just laid her latest egg), nanny (she had a six month old nymph in her pouch), wife (when her husband made his rare appearances) and most importantly, mother.
The pheremones Reign smelled told him her story. Everything was marked as belonging to Wilda.
The hive of changelings and the pair of ponies made their way upstairs and into the dining room. While having tea and waiting to meet with Yamir, Wilda’s husband, Shining Armor could only come to one mental agreement as he surveyed this small kingdom built upon a flower shop. It was nice to make small talk and watch the children get to know each other. Maggie had to repeat some names for Reign. There was a lot of nymph names to remember.
Coming home was always a welcome way to end a long day in the crystal mines. A tired changeling stallion, leaning heavily into his middle years went into the side door of his wife’s shop, fully aware by the presence of guards there were important guests inside his home. Yamir had been expecting this. The changeling flared his battered crest, bent and broken from years of working beneath the ground. At least it was not as ominous as when Sombra’s soldiers used to lurk in the streets and accost anyling they felt like.
Yamir was one of those who not only remembered, but could not help but fear the very sight of a soldier. He could claim to be among the few who walked from the dungeons for reasons never made known to him. The scars along his body were a constant reminder of his long stay in the darkness of pain and loneliness.
He flinched upon seeing the Crystal Guard.
But, he was brave; for thoughts of his wife filled him with courage. She was fierce and feared nothing!
Still, the stallion could not help but stare at Prince Reign Cloud, having never had the opportunity to meet the young colt. Needless to say, having met Reign face to face, Yamir could not help but wonder just what it was that drew Maggie to the Halfling. Reign was quiet and polite. The brood were noticeably... not. His father had come with his son while Yamir was still at work, to pass his son over to the hooves of Wilda. A month, she told her husband the other day. A month for the prince to be introduced to everything changeling. He shrugged. A mere month was not enough.
Yamir didn’t mind the extra mouth to feed. With his occupation as a crystal miner coupled with his wife’s business, there was money for a family double the size of the near four score nymphs buzzing about their home. If anything, the size of his family was prestige and the ability of the parents to provide for such a large number was the envy of the changeling community. Large changeling families were special, even if all the nymphs beneath the roof were not all related by blood. Brood mothers like Wilda could not help themselves but take in nymphs who, for whatever reason, could not be cared for by their natural parents.
The more nymphs there were, the happier the big mare became.
Having come home from work and finding a pale pony appearing to have changeling features...or was it a changeling with pony features?...was unexpected. Still, Wilda gushed and clucked and fretted over her new charge. Yamir knew she would mark him with her scent so the other changelings would know Reign was under her protection. The Prince Consort was having a cup of tea with Wilda when Yamir stepped over the threshold of the shop. After an hour chatting (nervously) with the very large and physically imposing unicorn (who managed to look completely at ease with a gaggle of young changelings staring at him curiously), Yamir was assured (reluctantly) by his wife that they were not keeping the prince (pointedly by Shining, who was nervously trying to squeeze an assurance from Wilda she had no intention of keeping his son). Maggie occupied Reign’s time by constantly trying to stuff crumpets down his throat.
Ten years and the changeling stallion was still adjusting to this... modern world.
This amused Yamir and the wry grin was echoed by the much larger unicorn who happened to be the colt’s father. Yamir greatly respected Shining Armor, for he had a powerful wife. He lamented such a fine stallion could only be limited to one son and his mind wandered if ponies took great pride in big families. Still, it was said alicorns were immortal and unicorns could live as long as the average queen…
His inner monologue was interrupted by a sharp elbow into his ribs. Wilda glared at him. Yamir was being rude and had forgotten to maintain the polite smile of a good host.
