Duellum Telum

Telling History

Moonfire felt his head become heavy and saw his vision blurring a bit. Trying to move turned out to be a bad idea, as his body was slowly starting to get a new appreciation for gravity. His muscles refused to budge, his breath started coming in slower, his whole body turned heavy and limp. Blinking to try and clear his head, he rubbed his hooves over the couch’s fabric. He didn’t feel anything. His extremities had gone completely numb.

He looked back at his wing when he felt it being touched.

“Okay, I-I’m about to-” Fluttershy started.

“Just break it a’ready,” Moonfire interrupted, with a slight slur. “If this ‘nip’ is as powerful as you say it is, I won’ feel a thing.”

“O-okay... But this still might hurt a lot.” She shifted her hooves so that one was on each side of the main breaking point.

He pshawed and said, “With thish nip it’ll feel more like a sting than a wing breaking.”

“Maybe you should try to distract yourself from this?” Sweetie belle asked, uncertainty glinting in her eyes.

“Okay then, ” the ‘nip’d up changeling started. “Hmm... Did I tell you that I’ve been a stunt double for about twenty movies?”

“Really?” She leaned in with a raised eyebrow, clearly suspicious of the boast. “Which ones?”

“Well, there’s Robocolt, by Verhooven, of course. And the Daring Doo movies, all four of them, an’ Pirates of the Caribouan: Dead Mare’s Chest, Horseshoe Island, Night Mare on Elk Street, a few episodes of The Trot Files, Spy Foals 2: The Island of Lost Dreams, Small Guards, The Secret of-”

Behind him, a loud yelp sounded. All at once, he pursed his lips and widened his eyes, nearly biting on something as his world turned white for an instant. Pain shot through his body as a sickening crunch echoed through the room. Moonfire could feel his face flushing and a tear starting to form as he carefully exhaled. His head throbbed when the big shock subsided, and his heart began pounding.

Slowly, gingerly, he turned around to see a shaking mare.

“Ow,” he whimpered.

“It’s okay, that’s the most it’ll hurt. I just need to wrap it up now,” the mare explained as she wound some bandages around the wing. Turning to the ground, Moonfire noticed a sliver of transparent tissue drifting to the ground. He was still shaking, and the little stabs of pain wracked his body, but he forced himself to stay still.

He wasn’t even sure if he needed to force himself that much: even with the adrenalin surging through his system the ‘nip kept his limbs weak. It finally dawned on him: he was completely helpless. Years of dodging assassins and now all it would take was an ill-placed pillow. The thought made him shudder.

“H-how long does the ‘nip last again?” he asked, trying to hide his fear.

“It’ll last for a few more hours, to help with the pain,” Fluttershy answered.

“Um, I’m just gonna put this a little closer, okay?” Sweetie Belle offered, sliding the dish and candle closer to let the fumes hit his nostrils more. “You look like you need it.”

“N-no I don’t, I just need to distract myself,” he pushed the dish back to where it was.

“Why are you so scared of something that takes away your pain?” Sweetie Belle asked. “Do you wanna feel how much you’re hurt? Just because somepony else doesn’t care about you, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t.”

“Um, Sweetie Belle,” Fluttershy asked, “what do you mean? Your friend’s just a colt passing by, right?”

“... I’m not.” He looked away, not wanting to see the mare’s reaction.

“Then... what are you, Moonfire?” the yellow pegasus asked with an air of dread, lying down next to him so their eyes would be at the same height.

Apprehension stilled his tongue, creating a heavy silence.

“Sweetie Belle,” Fluttershy started, staring at the boy’s eyes. “Could you please go check on Scootaloo?”

The filly stood up, wordlessly, then scurried off outside to the garden shack where her friend was recovering from her own brush with the ‘ling-nip.

“You can talk now, Moonfire. I promise you’re safe.”

His sight grew watery and he turned away from the mare, trying to stem the coming tide.

“Moonfire, if something bad happened to you, you need to tell me. Please?” the mare insisted.

“... My father disowned me.... He knew who I was and disowned me and sent an assassin after me.” He shuddered, not entirely involuntarily.

He heard, and felt, her gasp. “H-he sent somepony to kuh-kill you? Haven’t you told anyone about it?””

Moonfire sniffled, “Can’t, I tried to, but...” he took a deep breath. “I should start at the beginning.”

