Act I - 06 - A Grim Intimation of What is to Be
Act One:
"Pride Comes Before the Fall"
Chapter Six:
"A Grim Intimation of What is to Be"
Trixie had come to the Serenity Chamber hoping to avoid either of her aunts and the questions they would obviously have; she didn’t know they would be looking for her in her usual haunts first—her room, the library, or her laboratory. The Serenity Chamber was a spacious room with a low ceiling that was often used for unwinding after a long hard day. It was furnished with downy cushioned couches and seats, warmly lit by a fire that was kept lit no matter what the season. The shadows playing on the walls and the quiet sounds of the fire sparkling gave the impression of being submersed underwater.
Also, there was always wine in this room and Trixie badly needed a drink. She hadn’t noticed during the entire banishment ordeal, but she had developed a brutal headache in the back of her skull and the place in her shoulder where the changeling had been hurt was starting to prickle icily.
Trixie shivered and took another mouthful of her wine at the thought of the incident. The way her skin had morphed and the changeling’s voice in her head…
Stop! She shook her head, despite how it seemed to make the throbbing in her head intensify. Don’t think about it. That whole planet was spelled, it was most likely the work of some hex. Just calm down, there are other things to worry about. Many other things…
She groaned and levitated the wine bottle over her glass.
There was a loud crash that almost caused Trixie to drop the bottle as Soarin strode into the room with Flitter, Cloudchaser and Spitfire in tow.
I’m going to need a lot more wine, Trixie thought. She brought the wine bottle to her lips and took a long swig.
“…the physician said you had to take it easy,” Flitter was saying as she trailed closely behind her injured friend.
Soarin threw himself on the largest couch, visibly wincing, but when he spoke it was his usual boisterous tone: “Stop clucking like a hen, Flitter. He said it wasn’t severe and that I just needed rest to fully recover. And I intend to rest.” He eyed the bottle that Trixie was guzzling. “Hey Trixie, save some for a wounded comrade, won’t you?”
“Please, you’ve gotten worse wounds from pie eating contests,” Spitfire said, seating herself in the seat besides Soarin.
“Don’t you disregard those contests, the competition is brutal.” Soarin said, nudging Spitfire with a hoof.
Spitfire rolled her eyes but before she could retort Cloudchaser spoke grimly, “You should thank Faust you’re alive, Soarin. A changeling bite is nothing to take lightly; greater warriors have fallen to them.”
“Oh, do stop being so dour,” Flitter said sourly. “The whole palace is gloomy enough as it is.”
She went over to the low table in front of Trixie’s seat where she had placed a line of wine bottles and took one of them without asking, popping off the cork with her teeth.
“Besides,” she said, walking back over to Soarin and handing him the bottle. “Whatever troubles we’ve had today, they’re nothing compared to Rainbow Dash’s.”
Trixie nearly dropped her bottle again. Dear Faust, who told them?
Spitfire actually shivered. “Yeah. I can’t imagine the reaming she’s getting from the All-Mother.”
Trixie felt her body loosen slightly. So they didn’t know yet, this meant Mother had not told Luna or Cadence either. A secret between two never lasted long in the palace that was for sure.
“Trixie should know,” Soarin said, glancing towards her. Trixie felt all her muscles spasm.
“Yeah, you didn’t follow us when Princess Luna escorted us,” Flitter said, looking towards Trixie with a raised eyebrow.
“I thought I heard the All-Mother order you to stay,” Cloudchaser said, nodding in agreement.
“What happened back there?” Spitfire asked.
Trixie reached for another bottle and feigned having trouble removing the cork with her teeth.
“Why aren’t you using your horn, Trixie?” Soarin asked.
Damn him. She mumbled some gibberish around the cork.
“Was the All-Mother very angry?” Flitter asked anxiously.
“Is there really to be war?” Cloudchaser asked.
“What did she say to Rainbow Dash?” Spitfire demanded.
They were all staring at her, breathless, waiting. The one time in her life she managed to attract their attention and she couldn’t have wanted it less. The cork had unfortunately come out and despite using her teeth to pour the wine, causing it to spill slightly and taking an extra long sip they still waited.
Trixie sighed and pretended to take great interest in stirring her wine. “She said that…we had acted extremely foolishly and by her manner of speech I assume that yes, it is war with the Changelings.”
The four ponies glanced at each other apprehensively.
“I knew it,” Cloudchaser said grimly, shaking her head. “I knew this mission was cursed from the start. We should never have gone.”
“No one can sway Rainbow Dash when her mind is set,” Flitter said, shrugging slightly.
“No one except…” Spitfire let her voice trail off and her eyes rest on Trixie, who was kneading her forehead with her free hoof. “Are you okay, Trixie? You look sick.”
