On the eve of the wedding of Shining Armor and Princess Cadence, a young pegasus struggling with his identity meets the changeling who has been exploiting his pain.
Ryler is a young pegasus stallion, a member of the noble House Valiant, and a pony struggling with his gender identity in an environment that has great expectations and little tolerance. Rasp is a changeling with the unusual ability to feed upon negative emotions. For weeks, Ryler's misery has sustained Rasp. Now, on the eve of the wedding of Princess Cadence and Shining Armor, the two will finally meet. But Rasp's plans for Ryler go beyond mere sustenance; he plans to give Ryler everything he could have wanted. Unfortunately.
Set in the universe of The Mirror Dance, with the author's permission.
The web cannot be undone, That has snared you here with me. It binds us both together, The best of enemies.
City of Canterlot, One Day Before the Changeling Invasion
In a cruel and imperfect world, the wedding of Shining Armor and Princess Cadence was going to be visible proof that world could still create perfection. The populace was awash in the exuberance of a fairytale come to life, though some of the nobility seethed in bitter jealousy. Wedding preparations continued despite the sad mental breakdown of one magical mare. The shield spell doming the city in a seemingly impenetrable barrier of protective force assured the citizenry that they were, as ever, free from danger.
As they did day in and day out, lesser stories continued to unfold. Normally, all of these stories would idly intersect, influencing each other in subtle ways. All that would change by the next afternoon. The changeling invasion of Canterlot would place the stories of thousands of ponies all on the same page, facing the same antagonists. Most of those stories would continue after the invasion, though one was about to come to an abrupt end. By the evening of the next day, the youngest stallion of House Valiant was going to be found missing, a victim of the changeling invaders...
City of Canterlot, Canterlot Castle, Chambers of Princess Cadenza
Cadence sat on a chair that somewhat approximated Celestia's royal throne, and found that it suited her quite nicely. The other chairs in her room were of lesser make, as was intended. At least the ponies had some ideas right, and it was only fitting that a ruler always be in a position that demonstrated her power, even while relaxing. She looked at the Solar Guard across from her, staring blandly at him. "Really, Rasp... you come to me impersonating the most generic and banal of ponies in this castle? You couldn't come up with something better to impress your queen with?"
The guard gave her a sly smile, and shook his head. "Your majesty, this form causes the least suspicion as I move about the castle, and requires the least energy. I wish to be at my peak when tomorrow comes."
With a dismissive flick of a hoof, Cadence signaled her general disinterest in further discussion on that topic. "Have you seen any of your brothers in the city?"
The guard shook his head again. "No, my queen, not a one. And not a whisper across the Commonality. Your other Infiltrators remain well hidden from the population at large, and from each other so far as I can tell."
Cadence nodded, her expression going more serious as the conversation continued. "Good. Continue to guard your thoughts. Princess Luna is annoyingly vigilant, and our Commonality is close enough to the dreams of ponies that her magic might detect it. I am having to expend significant resources keeping her distracted. But... this is not why you are here. You wished to see me, Rasp. What is this about?"
With a bow of his head, the guard who answered to the name Rasp drew in a breath and let it out softly. "Two issues, my queen. One is that I am... concerned. Never in my life have I seen you so radiant in power. I can -feel- it to my core. Between your draining of his love, and the drain of his magic by the shield's constantly being empowered, you will have rendered Shining Armor combat-ineffective by the wedding. If you cannot defeat Celestia herself, you will have the aid of the swarm. Princess Luna will be occupied elsewhere, Twilight Sparkle has been disgraced, and your position affirmed. You have even gained more emotional energy from the sympathy now being sent your way for your... aheam... suffering at the practice ceremony. Everything is going perfect."
Her eyes leveled, and Cadence seemed to know what was coming. "Get to the point, Rasp. Quickly."
Raps sighed out. "My queen, I am one of your Antithetical, it is my duty to cast a concerning shadow. You have never been as powerful. You have never had so much as now, we have never stood to gain as much as we’re about to. This is the point where jaded experiences tells me that everything usually falls apart. A point where one mistake in pride could cost us all. Since I was assigned to Canterlot I have known the euphoria of a feeding like I never have. Never have I been so full of energy, so powerful. I can barely hold the moments together. If this is what it is like for me, for you it must be...."
Cadence's hoof snapped down on the arm of her chair, making a loud clacking sound, cutting him off. She hissed softly, angrily. "Do not think to compare your experiences to mine, Rasp. You have as much conception of what it is like to be a queen as an ant knows what it is like to be a dragon. Your concerns are noted. What is your second matter?"
The guard gave a nod of his head, signifying his obedience. Dread curled in his stomach, though. They had a term for this; "Pony's Pride". The mistake of thinking that one had a special place in the universe, and that fate and circumstance were on their side. While that was often true for ponies, it was not for any other race. It was yet another reason among many that Rasp hated ponies. He was grateful the queen had ordered a halt to the use of the Commonality. He would not have wanted her feeling his emotions through the hive mind, her current state of arrogance would have been insulted. He would just have to hope, and that thought sickened him. Hope was for ponies.
"My queen, the other matter concerns one of the stallions of House Valliant. During my infiltration of the house, I chanced upon a source of nourishment unique to my needs. In fact, so potently empowered that he's been my only source of sustenance since my arrival. Bitterly miserable, and the absence of love in him is like a gaping wound. He is soul-sick in a way I have not encountered for quite some time." Rasp gave a smile to his queen. "I should like to keep him. With the right nurturing, he could be one of us, and another Antithetical in your service."
The changeling queen masquerading as the pink alicorn of love raised one eyebrow at Rasp. "Oh, really?" she said with a dry, but also doubting tone. "Rasp, in five generations you're the first Antithetical to survive to adulthood, and that only because of your innate sadism and willpower. I do not compliment quickly or easily; your ability has been a great asset to the hive, you have done your brothers and sisters a great service. Under normal circumstances, I would have made you one of my daughters by now, but..."
She didn't need to finish her statement, Rasp knew where this ended. If he were to become a princess of the hive, he would breed, and his offspring would be as he was, and they would all die because of it. He frowned, and nodded his head, and his attention was caught by one of the pony mannequins in the room. "Always the bridesmaid..." he said, muttering a pony phrase.
Cadence nodded back to him. "Indeed. But that cannot be helped. You know my point, though. It is not an easy thing to make a pony one of us. The idea of turning our food into us is repugnant on the face of it. Only rarely in our history have we felt it necessary. I want you to look me in the eyes and assure me this is not some misguided attempt to breed by proxy. Do you sincerely believe a pony... a PONY has the innate cruelty and malice to not only become a changeling, but become an Antithetical?"
