77: There’s a room where the light won’t find you.
There’s a room where the light won’t find you.
Chapter published 6th July 2014
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as her face hit the floor she wasn’t sure which was worse - the smell or the pain? she could feel the rough edges of stone floor ripping into her cheek, her teeth smashing together as her short flight through the air ended just as quickly as was it lacking in grace. the smell hadn’t changed much since she had been pulled from this cell last, still the same stink of stale sweat, stale blood, stale human effluent... stale death - except now it was joined by the smell of fresh sweat and even fresher blood. painfully rolling onto her side, she spat, a single blood covered tooth spinning across the floor, coming to rest just a few feet from the still open door. looking up at her captors, struggling to focus with the one eye that still worked, she watched them, as they watched her. both sides waited, her guards made no move towards her, she made none towards them. even if she had wanted to, the broken leg and twisted ankles meant she wouldn’t have gotten very far anyway, not before one of them would come into the cell and stamp her either into submission or oblivion. watching their soulless eyes as they gazed back at her, she wished, not for the first time, that they would show her at least some kind of emotion. no matter what she did, no matter how they reacted, the guards always displayed no recognisable emotion what-so-ever, going about their often brutal duties with a clinical detachment that the best emergency room team on earth would killed for. after all this time she’d take anything - hate, disgust, pity... anything but these blank stares and cold indifference that she’d suffered this last... how long had it been now anyway? fighting for breath, the gaping wound in her chest leaving her lying in a rapidly spreading pool of her own blood, she rolled onto her front, turning her back on her guards, turning her face from their cruel beauty. reaching out with her unbroken arm, she used it to pull herself slowly across the floor, away from the door. blood covered fingers, those few that she still possessed at least, grabbed onto what purchase that she could find, pulling her through the pool of her own blood. her legs dragged behind her until they too reached the pool, the liquid making it easier from them to slide their way across the stone floor. reaching the rear wall of her small cell, this hovel that she’d called home for only god knew how long now, she pulled herself up against it, leaning, pushing, pulling, until she could slump herself semi upright against it, her broken arm laying across her chest, her broken leg still laying at an awkward angle. after being broken and mangled and maimed and destroyed as many times as she had, she’d like to think that the pain got easier to handle with time, easier to ignore, easier to live with...
it didn’t.
.
.
.
consciousness returned, though without any source of light it was impossible for her to tell if her eyelids were even open or closed. in the pitch black she lifted a hand to her mouth. pushing a finger inside she did a quick count... yep, all her teeth were back. taking her hand back out of her mouth she placed it against her cheek and pushed against the soft flesh with each finger in turn. one, two, three, four, five... yep, all five fingers present and accounted for. lifting her previously broken arm she did the same with the five other fingers before touching her nose with her middle digit. no pain, easy movement. pinwheeling both legs, she mimed riding an invisible upside-down bicycle. well, she was still alive, and all her broken bits were working again... all she could do now was wait. waiting was fairly bad, not as bad as the pits, that was for sure, but it was still its own kind of torture none-the-less. when presented with no sound, no light, no external stimuli, when freed of its need to sleep or to eat, the human brain would start doing weird things to itself pretty quickly. but then, they knew that, they knew that all too well. for a while, when she’d first arrived, she’d tried scratching tallymarks into the walls, trying to keep count of how long she’d been held in this living hell. she’d stopped soon enough, once she’d discovered that her captors were adding and subtracting tallymarks, sometime erasing every single one, resetting the room to a much earlier state, much as they would restore her body as and when they saw fit. she’d found out quite early on just how absolute her tormentor’s control over life and death was, how tight their overview, how cruel their ministrations. she’d once spent what felt like weeks, and for all she knew it may well have been, with a gaping chest wound that let her insides betray their name and escape from their bodily confinement, a ragged rip though one of her lungs leaving every pained breath as nothing more than a bloody, bubbling gasp of white hot agony, seconds, minutes, hours, all ticking away as she wished for the sweet embrace of death just to take away the pain. how long she'd spent like that she had no idea, only that she was being taught a lesson; that no one, and no thing, in this realm would die until they allowed it. She’d learned that lesson well that day, but that didn’t stop them from feeling the need to teach her again and again, often without reason or warning. but today, if ‘today’ still had any meaning in a realm where the days were as long or as short or as meaningless as their whims dictated, she didn’t have to wait long before the door opened up again. light flooded the room, burning her eyes, forcing her to lift a hand to her brow. blood from the ‘night’ before had dried on her fingers and her face, small flakes of which fell into her eyes as she blinked in the cruel ‘morning’ light. the guards motioned for her to rise, so she did so - refusing wouldn’t make them angry, she’d learned this, along with the rest of her lessons, many... months? years? decades ago.. but refusal would still lead to swift and agonising punishment. she knew that once she stepped out in the the corridor she’d be lead back to the armoury, if it could be even called that, and then back out to the pits, once more to meet her fate.
well, no rest for the wicked.