She certainly felt sick. Trixie couldn’t remember ever experiencing a headache this…severe. It made her ears feel like they did after an explosion in her lab, buzzing like a swarm of hornets.
“Trixie?” Spitfire once asked, her voice sounding a little more terse this time.
“What?” Trixie grumbled in response.
“Are you feeling alright?” Spitfire said pointedly.
Trixie nodded, waving a hoof. “I’m fine.”
“You look a little green,” Flitter said.
Trixie had a sudden recollection of the Changeling Queen’s eyes—glinting green. “I said I’m fine, I’m just tired after all that foolishness.”
Spitfire was about to say something but Flitter put a hoof on her shoulder and shook her head. When Trixie was in a mood, it was unwise to press her.
“What I can’t understand is why the All-Mother came for us,” Soarin said. “Did Princess Luna break her oath?”
“The Princess would never break an oath,” Cloudchaser said firmly. “Someone must have seen us in battle array and reported it to the All-Mother.”
“I did,” Trixie said softly, unsure whether she meant to be heard or not.
Spitfire, who had not taken her eyes off her, caught her words. “You?”
Exposed, Trixie lifted her head haughtily—despite how brutally it was pounding—and spoke in her most poised tone, “Yes. I knew the work was folly from the beginning, so while you were all dressing up to provoke an interplanetary scandal I was alerting a guard to report it to Mother. He should be flogged for taking as long as he did.”
He probably thought it was another one of my tricks, she thought bitterly. “So really, I saved our lives.”
She glanced at the four ponies, recalling how quick they always were to thank Rainbow Dash for simply inviting them on a war campaign but when Trixie saves their lives, they suddenly can’t find a word of thanks. Her head throbbed sharply and she shut her eyes tightly, taking another sip of her wine. Her stomach was already feeling queasy; strange, she usually could stand much greater doses.
Just at that moment, Aunt Cadence burst through the door. Her eyes darted about the room frantically and when she spoke her voice was shrill, “Have any of you seen Rainbow Dash?”
Flitter, Cloudchaser and Soarin looked at one another while Spitfire glared at Trixie, who simply stared at the floor.
“No, Lady, not since Princess Luna brought us to the Healing Room,” Flitter said.
Cadence nodded distractedly and left without another word. Soarin, Flitter and even Cloudchaser began to all talk at once amongst themselves, while Spitfire kept eyeing Trixie suspiciously.
Trixie still held onto her glass but only stared at the remaining wine, unable to even consider sipping anymore. Her head was in such agony now that even the gentle light of the fire seemed to claw at her. She caught the last bit of a whisper in her left ear and glared at Spitfire.
“I heard that,” she snapped.
Spitfire frowned. “I didn’t say anything.”
Trixie glared at her then looked away again, determined not to engage the other pony. If she thought she could draw Trixie in with such a blatant trickery she was wrong—
She heard another whisper, like nails against a chalkboard, and whirled to look at Spitfire. “Shut up you ignorant filly!”
Her tone was far louder than she had intended and all the ponies now turned to look at her.
Spitfire blinked. “What?”
“I can hear you,” Trixie hissed.
“I told you I didn’t say anything!” Spitfire replied, her whole body visibly tensing up.
Trixie scoffed. “A likely story.”
Spitfire shot up from her seat, her eyes flashing angrily. “If I wanted to insult you I would do it to your face!”
Trixie opened her mouth to answer but snapped it shut as another whisper murmured in her ear, this time her right ear. She glanced over her shoulder. Nothing. No one else had come into the room and all the other ponies were seated on the other side of her. Was someone hiding in the room…?
“Hey, look at me!” Spitfire’s voice was so enraged Trixie couldn’t help but turn back to look at her. “Don’t think just because you’re a princess you’re exempt from showing a common courtesy as looking at a pony when they’re speaking!”
“You said something?” Trixie asked. She still felt like somepony over her right shoulder was speaking in a low tone but she resisted turning to look again. It’s not possible that anypony is there…
Spitfire looked ready to, well, spit fire—right in Trixie’s face. “Do you think that’s amusing? Playing head games with ponies? Does it make you feel superior to everypony else?”
Trixie raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”
“Stop it!” Spitfire actually shrieked and stamped her hoof. “Even now, when we’re on the brink of the first war in centuries you can’t resist taking the time to plague others for your pleasure!”
“Oh, will you stop talking, Spitfire,” Trixie said in exasperation. She rubbed her thudding forehead tenderly.
There was a tense pause between the two, before Spitfire spoke. “You think I’m stupid don’t you?”
“What?” Trixie asked, becoming more and more confused.
Spitfire strode up until she was hoof-to-hoof with Trixie, her orange eyes boring into the unicorn’s. “You think I’m just a simple country bumpkin who cannot possibly hope to fathom the depths of your intellect and wisdom. You think you’re so very clever and powerful, like some great wizard of old but you are so wondrously deceived, everypony knows that really you’re just a hedge-witch playing with potions in a dark lab!”
