Short stories about ponies and whatnot

by shutaro

Love, death and dreams

The huge minotaur bull strikes a deadly blow at a changeling with his bloodied double axe. The changeling crumbles in the sand but two more take his place and press on. The minotaur’s eyes glow red with bloodlust, but as he looks around the former campsite he can only see more changelings in the cold desert night. He is the only one left fighting, the whole caravan is beaten. Some changelings have even started to carry away their prey. Finally his axe is yanked from his fists as it wedges in another dead changeling’s carapace, and he can no longer push back the assault. He is overwhelmed with hate and frustration as they pile above him.

The dream shifts and it’s very existence flickers as Luna enters the place. The changelings puff away as black smoke, the bound ponies, camels and minotaurs sink into the sand until only the beaten minotaur and the alicorn are left.

“Do you know who I am, minotaur?” the pony asks.

“Strong Hoof has listened to ancient stories about dark pony princess,” he replies with broken Equestrian. “You be Luna, mistress of night?”

“You are correct,” she nods. “Do you also know why I am here?”

“To save Strong Hoof from changelings and death in desert?” he says with a bit of hope in his voice.

“No, it is quite too late for that, my friend.” Her hoof reaches for the minotaur’s head, and as she touches it sickly green strands of magic glow and disappear from it. The scene around them shifts again. A lush minotaur village, another battlefield, a bedroom, a tavern, another bedroom, more scenes of battle and intimacy flash by in a matter of seconds. Finally it settles on a rather drab room, the walls bare rock, the bolted door made from black wood. “You are dreaming, and you have been for almost twenty five years. The changelings overwhelmed you that night and you have spent the years in a cocoon.”

Horror plays around the beastial face of the bull as he whispers, “Strong Hoof remember how they looked at him. Like he was a thing, something to be used.”

“And they did. They harvested your love, hate, fear, any emotion you felt. If you dare to look at it, you may step outside.” The door unlocks and opens a crack. ”But be warned, it is not a pleasant sight.”

Without a second thought the minotaur forces the door open and steps into a giant cave. Rows and rows of pods and cocoons line the walls, stand on the ground and hang from the ceiling. Some shine in a bright green light, but most glow only faintly or are completely dark. “Which one?”

“It is your dream. Any you dare to look at.”

The cocoon next to the door glows radiantly, and as Strong Hoof steps close he can look inside. Suspended in a green gunk floats another minotaur. The fur is almost completely gone, the hoofs and horns have broken off and lie at the bottom of the cocoon. Whatever muscles this warrior once had have melted away by years of disuse, only skin and bones remain. Strong Hoof steps away, his eyes wide with terror as he starts to shake. “No, not like this,” he whispers and falls to his knees. “Strong Hoof was to die that night. A beaten warrior, yes, but a warrior. Not … a thing.”

Luna sits next to the minotaur, she wraps a wing around the much bigger creature and she tries to comfort him in the mismatched hug. Finally the shivers stops and he calms down. “You not here to rescue Strong Hoof, no?”

“This cave is deep underground and its protection is stronger than even the queen’s chambers. No, there is no rescue from this place. And even if we could rip this mountain away and take your body from this place, no power could give you back your youth and health.”

“Like Strong Hoof want to live like this!”

“Then I can show you a way out, the same way I have shown a lot others,” Luna’s voice is carefully calm, bereft of any emotion. “But it is not an easy way.”

“Tell me, Strong Hoof will do anything to stop -,” the minotaur gestures to the whole cave, “- this.”

“Strong Hoof died in that fight in the desert. He lost every fight and perished. His wife killed him on their first night, and he broke his neck in the tavern brawl.”

“No, not true! Strong Hoof won all other fights and his wives love him!”

“Then the changelings will gather that pride and love. Even your hate. Only the dead feel nothing. Like I said, it is not an easy way. Especially for a proud warrior like you. But to end this, Strong Hoof has to die.”

The minotaur rises back to his hooves, but his shoulders are slumped. He hits ‘his’ pod with a mighty blow, the material yields but doesn’t break.. The fluid and the body in it slosh around a bit but settle down again. “Just tell me then, pony. If Strong Hoof dies like that, will his soul enter the great hall beyond?”

“I don’t know about your soul,” Luna chooses her words with deliberation. “But I do know that there is no honor in just waiting for your death like this. And fighting oneself is the hardest test life can give us. If there is no honor in that fight I know of none other.”

The minotaur thinks about her words, then turns to Luna and kneels before her. “Strong Hoof doesn’t know if he can dream like that. Can you help?”

Luna sighs, but nods. She places a hoof on the minotaur’s chest and whispers a few words under her breath. Finally she kisses him on his forehead, and a spark spins around him, then sinks into his skull. His eyes roll around wildly in their sockets as the magic takes hold. A few moments later the dream shifts again, back to the scene in the desert. Luna carefully cloaks her presence and watches as Strong Hoof is swarmed with changelings. The scene changes again, a campfire Strong Hoof shares with a female minotaur. Just as he reaches for her she drives a dagger into his heart. Luna steps out of the dream as it shifts once more.

***

“My Queen, we have lost another cave,” the changeling cowers in front of Chrysalis. “The output is so low, the pods can’t even keep the flesh alive anymore.”

The changeling queen can hardly believe the news. In the last two years her race has slowly but surely lost almost all reserves they have build up over centuries. And it is not an illness or external magic her advisers say. The flesh just stops feeling. Chrysalis rubs her temples and dismisses the messenger. She turns to her council. “Tell me then, how far are the plans for the invasion of Canterlot?”

Author's Note:

Not much to say here. Changelings are a nasty bunch.

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The Prompt: The kiss of death.