.
.
.
blood sprayed and coated the ground as ravaged skin met rough stone floor, her body tumbling back into her cell, her short journey reaching its conclusion just a few feet from the back wall. using her good arm - if losing most of her hand and all but two fingers could still be counted as good - she slowly lifted the other, still fully fingered, hand from her lap, lifting the useless arm so that her guards could see the remaining digits. wincing through the pain screaming through her body, she curled three fingers and a thumb, lifting her hand that bit higher, giving her captors the single digit gesture of defiance known to humans everywhere. watching the single door slowly close, what little light there was disappearing as it was sealed shut, leaving her in complete darkness, she laughed, heartily and and uncontrollably, feeling rivulets of what was either blood or spittle gush from her mouth, down through her beard and across her neck where it fell and splattered on the floor. they hadn’t beaten her, not yet, not today anyway, she’d lasted another day...
a big part of her wished that she hadn’t.
**************
The Estate of the Duchy Smaragdvea
Emerald Reach
North-eastern Equestria.
In the darkness of her stately room at Emerald Reach Manor, Queen Aurelia re-entered the waking world. As the certainly of what was real and what was not reasserted itself in her mind, her heart refused to believe what it was being told, beating as it was so hard that it felt like it would rip its way out of her chest any second now. Her surrounds came into focus - the large wood-panelled bedroom, the queen sized four-poster bed, the moonlight creeping from between the crack in the thick velvet curtains - they chased away the images that had until just moments before overwhelmed her mind.
As so often happened whenever Master Lero accompanied Lady Sparkle on one of her regular visits to the nation’s only pony-ling colony, the changeling queen would find that, once night fell and the human retired to bed, his dreams would find their way into the edge of her mind, poking and prodding at a mental connection she once held exclusively with her children.
Many times now she had been shown fleeting glimpses of a world so foreign to her, filled with strange naked-skinned bipeds and their astounding world of concrete and steel, of ponyless carriges and flying metal dragons. She would find herself dropped into his world, seeing just tiny moments of time though the human male’s eyes, moments she barely had a change to grasp before being thrown either into a different time, a different situation, or back out of his mind entirely, leaving her gasping in the cool night air as she tried to comprehend what she had seen and felt.
Usually he dreamt of the day to day actions of a life long ago, of tedious classes and boring professors, of girls he had known and girls he would like to have known better. Often he dreamt of his mother and his father; the joyous and wickedly intelligent woman and her dependable but taciturn husband, the two beings who had been such an important part of his life for so long, but now just fading memories, slowly making their home in the backmost reaches of his brain. Sometimes he dreamt of his sister.
But this night was different, this dream that she was pulled into, it was vivid and complete in ways that it had never been before. For that thankfully short time she had been him, as clearly and as surely as she was now herself again... she had felt as he had felt, she had known what he had known, feared what he had feared... and it had scared her in a way she had never felt before. If that was what the human had lived though, if that was the life he had known before Equestria, then she had been a fool to ever doubt him, to belittle him, and his words, back when they had first met.
As the last connections to the human’s subconscious mind faded, Aurelia felt her usual connection to her children reassert itself, waves of fear and unease washing against her consciousness, her subjects strong emotions crashing upon her mental shores. The sheer power and depth of her immersion into the human’s nightmares must have overwhelmed her own mental barriers, broadcasting the experience to every connected soul within range. She could feel her children’s reactions to the sights they had seen, the emotions they, just like her, had felt. The thoughts and feelings and emotions that they in turn were projecting back to their queen were joined by other emotions; concern, relief, anger, all came rushing back into to her like a tsunami before she managed to push them down, cut them off.
She hated to do it, to disconnect her subjects from their queen in their time of unease, but if she had not, they would have worn her down, left her unable to think, to function, to even breath. She should go to them, reassure them that everything would be alright, that the stuff of nightmares was just that... nIghtmares.
But it would be a lie, she knew this all too well. What she had seen was not a dream but a memory, struggling to work its way free from the depths of the human’s brain, to make its way back into the light. The Princesses had warned her as much, though if this was just a fraction of what others had already seen, of what Master Lero had been through, then she shuddered to think of what it meant that the memories were becoming clearer, bolder and more frequent.
