Times Are A-Changelin'

by The Ancestor

A Diplomatic Visit

A measured ticking reverberated through the private office, accompanied by a methodical scratching of a quill, stopping every now and then to be replaced by the rustling of papers before coming back with a vengeance. A hefty stack of papers towered on the red oak table, reminding its occupant of her current workload. A half-empty whiskey glass accompanied by the bottle of the same ilk stood beside a half filled ashtray, the only reprieve from the mind-boggilingly monotonous work of ruling an Empire.

A white coated earth pony donning an expensive bituminous short dress that went well with her combed black mane was currently cursing her ancestors for bringing her into this world. Why did she have to personally sign every descision that came from the Parliament? Did she really have to be so... involved in all of this? Don't get her wrong, there were surely worse jobs than sitting on one's flank all day, signing some silly papers and attending a ceremony from time to time, but...

She put the quill away, grabbing the cold glass of whiskey and stirring it in her hoof. She took a sip of the cold beverage, rincing her mouth before drinking it, hoping against hope that it'd wash away the taste of ink from her mouth. She sighed as her hopes crumbled under the weight of reality and shook her head.

"Thousands of years of advancement, and we are still using quills. Bloody hell."

A soft knocking echoed through the room, grabbing the mare's attention. Finally, something to spice up the boredom!

"Come in."

A grey coated middle-aged earth pony stallion with a sky-blue mane entered the room, saluting the Empress as he did. "Lady Whiteheart, Your Majesty."

Whiteheart's lips curved into a smile. "Double Cross!" She jumped from her seat, rushing to embrace the stallion.

"Just Cross, Your Highness. You know I don't take kindly to my full name." He returned the hug, and the Empress shivered as his cold chestplate chilled her skin.

Whiteheart giggled. "Your parents must've really hated your guts." She looked over his armor-clad body, two crossed swords engraved on the armor of his flank, right over his cutiemark. A barking laughter was his responce.

"HA! You don't know half of it, Your Highness!" Suddenly he tensed up, as if remembering where he was.

Seeing this, Whiteheart thought it'd be nice to diffuse tension. She grabbed an empty whiskey glass and filled it, giving it to the stallion. He took it with a gracious smile and a nod, taking a sip of the chilly beverage. "So, what's my favourite military advisor doing in my chambers?" She scrunched her muzzle at the words that came out harsher than she intended. "Not that I mind our company, you're leagues better than another tax reform, but if I don't finish those in due time the Parliament will have my head."

Cross' features momentarily soured. "Right, I'm afraid I'll have to be the bearer of bad news." He rummaged through his armor and hoofed her a white envelope with a red stamp. Upon closer examination, the stamp depicted what looked like an insect-pony hybrid, something that most ponies instantly recognised.

"Changelings?" Whiteheart raised an eyebrow. "I didn't expect a reply until the next month, did something happen?" Changelings, while being immaculate spies, were rather sluggish when it came to diplomatic affairs, a fact that bit them in the proverbial flank many a time throught history.

"Usual changeling stuff happened." Cross scoffed. "Another smuggling operation almost passed through the border" He spat. "thankfully, our dutiful border patrol managed to save the slaves and put an end to the smugglers." He finished proudly.

"What exactly do you mean by 'put an end'?" The Empress asked worridly. Execution was seen as cruel and barbaric in the more civilised parts of the Empire, meanwhile somewhere near the border...

"With great sorrow I inform you that the purpetrators were returned to their homeland where they will stand trial for their crimes." He spoke in an irritated voice. "Justice has prevailed. Hooray."

Whiteheart sighed. "You know it had to be done, Cross. What would you do if you were there?"

"I'd pry them for any information about other smuggleing rings, and then send them to the gallows. Simple as."

Whiteheart massaged her temple. "Remind me to work on your interspecies social skills, Cross." She slumped into the nearby couch and eyed the envelope. "What's in there, anyway?"

"Why don't you open it and find out?"

Whiteheart rolled her eyes. "Couldn't have figured it out fithout you."

"I aim to please, ma'am."

She opened the envelope and unfurled the letter.

"Your Royal Majesty... blah blah blah... tension on the borders... yada yada..." She skimmed through the letter, finally looking up at Cross. "They invite us to a diplomatic visit?"

The Stallion shrugged. "You're the one who read the letter." She nodded, returning to her workplace and fished a fresh piece of paper out of her cabinet. "You're writing a responce?"

"Uh-huh." Whiteheart grabbed a quill with her mouth and dipped the tip into an inkwell.

"And you're going to accept?" He asked glumly.

"Mhm." She carefully scratched the first letter of her responce. Behind her, Cross clopped his hoof on the floor nervously.

"I'd like to speak my five bits on the situation, ma'am." He spoke carefully. "If you don't mind, that is." He added hastily.

"Shoot." She spoke through her teeth, a little annoyed at the need to do so.

"I don't think you should go, Your Highness." He stated adamantly. "From what I've heard the situation in their kingdom gets progressively more heated as you move from the outskirts to the Capital." He started pacing around the room. "If things are bad at the borders, I bet Vicis looks like Tartarus right now."

