My Little Teelo: Masquerade

by Ardwolf

The Art Of Diplomacy

In which we discover the humble pen can shape the destiny of worlds.

Disclaimer: I do not own and did not create My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. It belongs to the Hub cable TV network and Hasbro. My congratulations to Lauren Faust for taking what would have been nothing more than a blatant toy commercial and turning it into a truly epic series, one worth viewing by all ages.

I didn’t write this story for profit. It is merely intended to entertain any reader who stumbles upon it. I hope my poor attempt has some merit in the eyes of those who read it, and if not, well at least I tried.

Author’s Note: I’d like to thank GoldenGriffiness for being my beta-reader. As always, her input was critically important for improving the quality of the story. And of course, any remaining errors are, alas, mine and mine alone.

I took the liberty of incorporating places mentioned on a map of Equestria created by Hlissner over on Deviant Art. It really is an amazing piece of artwork. It’s hosted on Equestria Daily and is the first entry on Google for “Map of Equestria” if you’re curious.

Laoise is pronounced LEE-sha. Gotta love Gaelic…

Oh, I got Spike’s full name from Saphroneth’s excellent story A Unicorn At Hogwarts and make references to certain events that occur in Ghost Of Heraclitus’s magnificent Whom The Princesses Would Destroy…

I highly recommend both.

Any scene that takes place on Earth is marked as such while any unmarked scenes take place on Equis.

She sat on her throne, outwardly serene, the sounds of a contented hive murmuring around her. But in her private thoughts, carefully shielded from her children, she grieved for the ones who perished in the attempt to secure her hive’s future. It had been almost a year now but the pain still made her scream, deep inside her mind, where her children could not hear her.

So many lost, so many who would never join their thoughts to hers in glorious communion! Over half the hive lost! All for nothing.

It wasn’t like those ponies couldn’t spare it! They positively dripped with endless bounty, they wasted it! They didn’t appreciate what they had and cast it away without a second thought, every single day.

Why shouldn’t her children enjoy the bounty others simply threw away?

So she had deceived the ponies, so what? She had plotted and schemed to secure the true riches of Equestria for herself and her children. Of course she had! They deserved to live, didn’t they? How was it any different for them than for those ponies? How was it fair they starved while the ponies grew fat?

Ever since The Change she and her children had been reduced to living off scraps, furtively stealing a bare existence, always on the edge of oblivion, always just one day away from the final darkness.

Her mind automatically skittered away from thinking about The Change. It was too painful. Any attempt to remember brought a screaming migraine that incapacitated not only her, but all her children as well.

Which meant The Change was a mystery lost in time. She was the only survivor of that day, now thousands of years in the past, and it was dangerous to even try remembering it. So she didn’t—at the price of being denied the knowledge of why she and her children suffered. It was a high price, but one she had no choice but pay.

Her reverie was broken by an unexpected eddy in the flow of magic. She felt the disturbance cross a second ward, then a third, seemingly invisible to the hundreds of drones it slipped past. That could only mean one thing…

Intruder!

The calm hum of wings became a terrifying roar as her alarm call flashed outward. But even as the hive snapped into violent alertness the intruder’s pace never varied. It was as though it was oblivious to the massed rage seeking to find and destroy it.

Her elite guards, twice the height of a normal drone, clustered in front of her eagerly awaiting the enemy’s appearance. They were nearly mindless, driven only by animal instinct and her imposed will. But they were swift and deadly and utterly obedient. She drew comfort from their presence even as she readied her own magic to repel the interloper.

“It’s here,” she whispered abruptly, eyes narrowing. Eager eyes scanned the chamber, but found nothing amiss. Her guards’ agitation grew in lock-step with her own.

A chill wind sprang up from nowhere, whipping her scraggly mane about and whistling eerily through the openings in her legs. She shivered from the intimate icy caress.

“Enough! Show yourself cur! How dare you take such liberties with a queen?” Her incensed growl echoed around the chamber, easily overcoming the thunderous roar of her guards’ wings.

“As you wish, Your Majesty.”

The faint whisper echoed unnaturally around the chamber, easily audible, even above the sound of enraged wings. The sound was that of claws on a chalkboard, so faint it should have been impossible to hear.

She truly wished it had been.

The chittering screech left her feeling unclean, as though something had crawled in her ear and died.

Pale blue mist began to gather in front of her throne. The swirling vortex quickly resolved itself in a faintly glowing horse, gaunt to the point of starvation, ribs clearly visible under its translucent flesh. The spectre had glowing eyes so flat and dead she had to avert her own.

She could see through the creature, which was nothing but glowing fog. In place of hooves there were jagged stumps that constantly oozed tattered mist. Its ragged breath puffed from flared nostrils, little puffs of blue steam. The temperature of the throne room began to fall precipitously.

Windigo.

Sick horror knotted her belly, but she allowed nothing to show on her face. This was her place. Here, her word was law. Here she was invincible. She would not give this foul undead thing the satisfaction of seeing the fear and loathing it inspired.

Her guards remained unaffected, nothing more than mindless killing machines. Her will was their only motivation; there was no room in them for fear. She forced herself to relax as she spoke to the abomination.

