A Ruler’s Regret Never Fades
A Ruler’s Regret Never Fades
By: Neon Lights
Edited by: Typoglyphic
Celestia sat at her desk, looking over the various reports on the status of her nation. The Fillydelphians were complaining about lack of funding again, apparent by the presence of yet another plea. The third this month, if she remember correctly. The regal alicorn shook her head. They would have had plenty of funding if they hadn’t spent so much on that silly festival of theirs. She sighed. She would have to again explain to them the importance of responsible fiscal planning. Celestia slid the Fillydelphian missive to her Later pile, then floated the next paper over.
“All right, what’s next,” she muttered, reading the proposal over. She sighed again. It was another request for funding, though this one was very genuine. “... to rebuild the Northern Observatory Tower after the changeling invasion,” Celestia read aloud, pressing her hooves to her temples. “That was destroyed, too?” Even months later, the event haunted her.
It had indeed been three months since the Changeling Invasion and Celestia had been dealing with the aftermath every since. Large sections of Canterlot needed to be rebuilt. Politicians needed to be calmed. Ponies needed to be reassured. And as much as she wanted to delegate the work, everything was faster and easier if she was the one giving the orders. Although this expedited the process, the drawback was that she hadn’t had more than a few hours rest at a time since the invasion.
Celestia took the luxury of a several second long break, massaging her head with her hooves in an attempt to focus. When those precious seconds were up, she lifted her head and reread the proposal, then quickly signed and moved onto the next. This one bore the symbol of the Equestrian Military.
“Three hundred percent increase in military spending…” Celestia read aloud. Was that really necessary? Yes, this incident had exposed some major flaws in her guard, which she was currently attempting to reform, but really? Three hundred percent? She had always tried to keep Equestria’s military as small as possible. Too large an army and… well, when all you had was a hammer, everything looked like a nail.
The princess dropped the proposal onto her Later pile, which she was considering renaming the Invasion pile. She hated to let things build up like this, but most of the proposals that ended up in front of her were too extreme for her to approve, yet too important for her to dismiss outright. So there they sat, waiting for the next council meeting.
The doors of the study burst open. Celestia turned to look at the ageing grey stallion trotting toward her. “Ah, Captain Crossed Swords,” she said with a smile, happy for the distraction. “How are you?”
The captain stopped by her desk and bowed low. “Please forgive my manners, your highness, but I bear urgent news.”
Celestia stood. “Rise,” she commanded. The captain obeyed. Celestia headed for the doors that led out to the balcony. “I’ve been sitting for far too long. Time for a change in venue. Come, Captain.”
The pair trotted out onto the balcony, a warm night breeze washing over them. Celestia lead them to a pair of cushions next to the edge of the balcony that overlooked most of Equestria. She sat down on one and motioned for the captain to do the same.
“One moment, if you will.” Celestia lit her horn, and several torches flickered to life around them, gently illuminating the balcony. “Ah, much better.” She smiled at the captain. “While I appreciate my sister’s night, I find the darkness a bit consuming.”
The Captain nodded. “I know what you mean, Princess,” he began, then cleared his throat. “Now, back to the issue at hoof: I am here to inform you of development regarding the whereabouts of the changeling army.”
Celestia grimaced. “Go on.”
“As you know, our early patrols didn’t encounter any changelings within several hundred miles of Canterlot. Given recent information, it seems likely that they were expelled quite far by the, uh, love bubble? However, as of today, we have managed to track them down.” Crossed Swords grinned with barely contained excitement. “Your highness, I am proud to report that the changeling threat is no more.”
Celestia didn’t share his enthusiasm. “What do you mean?” she demanded. “How are they are no longer a threat?”
The captain flinched slightly, his eyes wide. “W-What I mean, Princess, is that our scouts report that the entirety of the changeling hive is dead—presumably from the force of the impact.”
Celestia didn’t respond. She stared into one of the torches that lined the balcony. The flame danced in the gentle wind, moving free and burning bright. A sudden gust blew past, and the flame flickered out in a puff of smoke. She frowned. Her horn glowed a brilliant gold and the flame soon flickered back to life.
“Our scouts have also confirmed the death of their queen. Her body was found at the center of the crash site,” the Captain finished. He fidgeted as he waited for a response.
“Are you certain there were no survivors?”
Crossed Swords bit his lip. “My apologies, Princess, I forgot to mention: there was one survivor. The scouts were able to recover it alive, though not without… effort.”
Celestia’s eyes widened and she spun to look at him. “Really?”