Trixie slammed her glass down, causing it to shatter into a thousand pieces, spilling wine everywhere.
“And I suppose it was just a hedge-witch’s smoke and mirrors that jinxed your wings the day so you plummeted nearly one thousand feet and would have died if Rainbow Dash hadn’t caught you?” Trixie spat back. “Or the time your blade melted when you were dueling Flitter? Or when your shoes weighed a ton each and you couldn’t lift your legs an inch above the ground? No, you’re greatly deceived, Spitfire, if you imagine you’re anything more than what everypony knows you are: just a token peasant taken under the All-Mother’s wing to keep the mob in check with that mythical hope that someday they might get a chance to fly with the princesses and live in this glorious palace.”
“At least I earned my place here—you’re nothing but a leech sucking the purity out of the royal family’s name!” Spitfire spat back with equal fervor.
Trixie scoffed. “Oh yes, the depraved and malicious Trixie’s actions that will single-hoofedly bring down the Borrsons and usher in an age of darkness!”
“Why not? Everypony knows how you mate with every base creation and produce monsters like that wretched spider-foal of yours!” Spitfire said.
“Don’t you speak of my child, you wretch!” Trixie hissed.
“I can talk any way I please about the son of a pathetic witch who couldn’t conjure enough magic to keep some drunken Equestrian colt from violating her!”
Spitfire immediately slapped her hooves over her mouth. The other three ponies gasped and Trixie just stared at her as if Spitfire had just put a knife through her heart.
“Trixie, I apologize I was—”
Trixie spat in her face and before Spitfire could even respond she leaned forward and hissed in her ear: “The day you have a child I hope you love it, love it so much you see its face when you dream. I hope you do because I want to be the one who rips it out of your hooves.”
Then she whirled around and stormed out of the room, the double doors crashing like thunder behind her.
Every pony was silent for a long time. The only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire.
Finally Cloudchaser said softly, “You deserved that, Spitfire.”
Spitfire slowly wiped at her face. “I know.”
/////////////////////////////
“How could you do this to her Celestia!” Cadence cried, her voice strident with emotion.
“Do you understand what Rainbow’s actions have set into motion?” Celestia was quick to reply. Her normally calm veneer was utterly absent and replaced with a severe, almost angry tone. “She has brought us and all the realms to the very brink of war!”
“But why banishment?! Would you go as far as to lose her forever? She, your very own daughter?!”
Celestia let out a heavy sigh, her wings and shoulders drooping deeply. “Tell me Cadence, what would you have done if you were in my place?”
“I would have not cast her so far from our sight and to a world of mortals, stripped of all her power to be left alone in a place she does not know!” Cadence replied, tears springing in her eyes. Celestia shook her head.
“And why is that?” she asked, looking sorrowful at her sister as she dragged her hooves to sit on the throne. Cadence followed close behind, coming to a stop at the foot of the throne.
“I do not have the heart to do so, you know this.”
“You have a loving heart, but it makes you give allowance to every offense leveled at yourself. As Queen, I cannot permit that, especially not in the crown princess. I grieve as much as you do for her Cadence. For every moment since I banished her has been like a burden upon me, weighing down my soul. But it is a burden I must carry.”
“If it weighs upon you so, then bring her back. Let her stay here, away from prying eyes until things have once more calmed. Or would you lose her forever?”
“Do not speak to such things that you know nothing of! She single hoofedly shattered an already fragile treaty with Chrysalis. If I were to bring her back, even in secret, I would be giving her nature the sanction it needs to commit further rash acts in the future. Her rebellion has to be defeated before it consumes her as it did Thunderlane.”
“You would not even go as far as to make sure she arrived safely? That she is not harmed by anyone who wishes her ill? Not even that?”
“Rainbow must learn that her actions have consequences and that they are of her own making and nopony else’s. Once she has learned this, she will be returned to us. But until that day, be it tomorrow or a hundred years hence...her fate is in her own hooves and I can do nothing to help her.” She shut her eyes, doing her best to regain her self-control. She felt emotionally and physically wasted and wished for nothing more than to allow herself to enter the Slumber.
“Celestia don not think bec-” Cadence began, only for Celestia’s attention to be seized by a pungently dark magical source sending a chill through her horn. She stood up, forgetting her own exhaustion, and Cadence trailed off.
“Celestia, what’s wrong?” she asked, quickly following behind her.
“Somepony has tampered with the Hjerte Eske.” Celestia said tightly. “Remain here. I shall go investigate by myself.”
“But-” Cadence began, only to have Celestia silence her by raising her hoof.
“Stay. Here.” she commanded. With visible reluctance Cadence obeyed, remaining in place. Celestia gave her a thankful yet tired look before heading for the Weapons Chamber.