Whiteheart mused his words, rolling the quill in her mouth. Finally, she had the wherewithall to spit it out when the all too familiar taste of ink washed over her taste buds. Another sip of ice cold whiskey helped with the aftertaste.

"All right then, what do you propose?" The stallion seemed to perk up at the question.

"The same thing I've been saying for years now! Cut all contact with the bugs, propose an embargo, and wait for them to tear each other's throats out." He finished dryly.

Whiteheart massaged her temples as she fought off an impeding headache his tirades inevitably caused.

"We've been over it, Cross. I can't in my right mind do something like that."

"Why not?" Stallion asked innocently. "Double the border patrols to make sure none pass through, and let the problem fix itself."

"For Sun's sake, Cross, there are civilians there!" She retorted, her voice a little louder than she intended.

"So?" He deadpanned. "Those slaves were civilians too, you know." He huffed. "An eye for an eye, Whiteheart."

"And the whole world goes blind, Double Cross." She shot him a stern glare. "Never forget that."

"Your Highness-" Whiteheart slammed her hoof on the table, shutting him up.

"My word is final, Double Cross. Gather your best mares, we're going with the first train tomorrow morning."

The stallion shut his eyes and bowed, silently grinding his teeth.

"As you wish, Your Imperial Highness."

---

Warm cofort of velvet sheets enveloped Whiteheart as she snuggled deeper into the comfy confines of her bunk. Well, calling her ginormous bed a simple 'bunk' would be an understatement. The queen sized bed took almost half of her private wagon, but it looked almost insultingly simple compared to the furnishings back at the Canterlot Tower.

The rythmic sound of a moving train did wonders to lull her into the comforting embrace of sleep, and she soon found herself dozing off. Her unscheduled attempt at sleep was cut short, however, when she noticed the train steadily slowing down.

She watched as the green hills come to a stop outside her window, and begrudgingly got out of bed. Rubbing her eyes, she noticed that the scenery was far different from what she'd expected to see. There were no sky high black buildings that the changelings were so known for, only green pastures and forests that stretched beyond the horizon.

She stretched her limbs and looked around for a glass of water, but found that the coveted refreshment was nowhere to be found. She moved towards the door, opened it and stepped outside her room and immidiately felt that something was off. Looking around, the source of her unease became apparent.

There were no guards in sight.

Her brows furrowed. Never in her life had she slept unguarded, even in the confines of Canterlot Tower, probably the safest place in all the Empire, a pair of guards remained stationed at her chambers entrance. So why were they missing right now?

She shook her head, searching for a plausable explanation. Perhaps she happened to witness a shift change? No, from what Cross told her, the stationed guards were ordered to wait for their replacement to arrive, and remain stationed until then.

She sighed at the mention of her advisor's name. Could it be that he was mad enough to send off the guards? Nonsense, she argued moving to the next wagon, which was, worryingly, just as empty. Cross was on duty, and she trusted him to put it before his own feelings, and if he couldn't...

Then perhaps he was due for retirement.

Approaching the wagon's end, she heard some kind of commotion in the next cart and sighed with relief. Opening the door she strode in with confidence, ready to chastise the first guard she'd see.

"Why did the train stop? Where are the guards? What is going on-" Words died in her throat as she froze in place from the sight before her.

Guards, both incapacitated and... worse, were sprawled on the carriage's floor. Pieces of furniture scattered all over the wagon, some seemingly used for bludgeoning purposes. Amidst the chaos, a small group of figure stood tall.

Black, chitinous legs resembling that tasty cheese that she enjoyed from time to time stretched to form a bituminous body, a pair of insectoid wings buzzing on its back. A pair of large turqouise eyes stared her down, and a shiver went down her spine as she saw their murderous glint.

All in all, it resembled a changeling, but at the same time it didn't. The changelings she remembered looked like ponies color-wise, although their pallets tended to be quite an eyesore. These one's, while similar in body structure and size looked... sick, somehow. Perhaps deathly so.

"Get her!" The creature hissed, baring its fags as its compatriots rushed the Empress. It took all her all the willpower she had to force herself out of her stupor and try to get out of the way of her attackers.

She didn't succeed, mind you, but there's nobility in the attempt.

Cold, hard chitin struck her temple, disorientating her and dropping her to the floor. Incessant buzz filled her ears, and the last thing she felt before darkness consumed her was a sharp pain in the side of her neck, followed by an intense burning sensation that spread throughout her body.

---

Scenes flashed in her mind's eye as her body radiated with pain. Flashes of the train's interior followed by darkness, and a sudden moving sensation. She wasn't sure how long she spent in the dark, but at some point the scenery changed once more.

She was falling, not for long thankfully, soon impacting the hard stone floor. Sound of clanging iron reached her ears as her prison cell was locked. She stretched her hoof towards the closed door, but it fell limply on the floor as exhaustion overtook her, and she drifted into a restless sleep.

---

The only thing she felt was cold.

An overpowering, ceaseless cold.

She bolted upright, her chest heaving for oxygen as she began to look around.

