The Schemes of the Heart

by LucidTech

Chapter Two: Rude Awakenings

It was the feeling of constant insufferable hunger that first alerted Anthelion that he had not, by some miracle or curse, ended his life the previous night. It was not as strong a feeling of starvation as it had been the previous couple mornings but this revelation failed to improve his mood, managing instead only to stir feelings of guilt and worry to the surface.

He had gone as long as he could, suffering through eternal starvation as long as he could manage, and was prepared to end his life to avoid taking advantage of another pony but… something had happened. Despite his best efforts Anthelion couldn’t remember what it was and was beginning to grow worried that he’d lost control of his inner nature in a moment of desperation. He felt like he’d fed on someone recently, a realization that sent a shiver down his spine. The only consolation to that was how little his hunger had ebbed. Perhaps he had lost control but it seemed, at least, that it hadn’t been too serious.

Anthelion opened his eyes for the briefest of moments and, upon not recognizing the ceiling that filled his vision, closed them again almost immediately. He let the muscles that had suddenly tensed go lax again, feigning as if he were still asleep and hoping no one had seen his brief moment of panic.

Anthelion may have failed to kill himself the night previous, but seeing that he was occupying somepony’s house that he did not recognize made him ready to give it another shot right then. There was only one possibility that came to mind for the changeling, and that was that he’d managed to lie his way into a pony’s house in a starvation induced fog without them being aware of what he was. Reluctantly he thought back to his time in the hive to remember the old training that had been drilled into him for moments like this.

Find an escape, do not let on what you are, escape quickly and silently, change disguises as soon as possible. The majority of those steps were easy enough to follow but the latter-most gave Anthelion a moment of pause.

He did not like changing disguises. This was a major failing for a member of a race whose sole evolutionary advantage over anything was their ability to change their appearance. He couldn’t help it though could he? No, surely he could keep his disguise. He liked being ‘Pinwheel Pinion’, he’d grown attached to being that. No, he would simply ignore the lattermost step, he would escape and then pretend that he didn’t know the pony he’d fed off of. So, plan fully in mind, Anthelion moved to action.

This was when Anthelion realized that there was something worse than waking up in a house where the owner didn’t know you were a changeling, it was waking up in a house where they did. Anthelion’s intent died suddenly, overtaken by the surprise of what was waiting for him. Very quickly his mind backpedaled on the list of assembled possibilities, clearly he hadn’t lied his way in anywhere.

On a blackboard not too far away from the couch that he rested on was a surprisingly well drawn and even more surprisingly well detailed diagram depicting a changeling not unlike his true self and, next to it, a smaller drawing of his current disguise with both figures in the same pose. Lines were drawn tying paragraphs of smooth mouthwriting to parts of the changeling anatomy, including details that Anthelion hadn’t expected many ponies to know.

It had in-depth explanations about how their disguises worked linked to the carapace, gave a basic description of how they managed to convert love into energy connected to the muzzle and mouth area. There was even an addendum that had been squeezed tightly against the edge of the blackboard with notes detailing water ingestion. Lastly were the paragraphs on the basics of changeling magic were linked to the, very deadly-looking, horn.

And that was the other thing, why was it the old sort of changeling rather than the reformed clan led by Thorax? Most of the changelings in the area were there when the Great Change (as they had taken to calling it) occured. So, logically, it should have depicted the new form of the changelings because even if he had been found out as a changeling there was no way to tell the two apart while they retained a disguise. Unless… the one who had drawn it was told or shown that their subject was the old kind. Anthelion’s mind began to run in useless circles.

Had he been discovered for what he was and caught? Had he been enchanted and made to deliver answers? Was that why he could only remember the night in flashes? But if that was the case than why did he feel like he’d been feeding, something he wouldn’t have been able to do if he’d been imprisoned? And also, why was he left on the couch of a very simple room if he was being detained? Questions swarmed his mind in an unparsable cloud and Anthelion began to look around the room, hoping that some answer to some question would make itself apparent if only to give him some truth to latch onto.

It was then that he locked his gaze on the unconscious stallion who was curled into a ball at the foot of the blackboard. He was surrounded on all sides by piles of garbage and combined with his black mane he was all but invisible until Anthelion’s eyes caught the movements of his breathing. Despite the storm of whirring panic, some part of Anthelion realized the stallion must be freezing, completely devoid of any blanket and laying on the floor as he was, and demanded something be done about it. These demands only grew more insistent as the swishing tail tried to subconsciously draw the discarded garbage closer in a crude approximation of a blanket.

What bothered Anthelion the most was that he felt like he knew him from somewhere. He remembered snippets of conversation and the blinding light of a flashlight and a lot of water. Anthelion sat up to get a better look at the stallion, hoping to stir more memories from his mind, and felt something heavy fall away from his barrel. Looking down he saw a well-worn, yet still useful coat that he hadn't seen before. Getting fully off the couch Anthelion, for a reason he couldn’t fully explain, took the coat in his muzzle and rested it across the back of the still sleeping stallion while his own thoughts continued to swim in confusion.