/////////////////////////////
I need to see the physician—now. Damn me for not going the instant we returned…what was I thinking, this wound could be infected with Faust knows what kind of diseases …
Trixie limped down the corridors—her head felt like an anvil and her shoulder like lead—Spitfire’s words kept sounding through her heart.
How dare that peasant nag mention my child? She isn’t fit enough to clean my baby’s hooves…
My baby…
She stumbled and ducked into a shadowy alcove, covering her mouth with her hoof. She felt like there was a stone in her throat and she couldn’t draw breath around it.
My baby, my babies, all my poor babies.
Sleipnir and all his perfect little hooves. Jörmungandr’s skin that had more colors than the Rainbow Bridge. Fenrir with his downy coat. The ribbons in Hela’s black curls.
It never mattered how they came about—even Sleipnir—she of all ponies knew what it was to suffer for things that could not be helped or controlled. Just because their father was a rake or a fool didn’t change the fact that they were her children first; their fathers only instigated the process but she carried them, she nurtured them and she birthed them. They would never know or remember their fathers but they knew her—the lilting sound of her voice, the graceful canter of her walk, the wonder of her magic—and remembered it somewhere in their souls, even if they never unearthed it. She of all people knew the soul never forgot, even if the mind did.
I’ll never forget. They can take them away from me, give them to other mothers, keep them hidden from me but they can’t make me forget a single thing about them. They were mine and they were perfect—
Her line of thought was cut off by a spear of pain biting into her mind. The choirs of whispering voices had swelled like a roaring inferno—she could practically feel it now—and her shoulder felt frostbitten. Again she was vaguely aware of wisps of words echoing in the noise but she could not gather the presence of mind to grasp them. She had endured magical injuries, war wounds, and labor pains but nothing compared to this…torture.
Faust, what is happening to me?
She stumbled out of the alcove and back into the hallway, nearly slamming into two pony pages coming in the opposite direction. The pain spiked and Trixie wanted to scream but only managed a strangled sob.
“My Lady, are you well?” one of pages asked in a concerned voice. He reached out as if to support her and Trixie drew away as if afraid of being bitten.
“My Lady, do you need—”
“Get away from me,” Trixie’s voice came out like a warped snarl.
Both ponies jumped back as if from the strike of a serpent.
“My Lady, are you—” the other pony began but was cut off by Trixie.
“Get. Away.”
They didn’t need further encouragement; they took off down the hall and Trixie continued in the other direction, now unable to walk without leaning against the wall. The whole world seemed to tilting and tumbling in some crazed dervish and she was certain her head was going to implode before reaching the physician and would have berated herself for not asking the pages to fetch him but there were so many sounds in her brain she didn’t want to add another with her own thoughts.
She was about to give up and just faint on the floor when something tickled at the very edge of her consciousness…
…Silence.
Trixie paused, her body now slicked in sweat and shivering, hugging the wall. It was still there: a sliver of stillness in the hellish tumult. Oh Faust, there was nothing she would ever experience as long as she lived as wonderful as that tiny flake of quiet.
Trixie didn’t realize she was moving until she caught sight of the armored guards ahead of her. She hesitated and realized she was down the hall from the Weapons Chamber. The silence was definitely coming from within it; it was now a steady stream curving through her mind and although the noise hadn’t decreased, it at least was endurable.
I need to get in there. Once I can think clearly again I can send for the physician or Mother. This might be some curse they cast upon me.
But she knew no one was allowed in since the attack and she couldn’t imagine tolerating the pain any longer. It was still quite a walk to the physician’s office and even at a gallop it would take longer than she cared to fathom for him to reach her or for her to be carried there. No, there was relief close by and she needed it. Now.
Even with a head ready to split from the noise it was such an easy matter to locate the secret hidden passage into the Weapons Chamber. The guards never even batted their eyelashes.
Trixie staggered down the Chamber corridor, having to twice lean against the pillars on either side. She wanted to collapse right there on the glossy floor but the silence kept her going.
It’s just ahead, just a few more steps…
And then she stood before the Hjerte Eske, the Changeling’s Casket. It sat dark and cool on its pedestal and utterly quiet.
Trixie frowned. There were other weapons in the Chamber all very inanimately silent but this was different, it wasn’t the absence of life or sentience that caused their dull inward stillness, this silence literally emitted out from the Casket and pooled about it like mist.
This is some Changeling trick, some infernal work. I should go.
But Trixie didn’t move. She stared at the Casket, basking in the cool quietness like a sweet aroma. How different it felt from the wild, demonic hysteria that filled her brain now. She could sell her soul for a second of that beautiful, wonderful silence.
The silence was there, just a touch away. Her hooves trembled. Her hooves moved forward as if they had a mind of their own.