Rasp smiled, a dark, pleasured, twisted, smile. "Innate to him? No, majesty, he does not. But the ponies have a saying: corruptio optimi pessima. Corruption of the best is the worst. He has a gentle soul, a feminine spirit, a giving and joyful heart, and his entire life has been one long cancer to his inner nature. Please trust me, majesty. I have been an outlier among our own race, and I know from a kindred life. The fates and destinies that guide ponies through the happy little utopia of their lives is potent, but not perfect. This little pony has slipped through the cracks. Their discard could be our benefit, though." Rasp stood up, and locked his eyes on those of his queen. "If he became one of us, this pony could exceed me, my queen. He might even earn a place as your daughter."
And that was just about as much as the Queen of the Changelings intended to take. That was one line crossed too many, even for an Antithetical whose job it was to offer contrarian opinions and unorthodox methods. She glared at Rasp harshly, snapped her hoof down again, and then pointed it at him. "AFTER the invasion. On your own initiative, and on your own time. And if this winds up being nothing more than you playing with your food, Rasp, you will return to the hive tenfold the emotional energy it takes for the pony's transformation, then watch as I devour him in front of you. I cannot believe you would come to me at so crucial a time with so wild and unrelated a request. Now go, I have much to work on before my.... wedding." Cadence narrowed her eyes at the guard. "And get your head screwed on, Rasp. You're letting your personal priorities come before the needs of the hive."
Rasp, chagrined and ashamed, bowed before his queen, and exited without further ado. Once outside of Cadence's chambers, he made his way through the hallways of the castle, walking with a silent scowl. She was right, of course. His eagerness to have someone like him, someone who felt what he did, was overshadowing his priorities. This could have waited, and her anger at his wild notions had almost undoubtedly made sure that any advice about pride and power would be forgotten. He should have stayed focused, should have stayed on mission, but that damn pony and the possibilities he saw had made Rasp as thoughtless as a newly hatched drone. Shame and humiliation lead to anger, and soon enough Rasp decided, as villains like him often did, that the best way to deal with the issue would be to take it out on someone else. He knew just who to pick.
City of Canterlot, Valiant Manor, Chambers of Ryler Valiant
Ryler Valiant's coat was soft and smooth, the color of a brown meadow of rye hit by the summer sun. His mane was a complimentary dark brown in color. And if you had asked him, it cast him in a rather drab light. His parents had thought the look of him to be stately and appropriate, no neon colors, no silly pastels. His name was a play on the word "Ryley", which in older tongues meant both "Rye" and "Valiant". But, sooner or later, someone would have noticed they had essentially named the child "Valiant Valiant", and that was far too gauche a thing. Ryler it was then. A fine name for a fine child of a fine family, of fine and noble upbringing.
In and among the nobles houses of the kingdom of Equestria, there were many rules, and many truths. One of the most unspoken, but painful truths, was that it is easier to forgive an enemy than to forgive family. When one's life, one's purpose, one's tradition is bound up in sacred and time-honored ways, breaking from them for personal reasons, no matter how compelling, was a sin of the highest order. Ryler was expected to set aside his own ambitions, and his own dreams, for the good of the family. As his brothers had, and his father, and his father before him, and so on with the mares of his family. All dutifully sublimating their desires to the needs of the line, of the blood.
Ryler could do no less, of course. Serve the family, serve Equestria, serve the pegasai who dominated the skies, moved the weather, who looked down from on high at all those under them; everyone else. So Ryler did as he was taught, and as he was told, and denial became his most constant companion. Of course, the corollary unspoken truth was that the more you were denied something, the more you wanted to do it. Such a truth was given testimony in all the clandestine affairs, court scandals, and secret revelations that had ended both individual lives, and entire houses.
If self-denial is difficult for an adult in an environment of wealth and plenty, it was more so for a young colt who had only recently entered stallionhood. The natural urges of his age, coupled with the secret urges of his particular desires formed a heady mixture. Add in the benefits of a refined life, access, and opportunity. Seal in the pressure cooker of judgement and denial, and let the whole concoction steam for a few years. Something has to give eventually. And it finally did, right on the eve of the biggest wedding in Canterlot in ten generations.
The whole of house Valiant was awash in preparations. The estate itself was being prepared for the after-wedding parties, with each house trying to outdo the other. A visit, even a short one, from the newly wedded couple, one of the diarch princesses, or even one of the Element Bearers would be cachet and currency between the rival factions. Another notch on the belt. As the young Ryler walked the halls of his family’s estate, making his way to his room, he looked about the hallways filled with pegasus-related artifacts and wondered idly if Rainbow Dash would show up. He snorted with the idea that even now, his father might be calculating the cost-benefit analysis of having one of the most famous pegasai in Equestria there… set against the damage the notorious rambunctious mare was bound to cause. All the court would remember vividly the tales of the Grand Galloping Gala, and the Elements were well known for the devastation that seemed to come in their wake. It would seem, he mused, that for every act of magical harmony they performed came a cost in physical chaos and destruction.
The hall which held Ryler’s room also held those of his younger siblings as well as a few extras. While visiting family might be allowed to utilize them, the entire hall would be off-limits to all guests for the duration of the wedding festivities. As such, they had been tasked for other matters, and right now the entire corridor and all the other rooms were empty. Everyone had duties but him and that suited him just fine. He made his way down the hallway, hooves landing lightly and precisely against the stone floor. With a pause, he looked back over his shoulder to make double-sure none were watching, and continued his walk. He strode softly, stepping lightly, moving his legs fluidly, gracefully. Ryler took one feminine step, then another, sighing out as he moved. His steps lacked the harsh purposeful stride of a typical stallion and took on a more elegant set of motions. He let his hips sway some, just a little, as if he wanted his rear to be noticed, but not making too much of a show about it. A downward motion of his head flicked his mane back and over one side of his shoulders. It was a walk he could only ever manage in private, and he relished the chance to do so. For a moment, just a moment, he imagined himself as one of the mares at the court, maneuvering through corridors and ballrooms and court chambers with such an easy glide to their steps.
Ryler’s door was to his right, while the room to his left was unoccupied. With the upcoming festivities, it had been tasked to hold several rolling clothes racks full of dresses, gowns, and various other garments, both over and under. The door was open and he could see all of them. Temptation beckons different ponies in different ways depending on their experience. For some, it would take the Alicorn Amulet, the Mirror Pool, or the Crystal Heart. Others had simpler needs, but temptation, regardless of size and scope, all calls to the same primal hunger to finally relent to an urge that has been long denied. Today, Ryler relented. He turned left and ducked inside the room full of clothing racks. Once inside Ryler looked out the door, down the corridor, and then closed it, locking himself in the room.
He moved from outfit to outfit, scanning them, taking in details, and meanings. As far as he was concerned, every bit of stallion clothing conveyed only two messages: Look how awesome I am, and look how dapper I am. The clothing worn by mares was like an announcement in a subtle language few stallions ever truly could read. They could convey mood, status, availability, and demonstrate personality. Clothing could invite, it could reject. The right dress to convey a mare's harsh domination, or her eagerness to submit. Making that point once to his father had gotten him nothing back but a harsh look. He banished aside that memory and filed it back in its place with all the other misbegotten times he'd been foalish enough to speak his mind in public.