“Why are you here?” The ice in her tone matched the chill of her visitor’s empty blank stare.

“My Master sends his greetings, Great Queen.”

She fought a shudder as that horrible voice wormed its way into her soul. “He has heard of the misfortune visited upon you. He sends a gift to comfort you in your time of mourning. It is his hope you are able to use it to ease your pain.”

A scroll slid noiselessly from the windigo’s mouth, floating on a cloud of its breath toward her.

Warily she lit her misshapen horn and took the scroll before it could come near her, levitating it with her magic to keep it at a safe distance. She frowned at its odd appearance, lime green and strangely fuzzy, encrusted with ice.

Using her magic she forced the stiff and frozen thing to unroll. Her stomach roiled as she finally recognized exactly what the scroll had been made from.

Quickly she spun the open scroll in midair to confirm her suspicions. Bile rose in the back of her throat as she saw the colorful design on the back of the scroll, a drafting compass superimposed on what was clearly a map.

I hate them, every single gluttonous wastrel one of them, but I would never do this! Her stomach lurched again.

“Why?” She asked in a tight voice as she shook the scroll at the creature. “Why make a scroll from this?”

“The previous owner had no further use for it,” the windigo replied. “However the gift is not the scroll itself but rather what is written on it. You will find it intriguing.”

Reluctantly she spun the scroll back to face her and studied it. Flayed hide, raw and untreated met her horrified gaze. The writing shone with the sickly red glow of enchanted blood, still fresh. She could see where it had run in places.

Forcing her rebellious stomach to settle she started reading, hoping the message would make up for the horrible cost of the writing materials. She was so shaken it took her two attempts to make sense of the message.

But when she finally did her eyes widened and a genuine smile appeared on her face. It almost made her forget what the scroll in front of her represented.

“Your master guarantees the accuracy of this information?” She asked the windigo eagerly.

“He does, Your Majesty.”

“And what does your Master want in return?”

“Nothing,” the windigo answered. “It is a gift, freely given.”

“Who is your Master, undead spirit?” She asked, thoughts racing.

“I am not permitted to say,” the spirit replied. “He feels it would be discourteous to impose any further during your time of grief. Farewell, Great Queen. My Master offers his condolences for your loss.”

Bowing, the windigo promptly lost its shape, fading from view even as it flowed toward the exit. She watched as it left the hive, its presence invisible save for the disturbance it made as it crossed each ward. When it crossed the outermost one she finally relaxed, sending a soothing message to the rest of the swarm, which began to slowly settle back into the routine of a contented hive again.

She reread the grisly message a third time, then sat lost in thought. The scroll sank to the floor, landing with a wet plop. There was silence in the chamber for several minutes.

When she finally roused herself her eyes were dancing and a huge grin bared her fangs. Her laughter echoed from the walls as she summoned her advisors.

ooOoo

Earth, Friday, May 28, 2013 12:05 PM

“This sucks, Teelo,” Emma groused, pushing the peas around her plate without actually eating any. “It’s the last day of school, and I won’t get to see you all summer! You don’t even need summer school! Your grades are great, way better than mine! On top of all that, why does it have to be so far away?”

“It’s not that kind of school, Emma,” Teagan said patiently. “It’s a kind of advanced prep school thing. I can’t really tell you much about it, and if it wasn’t for being so far from home, and lasting all summer, I’d really be stoked about it.”

“This is because of January, isn’t it?” Emma asked in a low voice, glancing around.

“Sort of,” Teagan lowered her own voice, but it was clear she was amused. “That was—different. This is sort of because of that, but in a good way. You know I can’t say much.”

“I know,” Emma made a face at her peas. “Gah! It’s the start of summer. Why did I get peas? I don’t really like peas.”

“Into every life a few peas must fall,” Teagan said portentously, and then giggled. “They aren’t that bad. Besides, you could have picked the carrots instead.”

Emma made another face. “Hello? Have you seen the carrots here? They’re like mush. Ugly, nasty mush.”

She dropped her fork on the plate. “You mind if I come over to your house for a while?”

“Sure. You can help me pack,” Teagan said, smiling at her friend.

“That’s right, put me to work. Any chance I could sleep over?”

Teagan shook her head regretfully. “I wish. But I’ll be leaving at three in the morning, so there won’t be time. It’s best if you aren’t there, trust me.”

“I know. You’ve told me over and over. What I don’t know I can’t tell anyone,” she rolled her eyes. “It’s just so frustrating, you know?”

“I know,” Teagan said sympathetically. “If the stakes weren’t so high I’d tell you in a heartbeat. You know that. But I don’t want you involved when you don’t have to be. You’re too important to me.”

“Jeez, play the guilt card why don’t you? How am I supposed to argue with that?”

“You aren’t,” Teagan grinned. “You’re my best friend, Emma. I have to keep you safe. And the only way I can do that is make sure you’re nowhere near this stuff.”

“I just want to help. You’re important to me too, you know,” Emma blinked, on the edge of tears.