Though it made her shudder, she thought back over what she had seen; the slick walls, the lack of daylight, the unmistakable shape and scent of an underground dwelling... how similar to her old hive the human’s nightmares were. What her actions must have put him though as, even if it was buried deep within his subconscious, imprisoning him in her subterranean world must have been like being dragged back to that place, to that time that he had buried for so long.
The dark rough-hewn walls, the cold chill and stale edge to the air well below ground; the echos of the unknown bouncing from solid rock wall to solid rock wall. How much like his once-upon-a -time prison her own secret queendom - no, her own prison - must have been to his eyes. To her, her hive had been a home, a fortress; to him, it must have been a torture. How he had not killed her when he had the chance, cut her down in order to escape, she did not know.
While she knew that, despite his claims to the contrary, he would probably never forgive her for what she had done to him and his herd, that he could even stand to be around her now, to look at her without recoiling in horror, or to assault her with his hate and his anger, showed that he was a better being than she could ever hope to be. Even then, so soon after his rescue, despite all that she had done to him and his own, he had still vouched for her before the nation’s twin regents, stood his ground against an enraged alicorn, all in her defence.
Princess Luna had been right - she did not deserve his favour.
For the next few minutes, enough for the queen’s heart rate to return to something resembling normality, Aurelia remained in her bed, her bedsheets still twisted around her where she had writhed in her sleep.
To calm herself she listened to the many noises floating around the old manor house. The building was old, centuries old even. Through the memories passed down to her from the previous queen - who had herself received them from her predecessor, and her predecessor before her - she could remember this land from times before it was built upon. She remembered the fields, the families of ponies that lived here, how the huts and cottages became farm houses and barns, the fields becoming more organised, better planned, better worked. She remembered in her bequeathed memories how this manor came to be, how its construction was still underway when her hive had cut all ties to the ponies of the light, how her sisters had fled to the forests and the caves, the mountains and deserts, so many centuries before.
And now, after all this time, they were back - this hive at least - amongst the common pony, trying their best to integrate into a society that they had spent so long moving amongst unseen, hiding from the world at large the very fact of their existence. Ironic really, that for centuries they had made stealth and subterfuge the cornerstone of their survival, only to find now that it had become the foundation of their downfall.
If the human had not awoken her from her madness, jolted her confused and clouded mind free from the whispered grasp that had wrapped its tendrils around it? If the alicorn of the day had not offered the hoof of friendship when all seemed lost? She shuddered to think what would have become of her children in that had been the case.
Amongst the creaks and groans of the old building’s nightly symphony, the queen could hear evidence of life. Distant floorboards squeaked, the swift movement of hooves against wood further down the manor’s residential wing, joined by the distinctive buzz of gossamer wings, making obvious that a number of her subjects were now moving at speed towards her private chambers.
Rising from her bed, she made for the door that lead to the hallway to the main part of the manor, not even making it halfway across the room before she heard chittering voices from directly outside. Before she could even reach out with her magic, the door was flung open, her two most loyal guards bursting into the room.
Suncloak entered first, his glowing eyes scanning the room for any signs of danger, slivers of moonlight glancing from his chitinous skin as he darted about the room. Just behind him was Flitter, her own eyes flicking over the room just as her mate’s had done. Once satisfied that the queen was alone she made her way over to her ruler.
Unlike her partner, Flitter was in pony form - as she had been for many months now - and her movements were not as swift as Suncloak’s, though being heavily pregnant gave more than ample reason for her lack of speed. The moonlight illuminated her orange coat and dark red mane and, were it not for the gentle yellow glow behind her pupils and the lack of a cutie mark, she would have been virtually indistinguishable from any of Canterlot’s many native unicorn mares.
From where he was checking through the gaps in the curtains, scrutinizing the expansive grounds beyond the ancient glass window panes for any sign of intruders, Suncloak chittered his findings, that there were no signs of any activity that he could see.
“My Queen?” Flitter’s voice held, along with the gentle buzzing subharmonics that all of the changeling queen’s converted subjects now carried - more than a little concern mixed in with her usually unflappable professionalism. “Are you unharmed? Was anything in here with you? We felt your distress through the hive’s mind link. We are deeply sorry that we were not here sooner.”
“Please, be calm, my most loyal of guards,” Aurelia laid a reassuring hoof on her guard’s shoulder, feeling the mare-ling’s own fearful tremors beneath the soft fur that had long replaced her smooth chitinous skin, “I am sorry that you all felt as I did. I have never felt a mental force such as this before, the strength of the human’s memoires overpowered my barriers. If I had been stronger, if I could have kept it within myself so that the rest of you did not suffer it as well, I would have done so in a heartbeat.”