I just need a moment’s peace… she thought as her hoof edged closer.
She ground her teeth and grasped the handles.
The reaction was instantaneous. All the noise without suddenly died as if snuffed out and the Casket beginning to shudder violently.
Don’t be scared; what did you expect Trixie, it’s a powerful weapon—
The thought was cut short as Trixie felt a sudden pain in her chest, as if a knife had been plunged into her flesh through her muscles and bone, cutting a path to her pounding heart. The icy feeling in her shoulder spread through her whole body and she could feel her body shift and change around her. her normally blue coat quickly shifted to the same pitch black as the Changelings. She opened her mouth to cry out, but instead, she felt as if her scream was being sucked down into her soul, into the phantom wound in her chest and sucked straight into the Casket.
The Casket suddenly ceased trembling and Trixie was about to remove her hooves when it emitted a sudden icy blast that shot up her forelegs, through the wound and right into her heart.
Her every muscle seized except her heart: it’s every tendon and sinew was stimulated with what felt like flaming frost that licked through the chambers and its beating accelerated until it was one continuous humming hammer. Trixie felt her heart grinding open a door within itself and somehow knew that if it did there would be no closing it again.
She tried to move, to sever whatever connection to the casket she could feel was being formed, but her muscles wouldn’t or couldn’t respond.
Oh Faust save me!
Too late.
The door flung open and sent the fiery ice blasting through her whole body from the ends of her ears to the tips of her hooves. And with it came the scream it had stole from her, shooting upwards through her chest, neck, and finally into her skull where it exploded like thunder.
But it wasn’t just her scream, her voice. It was many voices, some in pain, some of joy and with horror, but every single one was a scream.
Everything went searing white and she didn’t feel, think, or know anything except the screams, they filled her up to the brim, they took hold of her, they possessed her.
Trixie felt something like a gear clicking into place in her mind and the voices instantly lowered but did not cease, allowing her body to loosen but not release. The cold fire calmed to a simmer and her heart steadied to a familiar easy beat.
The voices began chanting in unison:
…Trixie, Trixie, Trixie…
Trixie blinked slowly. What—
But before the thought even formed they answered: The Caset. We come through the box and bleed through you, Trixie.
Who are you? She thought.
As if in response, the white fell from her eyes like a curtain and Trixie could again see. Not with her eyes however, but with her heart. It functioned almost like a projector, projecting moments before her in vivid color as if she was really there.
She saw Changeling kings and queens each in their time come to the Casket both to imbibe and unleash its might; how when they laid their hooves upon it, their every emotion was absorbed so the very essence of their hearts and the outline of their minds was carved into it.
And she could feel herself rupturing and dissolving into their winding depths. She could feel her dribbling out of herself, like sand through a sieve, steady and unstoppable as the tide of emotions that blasted and dragged her.
Am I afraid?
There were so many feelings saturating her she could not tell the difference from one to another. It was all just bile blackness—oh yes, everything was black: the passions for their obsessions, the thoughts for their malignant plans, and finally the faces, furiously fanged and hideously holed.
But there was one face that remained steady in her eyes that all the others seemed to emanate from, one as black as a night without a moon or stars with fangs as long as dragon teeth and eyes gleaming like dragon’s scales.
And as those blazing emerald eyes glared directly into hers Trixie felt the thousand whispers of the dead kings and queens speak in unison so it created a roar in her head:
Penumbrus.
The name was so dread it made Trixie’s body shudder so violently she thought she would drop the Casket. But the Casket was the one holding her, it seemed sunk into her hooves like the fangs of a rabid beast.
Trixie knew the name and like all good Asgardians she feared it like death itself. Penumbrus—the firstborn son of Borr, the first All-Father, by his first wife Freyja and half-brother to Faust, the first All-Mother, daughter of Borr’s second wife Frigg. Every foal learned the story before they learned their names:
Long ago, Borr the Mighty had two children, Faust, whom he loved with all his heart, and Penumbrus, his first born son. Now Penumbrus soon grew envious of the young Faust, believing her to be usurping his rightful place at the right hoof of Borr. He attempted to slay her, but was found out and banished. The Dread Son wandered amongst the four winds, and was found by the dread spirit of Nightmare Moon, who bargained with him, promising love and affection. However, Penumbrus was cheated, and instead was transformed into the first Changeling.
But as Trixie stared into the eyes of the Dread Son she saw not only the hate (though there was much of that) swarming there but pain: such staggering anguish and desolation. It poured through Vein into Trixie’s heart like pain through a broken leg, lancing and scorching. Her body wanted to double over in agony but the Casket refused to release her.
Why do I feel his pain so clearly? All the others come through in waves, like smoke on the horizon. Why is his so strong?