“Yeah, I know,” Teagan said seriously. “Don’t start crying or you’ll get me started too, you loon. So cheer up!”

“I will if you will—Squirt,” Emma said with a sudden impish grin.

Teagan just shook her head and started chuckling.

ooOoo

“We had thought this matter settled, Snøskred,” Princess Luna said, letting a precisely measured tinge of irritation creep into her voice. “We will gladly open the Bridge of Days for the Dronning, and provide a wing of the Sun Shield as escort. We also agreed to transport her personal guards so they could be present at her arrival. Thee knows firsthand the limitations of our chariots when it comes to thy species! It is a matter of weight, Snøskred. We have very few chariots that can transport a fully grown troll. Now thee wants to add her entire retinue to the Bridge opening? It is simply not possible!”

“Sun Hammer faces the same problem as a troll, does he not?” The Snøskred rumbled. In this private audience he discarded the normal trollish bristling. The two had enough of a history it no longer fooled the alicorn, and she was sharp enough he was glad to forgo the effort, needing his undivided attention for negotiations.

“Sun Hammer has his own chariot, it is his personal property,” Luna said patiently. “Thee know this full well, so stop thy prattle. It takes four pegasi to pull a troll in a chariot. Her retinue consists of thirty trolls, Snøskred! That is five additional wings of the Sun Shield! As dear as Lady Teagan is to Equestria there are limits to the aid we can provide in times of peace. The Sun Shield have many other duties they must attend. Not to mention we lack large chariots in such numbers.”

“What if the retinue took the train to Ponyville then? Trolls are well accustomed to long marches; it would be no hardship to walk from Ponyville to the Bridge, even through the Everfree Forest.”

“There is no time,” the princess snorted. “The train takes two hours to reach Ponyville and it is a further hour’s trot to the Bridge on foot. A chariot can make the entire journey in a mere forty minutes. Even if a train were ready to depart this moment the Bridge opening is only two hours hence. No trains are even bound for Ponyville today. If thee had truly wanted such a solution thou wouldst have proposed it long ago. So what prompts this complete waste of breath, Snøskred?”

The ambassador permitted himself a small smile.

“The Kongen thought of it three days ago, Your Highness. One of our fastest runners was dispatched with the message, but we only received it two hours ago. My apologies, but the circumstances were beyond my control.”

“Ah.” The dark blue alicorn pondered that. “We understand, and ask thy pardon, Snøskred. Truly, thou art blameless in this. Still, as much as we wish it were otherwise, we are unable to honor the Kongen’s wishes in this matter. But let us see what might be done.”

Her horn lit up to summon a page.

“The World Below thanks you for your efforts, Highness,” the troll said smoothly.

ooOoo

“Rådgiver Sannheten, you asked to be informed of any changes to the Dronning’s itinerary.” A troll stood respectfully at the entrance of the councilor’s office, a lavishly engraved cavern hewn from bedrock, part of the Borgen, the main administrative complex of Hejm. The troll’s silver and black harness gleamed with green highlights in the glow of the lys-mose which covered the ceiling.

“Yes, Side Vang?” The old troll looked up from a spread of scrolls on the polished stone of his desk.

“The Kongen dispatched a runner to Canterlot yesterday, requesting the Dronning’s entire retinue greet her at the Regnbuebroen upon her return. The runner should arrive tomorrow.”

“I see. I must commend you on the speed of your discovery, Side Vang. Alas, aside from you, my sources of information are not what they once were.”

The other troll bowed his head respectfully. “Berggrunnen har fast, Rådgiver.” He left, leaving the old troll staring into space, contemplating the news.

The bedrock holds fast? I do wonder. The old troll winced at the direction his thoughts were taking.

The Kongen rules without Mountain Heart, but with the blessing of the Dronning, who is not even a troll, yet is bound to Mountain Heart. The Kongen has taken a wife who is not the Dronning, and Alene Avgrunn has said this is both lawful and proper.

Yet the Dronning names the pony who slew the old Kongen as friend. And Kongen Fjell has forgiven him that murder and seeks vengeance no longer.

We are even to forgive the ponies their trespass and welcome them as friends, by the will of the Dronning! Because the ponies are part of her clan, for all they are not her species! And so they become part of the World Below by clan right, though they be not trolls.

The bedrock is falling away and I despair for the future of the World Below. Yet the bitter truth is it was I who triggered this landslide we find ourselves in. The world is moving far too quickly now. I cannot keep up—I will be buried.

The old troll closed his eyes and sighed, feeling the weight of the mountain above him. He was so tired. Certainty had fled a decade ago with the old Kongen’s death and he feared he would not live to see the end of the landslide he had set in motion.

What have I done? By all that is sacred, what have I done?

Comments

[Hachibi]

Haha, after reading this chapter twice on two sites i still love it. Please continue the excellent work!

[Asa_harris]

not a bad start
can't wait for the next chapter

[More Dakka]

looks like another winner.

[World Theory]

So easy to ruin carrots by cooking them… Best to leave them raw. Silly cafeterias. (Don't mind me and my ruminations on root vegetables…)

Is looking good, the story is.