Depression: Part Two
He attempts to sit calmly at the table, but his emotions are a tempest in him. He watches Twilight as she goes about making tea, of all things. He wants to burst out of this (frankly itchy) skin he’s wearing, reveal his true self to her and explain everything immediately, right away.
He’s so worried.
He swallows it and breaths.
Patience. It was a virtue, he’s always been told. It’s a lesson he still struggles with. But, nonetheless, it’s a lesson he has to take to heart.
Twilight trots over, setting down two tea cups and a pot, pouring it with ease. She’s frowning, which makes sense, given his obvious concern. He’s never been good at hiding that, has he? Insane, the fact she can feel nothing else from him at this moment. His skills of hiding his emotions fail when it comes to matters as serious as this. “What’s wrong, Masquerade?” She sits calmly, sipping her tea carefully - it’s still hot, after all.
He breathes in softly, careful to keep up the facade, if but for a little longer. He’d been trained, after all. This was how he was supposed to act. Play the role. He had grown up without needing much training, but that was one aspect he failed in constantly. He just couldn’t stop being himself. “I have something to discuss with you, Miss Sparkle, but… I fear you will react poorly to this.”
She sets down her tea, frown growing. “I… I still want to know, Masquerade. Whatever it is, we can work through it together.”
He can taste her forced smile from across the table as strongly as if it had been his own. These ponies were so free with their emotions. So… trusting. Odd. He sighs, turning away from her. “Princess Celestia already knows of my… being.” Just a little longer to hold this.
“Your being?”
“Yes. You see, I… I am not who I pretend to be. That’s important for you to know if this conversation is to make any sense.” Twilight nods and he licks his lips. How to proceed?... “I… I’m going to show you who I really am. This can’t leave this room, you understand?”
“I…” Of course, she hesitates. The Element of Friendship and Magic isn’t really one to keep secrets, after all - she learned that lesson already. Still, she nods eventually. “I understand. I trust you.”
He laughs, standing and removing his helmet. “You… might not after this.” Her brows furrow.
And he changes.
“GAH!” She stands quickly, eyes widening, as he spreads his wings with a soft groan, lifting his hoof effortlessly. Goodness, he needs to stretch more often, he realizes dimly. Had he stretched out of his costume earlier with the Queen? He must’ve forgotten. “Y-You’re a-a-”
“A changeling, yes,” he says, relishing his own voice. It’s far smoother than Masquerade’s, much more befitting of a changeling. He’d been in his own form when talking with Chrys, and even that short break between changes had been enough for him to miss this form. He clears his throat, giving himself the once over. “I’m sorry for the surprise,” he says, lowering his hoof a bit sheepishly.
Twilight watches him, wide-eyed and obviously shocked. But, slowly, her eyes take a more curious gleam. He could easily understand why. He didn’t quite look like a normal changeling, after all. His eyes were tinted to a magenta shade, and his body was almost entirely void of holes. “W-Why do you look-”
“So different?” He smiles softly, sympathetically. It isn’t the first time he’s had to explain this, after all. “Because, at this point, I am different. I’m a changeling who’s had prolonged exposure to love in abundance. You ponies are so free with it, especially Princess Celestia.” He bows his head slightly, a soft, hardly visible blush rising to his cheeks. “I apologize for having withheld the truth from you for so long, Twilight, but Princess Celestia insisted I not cause a panic. And, well, given past relations-”
“That’s exactly what she would say,” Twilight says with a growing ease. He breathes a sigh of relief as he feels the emotion. It's not what he expected when he'd imagined the scenario at first, but lord is he happy to feel it anyways. Twilight slowly eases herself into her seat once more, shaking her head in slight disbelief. “A changeling… and Celestia knew?”
“She's known from the instant I joined her guard. I actually started as a prisoner of war, believe it or not.” Masked chuckles as he sits as well, shutting his eyes. “Princess Luna was certainly out for blood. Though, she never has been a fan of changelings.”
Twilight raises a brow. “I don't know what you mean. I remember that being in the Queen’s letter, and I remember her mentioning something about the events of the past, but Celestia hasn't given me a straight answer about what happened.”
Maskra licks his lips. This wasn't a very easy topic to discuss. “I can understand why. It’s a tad bit personal.” He sighs, rubbing his neck as he slowly gets more comfortable. The stuffy guard routine was nice and all, but this was so much better. “See… Way back in the day, before Equestria was still fresh and new, Celestia and Luna were struggling with a lot of pressure from outside lands. New, weak looking kingdom? You know people wanted to get the jump on that.”