Nothing.

In all directions, up and down, left and right she saw nothing. Just the suffocating, all-consuming Void. She yelped and shut her eyes, desperately trying to hold onto something, expecting to plumment into the dark maw below. Instead, she felt her hooves connect with something hard as she landed on the stone floor of her prison.

Fear took hold as she tried to yell into the great expanse, only managing a whisper. "What is this place?"

"This place is the end of all things. And the beginning." Something whispered in her ear. She whirled around, seeking the source of a distinctly female-sounding whisper, but was greeted by the ever-present Void.

"What?! Who is this! Show yourself!"

"Don't pay her much mind, dear. She's not worth the effort." A distinctly male voice surrounded her from all sides. She looked around wide-eyed, frantically searching for the source.

"Wha-what is this?! Who is this?!"

"The one who walks here is all things. Cradle songs of comfort and bones gnawed by teeth." The first voice returned, this time whispering into her other ear. She began massaging her temples in an attempt to calm down.

"This doesen't make any sense!"

"Make sense? Oh, what fun is there in making sense?" This time, she clearly heard the voice from behind her. She whirled around, laying her eyes on a sight like none other.

Her eyes physically hurt as she stared at the creature, the sensation fading somewhat as she took in more of his features. He looked like a mish-mash of different animal parts, a twisted puzzle than some spoiled brat of a child left unfinished, a hundred of different mosaics broken down and mixed together, producing a creature never seen before.

Space folded in on itself around him, spewing out a glass full of some kind of brown liquid. He grabbed it with his claw, taking a sizable bite of the glass. Nodding to himself, he stuffed what remained of the glass into his mouth, sound of clanging metal assaulting Whiteheart's ears as he began to chew.

Any questions died in Whiteheart's throat as the creature focused it's eyes on her.

Two unimaginably deep yellow orbs stared her down, the color reminding her of a puss on an open wound. There were no irises, just the all-encompassing yellow.

"My dear Whiteheart, what a sad hand fate has dealt you. Strapped of your power, doomed to rot in a dingy prison cell. How could it have happened?" He spoke calmly, stroking his goatee, but the mare couldn't help the tremor in her hooves.

"Wha-what are you?" She managed to croak.

"I am the Overseer. I see everything. I see forever. And right now I see a great Empire standing on the precipice." He leaned closer, mere inches separating his snout from Whiteheart's. "All it needs is a little push to send it tumbling over the edge." He tilted his head. "Or a pull, to drag it from the brink." His posture straightened as he crossed his arms.

"You will play a pivotal role in times to come, and to assist you I give you my mark. Consider it a gift." White hot pain burned the front of Whiteheart's left foreleg, making her grit her teeth. A large black six-pointed star, surrounded by five smaller one's was burned into her hoof. Whiteheart clenched her foreleg trying to asses the damage, her mark glowing pure white in the process.

"There are forces in the world and beyond the world, great forces that many call "magic", and now these forces will serve your will. How you use what I have given you falls upon you, but know that I will be watching with great interest." Something shifted in the infinite darkness surrounding him as a loud finger snap echoed through the great nothing and Whiteheart fainted once more.

---

Whiteheart awoke to the familiar sound of clanking metal and an equally familiar headache. She had no quarrels with the latter, Sun knows she'd drank herself to sleep more times than was socially acceptable, it was the former that puzzeled her. What in the blazes could be making such a racket? In her Royal Quarters, no less! She rubbed the back of her head, trying to recollect her memories.

She remembered being on a train, so that'd explain the noise. What it wouldn't explain, however, is the unusually hard bedding she was sleeping on.

"Whiteheart, you should eat." Her eyes shot open as the unfamiliar, rough voice grazed her ears. Her heart went a mile a minute as her eyes darted around the dingy cell she was being kept in. Water dripped down the delapidated walls and onto the durty rock below, a little puddle of dirty water slowly worming its way to the mare's hind hooves.

It wasn't the small platter containing a simple bite of bread that grabbed her attention, but rather the creature that brought it. Black, insectoid and unnervingly familiar creature. Memories of the past few hours rushed her as she backpedaled from the changeling, only stopping when her back hit the cold prison wall. She stared wide-eyed at her captor, surprised to find, among other things, a hint of pity in his eyes.

"Eat, It's good for-"

"Let me out." Whiteheart cut his attempts at persuasion short, cutting straight to the point. The changeling shook his head, his lips curving into a small frown.

"I can't." He turned to walk away, prompting Whiteheart to rush towards him. She gripped the bars, desperately trying to pry them apart.

"Let me out, and I'll make you the richest creature in the Empire." The changeling turned its head towards her and bit his lip.

"I-I'm sorry but I can't." Whiteheart's shoulders sagged. "I'm not even supposed to-"

"Please." Whiteheart was on the verge of tears. "If you have a sliver of mercy in you, please let me go."

The changeling opened its mouth, trotted in place nervously before turning around.

"You really should eat." Were the last words it ever spoke to Whiteheart, before trotting away.