"Whoever said that bits can't buy happiness simply didn't know where to go shopping," Ryler muttered. His questing through the clothing racks brought him to a particular gown that left him shivering in want. The principal color was black with touches of gray, white, and silver threading. Black could be modest and arrogant at once, lazy, but also easy, even mysterious if done with the right aires. And black, he noted, went well against his brown-colored coat. He wasn't needed the rest of the night so nopony would come looking for him. He had no friends to speak of, and the family had long ago given up trying to penetrate his maudlin shell. His presence would not be missed from anything happening in the house that evening, and neither would the gown.
A snap decision, once made, leads to decisive action. Ryler had probably been browsing dresses for the better part of half an hour, but once he’d decided what he was going to do time sped up with urgency. He pulled down the black outfit he’d been eyeing, along with the accompanying stockings, undergarments, and some of the silver jewelry in one of the boxes. He gathered his haul, folded them all together, then set them on a dresser next to the door. Unlocking it, he peeked out, and found himself alone as ever. Still, the short trip across the hall, and through his bedroom door felt like an intense spy mission, and he panted with relief when he was safely locked within his own room, falling back against the door, and listening to the hammering of his heart in his chest. But the first goal had been accomplished and his blood quickened more with excitement than fear. The young stallion made his way to his bed and began to change.
Seeing mares in their clothing, studying them, even reading books about their clothing was hardly proper compensation for a lack of experience, and Ryler’s inexperience was bothersome in the extreme. Sliding on the stockings took delicate work, he had to be careful not to tear the material, or stretch it wrong. It should all be second nature, it should all just glide on, as if he were every inch the mare. But he wasn’t, and the divide between reality and fantasy kept creeping in -just- as he was getting into it. He slipped on the undergarments with a trepidation that gave way to quietly moaned sighs of pleasure at the feeling of the material against him, a combination of right and wrong that teased and aroused him. Her. That’s what Ryler felt like…he felt like a "her".
She moved with a slink along the bed, relishing the half-dressed state. In her mind, she imagined she was posing, showing off, saucily taunting some impressive stallion. Closing her eyes, she pitched her voice higher, and let out a whimper of arousal, which became a frustrated whine. Damn it. Being a mare was not all about sexuality, it certainly was more than writhing on the bed like a slutty noblemare waiting for her secret lover. Being a mare was a matter of spirit and personality, a matter of ones… oh sweet Celestia, was he really ruining this moment by delving into gender politics and matters of equity and social consideration? He wanted to be a mare in all respects, but right now he just wanted to be a mare in sensual heat. Just to pretend, just to run with it, just for once to let go and be the hot, sexy, slinky mare he wanted to be. ARGH!
With a grunt, Ryler got up. Since the arousal of the moment was broken, he… she… decided to finish dressing. It would be such a waste to have gone this far and not complete the transformation. And so she busied herself once again, sliding the dress on, tucking it here and there into position. The act was liberating, heady…. she felt as if she were floating on a cloud, each step in the process making her more and more a mare. She entertained thoughts of sneaking away from the family party and ducking into the revels of another house. Could she do that? Move among others at a party, flirt with available young stallions, touch her makeup up in the mare’s bathroom. The idea of doing so left her with a gleefully floating sensation, a giddiness to her senses.
Once the dress was finished, she selected jewelry; anklets, a little tiara. The clip-on earrings would wait for the mirror and be her finishing touches. When the jewelry was done she slipped on the two pairs of shoes that went with the outfit, lacing them delicately. Finally, she sighed, eyes closed, spreading out her wings, and moving her hooves to feel out how the dress had settled over her body. This felt so right, so wonderful, so sexy and sultry, so… her, it felt so very her. She’d done it, she could do this… she could! All she would have to do was plan, maybe escape a bit now and again as her older brothers and sisters had from time to time. Nobody from this house would ever knew where to look for her, not at the clubs she had in mind to go to. But she’d heard of them, everyone had, whispered here and there. She could find them.
Closing her eyes, she laid back on the bed and she slowly touched herself all over her body, her mind awash in plans. Places to hide a cache of clothing, how to sneak out, what she might do, putting those dancing lessons to use, how to change her voice just so. Her thoughts drifted to other things whispered about; gender changing potions and spells, a permanent shift, even a new life, the life she should have had. She fluttered her eyes open and sighed with the sheer volume of possibilities. First, though, it was time to put on the earrings.
Ryler slid off the bed, all smiles and feminine motion, and walked her way up to the mirror. She took one shuddering breath, posed herself, and turned her head to look at the mare she had become.
It was disgusting.
Nothing was right. The shoulders were lopsided. He hadn’t managed to get the stockings to the same height on each leg. The fabric of the dress bunched up in all the wrong places and it was off-kilter back behind his wings. His mane was wrong. It was cut in a stallion style that contrasted obviously with the dress and he’d forgotten all about that. His tail as well was unkempt, not even remotely soft or styled like a mare’s. His face was too masculine, his posture all wrong. His supposed pretensions to being able to move like a mare were exposed for the obvious self-delusions they were. He had been floating, now he’d fallen, and hit the cold ground very hard.
He wasn’t a mare. He wasn’t even a passable imitation of a mare. He wasn’t even a campy joking passable imitation of a mare one might dress as for a comedy masquerade or a burlesque show. He was an utter laughing stock is what he was. This was why mares dressed one way, and stallions another. Maybe… maybe, with classes on how to act, and magic potions, and when he was old enough to live on his own… maybe then he could pull it off. Maybe. But right now, he was not a mare, he was not a femcolt, he was just a young stallion who had ruined a dress, and made a fool of himself. And by the time he could ever manage the freedom to be what he wanted to be… he would never be able to free himself. Family was everything, he couldn’t get away from it. Not like other stallions could. This whole enterprise had been a disaster from beginning to end.
Ryler sighed out, avoiding the mirror as he sat back down on the edge of the bed, pulling the last of the stockings off, flicking them away from him in disgust. The feeling that came over him was a dull, numbing, aching feeling, coupled with an extreme tiredness. The young pegasus wanted nothing more than to crawl into his bed, pull the covers securely over himself, and just cease to be for a while. In the back of his mind, he thought about collecting all of the clothing now scattered about the floor in the hope that, upon waking, there would not be a reminder of what had just happened. Right at that moment, though, he didn't think it would make a difference, and he didn't care either way.
Letting himself topple over to one side, Ryler landed on the bed with a soft thump against the sheets. He was reminded of a time as a foal when he'd seen a rather large cat make a leap for the dining room table, only to topple backwards and capsize over the edge like a sinking ship. That brief flash of happy memory brought out a giggle from the stallion, and then a frown as he sealed his lips tightly shut and felt another wave of melancholy wash over him.
Raising up one forehoof, he moved it to his neck, and stroked it up and down. That voice of his, that sound it made, it gnawed at him. It had bothered him so much that, for a while, he seriously considered going mute. Everything masculine about Ryler disturbed him. Worse than the mane and body that seemed to belong to someone else, or even the face that he couldn't recognize in the mirror, was the behavior that had typified male existence within his house, and his strata of society. When he caught himself doing what he had been told his whole life, what he should do as a stallion; being forceful, crude, powerful, and aggressive, it made him feel empty inside.