The stallion winced at the outburst but was quick to recover. “Yes, Princess. The guards should be escorting it to the dungeon as we-”
“No.”
“No?” the Captain repeated. “Then what do you want me to -”
“Send the survivor to me and leave him here. Unguarded,” Celestia spoke with certainty.
“Princess,” Crossed Swords began as he rose to his hooves, trying to look her in the eye. “I highly suggest against this course of-”
“That is an order, Crossed Swords. I suggest you follow it. Remember the temporary nature of your position? You can easily be replaced.”
The stallion gulped, but saluted without question. “Yes, your majesty… by your leave.” He cantered back through the study and into the hallway, leaving Celestia alone with her thoughts.
***
Brass Greaves jerked the chain attaching him to the prisoner. The changeling hissed in response, but kept walking. For two days, the guard had been chained to this creature. Neither of them liked it. He glared at the monster. It moved to spit at him, but he jerked the chain before the creature’s bile could leave its mouth. “Not this time, bug.”
“Cool it, Greaves!” the other guard croaked, looking at the changeling anxiously. “We don’t want to hurt him.”
Brass groaned at the sound of the other nuisance he was connected to. “Speak for yourself. After what these assholes did to Canterlot, I’d be happy to kill him with my bare hooves.” Brass picked up the pace. The changeling stumbled as it tried to keep up.
“Well, I don’t think the princess will be pleased if we bring him in half-dead.” His partner was falling behind as well. The changeling growled as their two tethers pulled it in opposite directions. Brass enjoyed a fantasy of the two of them pulling it apart until its neck broke. Or until it split in half. Either was acceptable.
His partner, Silver Spear, caught up to him, and they crossed the guard barracks, headed for the prison. Brass heard the jingling of armor coming up from behind.
“You two!” It was Captain Crossed Swords. The two guards saluted smartly. “The princess wants that changeling brought up to her. Get it there, now.”
Brass grinned. Maybe the princess wanted to kill it herself? It didn’t really seem like something she’d do, but this was a changeling, after all.
They dropped their salutes. “Sir, yes, sir.” Brass motioned to Silver, and the two of them—three, including the changeling—headed for the stairs to the royal tower.
Brass felt a sharp tug on the the leash, and he turned back to see the changeling crouched on the ground, its teeth bared.
Silver Spear sighed. “Look,” he said, “you’re not going anywhere. We’ve been dragging you around for hours. You might as well get used to behaving.”
“Hraaagh!” The changeling hissed and lunged. Brass yanked his end of the leash, and the changeling jerked to a stop, its limbs flying out from under it as it crashed to the stone floor.
He stepped closer and bent over it, sneering. “Look, you disgusting creature. All the princess knows is that you survived. She has no idea whether you’re intact. So how about you smarten up, and I don't start pulling your limbs off. Starting with those wispy little wings of yours.”
The changeling hissed again, but it got to its feet and let them pull it forward without resistance. Brass smirked at Silver. “See? There’s only one way to get through to these things.”
***
Buzzik silently cursed the guards with every insult he knew. His body ached from struggling against the chains that bound his wings and legs that left him with barely enough mobility to walk. His throat hurt, especially where the guards’ tethers were tied. The three of them reached the top of a long set of stairs and stopped before a large door. Two more guards stood to either side, spears in hoof. The two guards that led him here detached the leashes from their armor and gave the ends to the door guards, then returned down the stairs.
These new guards led Buzzik through the the door. They secured his tethers to a couple of freshly mounted brackets in the the floor, checked his bindings, then left the room. He heard the door close behind him with a loud click.
Buzzik took a moment to look around. He wasn’t in a cell, much to his surprise, but in an office with fine wooden furniture and other expensive accents. His attention was drawn to the burning fireplace to one side. He closed his eyes and felt himself relaxing slightly as he basked in its welcoming warmth. It had been a long time since he’d been this comfortable, even despite the chains.
“Enjoying the fire?”
Buzzik’s eyes shot open. He turned toward the source of the new voice and growled. It was the white pony Queen. He hissed and leapt toward her, only to be jerked to a stop mere inches from her, the chains digging into his carapace. She looked down at him impassively. He raged against his restraints, his teeth gnashing. The clamour of chains rattling filled the room. Celestia didn’t move. She didn’t react at all.
“Do you feel better to have that out of your system?” Celestia asked, levitating a pair of cushions over to the hearth. She sat on one, then gestured at the other. “Please sit.”
Buzzik growled and then used what mobility he had to kick the cushion as far away as he could. If he was going to die here, then he’d die with dignity. Not sitting on a cushion.