Reign Cloud bore it all from across the table, his long suffering look mirrored by the adult male changeling, who wanted the meeting to be over and done with so he could have his supper. He had a three and a two year old changeling burrowing themselves under his wings and rubbing against his oddly furred chitin. The colt was frozen in place as the blatant invasion of his personal space was deemed adorable by Wilda. One of the nymphs decided it was a wonderful idea to see how tasty his wing was and began nibbling on it, causing a flood of drool to flow happily from her mouth. Reign bore it all, though his left eye twitched as he watched his feathers get soaked.
Arrangements had been made. Terms had been agreed to. Yamir simply nodded and let his wife do all the talking. There was talk of guards watching for the prince’s security, to which Wilda scoffed openly at. Yamir was inclined to side with his much larger, much more dangerous, and very beautiful mate when it came to a discussion of the safety and security of Reign Cloud.
“Think of them as being there to clean up the mess, should it become necessary,” amended Shining Armor, whom Yamir guessed was not going to take no for an answer.
“Where is our beloved princess?” asked Yamir towards the ends of the discussion, after his wife had wordlessly placed a bowl of peanuts in front of him. He snacked reluctantly, his stomach crying out for his wife’s fried fish and potatoes.
Shining Armor had sighed, “I do apologize. She did want to be here, but matters of state require her immediate attention. This was her idea and she did want to see it through herself, but with the reopening of the borders with the griffons—” He left the words hanging, holding a hoof before him in a rocking motion. “International relations are pretty important.”
“Ah,” accepted Yamir indifferently. Wilda smacked him upside his head and growled.
“Behave, dear,” she said. Oh, her tone might have been friendly in the presence of guests, but Yamir knew when his wife really meant to say; “Shut your trap or I’ll rip your throat out. If you ruin this for me, I’ll never let you have me ever again! I sacrificed years to produce children for you and this is how you repay me? I thought you loved me!”
So, Yamir played it safe and smiled apologetically at his intimidating bride of a dozen years.
Yamir loved his adopted daughter with her full mass of wild mane. Wilda also approved, as it was the High Priestess Zeala herself who had arranged the two to be together. Such a wise mare! Yamir could never figure out why Wilda distrusted the priestess. Why, had not the Spirit of Love Herself chosen her priestesses to represent the embodiment of love?
Princess Mi Amore Cadenza notwithstanding, of course… Let the ponies have their own parthenon of alicorns. One moment, there were just the two sisters, battling Sombra. One blink of an eye, the number of winged goddesses had doubled…
Strange how a thousand years could pass in the blink of an eye...
Yamir smiled at Maggie’s antics and those of his little swarm as they gave Reign their undivided attention.
He cherished all of his children, but he could not give them love. Male changelings were not capable of giving the precious thing. They could feel it. They understood it. Its power gave them sentience and a sense of purpose. They understood their duty and devotion to their responsibilities. Love eluded them and always had. It had always been within the power of the female changelings to give love to their families. Yamir understood the concept of love, but what he felt could not be passed on.
Only a brood mother or a queen could bestow love to other changelings. This was explained to Shining Armor as he sipped his tea and kept an ear on Reign and the girls. It sounded to all the adults at least somelings were having a grand old time. The colt’s culture shock was being met with great amusement.
Then, it was time for Shining Armor to go. His questions and concerns were met three hours after depositing his son and getting a chance to meet Wilda and Yamir in their home. If he was nervous or had any trepidations, the unicorn hid them well and trusted his own wife knew what she was doing in this deliberate move to expose Reign. Wilda asked him to stay for dinner, which she announced needed to be started.
“Changeling affairs in foreign lands troublesome?” asked Yamir, tilting his head to one side. “We have heard rumors. Nothing solid. I shall keep my ears open and let you know if something comes up.”
The Prince Consort paused, considering those words. He smiled. “Thank you. I appreciate that.” He sought out Reign, who had trailed behind the adults (and sporting a fashionable two-year-old nymph on his head like the latest fashion horror). “Listen to Wilda. Watch your temper. Be a good pony. All right?”
“Yes, poppa,” replied his dutiful son as a pair of hooves draped over his eyes.