Anger overtook Whiteheart as she watched it approach a corner. "Fine, I don't need you! May plague take your family one by one! May your Empire burn in Tartarus! May you... wander the Void until the end of times!" It paid no mind to her tirade as it disappeared behind a corner.

Whiteheart clenched her left foreleg in anger, thinking about punching the bars until either they, or her hoof broke, when a white sphere appeared outside her cell. An unfamiliar tingling coarsed through her clenched foreleg, and she saw the mark on it glow white. She focused on it and on the sphere outside her cell, channeling... something.

And then she let go.

The stale wind of the dungeons rushed past her in an ironically refreshing manner as she phased through the metal bars, apparating outside her prison. She took a moment to recollect her breath before clenching her forehoof and trying again. The same tingling coarsed through her limb as she concentrated on the spot three meters in front of her. She felt a rush like no other as she blinked to the desired location.

"That'll come in handy." She whispered, assesing her surroundings. Myriads of cells lined the walls, most of them unacessable to a flightless individual. She looked up, and counted a good twenty meters before her gaze hit the ceiling. She tiphoofed to the corner, choosing to ignore the occupied cells, seeing as most of the occupants were motionless.

Peeking the corner, she saw a lone changeling guard stood watch, his back turned to her, a steel sword hanging on his side. Seeing as there were no guards around, Whiteheart took her time to look around. The changeling seemed to be guarding a lone spiral staircase that went all the way to the top, sinking into the ceiling. Hundreds, perhaps even thousands green cocoons were attached to the ceiling. Whiteheart did her best to ugnore the urge to vomit. Otherwise the room was barren, save for pony sized table with deck of cards scattered on top of it, beside a steel blade identicalto that of the guard's.

She outstretched her hoof towards the table, preparing to blink to it and grab the blade, when she felt her hoof tingle. It was a different kind of tingle, not at all like the one before. Nonetheless she concentrated on the blade, willing it to come to her posession. A shimmering white aura enveloped the weapon and pulled it towards Whiteheart. She grabbed it with her right hoof, testing the blade's weight.

"A little different from what I'm used to, but better than nothing." She thought, creeping towards the unsuspecting guard. "Cross' lessons finally coming in useful."

She stood right behind the guard, blade at the ready, silently wondering if it was the same guard that brought her food.

"He has a big heart, and genuinely sympathizes you." A leveled, unmistacingly female voice whispered into her ear. A melancholy expression appeared in her tone as she continued. "Don't let that fool you, he'll do anything for the greater good of his people."

She'd question the voice, if it wasn't the same one she heard in her dream.

Her left hoof covered his mouth as the blade pierced the side of his neck. She twisted it, to make sure he could't scream before pulling the blade out and dropping him to the floor.

It was easier than she imagined.

---

A good fifteen minutes later, Whiteheart was still ascending the staircase, silently spewing every obscenity know to pony at the architects of this place.

Finally, she hopped over the last step, fresh wind blowing through her mane as she took a lungful of the chilly night air.

Full moon hung proudly in the starry night sky, providing illumination to the otherwise pitch-black city. Whiteheart heard the sound of conversation fast approaching from the street in front of her, quickly blinking to, and perching herself on top of the facade of a nearby building.

Two colorful changelings emerged from the relative darkness of the street, both of them with swords on the ready.

"This smells like trouble, I tell you! Essense should've reported ten minuites ago!" On of them said, stopping right under Whiteheart's perching spot.

"Give the guy a break, Orax! He's a bleeding heart, probably busy telling another poor sod how 'it'll be alright'." Another one replied, digging out a cigarrete out of a pocket of her uniform. "In any case, I'm not going down there just to kick his ass all the way back up here." She took a drag of her cigarrette.

"Suit yourself, I don't want to get an earful from the Spymaster," He shrugged, turning his back to the changeling mare. "definently not after he's done with that Cross guy."

Whiteheart's ears perked up at the sound of a familiar name. Cross was here? If so, she'd need to get to him as fast as possible. Perhaps some interrogation is in order.

She squinted, alligning herself with the changeling mare below. "Here goes nothing." She thought.

She pinned the guard to the ground, dropping on her with all her weight. She managed to grunt befor a steel blade pierced her skull from the chin up, and the changeling went limp.

Before her comrade could react, Whiteheart blinked behind the changeling's back, subduing him with a chokehold.

"You've spoke of a pony named Cross, where is he right now?" The changeling tried to buck her off of him, only to wince when he felt a cold steel blade pressed against his throat. "I won't ask twice."

"He and the Spymaster are both at the Equestrian Embassy just down the block! Now please, let me go! I won't tell a soul!" He whimpered, thrashing a little as Whiteheart pressured his throat with the blade.

"Not so fast. I've seen the pods down there, on the ceiling. Is this the only place that has them?" The changeling fidgeted nervously in her grasp.

"T-the draining pods? No, there are others caverns throught the city."

"Tell me where."

"I-I don't know!" The guard started shaking as Whiteheart drew a drop of blood. "T-the Spymaster! He carries an adress book on himself, it's got information on all the draining caverns in the Empire!" His breath hitched for a moment. "That's all I know, please let me go!" He whimpered.