Celestia shook her head. “I mean you no harm, changeling,” she said, her voice calm and collected. “I want you to be comfortable.”
The corners of Buzzik’s mouth twisted in a sneer. He was a changeling—he knew manipulation when he saw it.
“May I request your name, Changeling?” Celestia asked. “After all, it’s a bit rude to refer to someone by their race, don’t you think?”
Buzzik’s sneer deepened. “Go to hell, foodstuff.”
“Indeed,” Celestia responded in kind. She had a slight accent—like an oily film over her words. “Just like that. Rude, yes?”
“So, you speak the mother’s tongue?” Buzzik spoke, disgusted.
Celestia’s face softened. “I apologize, but I have no choice if you refuse to use mine.”
He grunted. Anything was preferable to hearing her butcher his language again. “What do you want, pony?” he said, switching to Equestrian. The words were like bricks in his mouth that left a sickly aftertaste.
A smile spread across the princess’ face. “I’m sorry about the chains. They were the captain’s idea.”
Buzzik watched as Celestia’s horn lit up in a golden aura, then he felt the weight of the chains suddenly lessen and fall free from his body. He looked down and confirmed the feeling, then flapped his sore wings a few times.
“I have a temporary captain filling in while Shining Armor is on leave,” Celestia continued. “Crossed Swords can be… difficult, but he means well.” Celestia settled back into her cushion. “I trust that you will not take advantage of this freedom,” she warned. “Know that I am more than capable of restraining you in their stead.”
Buzzik stretched and gingerly rubbed his chafed chitin. While he was glad to be free of the chains, the pony’s kindness made him uneasy. What was she planning? He hardened his expression. “Get to the point, pony.”
Celestia smiled. “Of course. I had you brought here so that I could offer my condolences for your loss.”
Buzzik’s eyes widened, rage clouding his vision. “Your condolences?” he seethed. He took a step forward. “How dare you mock our destruction; the death of our Queen; our mother?!” His face contorted and his body quivered with anger.
Celestia winced slightly, but otherwise didn’t react. Several seconds passed as Buzzik regained control of himself. An angry changeling was a stupid changeling. He had to be ready for anything.
“I am not mocking you,” Celestia said. “I never wanted any changelings to be hurt. None of us did.”
“An easy thing to say while safe and secure in your gilded tower, pony.” Buzzik sneered. “If you faced an entire swarm of drones rather than a single one, I think you would appreciate a genocide.”
Celestia recoiled. “I would never—” She shook herself. “Life is precious. Yours included.”
“Mine?” Buzzik growled. “What of my brothers? Were their lives not precious?”
“Of course they were!” Celestia seemed bothered. That was good. “Despite the invasion, I believed that they could be saved.”
“Saved?” Buzzik spat back. “From death? What would have become of us instead? Would you have my siblings chained next to me in your dungeons? I understand war, pony. If our roles were reversed, we would have killed you all, eventually. But do not pretend to care about our… about my loss.” Buzzik’s jaw tightened. His eyes narrowed. “It is humiliating, pony, and you know it.”
“Please,” Celestia closed her eyes, “listen. I can’t undo—”
“Why should I?” Buzzik interrupted. “Your words mean nothing. You do not know what it is like to be the last of your kind.”
Celestia’s lip twitched, her calm expression threatening to crack. “Perhaps not,” she said, visibly forcing her face into a neutral mask. “Perhaps my words hold hollow meaning. Perhaps I have brought you here only to assuage my conscience.” She paused. “Or, maybe… maybe I understand what you face, changeling. Maybe I want to end this cycle. Maybe... I offer mercy.”
“Your ponies may believe you omnipotent, but I know better. You cannot bring back the dead. What mercy can you offer us?”
“You misunderstand—I am not offering mercy to your family. They are, as you say, beyond my help, much as I wish that weren’t the case. I am only offering you mercy, changeling. You seem to be very much alive.”
“And what mercy can you grant me, Pony? There’s nothing left for me in this world.” Buzzik’s tone was grim. He knew where this conversation was going, now. A quick death, hopefully.
Celestia took a deep breath. “Two paths lie before you: forgiveness or revenge.” Buzzik blinked. “You can spend the rest of your days lashing out against those who have hurt you, or you can try to move on and carry forth the memory of your kind.”
Buzzik dropped his gaze. Stupid pony. “Changelings do not forgive...”
“You are, as far as I know, the last changeling. I do not mean to sound insensitive, but who is left to judge you?”
“If I chose to...” Buzzik clenched his jaw, his eyes still focused on the ground between them. She was the enemy. She couldn’t be trusted. “What if I chose to forgive?”
“Then you fly off from that balcony,” Celestia gestured to the glass door across from the hearth. A golden glow surrounded it as it opened wide, “and the ponies of Equestria believe I executed you personally.” Celestia placed a tentative hoof on his shoulder. He tensed, but didn’t push her away. “I never wanted to kill changelings. I never wanted anyone to die.”
Buzzik quivered. “And if I choose revenge?” He lifted his head to look her straight in the eyes. Her hoof was still on his shoulder.
“You will be tried in our courts. If you’re found guilty, which I’m almost certain you will, you’ll be sentenced accordingly. You will rot in a cell for the rest of your life.” Celestia paused. “A short life, I’m sure. There’s very little love to be found in a dungeon.”
Buzzik mulled over his options. That didn’t seem like much of a choice. “What is your request? What is it I must promise you?”
“You will promise to live for both you and your kind. Live in their memory and give them the future that they were so tragically denied. Live in peace.” Celestia’s voice was strong and clear, sounding for the first time like a real Queen.
“And how will you enforce this promise? If you let me through that door, you will never find me again. I guarantee it.” Buzzik forced himself to stand still. He wanted desperately to bolt for the balcony. To fly away from this city of death. To rest. To grieve.
“You’re right, I can’t enforce it. I don’t think I’ll need to. I trust your word.”
Heh. That had to be a lie, though her expression didn’t betray it. “What’s your game, Pony?” There had to be something in this for her.
Celestia sighed. “There is no game, I assure you.”
“You expect me to believe that you will just let me go? Just like that? That you trust my word?” He knocked her hoof off his shoulder, finally. He rose up as tall as he could, though she still dwarfed him. “I’m a changeling, fool. My word is only as good as the love I can get in return.” The balcony door called to him.
Celestia didn’t flinch. “You don’t need to believe anything, changeling, except that I will release you. Go ahead. Fly away. I can see that you want to. As you said, there is nothing I can do to you once you’re past that door.”
He was getting sick of this. “What is wrong with you?” he shouted. “Nothing can hurt my family more than my death, so stop scheming already!” He was close to her now. Less than a foot from her chest. “Just kill me!”
The hearth crackled as a cool breeze blew through the open door. Buzzik shivered. He wanted that breeze.
“I forgive you.”
He tensed, Celestia’s words surprising him. He squinted at her.
“That’s what you don’t understand. I forgive you. And I forgive your brothers and sisters. Even your queen. I didn’t want to hurt them, and I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t have anything to gain by setting you free, but the world stands to lose another changeling, and I think that’s unacceptable. Your life is valuable. So go out and spend it wisely.”
Forgiveness. It wasn’t common among changelings. He was starting to think it wasn’t common among ponies, either. He opened his mouth, his throat suddenly dry. Everything he knew told him to say no. To curse. To rip her throat out.
“I… I accept.” He turned to look out the balcony door. The sky was a cloudless blue. “I promise to live in memory of my hive.”
Celestia let out a long breath. “In that case,” she said, smiling, “you are free to go.”
Buzzik smiled despite himself. He felt as though he should say something more, but no words came to mind. He turned and bolted for the door. He spread his wings, seconds away from freedom.
Ah. There were the words. He turned back to Celestia. “I forgive you, pony.”
He hopped off the side. Moments later, a green eyed pegasus soared up, past the balcony, past the tower, and away from Canterlot.
***
Celestia watched the ‘pegasus’ fly off with a hopeful smile. She lost sight of him after a few minutes. Closing the doors with her magic, she turned to face the pile of loose chains that lay in front of her hearth. Her horn glowed, and the chains disintegrated in an instant, falling into a small pile of ash on the plush carpet.
“Captain!”
The door opened moments later. “Yes, Princess?” Crossed Swords entered and bowed. His eyes landed on the black stain as he straightened, and he took a half step back. “W-Wha-”
“Would you be so kind as to summon the maids, please?” Celestia said, a serene smile on her face.
The captain nodded dumbly, his eyes turning briefly back to the pile of ash. “Y-Yes, your highness… R-Right away!” he sputtered, then turned and hurried out of the room.
Celestia watched him leave. She started to chuckle after a few moments, then walked over to her desk and sat, returning her attention to her paperwork. Her horn lit up as she briefly searched through the piles of papers, eventually pulling out the one she was looking for. The military budget. She wrote ‘Denied’ in large letters. She began to set it aside, then reconsidered with a small smile. She placed it down again, and in the margin, she added a short note:
The last of the changelings are dead.
