Blue Eyes, Silver Body: Wrath of Necronak

Chapter: 3 - The Wretched Coronation

A strange feeling of dread seemed to radiate from deep within Blueblood, an unearthly reaction deep within him seemingly coming from a magical source. Regardless, the brazen prince advanced, though hesitantly, towards the small pedestal. His hooves felt as if lead had consumed them as he gradually stepped forwards, his body weakly resisting his attempts to advance. His deep blue eyes never left the slight glow of the helmet, almost totally enthralled by the dark majesty of such a thing. The sheer power radiating from the metallic plates was overwhelming to the prince, like his magic was but a droplet to the everlasting ocean before him. Blueblood's eyes remain fixed on the metal before him, his hooves bringing him within touching distance from the crown.

Reaching out with an armoured pristine hoof, the Prince's eyes flashed with a flame-like blue as the tip of his hoof brushes against it. His mouth slightly agape in mesmerisation, the prince instead shuffles slightly forwards before reaching out with both forelegs. Clutching the crown like an infant, the prince raises the magical apparel from its icy perch and positions it above his own head. Drawing the crown slowly down onto him, the dark coronation ends with the prince's eyes slamming shut immediately. Convulsing, the skin of the prince's eyelids slowly peels back to reveal the transformation of his eyes. Rapidly, the whites and irises consume the whole of Blueblood's eyes until only a blinding blue and black pinprick is visible. In a split-second, the pupil shifts into a glaring white. The magic slowly coiling around the soul of Blueblood begins to roil and slosh within him, excess energy pouring through his eyes via a dim glow of cyan, small tendrils of smoke sharing the glow's colour begin to drain out the sides of his eyes akin to that of a dark magic's user.

Looking down at his forelegs, Prince Blueblood watches on stoically as his fur changes into a silver-tinted white, almost like his body had aged significantly but without losing its inner youth. His mane also shared his coat's fate, the colour fading into a more pale blonde than the healthier colour from mere minutes ago. Unfazed by the change, the unicorn prince turns around and trots towards the exit, looking back at the pedestal and raising his hoof towards it. Without a sound leaving the Prince's now more purple lips, he glares at the pedestal of metal and ice as his hoof is encompassed by the same ethereal smoke leaving the corners of his eyes. Suddenly, the pedestal detonates in a haze of icy shards and a cloud of metallic dust which is left hanging in the air thickly. Grinning at the destruction, the prince faces the exit once more and storms towards it with his head hung low, the crown donned on his furred head casting a shadow across his facial features with only his silvery white muzzle peaking through the helmet with an icy grin contorting his features. His eyes cast in a cunning glare, the glow produced by them pierces the darkness etched across Blueblood's face.

"You have done well..." Speaks an otherworldly voice, the source seemingly being the entire chamber around the prince. Blueblood freezes before hastily swinging his war hammer from its brown leather sheath. Brandishing his weapon in his telepathic grip, he snaps his head from side to side, scanning the chamber around him.

"Show yourself!" Roars Blueblood boldly, blue flame-like tendrils spitting from his snarling mouth.

"How can I, when I have no physical organic body? Well, not yet it seems..." Speaks the voice in a distorted, cold sneer.

"What are you talking about, demon?" Asks a still angered, ever questioning Blueblood.

"The helmet you wear, was once my crown. It was worn for a time by your ancestor, and has remained sealed away from the world within this chamber. For too long have I been trapped within that INFERNAL BOX!" Roars the voice from within Blueblood's very skull, causing the prince to yelp in pain and crumble to the floor. After a few moments of heavy breathing, Blueblood speaks again with a silvery hoof rubbing his temple.

"What the hay was that about?" Asks the prince with an obviously concerned tone. A sigh reverberates through the prince's skull.

"I apologise, Blueblood. You won't believe what being trapped in a crown does to your patience. Of course my consciousness can view the outside world with ease, but it doesn't give the same satisfaction of being able to move. A millennia of it is infuriating, I assure you." The voice explains.

"How do you know my name?!" Snaps Blueblood quickly.

"Remember when I said your ancestor was the last one to wield this crown? Yeah, I knew his last name well. He was a noble, and they will go through hell to preserve their last name." Explains the cold voice.

"Fair enough, who was this 'ancestor' of mine?" Inquires the perplexed prince. The voice goes silent for a moment before returning with another sigh, one strangely similar to grief.

"He was the first of pony-blood to wear this very crown I'm trapped within. The first wielder being myself. He journeyed through Equestria itself with me perched atop his scalp, transporting me to the chamber we just left." Explains the ghostly speaker. Puzzled, Blueblood scans the area to find that they had indeed left the chamber far behind and he himself was now wandering the hallways of the Canterlot Palace.

"Why did you persuade me to wear this thing anyway?" Asks Blueblood questioningly.