“The Griffons and Yaks wanted the northern regions, and the Dragons wanted to claim the southern regions,” Twilight recites, as though straight from a text book.
Maskra nods. “But, erased from that history you knew was the Changelings.”
“But why? That seems like it would be important to know!”
“Because Luna couldn’t accept it.” Twilight tilts her head, confused. “You see, Changelings, back then, we were a lot different. We were a proud empire, run by…” He licks his lips again. “Queen Velouri. Chrysalis’s mother.”
“Wait - mother? But that was years and years ag-”
“Changeling Queens can live for centuries, Twilight, so long as they have the proper amounts of love. At the time, she was still a fairly young queen, though she had countless years of experience under her belt already. In any case, she saw Equestria as a place of resources. She didn’t want land - she wanted ponies. They were an ever present source of love. In her cunning, she told the ponies she would work with them against their enemies.”
“Luna wanted nothing to do with her. She suspected everyone. But Celestia knew that without help, her kingdom would never survive. So, Celestia allowed Velouri access to her kingdom in exchange for aid. As you can guess, it had disastrous results. Velouri was unsatisfied with her position and attempted to dethrone Celestia and Luna. In the end, Luna had to take the initiative, as Celestia was not prepared to give up diplomacy. Hundreds of Changelings died, as well as many ponies. But, the invasion ended… with a small cost.”
“Luna’s trust had been shattered. She didn’t know who to trust anymore. It didn’t help when she found two Celestias vying for the throne.”
“Velorui,” Twilight says, nodding.
“I always knew you were smart,” he compliments. “She had to make a choice on who to injure. It was one of the hardest decisions of her life, according to Velouri’s accounts. But, in the end, no one knows what happened. Just that Velouri left with her remaining forces, and Celestia and Luna both agreed to omit the invasion from history. Ages went on, ponies forgot. Those who remembered aged and died. There’s still some ponies out there that believe in the original invasion, but they’re considered conspiracy theorists now.”
Twilight shakes her head, taking a second to take this all in. Maskra certainly couldn’t blame her; this was a lot to learn, of course. Eventually, she nods, taking a soft breath. “So, where does this leave us?”
“In a very complicated situation.” Maskra shuts his eyes, thinking back to the last few days. “There’s a reason why Princess Celestia assigned me to Chrysalis. The Princess is ridiculously intelligent and perceptive - she knew something was wrong with Chrysalis just from that letter. She was right.”
“Something wrong?”
“Changelings can taste every single unguarded emotion, not just love. It takes years to build up walls against what Changelings can sense. Queens have a natural-born talent for it, as there are various secrets that certain emotions give away. Those secrets need to be kept. Chrysalis has always been good at hiding her emotions, but something has changed.”
He opens his eyes. “When I first saw her in the Canterlot castle, she was sensing strongly, almost more than I’ve ever known her to, but her emotions… Every little surge of emotion had a slight delay to it, and it faded almost instantly. I thought joking with her and letting her recognize who I was would cheer her up, but even the vague happiness she felt when seeing me faded. And now?”
He feels sick. Extremely sick. He takes a breath, uttering the next phrase quickly, like ripping off a bandage; “She has become one of The Mouraiie.”
*~*~*~
I know now how long I cry. When I look into the mirror, I see my eyes are puffy from the tears. I cannot even laugh at myself, looking as pathetic as I do. There was once a time when I could, but this is not the reflection of the queen I used to be. The queen I used to be was strong, respected, revered. Changelings would have fallen in droves at my hooves if it pleased me. Now...
I hear my own thoughts.
It should have been you.
Yes. I know.
The sun is setting. Maskra ran from my home at midday. I wonder just how long he has been speaking with whomever he went to and pray he did not go to Twilight about my sickness. She would never understand, I realize. He could make her try, but my sickness is a Changeling disease. Not even he could really understand this.
Many had tried and all failed. It was considered a myth, this disease, a myth that was told to those Changelings who got too secretive. Who withheld too many emotions. ‘Stop, before you join the ranks of The Mouraiie’. Before you join the ranks of the sick. Of the broken.
You should have died. Not Eacko. You should have, you diseased failure.
I know. I know, I know, I know.
