• Published 3rd Jun 2016
  • 506 Views, 2 Comments

The Fall of Nocturnia - HypernovaBolts11



The first in a long series of stories, following one particular family, through history and beyond. We begin with a handsome stallion donning his tunic in the capital of the world: Nocturnia.

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3.0 Years Before

Chrysalis snarled at the younger queen, who answered by snapping her jaws.

That was it. This was the last straw.

Chrysanthemum stood perpendicularly to her mother, defensively obstructing the queen's view of the stallion behind her. She hissed, and reared up on her hind legs, before stomping her front hooves against the ground for emphasis.

This thing was unmanageable.

Chrysalis closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, shaking her head.

She would not tolerate this any longer.

Her horn took on a green glow, and the eyes of the stallion behind Chrysanthemum rolled closed, then snapped open. She opened her own eyes, and pointed a hoof at the rebellious princess, to which the stallion responded by snapping his jaws at Chrysanthemum.

The younger queen yelped as the hypnotized male pushed her to the ground, and her eyes widened when she found herself staring into a pair of eyes that did not belong to him. She hesitantly lifted a hoof to his cheek, but he growled, and she drew it back, her ears pinned against the sides of her head.

Chrysalis hissed at the stallion, and slammed her hoof against the arm of her throne.

Chrysanthemum whimpered as her lover's large fangs closed around her scarlet mane, by which he dragged her out of the throne room. Through halls and tunnels numbering in the tens of thousands, he dragged her, and she could only stare into his glowing green eyes, wishing that he would snap out of the spell cast upon him.

She found herself being hauled onto his back, and wrapped her forelegs around his neck, whimpering.

The mouth of a long and confused tunnel spat her out as the brainwashed changeling bucked her off his back, and onto the cracked and chipped red soil of the desert she fell, landing with a resounding thud.

She gasped for air as the deceleration knocked the wind out of her, and she looked up at the ledge from which she'd been dropped, where the fiery eyes of green stared back down at her. She hauled herself into a sitting position, and, though her sides burned from exertion, dragged herself to the side of the cliff.

She only got two of her hooves off the ground before the body fell past her, landing headfirst on a rock.

She flapped her wings to slow her descent, but she still stumbled when she landed, and looked the body over.

Its eyes stayed open long enough for the green glow of the queen's spell to fade, leaving behind the gentle, sympathetic warmth with which he had always served his princess. He made eye contact for a brief moment, calm as ever, and lifted Chrysanthemum's hoof in his own, long enough for her to clasp it between her hooves.

She felt water gathering on her eyes, and wiped them away with the stalk of her right wing, whimpering as her hopes lifted, the prospect that the queen had let him live bringing her glee.

Then his leg went limp.

She sniffled, and shook her head. "N-no," she choked, unable to even know what language she was speaking in. She didn't really care, because the queen couldn't stop her. "W-wake up. Get up."

Water ran down the sides of her face, in a pair of streams that converged below her chin, and dropped a single tear onto the desert soil.

"M-Meghmut'yun?" she stammered, and sniffled, her red eyes wide open, her ears pinned back. "Please," she pleaded, and lifted his hoof to cup her cheek with, running her hoof over the unique pattern of holes and tunnels in his leg.

All of the nights she had done this, that she had spent memorizing the texture of his footprint, the little nuances that existed in the way his shell's imperfections had arranged themselves, the kindness and mercy for which she had named him.

She could never have that again. She would never feel him again. She would never know him again. She would never hear him speak her name, or feel his soft lips on her own.

She could never get him back.

She threw herself onto him, and wrapped her forelegs around his back, sobbing into his shoulder, while the burning disk of fire that he had always told her stories about fell behind the mountains in the distance.

She would never hear another word of his adventures as a soldier, nor would she ever get her chance to thank the ponies who had saved his life again and again on the field of battle.

"I..." she choked, and tightened her grip on his limp form. "Meghmut'yun," she cried.

The shadows of the mountains crept towards her as the dying light of the sun left her chitin to the mercy of the night.

She dragged him unceremoniously to a small cave, where she lit a fire with what magic he had taught her, and the kindling from brambles and shrubs gathered from the surrounding area.

She lay down next to him, and wrapped his forelegs around her chest, though his warmth was fading. It hurt to think about him, but she did, and remembered something he had told her, that he would like her to tell him a story, like he had so many times done for her.

She opened her mouth to speak, and, while her voice quavered, said, "O-once... Once upon a time..." He had always started the stories like that. "there... there was a great changeling, who meant so much to me... and he died to serve the interests of his queen, like he had always dreamed of, and... a-and he had lots of children..."

She fell asleep like that, with the warmth of the fire dancing across her face, and in the embrace of her lover.

When the day came, she gathered more fuel, and put it in a pile outside the cave. She found a large rock, and carried it with her magic back to him. She closed her jaws over his curved horn, and carefully broke it off, as many of the ponies he'd fought alongside of would have done if he had fallen in battle.

She built a small structure around him out of the sticks she had found, and spent a week chipping away at the stone with a smaller rock she had found, flattening it out, before setting the body on fire.

As the ashes of her love drifted into the night sky, and she traced the shape of his name, as he had shown her when she had given it to him, on the rock, the pale light of the moon was her only friend. She cried as she waved goodbye to the gravestone that read, "Meghmut'yun, my kindness. I love you."

And with that, she bounded into the air, pumping her wings as fast as she could, not entirely sure of her destination, other than the notion that any place was better than this.


Nocturnus waved a hoof at the crowd, smiling widely as his troops marched through the streets of the most recently liberated town. Where Sombra's forces had enslaved his own people, Nocturnus had made his intentions clear. He was on the people's side, and considered the previous battle as a service to his allies rather than a conquest.

He would not try to claim these cities for his own empire, nor would he assert the rule of the Matriarch over the citizens. This city belonged to The Crystal Empire, and they were still his allies. The fact that they were ruled by a tyrant didn't change that.

The crystal ponies rushed from their homes and the crystal mines to which they had been confined, lined the streets to greet his forces, and readily sold his army food and water, along with presenting any hypnotized soldiers to his physicians, who would then go about the meticulous process of removing the cursed helmets from their heads.

He would see to it that Sombra paid for the crimes he'd committed, the lives he'd ruined, and the rights he'd abused, and then he would return the city to its proper ruler.

He had considered running for reelection, just go get a few more victories added to his family name, but longed for the comforts of home, and would prepare an address to the people of Nocturnia explaining his decision later that day.

But, for now, he was still consul, and would be for a few more weeks, while the newly elected consuls got their affairs in order.

So, for now at least, he would smile and wave.

Author's Note:

So, I cried while I was writing this. That might just be me, but y'know, I'm invested in this story.
Meghmut'yun is the Changeling word for clemency, gentleness, and leniency. He was not Chrysalis's first choice of a suitor for Chrysanthemum, due in no small part to his experience and friendliness with ponies. Along with that, he tried to teach Chrysanthemum to speak Equish —which is the language every other region uses for international affairs.
Maybe I'll cover his story in more depth, but it's gonna be a while, because I have so much on my plate already.