"Because, oh young one, I need you to aid my endeavour. I require your aid, since I cannot traverse the landscape within a crown. I shall grant you the finer details later. For now, you must escape Canterlot immediately! You were born for this task, set by your ancestor himself!" Speaks the voice.

Blueblood instantly recognised the authority which ancestors hold over even the modern unicorns. This is because, as the splinter group of ponies evolved into unicorns, they became more spiritually entwined due to their magical spell casting. As their ability to manipulate the physical world with magic entwined with their species, so did their spell casting entwine with their culture. Though a more out-dated thought, ancestor was still very important to most unicorns. Especially those born of noble-birth, which Blueblood was. And evidence of the voice's claim was the ethereal feeling, which only unicorns could feel when in contact with the spirits of their own, touching him. This was due to a magical mutation within the horns of all unicorns. Obeying, Blueblood sprints towards the nearest exit from the palace.

"And why are we leaving?" Asks Blueblood as he continues to run feverishly down hallways leading to the palace throne room.

"Because, if Celestia or Luna see you wearing this crown, they'll recognise it from a thousand years ago. It's quite a unique item. And, if Celestia can remember locking her sister away a millennia ago, she's very likely to remember this. I don't like to take chances on serious things like this, so let's get moving!"

Without another word, Blueblood continues to push through the distance until he barrels through the throne room's great arch doors. With a violent slam, the doors collide against the walls to their sides, Blueblood skidding through on his hooves as friction slowly brings him to a heavily breathing stop. Blueblood's blood freezes in his veins as he sees the sight of the six ponies who ruined his Gala slowly turn around, both of the princesses turning slowly round to identify the source of the sound. Before all the eyes can turn to him however, a great flash of cyan explodes all around the prince and causes him to lose consciousness.

Coming to, Blueblood sluggishly lifts himself from the grass and rubs his head once again, the helmet's cool metal coming in contact with his more silvery hoof. Blueblood groans before lifting himself up onto his hooves to stand, limping forwards from his skull-splitting headache. Slumping against wall after wall, he comes to the great marble gates of Canterlot, the gold decorations detailing the gate seeming less inviting. Walking towards the gate, a guard advances towards the prince, curiosity and concern evident behind the stallion's golden roman-esque helmet.

"Are you okay, sire?" Asks the pony in a thick Canterlot accent, hinting at his birthplace.

"Yes." Replies the prince in an aggravated voice, the mysterious spirit within the prince's newly claimed crown swirls before whispering to him.

"Get to the train which is headed for the Frozen North. You must make haste!" Screams the voice, causing the edges of Blueblood's vision to grow an ethereal cyan glow.

"When is the next train for the Frozen North?" Asks the prince commandingly.

"Whenever you wish, sire. But, pardon me for asking, what is that on your head?" Asks the pony guard. Blueblood advances towards the guard menacingly, the pony lowering his head fearfully from the prince to escape the intense blue glow his eyes produced.

"Do not speak of it to anypony... And, if somepony does ask about it, the crown was crafted by ME to give my telepathy and edge in combat. Now, move along!" Growls out the prince into the shivering pony's earlobe, the prince shoving him out of the way after finishing his speech.

Stomping his hooves to advance forwards, the pony guards watch him anxiously as they bring up shaking hooves in salutes at his passing. One pony does not salute the prince, the commanding officer in charge of the great gates separating the city from any outside threats. Instead, the commander looks on scornfully at the wretched prince. Giving a sideways glare at the commander, the prince outstretches a hoof to open the gates only for the commander to swiftly side step into his path and blow hot air from his nostrils. Enraged at this, Blueblood growls in primal anger before latching his telepathic grip around the commander's throat, lifting the choking pony off the ground. Strangely, the prince's magical aura had shifted from its original colours to a smoke akin to that pouring from his eyes, the same smoke locked tightly around the commander like a vice.

Growling, Blueblood watches as the armour shielding the pony's neck begins to crack under the force, falling from the commander in splinters. Roaring out, Blueblood launches the commander to the side into a group of guards under his control, the guards crumbling in a heap beneath their heavily breathing, and unconscious, leader. With a snort, Blueblood turns to face the gates once more and launches a bolt of smoky kinetic magic towards the centre. On impact, the gates spring to life and slam open with a great sound heard throughout all of Canterlot due to the immense force. Storming onwards, the prince traverses the curved road down the mountain range and reaches the colourfully painted wood of the train station, a many-carriage train already in place. Walking forwards, the prince passes by the train conductor and boards one of the carriages, a blue one.

Leaning back against his cushioned seat, the prince sighs in relaxation as he waits for the train to depart. Falling asleep, he doesn't realise that the train is set to depart to the Frozen North in the morning, when the rest of its VIPs board it.