With a silent nod and a wan smile, Shining Armor left.
“I’m going to start supper,” Wilda announced moments after closing the door. “Come, Pansy. You can help me in the kitchen,” she told the nymph, plucking her from Reign’s head.
Pansy made a sour face and grunted, reaching a hoof at her soft new toy.
“None of that. Let him be, young lady,” lightly admonished Wilda. She gave Yamir a slight toss of her muzzle.
“Ah, of course.” He knew what she was implying. “Come, my prince. We all wash up before dinner and everyling helps to set the table.”
Now, about that fried fish! Catfish, specifically. There was also to be caramelized carrots and deviled eggs. Fresh bread from the local bakery would be toasted and served with soft churned honey butter. Yamir salivated and was glad Reign had given his wife a reason to pull out all the stops with her cooking. Wilda had promised to make the dish in honor of their new guest. It was, after all a special occasion!
Reign Cloud had sat at the massive table the family gathered at for dinner. Yamir was able to ask the colt/nymph/whatever a few questions. He found out Reign had a bit of a chip on his shoulder, was not at all shy and composed himself very seriously.
A bit stiff, in other words, but not a bad colt. Maggie had a habit of blurting excited answers for the colt (annoying him) until Wilda sternly told her, “Less talking, more chewing, my dear.”
Reign needed exposure to his changeling heritage. Dinner was more of an observation of Reign interacting with the mass of younglings Wilda and Yamir had dedicated their lives to raising. They were instantly smitten with Reign..
Wilda guffawed as the colt stammered and stuttered with the sudden interest of changelings his age, not shy, rather not sure as to what he should do. “Play with them,” she suggested in his ear quietly at one point.
Yamir thought his slight frame and weak constitution would be a liability. It was with surprise Reign proved him wrong by being surprisingly durable for his scrawny size, if cautious concerning changeling roughhousing. The nymphs, all eighteen of them, had been reminded to not play too rough. Especially the older ones.
Names, Reign discovered to Yamir’s amusement, were temporary in changeling households. When he asked for them to identify them, Yamir answered by saying, “The daughters are named after flowers, the sons after shadows.”
Basically, as Reign understood it, the colts were all called Shadow. From eldest to youngest, they were Dark Shadow, Gray Shadow and Little Shadow. This confused him greatly. He supposed this meant Maggie’s real name was Magnolia. Yamir found the colt questioning him on the very subject, looking very serious indeed. All three of the changeling colts (each one lined up on Reign’s right side) had spent the day outside and came to supper at their mother’s mental command. Introductions were made. The eldest, Dark Shadow had been at his training, his brothers having followed to watch. Guard training was open to the public to encourage trust. He was large for a male changeling, taking after his mother and was easily thrice Reign Cloud’s size.
After dinner was play time for the nymphs. Yamir and his wife cuddled in their favorite overstuffed chair (built for two!), a throne overlooking their small subjects as they romped and played and buzzed about. This was his kingdom, and Yamir was pleased. Though he was half the size of his wife, he did his best to look rightfully kingly in his kingdom. Dark Shadow excused himself and after a quick word and a nuzzle from his mother, returned to his barracks.
Wilda allowed him this.
Soon, it was nearly bedtime, which meant story time. Yamir loved telling his children stories before bed. They had heard all of them, but the stallion was a very good teller of tales, most of them having to do with the great struggles of past great queens against terrible dark threats. The greatest of them all was the one who freed them from their masters in a past so long forgotten, it was not even known if the story was as true today as it had been first been told from fathers to their nymphs in the ruddy light of the candle flame.
Story time approached, as it always had. Wilda extricated herself from her comfortable spot in the overstuffed chair to arrange the youngest. The family gathered in the family room of the second floor above the shop, a room that had once been the common room of an apartment complex originally meant to house four families. There was a fireplace at the back of the room. Angled off to the side was the overstuffed chair. There were woven baskets made of cotton dangling from the ceiling, large enough for a small changeling to snuggle into to relax. There were bookshelves along the long wall opposite door leading into the room. Most of the books were for the nymphs, but a fair share were a bit more than that. Most of it had to do with understanding Equestrian culture, as well as a few novels which were more confusing than entertaining. Ponies had strange ideals for their heroes, it seemed. There was also a half bathroom on this floor.
A long hallway outside the room led to the staircase going down to the shop in the front, and another one leading up at the far end. The kitchen was also on this floor, as well as the dining room on the other side of the hallway. The next floor up was the main bedroom as well as the nursery. There was also a couple of linen closets and the main bathroom. On the fourth floor was the rooms for the little ones and their own bathroom. They were expected to clean up after themselves, of course. Wilda had a store to run and was rarely happy to pick up after her nymphs unless they had a good reason for making a mess of where they lived.
Which brought them to this point. Yamir was pleased. All eyes were upon him. He buzzed his wings as he adjusted himself to a loafing position, facing all of his nymphs. The changeling smiled, flashing his fangs. His crest flared, his ears perked. Yamir was very pleased indeed. As he understood it, Reign had never heard any of the oral history of the changelings.
Tonight, he would start the colt’s education by regaling the greatest of the sagas.
Toned down for a younger audience, of course.
Looking back at the events of the evening, Yamir was looking forward to telling this story. His eyes fell upon the colt, who was off to the right. Maggie had her hooves wrapped around his neck. Reign was somewhat annoyed, the stallion thought in amusement.
Yamir observed the gathering of nymphs with the practiced eye of a changeling stallion well versed in the antics of his unruly brood. He noted the range in ages as they shuffled and shoved and chirped into a rough half circle in front of him. His lovely wife nudged the smaller ones gently with her snout, snorting into their withers and flanks. Instinctively, the older siblings positioned themselves on the outside while the younger brothers and sisters more or less clumped together in the middle. It was there Wilda did her utmost to keep her littlest ones to stay put. Her voice was quiet, directed individually. The stallion’s eyes fell upon his wife and he realized how lucky he was to have such a magnificent mate.
His compound eyes shifted towards the pale newcomer. Maggie was literally clinging to the embarrassed young prince. A possessive eye loomed over her sisters, some of whom were jealous while others thought little more than passing interest for the prince. She had taken to the Bonding quite well. The young ones found him soft and snuggable. They snuggled up to him with no concern of his personal space. Yamir noted again how Reign was very polite and maintained a neutral face. The panic showed in his eyes. Wilda separated them gently, shushing their protests and giving Maggie a stern eye to give the colt space.
Reign Cloud, it seemed was not quite as enthusiastic. His changeling heritage made him difficult to read, unlike ponies. This relieved Yamir, as no respectable Royal could allow their emotions to be read. The boy bore watching. The changeling was sure there was something not quite right with the young prince.
But Maggie was so very happy to be around Reign.
Wilda stood behind her youngest on the floor, deferring to her husband and graciously giving him the honor of holding his head over hers in the presence of their family. Stories were the responsibilities of the fathers in changeling households and a good wife gave her husband the respect if he was a good storyteller in her opinion.
Wilda loved Yamir’s stories. “You give them life,” she had once told him affectionately.
“They are ready,” she said quietly as she settled her wings against her sides. She sat on her rump and made a soft clicking sound with her tongue. One flipped out and caressed the back of a six-week-old nymph’s head. The hatchling cooed a gurgling chirp, nestling closer to her mother. A single peep trailed in the expectant silence that followed the mare’s words. She butted her head against Wilda’s stomach until it found the entrance to her pouch. Then, the little nymph proceeded to crawl in, her back legs kicking awkwardly in the air. She disappeared moments later, the skin bulging and shifting for a few moments.
“My children,” he announced when the silence had lingered long enough. “Have you all been good today?” Wilda smirked at his question.
