Tugging at my undead heartstrings

Tugging at my undead heartstrings

By: Fimbulvinter

Chapter 1: Death isn’t all it’s cracked up to be

My name is Lyra Heartstrings and as of last night, I became a killer.

No, don’t turn away, don’t leave. My story is not what it sounds like. So sit down, grab a chair and listen. Listen to the story of how I killed my mare friend. They say it was an accident; a mistake that any newcomer could have made. I know better. My pride and arrogance killed her; my beloved Bon-Bon. