Shiloh Retcon

The morning sun was gently starting to beat down through the trees in Central Park. The trees bore the softer greens and that slight touch of gold that signaled the end of summer. People walked down the paths in the bright, peaceful morning light with smiles on their faces. The beautiful summer day had done its work. Near the center of the park, several pairs of men and women sat around on a ring of benches, all of them focused intently on their various games of Chess and Backgammon in the same way that the mighty generals of old would focus on the battlefield before them.

I sat among them, watching my own board just as intently as the rest of them. My father sat across from me, watching me carefully judge my next move with a slight smirk on his face. I still had yet to beat him at any point in my life, somewhat understandable when you considered how old I was. For a seven-year-old child, I was doing remarkably well.

"It's your move, Shiloh."

I got this!

The board sat in front of me, a mystery that I still couldn't fully grasp. Why was I even loosing? I'd opened the game beautifully, trying my best to maintain center board control while I managed to create the traditional King's Indian Defense that had become somewhat of a calling card for me over the last few months since I'd begun to learn the game.  I had put everything in order, even pushing some of his forces back almost methodically as I pushed for that ever illusive "Cheque Mate" that I'd spent so many games attempting to achieve.

"How did you...I had done everything perfectly!"

"Yes, you did," my father replied somewhat smugly. "You're still loosing."

The most annoying part was the clock ticking next to me. Why my father had always insisted on using that wretched thing was as much of a mystery to me as the way to defeating him was. It sat there, ticking away like no-one's business, pounding mercilessly into my skull. The worst part was in the fact that the moment I hit the button, my father simply moved a piece and hit it himself. He always seemed to know what to expect of me, and that meant that he had already planned out his move before I had even made mine. It was utterly infuriating.

"Doesn't mean I will loose, either. Daddy, how do you do it?"

He simply smiled at me. "Magic," he replied. "Now stop wasting your time, or I'll win by default."

I groaned in frustration before making my move. I put my bishop into place, lining up for that next move that could bring about that glorious win I'd been wanting. I smiled at my father, hoping against hope that I'd done something capable of giving him pause. There was no such luck, and my smile faded away as he moved his queen into place, forever trapping my king in that immovable position that every chess player fears to reach.

"Cheque mate."

I simply looked up at him in wonder. "Daddy, how'd you do that?"

"Simple, I left an opening for you to potentially win and let that distract you while I moved my knight in position near where my Queen would be to go for the 'mate'. It's really not that complicated."

I stood up, watching as he set the pieces back in their various positions inside the board, placing each one in its small velvet ribbon. Once he'd folded it up, we started walking further into the park. I looked around at the trees that lined the grassy fields and small hills that were spread throughout Central Park, everything leaving me in nothing short of wonder. Ah, the joys of early childhood.

"Shiloh, you've just got to stop being so focused on playing by the rules. Your play was brilliant for your age, sure, but you were nothing but predictable."

"Those plays are really well known, right? Momma always says not to fix what isn't broken."

"Everyone who's serious about chess already knows those moves and their counters. Your gameplay can often end up as nothing but a ritual at that point, both sides going through the motions as they go about the game. That's all well and good for a win if you're on the white team, but you were black. You cannot win that way when you play as the second to move, you know. Maybe it would've been better if you'd started thinking of things to do yourself."

"Oh...what?"

My dad let out a sigh, looking down at me. "You'll understand one day."

I smiled up at him before wrapping my little arm around his own. He looked startled for a moment, before returning the smile himself. It seemed to surprise him whenever he remembered that I was still quite young. I had quite the vocabulary for my age, something that most of my piers did not. Still, it was nice to spend some time with him. We continued to walk through the park, simply enjoying one of those mornings as any father and daughter should.

As we started nearing the edge of the park, the gigantic buildings that surrounded the place started to become more noticeable. I looked up at them, enjoying their towering size and intimidating features like I had every Tuesday morning since as long as I could remember. The pleasant Tuesday morning had always been somewhat special to me, that one time of the week when I could truly spend time with my father.

I looked over towards a gap in the towers when I noticed something. I tugged at my father's coatsleeves, trying to get his attention. He looked down at me for moment, before kneeling down and following the direction of my finger. I continued to watch it, my eyes tracking every moment.

"Why's that plane flying so low?"

That was the last thing that escaped my mouth before we watched it slam right into the north face of the northern tower of the World Trade Center. Even from Central Park, the view was very clear. The World Trade Center was the tallest thing around, so there was simply no missing it. My jaw dropped at the sight of the blast, watching in intent horror at that one moment where hundreds of people were killed nearly instantaneously. I stood in shock, grasping my father's arm as we stared at the sight fire and falling debris, some of which was still living.

My father slowly put his arm around me, pulling me into a hug as we watch the fires burning and the smoke rising from the side of the building. I didn't cry at the time, I was too shocked to even fully comprehend what had happened. I just stared and stared...We knelt there for quite a while, just holding each other as we watched the second one impact on the southern tower. We watched the people fleeing from the park as best they could, everyone panicking at what had happened. We watched the buildings fall.

"Daddy...why'd they do it? You know, on purpose?"

He looked down at me, and I watched as the man I had idolized my entire life started to break down and cry. He pulled me into an even deeper hug, gently rubbing my back as he openly wept into my hair. I hugged him back, still not fully understanding what had happened. We stayed there for a time, just keeping to each other as the world seemed to throw itself into chaos around us.

"I don't know, Shi. I just don't know..."

I sat up with a gasp, my mind reeling with one of the unwanted memories of my early childhood. It took a few moments for my mind to register the fact that I was no longer in my human body. Perhaps that was a relief, changelings seem rather incapable of sweating through their carapace. I stood up with a groan, taking a moment to look around me. I stopped almost immediately, taking in the sight of someone I had spent most of the day before considering how best to give a piece of my mind.

"Good morning, Shiloh."

Discord stood there, his perpetually smug expression forever plastered on his smarmy lips. I had to resist the urge to test out my new body on that stupid grin. I scowled at him, my indifferent mood being quickly replaced with one of annoyance.

"Good morning, Fuckface."

"Tut tut, that's hardly the way to greet a friend!"

I just glared at him. "Yeah, and sending your 'friends' into a specist world like this in the body of someone they absolutely despise totally is. Fuck you very much, Discord."

He simply chuckled. "If I could've sent you here in the body of a pony, I would have. It sure would've been a lot easy for me to not have to deal with the mess that this is creating. My magic, however, is chaotic in nature. I could no more choose what form you came in than you could choose what hand you'd get in a game of poker." His smug look faded for a moment. "Sometimes I've really come to wish that this were not the case..."

My scowl started to lessen as I took in what he was saying. As much as I'd have liked to stay mad at him, it really wasn't his fault that I came in the form I did. While righteous anger has its uses, there's no point at being angry with someone who didn't even intentionally harm you. Besides, he was just a little too likable as it was.

"So...what now?"

"Well, now you have to find a way to thrive in a society that absolutely hates your guts. No real challenge there, right? My best advice to you would be to try and find the Elements of Harmony. If anyone is tolerant of people other than themselves, it'll be them. They might be somewhat hostile at first, but give them some time and you can probably win them over." Discord looked down at me. "Anyways, I've got to go for now. You will be checked up on every now and again, and while I'm no longer technically considered a public enemy, it would be best if I wasn't here when they did. Besides, it wouldn't look good for you either."

As he turned to leave, I looked at him pensively. "Wait, so who are the Elements of Harmony?"

"Oh, just a few mares that are rather naive at times, but they mean well." He looked over his shoulder. "You could also consider actually learning your powers. There's a reason your kind is called a 'Changeling,' after all. For now, though, you're supposed to be 'confined to quarters.' Just try and be polite and things will come out okay in the end."

With that, the strange being before me snapped his fingers and disappeared in a poof. He was right in time; someone knocked on the door not moments later. With a bit of a push, I stood up and managed to make my way over to the door. The servant with a tray on the other side greeted me with that impassive look that I was soon to grow all too familiar with.

Apparently most ponies took the term 'confined to quarters' rather seriously, to my great chagrin. I was granted a small room on some back end of the castle, and the entire place was more than a little spartan in appearance. I was not permitted to leave, not even to use whatever excuse for a lavatory that they sported in this time era. No matter what I wanted or needed, I was to remain in that room. Hell, they even posted a pair of rather intimidating guards at my door. Were the fangs and black plates of steel armor really necessary?

It wasn't all bad, especially considering the state of my bed being something other than a generic wooden plank, or the fact I was given a decent meal three times a day. Medieval prisons were not nearly so nice, so I supposed that that was a plus. I could even request certain books from that gigantic library they had in the castle! I probably would've audibly squeed if it weren't for the fact that the whole thing was written in fucking Windings or some shit like that. I think that sighing started to become a habit somewhere around then.

My time for confinement also gave me a chance to properly adjust to my new frame, something that I sorely needed. While walking on all fours wouldn't seem like too much of an issue to anyone who'd ever crawled, it was a bit of a bitch to learn when your knee joints are essentially reversed. Needless to say, it was a good thing that I was by myself when I started mastering the art of faceplanting. I think I'd earned my doctorate in the subject by the time I got used to it.

That didn't last forever, of course, and I eventually grew accustomed to my new center of gravity as time went on. Being who I am, that wasn't quite enough, but it was a start. I practiced religiously on my balance, trying to learn not only how to walk and trot, but how to do so with grace and fluidity when I chose to do so as well. Considering the amount of time that I spent in that room, I started to get rather skilled at it.

They were, of course, kind enough to grant me a mirror for the sake of beautifying myself. I didn't even bother with that, especially considering the fact that I had no clue as to what 'beautiful' meant around these parts. Besides, I doubt that changelings were considered hot at even the best of times. The only thing I really found useful in that dull, reflective surface was the ability to see my new body as a whole. While I already knew a lot of it, being able to see it in a mirror could more than help.

I had already figured out that my frame was rather thin when compared to most of the ponies I saw, something I would prefer to call 'svelte' than 'anorexic', and I stood at roughly the same height as most of the stallions around me. My mane was a strong electric blue, standing out against my black carapace in a rather silky and luminescent way. I freaked out more than a little when I took stock of the holes that glared our at me from my wings, legs, and even my own horn. How a species could possibly evolve into something with all of those, I had no clue. Seriously, if there's a God out there, He's one fucked up creator.

What really surprised me were the eyes, a lustrous and somewhat predatory green that stared back at me through my reflection. They spoke of hunger, or an insatiable lust for food in a way that reminded me much of a locust. At the same time, there was a bit of a playfulness to them, something that didn't quite add up to the predatory gleam that seemed perpetually stuck within them. Still, those fucked up eyes made it clear to me why ponies didn't really like 'my' kind. It was far more like looking into the eyes of a starving wolf than that of an actual pony, and I knew that I was beginning to feel the predatory pangs that confirmed my suspicions.

Great, just what I need.

Every other day, some random officer would check up on me, and he'd look me up and down before turning to leave. I certainly saw neither hide nor hair of Lucius while I remained in my quarters, and it was starting to feel less and less like hospitality and more and more like imprisonment as the days continued to drag on. It didn't help that the few ponies I actually had contact with usually remained silent and impassive when dealing with me. "Fucking pricks," I'd mutter.

I was actually in the middle of staring at the timbers above me when a soft knock came on my door. I growled softly and stood up, trotting over to open it as usual. I was a little annoyed at being interrupted in my all important counting of the individual grains in the wood, something that I don't see any reason to be proud of. Days of remaining nearly stationary was doing wonders for my dour mood, so I opened it with a bit of a scowl on my face, starting to say, "What the fuck do yo-" before I realized that it was none other than Lucius looking back at me.

"She's here."

"Okay, now what?"

"Now you should prepare yourself for the most unpleasant half hour of your life," he muttered, turning around to leave. He started to trot away before stopping to look over his shoulder at me. "It has been arranged for you to arrive in the courtroom in an hour, so you'd best prepare yourself to deal with the might and influence of a Goddess."

"Thanks for inspiring my confidence," I responded darkly.

"Don't mention it," he replied, a hint of a smile touching the corner of his lips. "I try my best."

You fucking...

Saying that the next half hour would be hell for me was an understatement. I soon found myself dragged into a complete makeover at the hooves of some psychotic bitch of a mare who wanted to make me look a little less hideous for the purpose of 'preserving the mental state of her Majesty.' I shit you not, that was literally what she said! If it weren't for the fact that I wasn't born in this body, I'd probably have slapped her for that. I may have been raised as a bit of a tomboy, but a girl is still a girl, and such brazen comments like that were likely to make you loose some teeth.

"Hold still, Dear," she direct me, putting a fairly obvious emphasis on the word 'dear' like she meant something less cordial. She continued to untangle my mane violently, trying to make sure that the long blue strands were no longer plagued with knots as she prepared me for what must obviously have been somehow important to her. Apparently the ponies had yet to realize that their monarchs still take a shit in the same way that we do.

I held my piece, too busy worrying over what to say when I actually dealt with whatever monarch they thought actually moved the very stars themselves. For all I knew, they were right. After all, a world of talking ponies, unicorn magic, and strange monsters could likely create some truth out of what humankind would deem mythology, so I had no guarantees that this was the case. Top that off with the potential for the power necessary to control celestial powers being mingled with worship and adoration from every pony they have ever seen, and it wouldn't take much to realize that whoever this monarch was may have demanded nothing short of groveling in her presence.

Whatever the case may be, I couldn't bow down to some arrogant asshole that held such power even if she did have it in her to exterminate me. Once you spend enough time free in a nation that supports equality, groveling really just is not in your nature. Worrying wouldn't help given that I would be seeing her whether I wanted to or not, but that didn't stop me from doing so.

"You'll be fine, Dear," the mare next to me said, obviously having read the nervous expression that had flooded my face. "She's truly a kind spirit, so you don't need to be scared."

I looked at her surprised. "You know her?"

"Heavens no, Darling! Still, it doesn't take an intimate relationship with her to know that she'll be merciful. Why ever would she not?"

Because I look like something that might make a tasty snack out of a school of plump little foals?

"Well, maybe I'm just being nervous."

"It's perfectly fine, Dear. She isn't a bad sort, by any means," the pony beside me stated. "She may have to be harsh at times, but there's a reason that everypony loves her like they do."

I think it was at that moment that I let out a sigh of relief. I don't know what it was, but I was really desperate to have any reason to believe that I'd be leaving that chamber with my limbs intact. It would really suck if I got a firsthand experience as to what it felt like for those poor flies that my friends and I used to rip the wings off of as kids. Demented fucks, I know.

Once I was spiffed up and ready, I soon found myself led down one of the many marble halls of whatever place I was being detained at. Seriously, marble halls. Anyways, I found myself in front of the door to some type of throne room, probably reserved for royalty when they would happen to grace the halls. It didn't matter to me, though, given that I was preoccupied with trying not to make a scene by pissing myself before even getting a chance to see her majesty.

"Enter" was all I heard before the doors were opened by a pair of rather large, burly stallions in suits of some of the shittiest golden armor I'd ever seen. How that stuff protected them, I would never know. Maybe in a world of talking ponies, wearing armor might work for stallions the same way that metal bras worked for female warriors in videogames back home. But I digress...

As soon as I'd entered the throne room (if they call it that), I knelt down as instructed. I probably would've been sweating had I a set of glands to do so with. There was apparently some sort of clock in the room; I kept hearing the pendulum moving back and forth, steadily keeping beat like an old metronome.

"Rise."

I shifted my weight back onto my hind hooves, looking up to peer into the eyes of whoever was in front of me. My legs were really taking the opportunity to show off my nervousness, and I was hard pressed not to just to fall on my face at that moment. The sight I saw was more than a little shocking to say the least.

She was tall, very tall, and her white frame was thin and lithe, much like my own. Her wings were massive, and the horn that donned her head would've been more aptly called a 'lance' than anything else. Her mane flowed with softer rainbow colors, moving perpetually in some strange, ethereal wind that no one else could touch or feel. She was utterly awe inspiring.

At a glance, Princess Celestia turned to her guard to motion for them to leave. If she was at all surprised by anything about my, she was very good at hiding it. It was only after everybody else had left the room that she turned to really look at me.

"When I'd heard that a changeling of your kind was found in the middle of Ponyville, I was more than a little skeptical. Your kind never work on their own, let alone someone of your standing," Celestia stated, slowly approaching me. "Don't get me wrong, I trust Lucius implicitly. I expected you to be Chrysalis, however. As far as I knew, she was the only Queen left in the world."

"Queen, your highness?"

Celestia stared at me for a moment as if I were some unknown level of stupid. Maybe she'd give me a medal for it. The white mare walked up to me, taking everything in. After a moment, she gently smiled at me and asked, "May I take a look at your memories?"

Well that came out of left field.

"Uh, sure?"

"Thank you."

I felt the tip of Celestia's horn touch against my skull, gently caressing my head. I would've expected some sort of existential experience when she sifted through my old memories, but I guess not everything works the same way as it does in movies. A pity, really, I would've loved to have seen my own mind.

After a few minutes, Celestia pulled her head back and let out a sigh of relief. "That went better than I expected," she stated, suddenly smiling at me in a much more friendly manner. "I was worried that Lucius's spell had been thwarted, but apparently he was right. I'm sorry for your loss, Shiloh."

I didn't even consider the implications of that before saying a polite "Thank you" to the mare who'd just sorted through my memories like some kid's science project. On the other hand (or hoof), I probably wouldn't have done any different were I in her place. She had no way of knowing what I was without doing so, really. All things considered, it was probably for the best.

"Please, take a seat," Celestia said, pulling me out of my little reverie. I noticed her motioning to a nearby table, and I made my way towards it. The wood was of a rather dark oaken type, well kept and lacquered nicely. I took a seat across from her, keeping my piece until she had said hers. She waited quietly for me to take it all in.

Since the initial shock had worn off, I now had the opportunity to take in my surroundings properly. We were in some sort of make-shift throne room as I had figured, but it obviously wasn't the sole purpose of the room we were in. Just like with everything else in the palace, this room was intended as some sort of dining hall when not in use for court. There were a few long tables situated along the length of the hall, each using a series of chairs rather than the traditional benches for some reason that I failed to conceive. There were a few banners in places, and the entire place felt rather secure and homely. All in all, it was rather nice.

"So tell me, Shiloh, why have you come here?"

"Um, don't you already know that?" I asked, somewhat incredulous.

"I only gathered enough memories to tell if your story had been genuine or not. Some magi are skilled enough to thwart a unicorn's detection spell, but I have yet to encounter any even close to skilled enough to get around a direct mind-link like I performed with you. So please tell me, why are you here? How did you arrive? And why are you a changeling? Lucius told me a few things, but I'd rather gather the information directly from the source here."

I hesitated for a moment before diving into my story. Perhaps I'd have to work on a better way of saying it if I was going to get asked a lot. While I certainly wouldn't tell just anyone, there were probably a number of people who'd have the authority and motivation to ask. I watched for any reactions that Celestia might have, but she maintained a fairly decent poker face the entire time.

"That is...interesting. Discord is a good soul, though somewhat unpredictable. I'm not that surprised that he would play this card, all things considered. As with what he told you, I too have little evidence as to who or what this threat is. I honestly believe that this is just paranoia, but it is better safe than sorry, I suppose. Now to more relevant matters. I have brought someone with me for in the event that what you'd stated before was true."

With that, a golden aura surrounded Celestia's horn. The air started to shimmer about ten feet away from her, and the illusion spell she'd cast earlier dispelled. Standing where nothing but open air had been only moments earlier was one of the ugliest, most fierce looking predators that I had ever seen.

It stood at about the height of the average mare, holding itself rather nicely and with perfect posture. The eyes were blank blue orbs, resting lifelessly in its skull like balls of pure stone as it seemed to take in everything at once. The gossamer wings on its back didn't quite look slimy, but damn was it close. When it opened its mouth to smile, large fangs and razor sharp teeth glared back out from its open maw.

"Shiloh, this is 3Be-26, a former member of part of a branch hive of Chrysalis's. She's been under my employ for more than a decade now in secret, and I figured that it would be best if she spent a couple weeks to get you up to speed on all matters changeling related. Her pony alias goes by the name of Winter Morning, so you may use that when talking to her."

I stared at the changeling for a moment before collecting myself. So this is what ponies see in me... I stood up and trotted over to the creature before offering my hoof. The young 'mare' gently shook it before quickly transforming into a white mare with a frosty blue mane. "Pleased to meet you, Shiloh," she said.

"You two had best get acquainted, because you two are essentially going to spend the next month together." Celestia smiled at me, a comforting smile that made me feel a little more at ease. "Don't worry, Shiloh. Everything will be alright."

Everything will be alright...

"Tantum illud vos rogo, ut debet recogitare meum-"

"Dixi vobis iam dixi, cives, quod propositio vestra, temeraria ad optimum. Non possum ferre per quod et debent inde declinare tuus offero. Discedete, Senator."

The old mare turned to leave as directed, ending the session for the day. Lucius rubbed his eyes as he stood up. The entire court process was a truly tiring affair, and he had no love of doing so. Were it not for the vox populi, he would probably have retired years ago.

The aging stallion trotted slowly out of the room, leaving directions to a nearby servant to prepare a bath for him. The Triumvir followed after, putting on a mask of strength to hide his exhaustion. As he headed to the baths, he did his best not to let down his guard. Such was the life of a Lord of his station.

Once his personal balnea was prepared, Lucius settled into the water, letting out an audible sigh as the tension in his large shoulders was released. A cute young mare took her position behind him and started to message him into the deeper portions of his muscles. The entire room smelled wonderful as the best perfumes in the region were put to good use. While the duties of a Triumvir may be taxing, the benefits were wonderful.

"Bring me my son," Lucius directed a nearby servant, before promptly relaxing back into the treatment he was being given. While he was not yet an old timer, he was getting past the point of middle aged life, and these baths were becoming longer and more frequent as time moved on.

"You called, Father?"

"Yes, my Son," the elder stallion replied, not even bothering to open his eyes. He remained silent, waiting for his child to speak up and inquire as to why he had been summoned. It was something that had always irked the lad, and an heir to such a position as his should not be so easily annoyed. The younger stallion let out a soft sigh.

"Why have you summoned me, Father?"

"An excellent question, Lad," Lucius said, opening his eyes to look over at his son. The younger stallion was well into his twenties, and he too sported an off white coat much like his father's. His mane, however, was of a much lighter shade, keeping a blonde hue as compared to his father's black. He was built much like his father, but was not quite tones as well due to his incorrigible laziness. Lucius snorted at that.

"I have called you down here, Blueblood, to talk about your incessant use of a title of ours that is practically irrelevant."

"This again, Father?"

"Yes, this again. The term "Prince", while perfectly valid and entirely within your right to use, is not something to be trifled with."

"You've said this many times before, Father. Do you think I have so suddenly changed my mind?" Blueblood replied, looking down at his relaxing father with something much akin to a base sneer. The elder stallion let out yet another sigh, something that sadly has not set a record.

I swear that colt is the reason I'm graying at the temples...

"I understand that you have not changed your mind, and that you probably never will. I will, however, harass you about it until you do." Lucius stood up, trotting over towards his child with a scowl forming on his face. "Quite frankly, you embarrass me, Blueblood. Do you think that title was just given to our bloodline for no reason? Do you think we just run around flashing it about to reel in whatever mare we see like it is but a plaything?!"

Blueblood was obviously trying not to smile as he saw father growing flustered yet again. Lucius noticed this and snorted. "Do you honestly think that trying to anger me will get you anywhere? You're a disgrace to the family, and you know it. I have never done anything half-ass in my life, and I always thought I could succeed at anything. Apparently not, I am a sorry excuse of a father for you to have sunk this low."

That caused the younger stallion to scowl, his face turning from smug to angry at his father's blatant insult. He tried to stare his father down, but the elder was far more experienced at dealing with such contests of will. The older stallion continued, not taking his solid, unmoving gaze from his son's as he spoke.

"I am ashamed of you, and were she still alive, your mother would be as well."

"Don't you dare fucking talk like that!" Blueblood hollered, jumping on top of his father in an instant. The younger stallion started wailing on him, his hooves slamming forcefully into his father's body, trying to force the elder to the ground. Lucius simply threw him off before straightening up to face his son. What he did not expect, however, was for Blueblood to recover so quickly. The young stallion struck him across the muzzle with his forehoof, sending his father reeling.

Lucius was no stranger to the odd brawl now and again, even in his position. He shifted his weight from hoof to hoof, waiting for his son to approach him. Blueblood did just that, charging him head on like a freight train, ready to do some real damage. A small smile touched Lucius's lips before he sidestepped his son, watching as he fell into the hot-tub.

Blueblood promptly found himself being dragged out of the water before feeling several successive strikes on his face, leaving his head spinning as he tried to re-orient himself. The younger stallion calmed down enough to realize that he was wasting his time, so he simply hung his head in defeat, trying not to sob.

The Triumvir wiped a forehoof across his muzzle, noticing a thin streak of blood on it as he turned to face his son. "Look at you! Sitting there sniveling like a little foal!! At your age, you should have been able to wipe my ugly ass all around this room like a mop! Instead, you barely managed to make me bleed, something that is really not that difficult at my age. You wonder why I am ashamed of you? It's because you run around playing 'Prince' without even attempting to earn the right to say it!"

The stern look on Lucius's face dissolved a little. He trotted over to his son and pulled him into a tight embrace. "It's not really your fault, you know. It's mine," he said, wiping a tear away from his son's cheek as he felt his own welling up. "I-I coddled you for far too long. I just...I couldn't do it! Not after your mother died."

Blueblood looked up to meet his father's gaze, tears streaming down the sides of his cheeks. "Am I a bad pony, Father? I-I just..."

"Sh, sh, It's okay," his father replied, slowly rocking him slowly back and forth as they wept. "It'll be okay."

It'll be okay...

The double doors to the balnea suddenly burst open as an armored guard rushed in. "My Lord-"

"What is it?"

"We have an emergency! It's regarding the murders..."