“Yes!” chorused his brood back at them. Reign was casting his eyes over the nymphs, blinking before settling his gaze back upon the stallion.
“Are you ready to hear a story?” he pressed, flicking an ear.
“Yes!” came the reply, more eager than the last one. Little wings buzzed in excitement.
Yamir inhaled deeply, then held his breath, casting his eyes upon his audience. Wilda chuckled. Dramatic pause complete, he exhaled, the corners of his mouth flickering up ever so slightly before he became serious. “Tonight,” he whispered harshly, leaning towards his children. His voice rose in a booming proclamation, “I speak of the tale of Queen Ryoku the Magnificent!”
The cheers erupted from the nymphs, filled with chirps and excited wings. Hooves stomped against the floor or clapped together. Yamir withdrew his head, holding it high as his compound eyes lit up to reflect his amusement. Of course, he had to exhibit a bit of showlingship.
“Once,” began Yamir, his eyes suddenly glowing changeling green, “the world was cold. Windigos ruled over all. There was despair. The sun provided no warmth in the day and the moon bathed the night in a frozen glow. Love was hard to come by. The pony tribes were divided and scattered, constantly fleeing the encroaching power of the Relentless Winter. This was before the goddesses graced this world. This was a time when the spirits of emotion were wild.”
His horn flared to life and the room became filled with the past as he saw it. Illusions of great changeling queens long gone flared into being, smiled down upon the nymphs and faded. Great armies flew through skies long gone, their carapaces shining in imagined sunlight. The forms all dissipated, shifting as though the journey through time slid further into the past, to before the Sun and Moon had chosen their goddesses to represent them.
“Once, there were no changelings,” Yamir breathed. His air swirled into the mists of his magic, creating a swirling cloud hinting at ominous shapes within them. The nymphs gasped at him. Though they had heard the story many times before, it was never a dull one. “There were griffons, minotaurs, satyrs, dragons, chimeras, kepies...but no changelings, my little morsels.”
Again, his audience gasped. Reign blinked as Maggie nuzzled him. She munched happily on a large bowl of popcorn, one of several the nymphs helped themselves to thanks to a silent broodmother using subtle telekinisis.
Yamir again leaned forward, stretching a hoof out in front of him and hovering it over his captive audience. “But there were also Windigos. Oh, such fearsome spirits, full of hate and spite! They hunted for warmth, for they could never create it!”
“But Windigos don’t exist! They’re just a myth!” Reign stated. “Momma said so!”
The changeling smiled toothily. “As was Nightmare Moon, yes? Discord was a myth, was he not? Let us not forget the rampage of Tirek, young one. I suppose you think curses do not exist, hmm?”
Reign worked his jaw soundlessly, his eyes darting from side to side. Maggie patted him on the withers. The others glared at him for interrupting story time. Yamir waited for a protest that never came. Reign held his peace. Most of the young ones in this room were too young to remember the ancient centaur’s attempt to steal all the magic in Equestria for himself. Luckily, his presence had never made it up to the Crystal Empire.
“There are many ancient beings yet to be rediscovered,” Yamir went on, his voice calm as a patient master before his curious apprentice. “Now, Ryoku was once a slave of the Windigos, and our kind were slaves to their whims. She was not always a queen. She was born a slave, like all of our ancestors were to the will of those monstrous masters. They had turned our ancestors and twisted us from what we once were to what you see this very day.
“It was their avarice and hatred of all things harmonious which made them turn the first changelings. They needed physical beings to hunt down their prey and bring them before them to be fed upon. All warm, living things were a bane to the Windigos, for they brought the emotions of love and laughter. Such things were impossible for the great spirits of all things cold and angry.”
The room danced as vaguely equine shapes like wisps on the winds of a hurricane, their colors ranging from blues to black. Eyes as red as the deepest hatred glowed from within the heads of their ethereal forms. Clawed hooves thundered upon the air and fangs glistened from hungering maws. A vast swarm of phantom Windigos appeared before the nymphs. They circled overhead like menacing, horrid and ghostly vultures.