"You are the most miserable little pony in the world, aren't you?" The voice that spoke out hissed out each word with a certain crisp asperity, almost as if it was just a few intonations short of hissing each syllable. The sound sent Ryler bolting upright, and swiftly turning his head to gaze at the speaker. He was a tall, lithe unicorn stallion, with a dark red coat, and even darker red mane. There was something about him that was just off in every sense of the word. His eyes were pale gray and cruel, his bone-white teeth were unnaturally perfect, not a hair was out of place, and every muscle seemed sculpted. He was utterly beautiful in a way that made Ryler ache with desire, and terrifying in a way that left him feeling as if a knife's edge was already at his throat.
Much as Ryler hated his life, years of training and discipline had hardened him some and prepared him for the unexpected. He could at least take some solace in that he didn't cower. He pulled himself up as best he could from his position on the bed, and spoke out calmly as he could muster. His voice wavered some, but he managed to keep most of the fear out of it. "What's it to be then? Kidnapping? Assassination? You probably picked the least valuable member of this family to attack you know. Nobody's going to shed a tear over my death, or pay much for my ransom... whomever you are."
The unicorn smirked at him. "Rasp... call me Rasp." He grinned. "I like the way you think, pony. It's very tactical... you're trying to undervalue yourself and are willing to sacrifice someone else in your family just to keep your own hide intact. Excellent!"
"Wait!" Ryler protested. "It didn't mean it like that. I just meant..."
Rasp cut him off with the wave of a hoof. "No no, boy. Don't sell yourself short. Personally I think it's wonderful you have such a self-interest in your own survival. And it would be such -delicious- irony for you if it was one of your brothers kidnapped, taken, and made to whimper and beg for his life..." Rasp paused, and smirked at Ryler. "...like a little mare perhaps? But you needn't worry, I am not here to kidnap you or kill you." He chuckled, looking down, and picked up one of the discarded artifacts of clothing. Holding up a set of silk undergarments, he twirled them around a hoof. "Entertaining a guest, young pony, or are these perhaps yours?"
Ryler shot Rasp an angry look, sneering at him. "Like I would tell you anything. What then? One of my father's friends? Did you come in here perhaps hoping to bugger one of your associate's children?"
Once again Rasp gave him an approving grin. Something about Rasp approving of anything he did or said was oddly disturbing. "Well done again, pony. You evade the truth rather than weave a lie, confirming nothing, and offering no story that could later be picked apart. You attack with barbed words, hoping my angry response will expose a weakness. You'll make an excellent Infiltrator."
The pegasus blinked a few times. "A what? What are you going on about? No..." He rolled his eyes and gestured with a wing. "You know what, keep going on and being enigmatic. Reveal what this is all about at a snail's pace. You have no idea how that thrills me," Ryler said with an utterly deadpan voice.
Rasp shot the young lord an amused look. "You have a wonderfully feminine lilt to your voice when you're being venemous, do you know that?" The unicorn slowly paced the room as he spoke. "Actually, I'm here to give you a little gift. Something you've always wanted, pony. Something you've ached for so much that even now it's keeping you from shouting for the guards, pulling the hidden alarm bell behind your bed, or going for a weapon. It's the least I can do to reciprocate all the sustenance you have given me."
Ryler worked his mouth for a few moments, though nothing came out. Rendered mute on one of the few times he would have liked to have spoken immediately and clearly. He looked back up at the disturbingly perfect stallion and blushed intensely as he was made aware of something he himself had not consciously realized. Rasp was right, Ryler was, in the back of his head, hoping... hoping this would end in a very particular way, a way he'd daydreamed about many times. It shamed him to admit it to himself. It shamed him further since all reason told him life just did not play out in the manner of some erotic fantasy. And if it was going to, it certainly wouldn't happen to him. Still, no alarm was sounded, no scream went out. Ryler gulped softly, bit his lip for a moment, a moment....
But no, it was gone. His ears folded down, and he spoke out sharply to Rasp. "No. I don't know what you're going on about, but I'm going to believe you're here to do me favors as much as I believe you're Princess Celestia."
"Very well, " Rasp said. "Be it so."
With that, his horn flashed with a sick, mutagenic green glow. Equally green flames formed a circle around where he stood and then rose around his body. Rasp vanished in a flash of magic light and flame, leaving Princess Celestia was standing in his place. She looked down at Ryler, and smiled a very un-Celestia smile. Ryler had seen the princess before any number of times in his life; she had always been serene, saintly, her smiles comforting, forgiving, welcoming. To see her have the smile of a sadistic predator was downright disturbing. A bit like having your favorite stuffed animal come to life and try and kill you.
On balance, this really wasn't Ryler's best night ever.
“I know exactly what became of him. I know what it is like to love somepony who doesn’t deserve it. Because they are all you have. In our isolation, any attention is better than no attention. Even if that attention is from our personal nightmare, we rush to embrace it. This understanding, this familiarity, perhaps, is why I of all of us spare him the most sympathy.” - Princess Luna
City of Canterlot, Valiant Manor, Chambers of Ryler Valiant
Ponies live in a kind of utopia with wonderful alicorn princesses, a magical land defended by the Elements of Harmony, filled with sunny days and moonlit nights. That's also their problem. Most ponies have no idea how to grieve properly. They don’t know the consequences of mental or physical abuse or how to cope with pain. Loss comes so infrequently to ponies they don't know how to deal with it.
Celestia looked down from her alicorn-sized height at Ryler and spoke to him in her soft matronly voice, imparting a lesson to the young noble. “Ponies are the prisoners of their personal history, Ryler. Everypony believes that their main aim in life is to follow a plan. They accumulate experiences, memories, things, other pony's ideas, and it is more than they can possibly cope with. And that is why they forget their dreams.”
She waved one of her long swan-like wings in Ryler’s direction as she spoke. “You all live lives of pretty lies that are mostly true. Mostly. If you dream it you can be it! It's never too late! Reality is what you make it. We all have a special destiny." Celestia sneered. Ryler had never seen Celestia sneer because Celestia simply did not sneer. It was very off-putting on such a saintly face.
“None of these are true for everypony. In our little world of magical perfection they are mostly true, but not always. If everypony has a destiny, then every victim of Nightmare Moon was one by the whim of some cosmic force. Every mare that lost a foal in childbirth, every soldier that died on the field of battle to a septic wound. Everypony who was burned to death, snatched by a dragon, or frozen to death in the winter cold. I prefer the comfort of an uncaring universe to one where some sick monster felt those things were necessary. It seems like ponies are afraid of that. They are terrified of the notion that they are common, unexceptional, or just plain not special. That being said, special or not is not a matter purely of destiny, my little pony. If destiny will not oblige you, then you have two choices, Ryler. You can accept a life of mediocrity, or choose to bend the world to your will.”