Maskra is concerned. More concerned than necessary - there is no help for The Mouraiie. None of the stories gave a cure, and this disease was never supposed to exist. Those few Changelings who began to feel the pangs of this mythical sickness fought and won.
I never fought. How could I? How could I, without him?
Why would I?
I used to feel sad when I remembered my love’s death. I used to wish, hope, it wasn’t true. I used to feel angry that I let it happen. I even tried to do everything in my power to bring him back. But he’s gone. And now, I am Mouraiie. I feel nothing. I amnothing.
You ought to take his place now. If only to see him again.
I sigh, shutting my eyes.
“I know.”
I do not move. There is no point.
Killing myself wouldn’t bring him back, after all.
*~*~*~
“More what?”
“Mouraiie,” he says, sounding disgusted with just that term. He shudders, drawing his wings closer to himself. He looks more concerned than his other form ever allowed for. “It’s this… sickness that takes over the Changeling’s mind and body. They no longer give off any emotion, none whatsoever. They’re unable to feel any of what they absorb, other than the ability to label what the feeling is. It’s just… nothing.”
“But… Chrysalis has emotions. I’ve seen them!”
“That’s the thing. There’s one driving emotion that these Changelings seem to cling to. It’s been… well, some people like to think that the only cure is to follow that emotion. But that’s impossible, I felt her emotion, the one she’s using to fake every other one, and it’s…”
Twilight watches him. He gulps.
“It’s love.”
Her eyes widen.
“But… No, Changelings can’t-”
“Not anymore.” He licks his lips. “I felt it. I felt it from her not long ago, just before I came here. She… She has felt love.” He shuts his eyes, trying to reign in his emotions. It doesn’t work. Even she notices, grows concerned.
“Masquerade, what’s wrong?”
He breathes in softly, disgusted by the slight shudder in his breath. He should be better at hiding his emotions, but god, this was bringing back all of his worst memories. The best and the worst. “I… I knew who she loved. I knew the Changeling she loved.”
Twilight’s ears perk up. “You knew him?” There’s a pause. “... Knew him…”
"You’re a smart one, Twi,” he repeats, eyes still closed as his head falls lightly. “Figure it out.”
Her eyes narrow slightly at his comment as she analyzes his words. “You’re speaking in past tense. That obviously means he’s dead. But… how did he…” Maskra says nothing. Her brows furrow ever so softly as she thinks back. It would have happened in the invasion, surely - before that time, Changelings hadn’t been reported from anywhere in Equestria. But the only one killed in the invasion was…
”From what I’ve seen, it’s very unusual for a Changeling to take the place of the queen. It would be seen as a capital offense.”
Her eyes shoot wide. “The one that took her place.”
Maskra cannot hold back his tears as they slowly come, eyes watering and blurring his vision. “Eacko was his name… and he loved her.”
Twilight brings a hoof to her mouth, surprise in her face. Maskra quickly wipes away his tears, cursing under his breath. “Masquerade, I…”
“He was a good changeling. An even better pony,” he adds. “But you would never have known that, how could you?” He takes a breath again, forcing himself to calm down. “It’s fitting that he would die for her. A Changeling in love will do insane things, after all. I know that better than any, now, don’t I?” He licks his lips, sighing.
“But, wait, you…” Twilight shakes her head, utterly confused. “Changelings don’t feel love, but… Eacko, Chrysalis… You?”
Maskra laughs bitterly. “The rumors of our inability are greatly exaggerated. I loved someone once, too.”
“Loved?”
“She died.”
*~*~*~
I pace, worried as the hour grows late. Maskra still has not returned. My paranoia creeps up on me in the darkness of my room and I promptly seek out a light. It does little, however. I still feel the lurking doubts and fears that seem to haunt me every day, every waking moment now.
What if he has abandoned me?
Well, who could rightly blame him? After all, I was a foal of a Changeling, a miserable excuse for a queen, or anything resembling anything of any worth. I could not, then, rightly blame him if he abandoned me to my disease and left me to rot away.
So why then did I feel such fear?
It made no logical sense… and yet, for a brief moment… I felt elation.
I felt fear.
I had felt something.
Yet it fades, as all emotions do, a simple breath making it disappear into the musty air of my home. I shut my eyes even as it does, mourning the loss of my senses for just as brief a time. And then…
There is a tingling sensation on my skin.
It’s as though my body has fallen asleep. Not each limb, void of circulation in a logical progression, but every fiber of my being asleep and unable to rise. I look down as though in slow motion and realize dimly that the holes in my hooves appear… wider.