They recoiled as they always did. Even Reign yelped, flinging his wings over his head as he scrunched into a ball of fright. Yamir’s face fell and he became serious. Tracing his eyes from the children to his wife, he held hers for a moment before going to the illusion dancing overhead.
“Our souls. They fed upon the souls of our ancestors. They stole the ability to love from them. Within our ancestors, came a hole in our hearts. An unquenchable hole. A hole that needed love constantly. A curse. The Curse. An affliction that not only changed our physical appearance, but created within us a vampiric need for emotions to sustain our minds and keep us from going mad.
“The slave Ryokuu realized this. The lands of the Windigos were across the sea, in the Old World, where the other races dwelled as food for their masters. The ponies had long fled and were the last of the free races still able to resist. The Windigos became obsessed with capturing them. As their attention was turned upon the last of those who remained free, their very armies were fostering within them rebellion.”
Yamir’s dancing images shifted again, becoming dozens of pairs of glowing blue lights narrowed to slits. The shadowy forms undulated up and down, held aloft in buzzing wings. They parted and a tall figure emerged from their ranks. She was magnificent, larger than any changeling. Her crooked horn was like a jagged bolt of lightning rising up from her forehead. She was as black as the deepest night, her mane a glowing silver. Her eyes were golden and her chitin was covered in scars. She was a warrior, the finest of her kind, the first to reach her considerable size. “Behold, Ryoku the Slave, Ryoku the Mistress of War. Ryoku the First.”
Yamir concentrated, adding an extra strut to the ancient mare’s step. His wife gave him a curious look, arching an eyebrow as her lips made a straight line. ‘Really?’ she mouthed at him. The cheeky changeling grinned right back at his wife and his imaginary queen walked normally, as a proper lady should. Wilda rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath.
“Poppa?” asked one of his older daughters, Petunia.
“Yes, little one?”
“You’re making Ryoku walk like a whorse again. You mustn’t make the greatest changeling walk like a whorse. It’s rude. You always said to respect our ancestors. Why are you doing this?”
‘Your funeral,’ Wilda scoffed. She tilted her muzzled at her daughter. “Petunia! Language! We do not use that word in this house!”
Notched ears splayed back in shame. “Sorry momma. Queen Ryoku is supposed to always be revered, isn’t she?” The confusion in his young daughter’s voice made Yamir feel bad. Some of the older nymphs stared at their father with accusing looks, far too alike their mother’s for his comfort.
“You are correct, Petunia,” he sighed. “I was wrong and I apologize.” A sincere smile graced his muzzle.
“Back to the story, Poppa!” cried Daffodil, who was six going on thirty. She had still been in the egg when Maggie had been given to Wilda. Yamir had few sons, but many daughters. Many, many daughters. Truly, he was a blessed stallion.
“Of course, my little queen,” he smiled, winking at Reign. The poor colt was still trying to pry Maggie's hooves from his ears. She had clamped them smartly on the sides of his head when her sister had said that word. The stinkeye she levelled at Petunia was met with a shrug and a raspberry.
“Girls,” Wilda admonished. “Maggie, take your hooves from Reign’s ears. There’s a good girl. Petunia, I already warned you. Do not antagonize your sister.”
Defeated and ashamed, the two said in one voice, “Yes, momma.”
Yamir caught his wife’s irritation at the tail end as her attention for a brief moment. All it took was an arched brow and an ever-so-slight curl of the lip over one of her inch long fangs. “We have a guest who will be staying with us. I’m sure Prince Reign Cloud did not come here to listen to hatchlings squabbling.” Her massive head swung and hovered over Reign, who leaned back and tilted his head up to see her.
The hatchling in her pouch peeped drowsily, her mother’s movements disturbing her nap.