Celestia laughed softly. “Actually, well, in your case… you really don’t have a choice. I’m no agent of destiny, but I am going to make you bend the world to your will.” She beamed a smile at the young stallion and laughed sardonically.
Ryler jumped up from his place on the bed, his face full of rage and indignation. “HOW DARE YOU! How dare you impersonate our princess! Have you no respect, sir, for anything?” On all fours and standing his ground, the stallion glared up at Celestia. A low snarl came from him as he spoke to her. “Spare me the theatrics. I’m a noblepony. I know court. I know theater and monologues. Just be on with it. You can lecture me to death in your normal form, Rasp.” Ryler spat the words sharply, holding his expression and steeling his jaw with resolve.
“Righteous indignation wears on you even worse than that dress you tried on, Ryler. You should discard both in favor of more appropriate garb,” Celestia snapped.
Green flame short across Celestia’s body. The dark flames roared as they engulfed her and Rasp was returned in a flash of magic. After a shake of his mane, the dark red pony sneered at Ryler and pounced on him before the flames had fully dissipated. The larger stallion collided with the smaller one and pushed him back onto the bed he had just left. Knocking him onto his back Rasp moved over him in an assertion of dominance.
“I’m done lecturing, pony,” Rasp hissed out. He starred Ryler down for a moment and then forced him to roll over onto his belly, keeping him pinned down. “I did come to thank you, after a fashion, no pontificate.”
Rasp clenched his legs down on the stallion, keeping him held tight. He ground into Ryler slowly with a firming purpose. Hooves started to stroke Ryler’s body, and Rasp’s barrel crested over the pegasus’s croup and moved along his back. “As I said… you’ve sustained me and I’ve a mind to reward you for that, pony.”
Words didn’t come to Ryler. In some vague fashion in the back of his mind, Ryler did wonder what Rasp was getting at.. All that came out, though, was a feminine whimpering moan of desire. Fear raced through him, but it was an arousing fear that he welcomed. Everything in his life’s education told him this was wrong, a foul violation. That knowledge caused an almost inevitable reaction. Ryler raised his rear and flicked his tail aside, giving out a submissive whine.
Both of them began breathing faster and moving against each other with a shared purpose. Rasp was as he always was, but Ryler became something else. The mare that was inside of him was now released and unrestrained by self-consciousness or hesitation. She moved like a mare, sounded like one, ached for the stallion over her as one in an autumnal heat. Rasp began kissing the back of her neck, biting up and down it after. He nipped at the pony’s ear, flicked his tongue tongue against the sensitive inner flesh, and made her more and more aware of a still-growing desire as monstrous as his personality seemed was.
“How have I,” Ryler at last managed to whimper out, “sustained you?” Such a simple question took more effort than Ryler would have anticipated. Most of the effort of making words was spent overcoming the arousal that left her wanting to do nothing more than moan loudly and beg for the moment to never end. She pressed up into Rasp with her back arching and rear legs spreading out, releasing a sob of want as one of her ears was bitten and suckled upon.
Grinding against her from behind, Rasp bit from Ryler’s ear down to her neck, nipping with teeth that were sharper than they ought to have been for a normal pony. Up the other side of the neck and then over to the other ear. He moved his head down again, biting into the axillaries and margins of Ryler’s wings, moving back up to hiss softly against her ear. “Friendship is magic my little pony… and so is misery…” Hissing loudly, Rasp thrust himself against Ryler and into her. The smaller pony let out a wailing cry of youthful violation and found her head thrust down into the bed by one of Rasp’s hooves to muffle the sound.
“So is pain and depression, so too with lust, with anger and hate,” growled Rasp as he began to take Ryler more aggressively. As much as Ryler’s attempts as personal self gratification had prepared her somewhat for being taken in this fashion, she was unprepared for both the size and ferocity of Rasp’s attentions. Each spearing of her depths left her aching in pain but craving more all the same. Each moment of release from the pressure of Rasp left her wanting that void filled once again. “Like any good noblepony, Ryler, you’re such a perfect blend of repression and self-entitled angst. You live in plenty with a warm bed, solid meals, and a roaring hearth. You are educated, protected, and oppressed by the very shelter you live in. Every need in your life met, you have nothing but time on your hooves to contemplate how miserable you are, and you don’t care a damn about the suffering of the poor, the weak, or the ignorant, do you? All you care about is that Ryler isn’t the mare she wants to be.”
He was right, of course. Somehow it was more complicated that Rasp was making it out to be, but it was also true. Ryler had never spared more than a passing thought for those less fortunate than him. His thoughts were entirely inward-turning on his own oppressed life. It was true, so terribly true. He didn’t care about anypony else nor did he truly wish to. He regretted if only for a moment that he did not regret that fact. Terribly, it aroused her.
“No! No I don’t care about them!” She cried out between her moans, raising her hips up, and pushing back against Rasp’s next intrusion into her. “You don’t know what it’s like to have everything and be nothing, to spend your life buried and entombed in this damned cage!”
Rasp slammed her down as he drove into her, snarling back his response. “Still justifying yourself, Ryler… still such a long way to go for you. Some day you’ll realize what you are and how naked and selfish your pain is. That is what makes you so exquisite, so perfect for my needs, Ryler. You’re not just in pain, it’s pain without an ounce or thought of empathy for others. Your noble upbringing gave you that. Your unhappiness isn’t tainted by generous thoughts about others, with caring or empathy for anyone but yourself. You are so intensely and so narcissistically broken that your emotional energy is like a feast to me. It sustains me and powers my magic. I don’t need food or drink, Ryler. I merely need you to suffer. All I have to do to feed is let it happen.”
All through his angry speech, Rasp continued to take Ryler and the pegasus continued to thrill to every mistreatment of her body. The pain was something real she could cling to and the pleasure was deliciously shameful, inducing both guilt and desire. Some last bit of innocence within Ryler was being corrupted by what they were doing and Ryler welcomed it. She threw her head back and cried out in wild release, clenching her muscles and bucking her body in spasms of pleasure. “What are you?” she wailed out loudly through the sounds of her climax.
“I am not a pony,” Rasp said. “I am anything I wish to be. And you are mine.”
Ryler’s own release did nothing to encourage Rasp’s or to slow him down. He did not pause or offer the smaller pony a moment’s respite from the constant aggression being visited upon her. It was a reminder they were not lovers or partners. Rasp was using her as he always had. There was something about the raw naked truth of that which thrilled Ryler to her core. It was honest, straightforward, and so very brutally masculine. He was using her, taking her. Making carnal use of her and degrading her like she wanted to be degraded. She wanted to beg to be used, to be defiled, to be possessed by him. Instead of feeding upon her emotions for his sustenance, he was using her body for his pleasure. She should have found this horrible, but instead found that she craved it. Her lip trembled as she contemplated if she dared give further voice to her fantasy and to cry out what she wanted to. She trembled to admit the terrible thing that demanded to be said.