=======================

“You... you are no longer my son,” Fleetrain, Moonfire’s father, said. “Get out of my house.”

The newly-minted changeling stood in front of his dad, quivering in fear and disbelieving what his ears had heard.

“I said: Get out of my house!” Fleetrain stomped his hooves in warning.

With tears in his eyes, Moonfire turned and ran through the house. Blindly bursting out into Vanhoover’s streets, he turned. Following a path that his body, despite being changed now, knew. He stopped and saw that he was in his friend’s favorite place to gather; the clubhouse they all built together.

He sank to the floor of the clubhouse, tears staining the mis-matching wood. He tried to bury his face in his hooves, only to find the surface of his skin harder than before, less welcoming. He forced his eyes shut and let go. His dad would have murdered him for crying before, but now he would have murdered him, period.

His mind reeled at how this had happened. He hadn’t done anything, he hadn’t eaten anything bad. As a matter of fact, the colt had had to run out on an empty stomach.

There was nothing he could do now. He had turned, somehow, and it had turned his parents against him.

“Please... take it back. I didn’t do anything.”

A weak smile appeared on his lips, one little speck of hope still remained.

He still had his friends. He still looked a little like his old self, they’d know it was him. They could help, they could explain everything to his dad when he was done raging.

It could still be set right.

He felt something poking his ribs, a fine way to wake somepony up.

“Flare, I don’t think you should be doing that,” a familiar voice said.

“Relax, if this thing tries anything it’ll regret sleeping here.” Another familiar voice.

He looked up and, with a smile of relief, said, “Guys, You don’t know how glad I am to-”

A wooden sword found its way under his chin, held by a black claw.

“T-talos, it’s me, Duellum.”

The griffin leaned back, trying to put on a brave face.

“Y-you aren’t him,” Talos said, clenching his jaw to hide his fear and disgust.

“But-,” Moonfire glanced towards Flare.

Incomprehension and curiousness clouded her gaze when their eyes met. There was no hope, his friends didn’t believe him.

The red unicorn with that bright red and orange mane shook her head. She slowly started backing away from the pair, and her chest seemed to heave as emotions welled up.

“Not you too," the changeling pleaded. “You guys, it’s really me. I need help. Please?”

The blue pegasus peered around the door at him, fearfully ducking back behind it when he cast his gaze her way.

“But-” The faint pressure at his neck slowly increased until he was forced to take a step back.

“You don’t fool us. Tell us where Duellum is or I swear... I’m gonna hurt you.”

“It is me, Talos. Please, my dad already kicked me out, I’ve got nowhere to go. I don’t know what’s happened to me and everypony’s turning on me.”

The pressure on his neck intensified, silencing the boy’s pleas.

“Careful, Talos, don’t hurt him,” Flare warned.

“Alright, fine. I’ll tell you what: we’re gonna let you off the hook, and we’ll forgive whatever you’ve done to our friend, if you bring him back.”

“But I am --”

“Don’t lie. You’re not Duellum. You’re just some imposter who only got half his act down.”

“Why won’t you believe me? I thought we were friends.”

“We are friends. With the unicorn you took. Now go get him before I change my mind. Trust me, what I might do to you is nothing compared to what Duellum’s father will do to you if he catches wind of this. So no lies, no tricks, you just get Duellum back here and we’ll pretend this never happened,” the griffon offered, backing down.

“How can I convince you? Look, what about the -”

“Don’t,” Flare interrupted. “Don’t even think about trying to fool us with whatever you got out of our friend’s head. It’s not going to work. You tried taking his place and you failed. Now just give us our friend back and we won’t hurt you. We won’t turn you in.”

The changeling let his head hang. His breath came in ragged as something ached in his chest, and a warm wetness made its way across his face to the ground. Slowly, he took one step forward, then another, and another. He looked at Flare, the red unicorn with a mane that reminded him of sweets. She hardened her look and shook her head. He risked another glance at Talos, who gripped his wooden sword tighter at the gesture.

What tears he could still hold back flowed freely now. He walked out of the clubhouse, into the street. His back was turned towards his friends, friends who’d just turned their back on him. Duellum’s wings started twitching, and his body tensed up. Adrenalin soared through his body as panic overtook him again. Through clenched teeth, he barely managed to voice his farewell.

“I’m sorry.”