And I don’t care.
The thought raises a small, blissful smile to my face.
I don’t care.
I haven’t felt so… so free in years.
“There’s nothing to live for anymore,” I mutter to myself absently, as calmly and matter-of-fact as I would remark on the sunshine and blue skies that seem ever present in Ponyville. “Nothing to live for, and so nothing to care about.”
I pause before the mirror, not recognizing the face I see. Her eyes are dim, greyer than my own. Her wings droop, shredded at her sides, more so than altogether healthy. And there is just an odd, unfitting smile attached to her face, as though someone pinned it there loosely in a foal’s game of Impersonation.
She is at the same time utterly disgusting and wholly beautiful.
How ridiculous.
I glance outside. It is late. I should sleep soon.
I move to the bed and lie down, but the eyes of the face in the mirror do not close. For, if nothing matters, and I do not care, then what need have I of sleep?
*~*~*~
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she says softly, sympathy dripping in every word. It is not an easily given sympathy, either, but expressly genuine. He can taste its traces in his mouth for the rest of the night.
For now, it is a poignant counterpoint to his own bitterness.
“Thank you for the sympathy, but it happened a very long time ago. I was on an infiltration assignment. A pony I saved from a wrathful, abusive stallion… She quickly fell in love with me. She was sweet, kind…”
Maskra shuts his eyes, sighing. “Her name was Camille. At the time, I saw her only as something to feed off of. She fell in love so easily, it was… interesting. But, as tensions time went on, as we did more infiltration missions and Chrysalis planned to invade… I found myself missing her when I was away. I came to… to feel for her.”
He opens his eyes again, looking at Twilight. “She died just before the invasion. She had always been weak, after all, and it… it was over before it truly began. She left her flower shop to the version of me she knew, that facade I wore when I wanted to see her. I was… broken. I felt so strange. But I was so set, determined to change things, that the feeling made way for something else.”
“I sold the shop, sending all of the money to her father - he was sick, you see. And then, I went to Chrysalis, and during the invasion, I switched sides. I turned myself in, allowing myself to be captured. From that day forward, I would not serve a Queen who decided to harm the lives of ponies, ponies as kind and sweet as Camille.”
Twilight nods. “I understand…”
“I don’t think you do.” Maskra stands, beginning to pace. “I felt an odd emotion, one I couldn’t place, but now, I know it to be love. I have seen and tasted it from so many ponies, I have memorized the feeling. I felt it and I lost it.”
“Just like Queen Chrysalis.”
“And yet, she is Mouraiie.” He stops, stamping his hoof in annoyance. “There must be a way to fix her! There’s got to be something to do to fix this.”
Twilight stands as well, nodding. “I think I know exactly what to do.” He turns, looking at her, confused. “You said in your story that you felt broken, but you were driven forward by a cause. The Mouraiie seem to cling to an emotion, as you said - you were clinging to determination.”
“But she clings to the love of a dead drone,” Masrka hisses, anger bubbling up uncontrollably. Twilight doesn’t back down, to his surprise. He frowns, wings buzzing. “How can we fix her when he is dead?”
“Simple.”
“We give her something else to love.”
Stats
Page generated in 0.026 seconds
Total duration
1,011 users online
1,923,111 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.®
Why do I have a feeling of impending doom?
*squeaky unintellectual sounds*
7756089 Because there's a very strong impending doom coming either next chapter or two chapters from now. =)
7756272 *makes the same sounds because I like comments*
Sneaky changeling disguised as formatting snuck into this chapter!
Don't give up, Chryssie!
Nuuuuuuu, Chryssie, don't give up!
7756731 Oh gosh, thanks, I keep writing as though this is posted to Ao3, woopsies! Thanks for catching that. :)
7757278 Chrysalis can't hear you over her sorrow =)
This chapter is so heavy with feel...owww...too heavy for little heart of me...
7759786 It'll get better soon! :) Hope you continue to enjoy!
I have an OC that is as blindly in love with Queen Chrysalis as Eacko was. For all I know he could be Eacko in a way. His name is Ao and I could tell you more if you wish to. I've written something about him but not much.
7763331 I wouldn't say he was blindly in love with her. Eacko and Chrys have a bit of a past. But if you wanted to share some ideas you have for your character, I'd be willing to listen to some of them! Just note that it's just about finals time, so I'll be a bit busy, so don't get discouraged if I don't respond immediately :)