“Say it,” Rasp hissed, as if already knowing what was in her mind. It wasn’t a question, nor was it encouragement. It was a command to be obeyed, and she could not help but comply to him. It was also permission. At long last it was permission for Ryler to let herself go.
“Master… master… MASTER!” She cried out the word again and again. Each time brought an even more potent lunge from the creature taking her. Rasp knew with the certainty of his empathic power that Ryler meant every repeated word. Each cry contained within it a litany of begging. Take me. Claim me. Own me. Use me. Drag me away from this. I don’t care what you do to me, just take me!
Desperation will drive a pony to make choices they know will never make them whole again and even to lose the very thing they were so in need of. Physically, considering the very bad things about to happen in the next day, they had done nothing truly wicked. Such considerations have no yardstick for the greatest of all the sins of the soul, though. That kind of wickedness happens before body touches body, before a mild craving turns to yearning, and that yearning in turn becomes a desperation so intense that the pony is never fully satisfied until the light in them has been banished to darkness. For Ryler, that time had come and gone quite some time ago. Tonight was not about making a choice, it was about an opportunity for that choice to find expression.
Rasp hissed out against Ryler’s ear, “We’re going to destroy your kingdom, Ryler. We’re going to drain every pony in Canterlot until they are nothing but discarded husks.”
The young pony shivered down her spine, the words resonated in time with the terrible, wonderful, thrusting of Rasp into her. “What about me?”
The question brought a laugh from deep within Rasp’s throat. It came out husky and low. “All you care about is yourself… I relish that about you. I’m going to make you one of us.”
Ryler nodded her head and whimpered in acquiescence. Voicing a worry through her moans of pleasure, she said, “But I’m not a unicorn, I cannot cast spells like you have.”
Against her ear Rasp’s hot breath came in answer to him. “I am not a unicorn, not an earth pony, not a pegasus. I am anything I wish to be, and when you are one of us, magic will come as easy as flight does now.”
Ryler leaned her head up and nuzzled the back of her head against Rasp’s in an expression of needy submission. “What will I be?”
The roughness of Rasp’s violent taking of the small pegasus had grown in steady intensity. Hard, driving, firm intrusions that repeated over and over until Ryler herself was once again nearing release. “You will become a creature without a heart, without hope, without love. You will become numb to heartache, immune to caring. You will never dream again.”
Finally, Rasp succumbed to his own building arousal and threw back his head and released the sounds of his pleasure in a loud hissing groan of satisfaction. His body shuddered and his essence flooded into Ryler. In her turn, Ryler’s whimpering moans reached a crescendo and she sang out her agonized pleasure. Behind her, the dark red stallion who was taking her was again engulfed in green flame. When the flame had passed, Rasp’s natural form came crashing down atop Ryler, still locked solidly inside of her.
As they both panted their exhaustion out, Ryler managed to push up on her hooves and look over her shoulder at the creature that had claimed her. She found herself staring into the unblinking eyes of the insectoid creature that held her down.
You will never dream again.
“Do you promise?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said.
Weakly, Ryler turned her body as best as she could and reached out a hoof to draw Rasp’s face down towards hers.
Would use of the word "sorry" have really mattered? Does it ever? It's just a word. One word against the deeds you have done. Regret is part of being alive, but keep it a small part. - Rafa Dusk, Heir of House Dusk
City of Canterlot, Valiant Manor, Chambers of Ryler Valiant
The words echoed around in Ryler’s half-awake brain as if they were being muttered in tone. Words might be the wrong way to describe them. They were gibberish in Equestrian, and they didn’t seem to match the insect-like clicks that Rasp had made in his natural form. They were too few and too repeated to be words as he thought of them. Instructions was more what they felt like. Commands, directives, embedding themselves in his consciousness. Although he had no words to describe the sensation, the young pegasus would later come to understand it was the low-level thrumming beat of the changeling hive mind. Even in the quiet state that the queen had ordered he was receiving Rasp’s thoughts due to his proximity. Any foal in a school would have appreciated it; Ryler was learning in his sleep. There was very little actual knowledge so far, it was more the rudiments of communication being imprinted on him.
Ryler mulled these thoughts over the next morning during those half-asleep moments when one hasn’t yet attained sufficient wakefulness to regret what they did the night before.
The realization that Rasp had probably implanted something in his mind caused the young pegasus to bolt upright in his bed. He surged awake in a wild mix of guilt-tinged regret at his shameful satisfaction and crushing embarrassment. The latter caused him to slap a hoof against his face and grunt. The fact that he somehow was able to receive changeling telepathy quick took a back seat to self-indignation.
“Ugh… did I -really- call you my master last night? Ugh. I’m just going to go impale myself on a spike now.” He looked around for a bit, failing to see his companion from the night before. “Rasp?”
“I’m down here, you nitwit,” the antagonistic creature muttered, coming into view as he pulled himself from the floor onto the opposite side of the bed. “You pushed me off the bed when you woke up. Very feminine of you.” The insectoid creature gave him a sharp glare, and dragged himself back onto the mattress.
Ryler looked back at Rasp a moment, and rolled his eyes. “I think we’ve firmly established I don’t make a very good female, Rasp. Ugh, I called you master….” Once again hoof met face in a self-punishing expression of Ryler’s regret.
Rasp chittered and moved behind the pegasus, wrapping his forelegs possessively around the pony and making a bit of a sneer. “You make a decent enough female when you are in the moment, Ryler. Like most stallions, you embrace many of the classic stereotypes of mares, but those stereotypes exist because they are true in some part. You play to your own expectations of what a female is and your great mistake is not in how you play them, but that you regret it at all. You enjoyed calling me master at the time, now you regret it because you think I will take that seriously all of the time. Also because you sounded like something out of some bodice-ripping romance novel. Again, that you care about such things is the problem. You enjoyed it, many times, all night long. Like a voracious underfed animal. You regret because you think you should. Stop being so ridiculously ashamed. Shame is for ponies. I’m liberating you from that.”
With a grumping snort, Ryler leaned back into Rasp, sighing at the comfort of a controlling and owning set of limbs around him. “Get out of my mind, Rasp…” He made another frowning face, annoyed at the accuracy of Rasp’s statements. Ryler felt like a foregone conclusion around Rasp, unable to surprise or evade the creature’s perceptiveness. “Hmm… tell me something. What are you… what precisely are you. And what was that gobbledygook I was hearing in my mind?”
The changeling laughed with a rye amusement. “Last night was more than your base sexual gratification, Ryler. Let us suffice it to say you received in my venom, among other fluids, something akin to a magical potion that has begun a slow change in your body. We use this in our transformative processes. Sidebar, we can use stallions for breeding just as well as mares.”
After a bit of thought, Ryler looked down and murmured out, “Broodmares and drones… I think I can imagine what you do for ponies to make them breeders….”
“And that thought arouses you….” Rasp noted with amusement.