Whiteheart slashed his throat with a quick motion, tossing the gurgling body down the staircase.

"Now to find the Embassy."

---

A rather dull half an hour of blinking from rooftop to rooftop later, Whiteheart found herself gazing at one of the most guarded buildings she ever seen. And that said something, coming from a pony who spent most of her life in Canterlot Tower. Every entrance was guarded by a squad of six, all armed to the teeth. She counted twenty squads before giving up and searching for a way in above ground level. Fortunately, somepony inside must've thought the air was stuffy, and decided it'd be a good idea to open a window. To their credit, it'd take a professional climber or a madmare to get as high up as Whiteheart was right now, so she couldn't really blame them.

Blinking to the window, she really should lay it off with the blinks by the way, her head was beginning to spin from all the sudden movement, she held on to the window frame for dear life, peeking inside. Two changeling guards stood on each side of the large wodden door, one of them had her eyes closed, seemingly dreaming. The other one, however, was staring dead ahead, right at Whiteheart's surprised muzzle. The spark, the storm, the madness of the moment stretched forever as the to stared into eachother's eyes.

All in all, it was pretty awkward.

The guard opened his mouth, ready to scream, when Whiteheart pointed her left hoof at him, the mark on it buzzing with magic.

"Stop." One word was all it took for his eyes to glaze over, and his shoulders to slump. Whiteheart saw a small cloud of white mist whirling around his head as she contemplated what to do. "Let's see how far I can take it." She waved her hoof at the guard and pointed at his comrade.

"Kill."

The guard hobbled to his inattentive bretheren, pulled out his sword, and sunk it into the changeling's chest. She gasped for air pointlessly, eyes full of disbelief as she hit the floor. Whiteheart crawled inside, dusting her clothes. She gave the standing changeling a look. "He's been good enough, I suppose." With a wave of her hoof the changeling dropped to the floor, kirling up into a ball and snoring away.

"Now to find the Spymaster." She huffed, such intense usage of her gift having strained her.

She did the first thing that came to mind, she knelt before the door and looked through the keyhole. Unfortunately, her luck seemed to run dry, as all she saw was a dusty all room with nopony in sight. "Can't win 'em all." She moved through the luxiriously decorated halls, listening carefully for the slightest of sounds.

She heard the noise of a conversation just around the corner, creeping to its edge she held her breath and listened.

"... do we need to leave our post? Can't remember getting an order like that." A changeling protested.

"Spymaster's orders, he needs to take care of somepony, and he doesen't want any prying ears near when he does it." A stern voice retorted.

"Whatever, want to gather for whiskey and cigars tonight?" The first voice answered.

"Never doubt it." Came a reply, before the trotting of hooves grew quieter and quieter, until disappearing completely. Some recreational activities tend to be universal, it seemed. Making sure the guards were away and the hallway was clear, she approached the door and peered through the keyhole.

A lavish guest room greeted her, ornate rugs made from the finest wool in the land lined the floor, beautiful paintings of landscapes and fruits hung from the walls, a burning fireplace taking most of the room's north wall. A hoof-carved birch table stood in the middle of the room, a bottle of wine accompanied by two glasses standing on top of it.

The door was left unlocked, allowing the Empress easy access. She approached the two full glasses and took a whiff of each one. The first one was fine, smelling of a servisable, if budget, wine. The second one, however...

"Poison! A cheap one at that, the bastard hoped to mask the taste with wine." The slow clopping of hooves she heard from the other side of the door alerted her, promting her to act. She swapped the two glasses, quickly blinking to the surprisingly sturdy and expansive ceiling plinth.

The door opened, two ponies entering the room. Whiteheart's heart made a backflip in her chest as she recognised the grey coated stallion trotting beside a black changeling. Cross was alive, thank the Void, and seemingly unharmed.

"I don't have time for your distractions, Regent Burrows." Cross spoke with anger in his voice. "The Empress is missing, citizens of Canterlot have to hear about it as soon as possible!" His tone was peculear, like he was more angry at the fact his return was being delayed, rather then at the disappearance of the monarch.

Burrows chuckled in responce, stopping in fron of the table. "Oh, I understand you completely, Your Highness." He began, sarcasm dripping from his words. "So much to do back in Canterlot, so much to change! But I implore you, let us mourn the tragic passing of Empress Whiteheart!" He grabbed the glass, raising it in a toast. "To young Whiteheart, taken from us at such a young age, she was..." His speech was cut short when Cross grabbed him by the chest of his shirt.

"Shut your trap, Burrows. You might be the de-facto ruler of this little Empire of yours, but that won't stop me from beating you senseless before I head for the train station." He glared at the changeling in his grasp. "So think before you talk, capiche?" He let go of Burrows, who dusted himself off before continuing. Cross sighed, grabbing his glass.

"No need, to resort to such brutish measures, I assure you." He cautiously raised his glass. "I encourage you to try the wine, at least." He smiled. "As a parting gift."