The Casket growled and images began to string themselves before her eyes: Penumbrus asleep in his tent, wings drawn about his face. A shadow fell over him and a younger stallion stood before him—his son Eroberer as the Bleed told her—leaning over his father. Trixie saw his horn glowing the same wicked green as Chrysalis’s and his face was twisted in resolute hatred. There was a glint of a blade, a burst of red, and then the son was cradling something in his hooves, something dripping and quivering.
His father’s heart.
Hjerte Eske.
Heart Casket.
No. Trixie could feel the rejection throbbing through the casket and she could taste the bitterness. Not Hjerte Eske: Den Hjerte Eske.
“The Heart Casket.”
The Heart of Penumbrus—the Dark Father of the Changing Children, the Shifters of Souls, the Firstborn son of Borr the Father of All and the One Right Lady Frea. The Vein that into the children of his body it alone Bleeds.
The Heart is Life, the Vein is Breath, the Blood is Motion.
The heart of Trixie.
Trixie Penumaden.
Daughter of Nyphomanos, daughter of Chrysalis, Prince and Princess of the Changelings, Lord and Lady of Hekklheim, the Land of Memories and Motion.
Blood enemies of the Borrsons, baseborns of the Great Whore, the Marauding Murderess.
“Stop!” the clear sound of Celestia’s voice, with all the magic lancing through it reenacted the suppression spells and the enchantment was broken. Trixie dropped the now silent casket, its landing thud resounding through the chamber. She didn’t turn around. The spells were like a tourniquet and the voices stopped as of a door was shut.
“Mother,” she said slowly but her voice was hoarse. “Am I cursed?”
“No,” Celestia said coolly. Trixie had heard that tone before; it was her Just Judge voice—dispassionate, detached, disinterested—it had cooled many a heated conflict. But Trixie was already cold all through. she took a step forward, her now hole ridden hooves clicking on the hard stone floor and her insectoid wings buzzing behind her.
“Then what am I?” Trixie whispered, her eyes narrowing.
“You are my daughter,” Celestia said firmly.
Now Trixie turned around to face her. “What more than that?”
Celestia stared at her with queenly impassiveness and Trixie stared back with icy resolve.
“The casket wasn’t the only thing you brought back from Hekkerhiem, was it?” Trixie said slowly, her voice cold.
This time Celestia cast her eyes down and her voice lost its stateliness. “No.”
Trixie took a step forward. “What happened?”
Celestia looked noticeably older all of a sudden, as if a great weight were on her shoulders. The color faded from her mane slightly, and Trixie noticed she had looked the same when speaking with Chrysalis back on Hekkerhiem. “After the Penumbsons fled before us and we had gathered our dead I went into the enemies’ castle to the royal bedroom. There was a cradle there and inside was a foal, so small for a royal child, abandoned and alone. Queen Chrysalis’ child.” Celestia said, her voice heavy.
“Chrysalis.” Trixie said.
“Yes,” Celestia said.
Trixie didn’t hear her. She saw an image of those dark green eyes, so malignant and aggrieved. Had her own victims seen them when she had lifted whatever veil she had set over their eyes with her petty parlor tricks?
“Why?” she heard herself ask.
Celestia looked up and seemed poised to answer but didn’t speak.
“You were steeped in changeling blood—why did you spare me?” Trixie found herself repeating, her voice dripping with emotion.
“You were only a child, Trixie, innocent of any—”
“No!” Trixie’s voice rose sharply. “No. You had just seen your father and your husband slain. You were bereft, you were angry. You took me from my cradle for a purpose. What was it?”
Celestia again looked as if she wanted to speak but did not seem to dare. The tourniquet suddenly loosened, the door opened, and the rage of a thousand past changeling kings and queens surged again through Trixie.
“TELL ME!”
Trixie’s voice sounded like all the voices of the casket came swarming out of her mouth, hissing and moaning and wailing.
Few could have endured such a magical release—Celestia did, but not without grief. When she spoke her voice was gentle, as if she sought to calm all the cries from the past.
“I thought we could in time join our two households. I first purposed for you to marry Thunderlane but you were so young and he was already grown so wild it seemed an unsteady goal and so we adopted you. We hoped to set you upon the throne in Hekkerhiem and so bring an end to the conflict of our fathers and peace to our houses. But none of that matters now.”
But Trixie had the power of the Changelings roaring through her—a connection to Pemumbrus’ own heart—and everything turned black before her eyes. “So I am nothing but another looted plunder, captive in your mighty fortress until I am sufficiently servile to be of use to you?”
Celestia shook her head. “Hjerte Eske has twisted your mind—”
“It is NOT just Hjerte Eske, it is Den Hjerte Eske. The Heart Box. You stole their heart; my mother’s, my people’s. My heart.” Trixie spat back.
“No, no, no,” Celestia said. “I only sought peace, it is all I ever sought, for yours and mine.”