The pegasus elbowed him with a foreleg to his side. “Shut up, Rasp.” He snorted out, and then continued. “I’m going to assume you’re true to your word, and want to make me one of you, so… what next? Do I start losing my coat? Grow a horn like yours? Get…. leg holes? What?”
“Nothing of the sort,” Rasp replied. “Right now you are marked before all our kind as a pony not to be harmed. Broodmares do not share in the Commonality. Your connection, however slight, indicates that not only are you not to be harmed, but that you are groomed for a purpose. By the end of the day, that’s going to be important. In the chaos to come I do not want another of my kind attacking you. Once the takeover of Equestria is complete, you’ll become one of us. You’ll choose a new name for yourself at that time. Your Princess Celestia too, if she’s not killed in the battle.”
Ryler sighed softly and looked down at the floor. “I should run and tell my father of this…. I should stop this.” He turned and looked at Rasp, giving the changeling a hateful glare as he pushed Rasp on his back in the center of the bed. “I hate you, you know that. I utterly despise you, Rasp.” Ryler moved between the center of Rasp’s legs, lowering his head down to pleasure the changeling again. It was a scene that any noblepony would have understood. Hate-fueled sex was part and parcel of the life of a pony who moved in the conniving, scheming, competitive social circle of the upper crust. The irony that Ryler was still following the patterns of his noble upbringing was not lost on him, but at the moment he did not care. Sex was and ever would be a great momentary escape from one’s problems.
“You… you…. FIXED me!” Ryler gaped as she turned from side to side to look at herself in the mirror. “I mean… alright, my mane is black, and my coat is a different shade, but… you… you…” Ryler sputtered, unable to finish a coherent sentence as she gazed at the form of the mare in the mirror. There was a kind of a floating dissociative feeling that made her light-headed. It was her and it was not. Euphoria warred with confusion and Ryler was suffused with a giddy feeling that left her gobsmacked.
“No, I did not,” Rasp flatly replied. “One good look between your legs would give you away, and this is only temporary. I used some of my magic to imprint a shape upon you. I believe in learning by doing, Ryler. The day is just begun, and we have some things to take care of. Since we have to leave the estate anyway, now is as good a time as any to practice assuming another form. And I have a feeling that as a changeling your alternate forms are going to be dominated by a list of female personas. I’m psychic that way,” he deadpanned.
Ryler was too pleased to care about the little jibes Rasp made. Everything about her body shape was right in a way she had never felt before. The curves were more defined, the shape of her body more lithe. But it was especially notable in the face. There had been low points in his life where Ryler was so frustrated by the masculine appearance of her face that she had wanted to tear the skin off. There was a dimorphism in faces between masculine and feminine. A good number of ponies fell in the middle of a bell curve between the two, but Ryler had always felt herself stuck on the “definitely a stallion” end of the curve. Now, though, now she….
“If you’re done admiring yourself, could you please get dressed,” Rasp snapped.
With a nervous nod, the pegasus did as she was told, looking around and gathering up the clothing she had purloined the night before. “Do you really think I can pull this off?” She asked as he gathered up the garments.
“There’s a reason I didn’t leave you with your original mane and coat coloring.” Rasp stretched out on the bed, and in a now-familiar whoosh of green flame, he transformed himself into a duplicate of Ryler in his normal body. “The worst that will happen is that you will appear to be sneaking out a stallion dressed as a mare. While I, as you, will take the fall appropriately and smooth it all over. At best… you will appear to be escorting out a female visitor for the night. Once they get over the shock of you with a mare, there will probably be a collective sigh of relief that you actually fancy females, and they will let down their guard. I know better than to risk all on a walk down a hallway.”
“Actually,” Ryler purred out, “I rather think I can pull this… Uh, Rasp, why are you getting back under the cov…” KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
“Ryler, you awake in there! Sweet Celestia, what were you....” The voice from behind the door was muffled by the heavy oak, but became a clear masculine baritone as the door opened and Ryler’s brother Camber came barging in. Camber was tall, his coat a lighter shadow of brown, with his mane a sleek golden yellow. Ready smile, big grin, and tons of charm that was instantly aimed at the mare before him. “Oh my…. so that’s what he was doing last night. My my my… well good on him… on the both of you! I’m Camber, brother to your, uh… companion of last night.”
Ryler blinked in shock and then grinned in a wide delighted smile as Camber failed to recognize who he was speaking to. She took a moment to clear her throat and then spoke out in her most feminine voice. Much to her shock, it came out perfectly. “Delighted to meet you, Camber.” She held out a hoof to him and thought quickly about how to introduce herself. Rasp had mentioned she would need a new name and Ryler’s mind raced to find something appropriate for the kind of changeling she was going to become. “My name is Mali.”
“Mali, it is most delightful to meet you. I hope my brother has been a good host to you.” Camber flashed her a scheming grin and took the hoof she offered, raising it to his lips for a light kiss and then lowering it back down. Camber made no secret that he found Mali’s appearance quite fetching, looking at her with intentions that seemed less than brotherly.
In theory, she supposed, she should have been galled at this. Ryler’s first mare that anypony knew about and there was her brother giving her the once-over twice. She looked over at Ryler on the bed and found the false pegasus snoring away in his feigned sleep. Finding herself with a lecherous cad in front of her and a disguised changeling snoring his way out of helping her, Mali frowned a moment in indignation. Both of them needed to be gotten back for his. She could do this. She could absolutely do this. In for a nibble, in for a bit.
Mali looked back up at Camber and flashed him a wide smile and a furtive movement of her tongue across her lower lip. “Well…. for the most part.” She gave him a seductive and sultry look, her eyes roaming up and down his body. She did have to admit, Camber was quite the attractive stallion. “He did seem to tire rather quickly. Poor dear, I think Ryler will be asleep for some while longer. Perhaps you can keep me… entertained while he gets his beauty rest?”
Camber raised an eyebrow in a manner very reminiscent of his younger brother, looking skeptically at the mare in front him. A devious grin replaced the look soon enough, and Camber chuckled. “Oh… I think we can. My room is just one door over, do follow me…”
“It’s going to be a distinct pleasure,” Mali replied with sultry purr as she moved after Camber, closing the door behind her. As she did, she caught sight of the changeling in Ryler’s body lurching up in the bed and giving an indignant glare to Mali. The expression on Rasp’s face was pure shock, and it was priceless. She’d finally managed to do something to defy that damn changeling’s expectations.
The Commonality that Rasp spoke of was doubly weak for Mali. It consisted of just two minds, and she was barely able to perceive it at all. That being stated, Rasp managed to send something into Mali’s mind that even her extremely limited abilities could parse.
There really wasn’t any direct translation from changeling directive into Equestrian language that Mali could make out, but her best guess was that Rasp had just told her to go screw herself.
It was just as hard to translate Equestrian language back into the Commonality’s strange set of commands, but last night’s injection of commands and directives seemed to have given her a grasp of the basics. Her reply was something to the effect of, “Yes, but him first.”
An hour later, a very smirkingly satisfied mare strode back into Ryler’s chambers and closed the door, casting a triumphant glance over to where the false Ryler was sitting on the bed. “That was… liberating,” she purred out.