"If it gets you out of my mane." He sniffed the wine and shrugged, drinking it in unison with the Lord Regent. A self congratulatory smirk plastered itself over Burrows' features, one that faded a little after a couple of seconds. A coughing fit overtook the Lord Regent as he fell to the floor.

"Who -ack- who switched the glasses?!" His bloodshot eyes zeroed in on the pony. "You did it! You -cough- thrice-damned rat, you!" He pointed a hoof at Cross before vomiting ichor on the expensive carpet. "I hope you burn in Tartarus you -cough-" Another coughing fit spelled the changeling's doom, his body laying limplessly on the floor.

Cross calmly approached the fallen changeling, rummaging through his body and pulling a small black journal from his pocket. Cross nodded, hiding it in the pouch on his armor. "I had a plan of taking you out myself, but..." He scratched his chin and looked around, searching for something. Shaking his head he turned to the door.

"I wonder who switched the glasses." The stallion turned when he heard a thud behind him, his stern expression turning to a shocked one.

"I'll give you three guesses." Whiteheart said slyly, striking a pose.

"W-whiteheart?" His face was deathly pale, and his vocie trembled for a second. He was really exited to see her.

"Ding-ding-ding, first try!" She exclaimed, leaping at him, hooves outstretched, and burying him in a hug. "Still sharp, I see!" She sighed, squeezing him harder. "You won't believe how glad I am to see you."

"Y-yeah, I'm, uh glad to see you too." Something felt wrong. His voice didn't seem cheery at all, and Whiteheart felt stallion fumble for something before returning the hug. "So very, very glad."

She felt something cold and sharp stab her in the neck. An intense and familiar burning sensation spread throughout her body, her hooves becoming number by the second. "Wh-what? What did you do?" She whispered, her voice cracking.

Double Cross gently laid her down on the carpet next to the dead changeling, a content smile on his face. "Changeling poison." He showed her a small empty vial before pocketing it. "Very potent and very expensive. This one here is promised to work even on changelings themselves."

He stepped away from the paralysed pony, approaching the door. "Our Country needs strong leadership now, and you've witnessed the fruits off your leadership first-hoof." He grabbed the small black journal and showed it to her. "With this, I'll free the trapped ponies, and be heralded as a savior and a hero." He pocketed it once more. "After the celebrations, I'll make sure to throw you a lavish funeral." He smrked, opening the door. "Goodbye, Whiteheart."

The world around Whiteheart faded to black as she heard the door close behind him.

---

Void.

In all directions, up and down, left and right.

All she saw was Void.

All she felt was cold.

An overpowering, ceaseless cold.

The Overseer apparated beside her, space warping around him as he did. She shivered as she felt him drape his arm around her neck.

"Double Cross." He began, a strange tinge of giddy in his voice. "He sliced a mare's throat for a pair of new shoes and devised some of the greatest military schemes of the age, all in the same year. Survival and ambition, cunning and patience that make others trust him. All of it leading to what you saw today."

Pictures flashed before her eyes, a young stallion in a bloody alley, him again in a fancy office, and, finally, him giving her the letter.

"Did you really think the letter was real?" He tsked and shook his head. "It doesen't matter though, does it? The real question is why?" He snapped his fingers, appearing before her in all his mismatched glory. "Did he do it to lead your Empire into a new age, where your subjects weren't disappearing by the dozen? Did he do it because you ignored his pleas to intervene for years on end?" He tilted his head, crossing his arms. "Or was it because he was a single move away from controlling the Empire, and he saw the opportunity?" He shook his head and shrugged, parting his hands. "Maybe none of these. Perhaps that's just the nature of ponies."

Something shifted in the infinite darkness surrounding him as a loud finger snap echoed through the great nothing and when Whiteheart inevitably awakened, she knew what she had to do.

---

Whiteheart stirred in her sleep, bothered by the sound of ongoing conversation.

"What do we do now? Do we just... leave her here?" A stallion's voice asked.

"Beats me. I've got the order to make sure she was secure, then head to the train station asap." By the sound of the mare's voice, she was exasperated.

"So what are we waiting for? She looks mighty secured to me." He yelped as the mare slapped him on the back of the head.

"Are you out of your mind? Train station is a massacre waiting to happen, I ain't going there, no way!"

"What in Tartarus are on about? Last I heard, the train with our equestrian friends was about to depart."

"We've closed off the main gates out of the city after Lord Regent was found dead, nothing can get through those gates, not even a steam locomotive." The guard sighed. "Around twenty ponies are cooped up in that train, and last I heard? They're planning to fight their way to the gate control station."

"Sheesh."

"I tell ya, the last place you'll want to be is that train station." The guard finished, casting a look at the unciscious Whiteheart.

"At least we've got their Empress-" Words died in her throat as the aformentioned mare was nowhere to be found. She shook her head and sighed.

"Should've listened to my mom, might've been a doctor by now."

---

Whiteheart panted after blinking to a rooftop for what was probably the hunderth time taht day. Night. Whatever. The first thing she'd do after getting back to Canterlot Tower is order to fill the biggest bath in all of Canterlot for her and her alone. She shook her head. No, this is no time for daydreaming. Nightdreaming? Whatever.