His mind summoned memories of being carried, he remembered laying like saddlebags on a pony’s back while blood dripped down his forehead and muzzle. He remembered saying he didn’t want to go to a hospital, he remembered the stallion immediately accepting that desire with no reason to do so. He remembered the blur of buildings as his hunger ebbed ever so slightly. He remembered slipping in and out of consciousness as he was taken care of, he remembered helping with the diagram of a changeling. What he didn’t remember was how any of it had started, he didn’t remember how he had ended up on the stallion’s back.

He remembered the stallion’s name. Intriguing Schemes.

“Oh hey, you’re awake.” Anthelion wheeled in terror to face the sound of a mare’s voice behind him.

Standing idly in the small kitchenette Anthelion saw a cream colored earth pony, her mane a two-tone mix of pink and blue. She watched him with careful attention, her hooves moving through some papers that rested on one of the oven’s burners. Then, with what seemed to Anthelion to be calculated purpose, she smiled a greeting. “Sorry about that, Calendar said I could fetch my stuff from his place this morning because he’d be gone on a train ride. Looks like he stuck around though.” She lied through her teeth here, but Anthelion let it slide as his mind focused on something else instead.

“Calendar?” Anthelion asked, wondering if perhaps the house was shared by Schemes.

“Oh? Did he not tell you his name?” She asked with a poorly hidden leading tone, nodding towards Schemes’ sleeping form.

Now, Anthelion knew that the name of the pony unconscious in a pile of garbage was, in fact, Intriguing Schemes. He knew this in the same way that an architect knew a building was structurally unsound or the way a librarian knew the sorting system of their library. He also knew that if his own name had been “Intriguing Schemes” in a pony town he would’ve given any alias he could to avoid it becoming common knowledge. It didn’t set you up to gain the confidence of your neighbors.

So, knowing these things, Anthelion lied. He did it much better than the mare did too. She had simply been trained in how to hide your tells and how to avoid giving yourself away, though certainly she was much better at it than the other ponies Anthelion had met. Meanwhile, Anthelion had not only learned how to lie from the best, he had been forced to use that knowledge to survive his whole life. It had been his job. Well... until recently anyway, and he thrived on it.

The panic and anxiety died away as Anthelion began to construct a falsehood. Focusing on the finer details of what he remembered of the previous night that he could build a convincing narrative from. “Ah, of course. You’ll have to pardon me it was a busy night last night, hardly remember much of it.” Anthelion smiled a charming smile, but erred on the side of friendly rather than romantic, “Calendar and I spent a long time comparing notes on changeling biology. He seemed interested in the prospect.” This was almost a lie and Anthelion knew that she would no doubt see through it, Anthelion didn’t have enough knowledge on the situation to come up with anything terribly believable. That, however, was the point. Tucked behind his obvious front was a second less obvious one. He blushed slightly as he spoke, he glanced at the stallion multiple times, he stuttered. He set up a fake truth for the mare to find, for what stallion would admit to loving a stallion he had only just met? Who wouldn’t lie in that scenario? It had been easy to fake as well, because it wasn’t entirely untrue.

So spot it she did, Anthelion knew because he could see the suppressed smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth. No doubt she felt very clever about seeing through his lie so easily. “Ah I see.” She said, glancing to the board. “The old sort of changeling though? Why not the newer variety that Thorax is in charge of?”

“Ah- well- Truth be told ma’am I’m not entirely sure. It was simply the kind he requested to know about.”

“Oh? Did he tell you this before or after you came to his house?”

“Before, naturally.”

“And why is there a drawing of you on the board?”

“He wanted a pose to reference.”

The trick about lying, as all changelings learned early on, was not some ultimate rule about grand lies to hoodwink an entire nation, in fact the larger the group you were trying to convince of a lie the easier it was. Neither was the trick about getting your small lies in order. No, the trick to lying was answering questions with as little delay as possible without contradicting yourself and without stuttering. As the saying went, hesitation was the sand foundation upon which all lies would fall.

Taking her eyes off Anthelion for a moment she retrieved a stack of papers from the counter then turned a measuring glance to her verbal opponent. He merely looked at her, raising an eyebrow in fake confusion.

“Well it’s been nice talking to you Mr…”

“Pinion. Pinwheel Pinion.” Said Anthelion with practiced ease.

“It’s been nice talking to you Mr. Pinion. But I have to get going, I have someone waiting for me back in Ponyville, and I’d hate to delay our reunion any longer than necessary.” With that, at last, the discerning eye stopped its piercing gaze. “Until we meet again.”

“Until then Mrs…”

“Bon Bon. Ms. Bon Bon.”

“Until then Ms. Bon Bon.”

Anthelion kept his gaze on the mare for the majority but, importantly, not the entirety of her exit. Then, after she left, he counted to five. Then, at last, he exhaled.

Panic had only just began to flood back when it was interrupted by an unexpected voice.

“You lied for me.”

Anthelion looked to the source, seeing the half-opened eye of Intriguing Schemes gazing back to him, even now the stallion looking like he was still asleep. Anthelion felt his breath catch as he tried to come up with a new lie to cover his old lie, only to find himself completely uninterested in doing so.

Then, faster than a bolt of lightning, the expression of Intriguing Schemes changed from confusion to happiness. “Thanks.”