“And now Zinnia’s awakened,” sighed Wilda in resignation. “Yamir, continue the story.” She rose to her hooves. Her wings buzzed irritably and she tossed her mane over her left shoulder. “I shall try and get Zinnia to sleep. No more...indulgences, dear.”
“All right.”
“Save your fantasies for...later,” she added with a sultry smile. With a grace belying her size, Wilda drifted from the room with nary a sound, leaving Yamir with a wistful look on his face.
“Poppa?” asked Rose. “You’re staring at Momma in the way that’s going to get us another sibling.” She giggled. “Can we have a little brother? I love my sisters, but it would be nice to have a brother.”
Yamir wondered how Reign was taking all of this in. A quick look indicated amused annoyance, if anything. He spoke when he noticed the adult looking at him. “Who was Ryoku? How important is she to changeling history?” His ears were perked forward, like those of a pony’s and not like a changeling. Looking at the hybrid was strange indeed! At least he was polite and respected his elders. It was definitely a plus.
“Ryoku was the First Queen. Before then, she was, as were all the changelings of those times, a slave to the Windigos. They had taken magic and infused it within her, seeking to make one changeling with whom they could command so she in turn could command the others to do their bidding… This is her tale. This is the legend of Queen Ryoko, the First Queen…”
Stats
Page generated in 0.032 seconds
Total duration
742 users online
864,667 hits today, 2,814,898 yesterday
FIMFiction
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
Designed and coded by knighty & Xaquseg - © 2011-2024
Follow & Support Us
Support us
SubStar
Chat!
Discord
Follow us
Twitter
MLP: Friendship is Magic® - © 2024 Hasbro Inc.®
Fimfiction is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by Hasbro Inc.®
Incredibly cute and mildly disturbing in the same sentence, a rare combination that (in this case at least) worked wonderfully.
Had completely forgotten about this story. Awesome chapter!
I finally got through it, so I'll leave my general thoughts on the story.
I think the story has a lot of potential, the setup and a lot of the setting details and development could be used in a whole bunch of fun or interesting ways. At the end of the day though, I find it a bit...I dunno, misaimed I think.
The biggest issues it has by my account are over-exposition and a weird characterization of setting elements. Too much is simply explained, and while I imagine a fair amount of explanation would be necessary given the setting, having several chapters which essential just state things that happen and characters' reactions to them. A lot of the time I felt these setting elements should have either been worked into the character interactions, or they were either unnecessary or best left to be revealed later.
The latter is a bunch of weird things like, I get how crystal ponies and changeling in the crystal empire might get along as well as they do, coming from the same era where the two coexisted, but it seems to be implied that other ponies get along with the changelings there just as well. I was kinda surprised that there were no issues, or even any uneasiness, at least from Shining Armor and Cadence who now ruled over them. I wouldn't expect any outright hostility, but I would expect more hesitation or conflict.
There were also a couple cases later on where characters were described as extremely skilled (best in their field of stealth or manipulation) yet what we see of that is more a limited form of mind control. Not to say what they were doing didn't require a good amount of skill and a delicate touch, but it's a different skill set and as described they weren't really living up to their reputations.
I also can't help but note that, as of the current chapter, the only recurring characters (or at least memorable characters) that aren't cast characters are all changelings. Now, I don't think this is a problem in and of itself, but it does seem to frame the story as a changeling one exclusively, when I feel like given the premise there should be a bit more pony presence.
I did really like the bits that were very character focused, where it was characters speaking to each other with a minimum of scheming. To that effect, the latest chapter, and the one in which we first see Maggie and Reign's antics (I forget which specific chapter it's in) were my favorites.
I am still curious about where the story will end up, but I have enough to read that I think I'll pass on this one for the time being.
Here's hoping this gets to staying in the lovely manner it has so far.
Kelpies.
This makes me happy.
D'awwww~ I like this family.
Queen Wilda's been busy in the last 25+ years hasn't she, if she has almost 80 bugspawn?