She jumped from rooftop to rooftop, stopping only when she found what she was looking for. The Vicus Train station, rumored to be the greates in the Changeling Empire, was positively swarming with guards. Hundreds of them if her numbers were correct, most of them surrounding the lonely train, still sitting in the depot. Still, a small contingent was tasked with guarding the only thing that kept the train from speeding off into the soon-to-be sunrise.

Around twenty guards were stationed on the outside of the small control room, no doubt more of them-inside. She'd wagered she could take five, maybe ten on her own, but the rest'd be there to get her if she tried making her way inside.

But then again, she didn't need to go inside herself.

She concentrated, waving her hoof at the changeling who was standing closest to the room's door. His eyes glazed over as her mark burned white, and stood still, ready to do what was needed. Now, to cause some distraction.

She dropped on top of one of the guards from her vantage point, sinking her blade deep into his shoulder. A guard to her left managed a yelp before a slash to his neck brought him to the floor. She blinked behind the third soldier, driving he blade straight through his barrel.

The fourth guard charged at her, Whiteheart dodging his attack by sliding under the stallion, driving her blade into his underside and gutting him from chest to tail. The fifth changeling almost got her, but she managed to duck under his swing and sink her blade into his chest.

She began to tire as she tripped the sixh guard and drove her blade through his left eye. Thankfully, she heard a loud clanging noise just as she jump out of the way of the seventh changeling. The gates spread apart as changelings around her shouted in worry, some of them running into the control room to see what was wrong.

Her cue to go was rahter hard to miss, being a loud train horn and a measured clatter of the train wheels. She dodged another swing from a changeling guard and blinked to the back of the last train cart just as it was leaving the station.

Breathing heavily, she let herself smile as she saw a worried pegasus barreling towards her, stopping to salute her before dropping to his knees.

"Your Highness! You're alive!" He helped her to her hooves, ushering her inside the cart. "Commander Cross said you were killed-" She held her hoof in the air, silencing the stallion.

"Double Cross is a liar, and a traitor to the crown." She replied, opening the door to a compartment full of ponies. Each of them wore a shocked expression, saluting at once when they saw her. "At ease." She dissmissed them, turning to the pegasus once again. "As was saying, Double Cross has commited an act of high treason and attempted regicide. He is to be apprehended at once, and delivered to me for execution."

"Yes, Your Highness!" The pegasus turned to the ponies, and beckoned them with his hoof. "Nothstar, Steelhoof, after me! The rest of you secure the train, make sure we're not being folowed." The guards nodded, and the pegasus began making his way to the head of the train, two guards and the Empress following him. Noticing this, he turned his head to whiteheart, his eyebrow raised. "Are you sure you want to come with us, Your Highness?" He asked with concern.

"I know how to handle myself, I'd go so far as to say you're endangered far more than I am."

"If you say so, Your Highness."

---

The four of them stood strong, facing a haggard looking stallion, his mane disheveled, his eyes bloodshot. The roaring fire of the train's firebox was licking at his coat, singing it. He held a small black journal in his hoof, far enough from the fire to leave the writings untouched, but close enough to fling it into the inferno at a moment's notice.

"Double Cross" Empress Whiteheart began, her voice akin to a freezing wind on a winter evening. "You are accused of commiting an act of high treason, as well as an attempt at regicide." She glared at him, and the grey-coated stallion felt a chill go down his spine. "How do you plead?"

"How?" He barked in desperation. "How are you here?!" He yelled, stomping his hoof. "I've had it, I've had it all! The plan worked perfectly, even when you showed up the first time I had you dead to rights!" He breathed heavily, hateful, bloodshot eyes staring at Whiteheart. "It's not fair!"

"Life isn't fair, Double Cross." She could've sworn she saw his eye twitch.

"Don't say my full name, or I swear I'll throw this into the fire!" His hoof came closer to the open furnace, some of his hoof burning to cinders.

"You will? And leave thousands of ponies suffering? You know it'll take weeks to find other caverns without this book."

"To Tartarus with them!" He snarled, spitting on the floor. "If I'm going down, I'm taking them with me!"

"As you wish." Whiteheart ointed her left hoof at the stallion and her mark erupted in white light. She wrestled for control over his body for a good deal longer than she did the others, something to look into later, perhaps. His eyes glazed over, but there was a sudden twitch of an eyebrow from time to time. He dropped the journal to the floor, one of the guardsponies quickly grabbing it. They were about to arrest the stallion, when Empress Whiteheart held up her hoof, and they retreated.

"Double Cross, You are accused of commiting an act of high treason, as well as an attempt at regicide. How do you plead?" His ears twitched wildly as he opened his mouth.

"Guilty." He croaked. A satisfied smile graced the Empress' lips.

"Very well." She coughed into her hoof. "By the power granted me by the High Court, I pronounce you guilty, and sentence you to the deepest pit in Tartarus." She flicked her hoof and the stallion moved.