“Driving my father to end himself, hounding my mother into the depths of the earth, and abducting me from my family?” Trixie asked, taking a step forward. “Deceiving me as to my true lineage, my true person, so I was suffered to be mocked and derided by all for my strange affectations and features for no fault of my own?” Another step forward. “So that I became so discouraged that I began to thirst like a slave after love I let myself be brought low by vile persons for the frailest hope of warmth and meagerest pretense of affection, and thought myself base and not merely pitifully ignorant and untutored in my natural impulse?” Another step forward. “Then when I birthed children of strange proportions and bizarre appearance they were cursed to be entitled monsters and sent from me as if they were a thing of shame and not the function of my natural order?”
“Trixie—”
Trixie continued her tirade unabated. “And it all makes sense now! Why you favored Rainbow Dash all these years, of course because she was your true daughter and I was only a foundling foisted upon you by your godly feeling of compassionate usage!”
“Trixie cease this madness, this is folly!” Celestia finally spoke but her voice was pleading, almost prostrate begging. “You must know that I love you as my own child—are you are my child! I have cradled you, taught you, and comforted you, what more must I do to assure you of my true and genuine love?”
As she spoke she drew near to Trixie and laid a hoof on her shoulder, as if to entreat her to reason. At the touch Celestia could feel the power coursing through Trixie’s body, but to Celestia it drained all the sentiments brimming inside of her and seemed to be working at melting the will and strength of her very soul. On impulse her magic reacted defensively, reaching out to cauterize the wound and dam the flow, closing over Trixie like a fist. Trixie felt the power stop again, like a door slamming shut, and her body cool from a broil to a simmer and her flesh rearrange itself into its light blue, Borrson form.
“I abhor you,” Trixie said softly but there was steel in her voice. “You may love me, but only in the image of your Father—your image.” She shoved Celestia away violently. “You grafted me into your family with the intent of implanting your mores and your standards into me and casting me into your image!” Celestia once more looked noticeably weaker with each passing second, and unexpectedly fell to her knees in front of Trixie.
“Trixie, please…” she whispered, her noble voice now quiet and fearful. Trixie ignored Celestia’s pleas and once more stalked forward.
“You think yourself a goddess and me your clay, to people my Father’s home with your Father’s blood!” she shrieked. “So it ever was with you Borrsons, you Users and Usurpers, Drinkers of Blood and the Stealers of Names! I CURSE YOU! I curse and yours forever!” she said the final words in an explosion of unbridled rage and fury, and she could feel the power from Den Hjerte Eske burst forth and assault Celestia with a blast of magical power and energy.
The last bits of color, which had been steadily fading the entire time, disappeared from Celestia, leaving her body and mane a sickly pale shade of grey. Her knees gave out and her body fell to the ground, unconscious.
All of a sudden, as if the door that had opened was slammed shut, all the anger and rage of the past changeling kings and queens faded away, and as if a fog had cleared, Trixie found herself reaching forward with a hoof to gently touch Celestia.
“M-mother?” she whispered, now feeling a tremendous sense of guilt.
What have I done?
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Oh dear... so rape as backstory?
Hopefully this resolves itself without a lot of needless death
2544860 Well....there won't be a lot of unnecessary death...at least not yet
2544909 yay for unnecessary death (I just had the bad guys in my story take a jump over the Moral Event Horizon, so I'm riding an evil trip right now)
2544918 KILL ALL THE BACKGROUND CHARACTERS!
2544924 FORGET YOU I CAN KILL ALL THESE BACKGROUND CHARACTERS!!!
Is it bad that this chapter kind of gives me warm fuzzies
2545344 a chapter that mentions rape, cutting people's hearts out and hatredmgave you warm fuzzies?
Explain
Your version > movie version. I mean, damn, that was intense and I loved it! But now, I really hope Trixie has more of a redemption than Loki did. I feel horrible for her, which is an accomplishment because I never feel bad for Trixie.
2545478 Trixie loves her kids even though she hasn't seen them in years, regardless of the fact that they are horrible Monsters the unconditional love of a mother is a beautiful thing:, warms my callused heart
you guys are too hung up on the bad
2545569 Wow thanks a lot!
My co-writer will be so happy to hear that.
And as for redeeming Trixie? Depends on how the story goes
2545585 Ah I see!
Yeah that is sweet...in a twisted morbid way
I never understood this part does Trixie (Loki) still love their mother (father) after this little encounter?
2546434 Well, that will be explained a little more next time we see her.
If anything, right now she's having a massive melt down, so yeah....bound to say stuff she might not otherwise say.
Also, thanks for the watch!