Again, Suncloak chittered from his position by the window, his more ‘traditional’ form, and the arrangement of the vocal chords that went with it, making it impossible for a non-changeling to understand his words.
“I know, Suncloak,” the queen smiled as the usually taciturn guard tried his best to reassure his monarch. He wasn’t big on speeches, usually letting Flitter do the talking, but he could be such a sweetheart when he tried. “I thank you for saying so,” she added, “but it is events like these that I should be shielding my subjects, especially the younglings, from. To have allowed these visions to have overcome me is again proof that my mental fortitude is not what it should be. If I were stronger then maybe I would not have fallen to corruption and disquiet as I did.”
“Should we check on Master Lero?” Flitter asked, motioning with a hoof towards where their guests - though it was still strange to refer to them as such when Lady Sparkle owned this entire estate - were sleeping a few rooms over.
Closing her eyes, the queen allowed her mind to reopen to the world around her. The first minds she could feel were those of her children, both the converted and the untouched, spread throughout the building around her.
She could feel their unease and concern, their own minds reaching back to her as she did her best to calm their nerves. Nestled deep within a scant few, like Flitter, she could feel strange, tiny, unformed minds, so much like those of her changeling children, but also so similar to the minds of young ponykind.
Past those she could feel the minds of the few ponies that were on the premises; the custodial staff, that had remained in service when the manor had been repurposed; the medical staff, who had been working here at the princesses’ behest these past few months; Ladies Sparkle and Heartstrings, asleep as they were in their room down the hall.
Beyond them all, shining like the brightest of beacons, she found Master Lero. His mind was calm, peaceful, serene. The emotions emanating from him now were more akin to the still waters of a deep, crystal clear lake, so different from the crashing waves of torment that his troubled mind had thrown against her mental shores just a few minutes ago.
“No,“ Aurelia ceased her searching, letting her mental connections fall to a background level, “he sleeps once more, we should let him be for now. I shall discretely enquire as to his mental state over breakfast. If he does not recall these night terrors then there will be no need for us to risk stirring them up again unnecessarily.”
Lifting her forehoof, she removed it from Flitter’s shoulder, moving it back to the floor as she gave her official commands.
“I have a task for you, loyal subject. Send a messenger to the princesses, I would request an audience. Make sure that you stress the urgency, for we have much to discuss and it will not all be pleasant, or welcomed.”
From his position by the window, Suncloak chittered again.
“Yes, it is as we feared,” the queen agreed, moving across the room to join her other bodyguard, ”those that the All-mother warned us about, the ones whose names must not be spoken, must not be even allowed to cross the mind, even for an instant, lest it give them the opening that they so deeply desire.”
Pulling back the curtains, she let the full power and majesty of the moon illuminate the room. Gazing out upon the ground she looked upon the manicured lawns and carefully crafted ornamental hedgerows, the long gravel path that traversed the full length of the gardens and out into the vast, untamed forest behind the sizeable estate.
“But even now it may be too late, for if I am right, then THEY are already out there.”
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Yes, spelling mistakes etc etc blah blah blah. I'll get to them when I can, no need to write comments about them.
Well holy hayseeds...
This chapter turned the Leroverse real dark all of a sudden.
…The Fae?
4652065 DON"T SPEAK THEIR NAME!!!
Looks like we're going to get our final showdown between our cast and Them.
Time to get out the cold iron.
4652390
Sounds like a plan.
Man, sometimes I really think you guys really are into THAT kind of stuff
we're gonna need a bigger iron deposit
Good ol iron.
And two pissed of pony godesses is what we need. Especially Luna seems really fond of the old folk.
There's one thing I don't understand from this chapter: How is the queen seeing his memories and why?
4656667
That's why we call them the Fair Folk. It doesn't attract their attention - or their anger. The word "fairy" is apparently insulting to them, and while I'm not sure if that would apply to the term "fae", I'll stick to calling them the Fair Folk (while holding onto a piece of iron, of course).
4652390
I´ll better call Granny Weatherwax for help.
4697482
4652390
And don't forget about calling Gytha Ogg too.
4662444 If I remember rightly, fae is a word used to describe either an unnatural/supernatural object, or multiple types of the Fair Folk t once (I.e. elves and nymphs).
I saw the name and was happy but then I clicked the link and was sad. Tears for Fears didn't deserve that.
Hmm... Now we know Celestia and Luna don't have enough power to stand up to THEM... but what about ol' Discord? I mean it would make a lot of sense if, in this universe, the 'I might have used of his power' justification of reforming him would actually be about THEM coming back for Lero?