The guardsponies stood in shock, mouths agape as the offending stallion climbed into the furnace, his fur burning to ash, his flesh melting like candlewax. Before any of them could protest, he disappeared in the roaring fire, closing the shutter behind him.

---

"I don't know about you, Whiteheart, but I've had a lovely time. Intrigue and mystery, butchery and betrayal. The death throes of an empire! And you were an avenging spirit, spreading chaos at every turn. The city's feeding on itself now, liars and merchants and nobles like maggots on a carcass. Soon there'll be nothing left to invade. It's just as well. The empire was dying already. Completely rotten. All that was needed was the right mare, to send it over the edge. But now, you're sketching plans and raising armies, off on a wayward train to your homeland, I wonder. Are you chasing something, or running away?"

Comments

[Reviewfilly]

Ah, quite different from how I expected this story to continue, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. I was kind of figuring you'd go on with your usual somewhat allegorical style, but a more straightforward story is a nice change of pace as well. I like that the story is clearly inspired by Dishonored but the actual events differ greatly, having the Empress both continue to be the legitimate and recognize monarch and the assassin as well at the same time is an interesting choice.

However, I think she might have gotten into her new job a bit too fast and well. You sort of implied that she largely spent her life signing documents and maybe had a few sparring classes with Cross and yet now she has more than a dozen corpses to her name without as much as breaking a sweat. I understand she didn't exactly have the time to practice or anything, but still a few stumbles or not so clean executions would have probably helped to sell that she's not an emotionless one-mare-army. Regardless, the action is nice and varied and faithfully gives back the game's atmosphere. Perhaps giving her possession this early was a bit too much, I think blink would have been enough, but as long as she won't ball out of control, it's fine.

Am I right to assume that Twilight and Discord basically merged into one being and that's why Whiteheart is hearing a male and a female voice? Also, is the story playing a long time after the previous one with how differently things work now?

Cross's death was gruesome, I liked it a lot! I do recommend having characters with a longer screentime though, having the reader become attached to them and then kill them off is far more cathartic than killing them a few thousand words later.

"Whatever, want to gather for whiskey and cigars tonight?" The first voice answered.

Got a chuckle out of me, I suppose you can't do Dishonored without whiskey and cigars.

Your story has quite a few typos still. Try to run it through at least Word or something first. It didn't affect my understanding of the story, but it looks very sloppy and your fic deserves better than that.

All in all, looking forward to where you'll bring things next. How long do you expect this story to be in total?

[The Ancestor]

11174054
I've felt that a third, mostly allegorical story in a row would grow a tad stale, so I went for a more straightforward approach.

I understand she didn't exactly have the time to practice or anything, but still a few stumbles or not so clean executions would have probably helped to sell that she's not an emotionless one-mare-army.

Yeah, I suspected that I went a little overboard with the action scenes, didn't mean for her to come off as highly trained assasin. I might go back and change some of it.

Perhaps giving her possession this early was a bit too much...

Perhaps I worded it wrongly, but I didn't mean it as posession, per se, more like a mind control type of abuility. The changelings are, or were at some point, drones that are good at following orders. Thus, they are rather susceptible to that kind of influence.

Cross, on the other hand, is was a rather ambitious pony, if somewhat unstable by the time he is confronted by Whiteheart. Thus, the Empress has a harder time manipulating him. I tried to show it by his sudden twitches, don't know how well that came out in the end.

Grammar is the bane of my existence, each time I skim through the fic some pesky typos manageto sneak through. I'll get to fixing it asap.

Am I right to assume that Twilight and Discord basically merged into one being and that's why Whiteheart is hearing a male and a female voice?

Kinda

I imagined it this way: When Discord was hit by Twilight's spell that bound him to the Waking world, she 'melted' into the Void and was lost forever. What Whiteheart heard, was a piece of Twilight's soul that Discord managed to grab just as she was being undone. It's not exactly her, but rather a part of waht used to be Twilight. Discord did that out of spite.

Although your assumption is a good one too. Ultimately, I believe it's up to the reader to interpret it.

Also, is the story playing a long time after the previous one with how differently things work now?

I imagined it to be at least enough time for ponies to forget that Alicorns, as a whole, existed.

How long do you expect this story to be in total?

This fic is finished, but the whole story isn't. I have ideas for at least one more fic. It'll probably be an almanach type deal with multiple chapters that have one story, told from the perspective of different people.

Like this:

Pony steals a loaf of bread, a cop arrests them-->That does something or other, gets into trouble with a noble or something-->story continues from the perspective of a noble e.t.c.

As to how long it'll be, I have no idea. :p

[Reviewfilly]

11174089
Isn't it ironic for me to complain about typos and then leave one in my own comment as well!

Perhaps I worded it wrongly, but I didn't mean it as posession, per se, more like a mind control type of abuility.

I don't mean to be coy, but I fail to see the practical difference between suggesting so hard you can't refuse to kill your friend and just your body being taken over and used to kill your friend.

This fic is finished, but the whole story isn't.

I meant it that way. That's why I've said "in total." That almanac sounds fun, I'm sure you'll be able to carve a satisfying end to the story.