“Not to mention dangerous. And with your own brother. I’m not sure if I should be thrilled with you, or slap you across the muzzle. You may be taking to your new future with a bit too much gusto. You could easily have been caught.” The changeling that looked like Ryler shot Mali an appraising, calculating, look. “You’re either a prodigy or a reckless menace, and I am not sure which. And…. Mali? What inspired that.”
“You did, Rasp…. you did. You said I was going to need a new name. If Rasp really is your name, it either refers to that grating sound of your voice or a tool to reshape wood. Either’s really applicable to you, as you’re reshaping me. Then you said that I might be exactly like you… a changeling who could feed off negative emotions instead of the positive ones the rest of your kind feed off of. Then, when Camber came in, it just hit me….” She beamed a smile at him, and bowed with an exaggerated flourish. “Mali… Malignance.”
The changeling stared unblinking at him for a while, impassive and calculating. Finally he announced, “You’ve gone from a complete wreck of a pony to an overconfident egotistical villain in less than a day’s time. So you think. But it’s not that simple, Malignance… Ryler. You’re going to bounce between elation and depression several more times as you deal with the consequences of what you are and what you’re going to do in the future. Oh, I have every confidence you will eventually embrace what you are, but don’t pretend it’s all power trips and sex from here on in.”
Rasp’s words were like a cold splash of water across Mali’s face. In many ways, it was like the previous night and the feeling of looking into the mirror and realizing that the femininity she had sought for was nothing but a pipe dream. Rasp’s magic let her hold onto the ideal of her gender, but a new illusion was being shattered by the harsh commentary.
“You know… I look forward to the day all this is done, so I have one name, and one gender…” Mali sighed out.
Rasp chuckled. “You’re going to become a changeling… your name and your gender are never truly going to be fixed, young Malignance. Ponies are locked into one body, true, but identity is in the mind, and not the body. You are the name you give yourself and the gender you give yourself. Your culture binds your spirit to your flesh, as if one determined the other. It’s pathetic. It’s made you into the miserable mess that you are.”
Malignance sighed out. “Fine… all points taken, including your warning. I get it… I’m running around in a borrowed illusion and I played a very dangerous game. But I won, didn’t I? I got the drop on you who seem to know me better than I know myself, and I got revenge on my brother, even if he doesn’t know it. Can’t I be happy about that for just a little while?”
The changeling gave Malignance a reproachful look. “I gain nothing from your happiness, Malignance. I am not your friend. I am your conqueror. I’m not your lover, I’m the creature that defiled you.” He paused as he read the mare’s emotional energies, and scowled. “And why you love me for it is beyond my capacity to understand.”
Malignance shrugged lightly. “It’s not you… not really. It’s not you I love, Rasp. I hate you. I love the things you do to me. I love what happened last night. I love the body you gave to me, even if it’s only for a while. I love that I am important to someone. I love the promises you made to me… and I love it so much that I’m willing to let a kingdom full of ponies become your victims rather than give it up. I’m pathetic.”
Rasp made his illusion of Ryler’s face twist into a sardonic grin. “Of course you are, you’re a pony.”
Malignance looked over to Rasp and shot him a foul look. “I am NOT a pony.”
“Now you’re learning. Come, Malignance… we still have to run that errand.” The changeling stood, and walked to the door. “This way, m’lady… we need to be back here quickly. The whole family will be expected to attend the wedding this afternoon, and preparations must be made.”
Malignance nodded her head, and joined the impersonation of Ryler at the door. The two made their way out of the House Valiant estate without incident. If anything, it was far too easy. Rasp in Ryler’s form said and did all the right things. Malignance said and did all the right things. Even Camber was a perfect gentlecolt in front of them. It made a kind of sense, though.
Ryler was with a mare he’d taken for an evening’s pleasure. She was a pretty pegasus who spoke well and charmed well. Nopony questions success. To Ryler’s family and the house staff, he had done just that, succeeded. A young noblepony making his first conquest with a beautiful young mare that had the right breeding to be worthy and who was unknown enough to be disposable when it came time to pick a real pairing for him that would be politically advantageous.
City of Canterlot, Mane Street and Vicinity
So off they went through the house and out into the streets of Canterlot. Rasp lead, and Malignance followed. Always “Mali” to the ponies, of course. She was charming and sweet while Rasp played Ryler as the young lord about town doing last minute business before the big wedding. Love was in bloom, let the young lords and ladies have their fun.
They moved through the crowded cobblestone roads, weaving in out of the throngs of ponies that were filling the city. Anypony who was not able to make it into the castle proper for the wedding was making due with the celebratory impromptu block parties that had filled half the city’s byways.
At the appointed place, at the appointed hour, Malignance who was Ryler and Ryler who was Rasp found themselves in a secluded back alley. A third pony (or changeling, Malignance had no idea which) was waiting there in the shadows.
A cold, female voice spoke out from the shadows, tinged with anticipation and irritation. “Which one of you is in charge?”
“I am,” Rasp said with a countering calm.
“Ryler?” The mare said, surprise in her voice.
Malignance blinked in the realization that whomever this conspirator was, she knew her… him. She knew Ryler. Damn genders. A noblemare, then, but who, which house? How many ponies knew these changelings existed? She did her best to keep a neutral expression, letting Rasp speak for them.
“Don’t be obtuse, Lady. I’m no more Ryler than you are a patriot. Dahhh…..” Rasp held up a Ryler-looking hoof. “Don’t even let the protest out of your mouth. This isn’t the time or place for either of us to trade barbs. Consider an apology tendered, m’lady. My queen has everything in position and we proceed as planned. Unless you say differently.”
Malignance watched with a dawning realization that Rasp’s barb had been deliberate. Enough to get an emotional reaction from the mare. Maybe to feed, maybe to read her in some way. The acquaintance may have been brief, but she was sure that Rasp never did anything without a deliberate reason for it. As if reading her mind, and he probably was, Rasp turned his head and nodded to Malignance slightly.
The mare huffed some, and finally responded. “Very well. Your apology is… acceptable. But I expect to not hear such again. I will trade wit with a queen, but not a common soldier. Everything is as it should be, no change in plans.”
And that was it. The mare turned abruptly and left one way while the two of them went went back the way they came.
They made their way to another empty alley where Rasp ordered Malignance out of her clothing. One she had complied, Rasp ended the magic transforming her, and Malignance was once again Ryler. He was so disappointed.
“You need to go back to your estate, and I have a thing which needs doing. I’m going to spare you the intimidating lecture about second thoughts. Know you’re being watched, Ryler.”
Ryler nodded his head. It was far too late to back out now anyway. He looked at Rasp, and asked softly. “Just how long have you been planning this?”
Rasp paused to look at Ryler, assessing him before he answered. “The invasion of Canterlot has been planned for some time. This day is going to be perfect.”
After they parted company, Rasp spared a look over to Canterlot castle, and muttered. “And that’s what worries me…”