How many kids has Trixie had? And DAMN...very, very impressive backstory of the Changlings, I really enjoyed it, confusing as buck but at least it's better then just random words that make no sense, it's woven to be understandable and it is enjoyable. So Trixie cursed her 'mother' huh? This is new and certainly intense, though it is a wonder of why Spitfire has so much hate for her....damn, this is amazing
2571722 How many children has Trixie had?
Well...maybe four....
As for the history of the Changelings, this is actually the STRIPPED DOWN version if you would believe it. Trust me, the full story is so complicated it warrents its own story. But that won't be for a LONG TIME.
And Spitefire hates Trixie because she sees her as a rich, arrogant snob asshole...which isnt far from the truth,
2572016 I knew it
It really does seem like it should be
Shit, I would read it if it was ever made
I have to very much agree with that, but still...Trixie is still best villian
2572086 well of course she is.
She's awesome.
And I'll probably write that story, but not for a VERY LONG time, since I want to hone my craft more before tackling something so serious and complicated.
2572346 Always, she's Trixie
I can completely understand that, that's going to take so much thought process and time it's not even funny
2573291 Exactly.
Heck, I had an idea for a separate one shot that showed exactly what happened in detail during the big battle mentioned in the prologue.
My sister decided to write it. She said however that she'll write it at her own pace, so that won't happen for awhile.
2573325 THAT IS awesome!!!
Shit, I can't wait to read it
2573383 Yeah that is pretty awesome.
But, unfortuneatley, she's also working on various non-pony related fiction of her own. Namely a hyper-complicated fantasy that she's been tinkering with for more then a year.
So the Soar battle thing won't be done for ages.
2573398 I very much agree
Shit, I can understand that, I'm a published author myself (even though mine is crap) and I know what it's like to want to do your own thing for a while, it's tough, may I ask what it's about? I can tell and understand
2574010
I had her write that herself. She says that's as stripped down as she can get it and still make sense.
It's awesome.
Dun Dun Dun...
How do I have a feeling that Trixie's kids will make an appearance?
2588066 Well....they might. I'd have to talk to my co-writer about that.
Again, this is a story who's main focus is Rainbow Dash and Trixie. I hope to include them, but then again I might not you know?
2588216
I assume the outcome will be good either way.
I like it!
ANOTHER CHAPTER!
*smashes cider glass*
I like how you included Loki's brood in Soar in the form of Trixie's brood. I feel bad for Trixie being separated from her "poor babies". Does Jörmungandr lurk about the ocean bordering Equestria...? Hela, no doubt, reigns over the Equisgard equivalent to Niflheim. And what of Fenrir...?
2603039 Everybody stand asides we got a badass over here!
I am SO HAPPY that you understood that reference. Also thanks for the fave.
And my co-writer does want to give Slepnier a scene in this, since he's apparently immortal.
And as for her other children...Hela will most defiantly rule Helhiem, and Jorgermandir and Fenir? They probably fill their respective rolls as well. Not sure if those three will be featured here, though, if only for pacing reasons. As awesome as Trixie's kids are, they're not the focus here. Our main focus is Rainbow Dash and her arc and Trixie and her own arc. Any apparences by Trixie's children are going to be purely story driven.
Also, I intend Thunderlane to be my Tyr and Rumble (who's yet to make an apparence, hopefully soon though) will be my Balder. How's that sound?
2603187
Sounds pretty good. (Talking about your choices for Tyr and Balder.)
I do understand the necessity of Sleipnir being the only one of Trixie's brood to make an appearance. Pacing IS important, and unless they have some part to play, they would just slow this story down.
2603209 why thank you my friend.
And I even came up with a reason why Thunderlane got bypassed for the All-Father ship.
It's rather complicated though, and would be better understood as a PM (that way nobody else knows
)
Damn! you and your cowriter are good! Very good!
Only fluttershy's story left now!
2637774 Thanks! I'm going to be working on the next chapter of this one so hopefully I'll be able to get it up by next week or so.
WHOA......INTENSE......I LOVE IT!
I see what you did there!
I'm seven chapters in. This chapter and the last were slight deviations from the story of the first Thor movie, but only slight. It's not enough. At this point I'm asking myself if I really want to go on. Is it really worth it? I love RD, Scoots and Trixie but I want to see an original story with them. Not a half-baked Thor ripoff that is poorly converted from pure ponies to anthro (numerous lines in this chapter alone contain references to hooves when it should be hands). I'll check out your Iron Mare and Captain Equestria stories, but based on this story I'd guess that they are also ponified versions of the first Iron Man and Captain America movies. As for this one? I'm out. I was expecting an original story, but what I got was a retelling of the movie story.
for some reason i actually want celestia to suffer
but that's not how you give justice
A very interesting re-evaluation of the Loki character in Marvel, makes Trixie's role as a betrayer (I assume, I've only read this far) much more sympathetic.
9645518 Oh thank you! I’m glad you find it effective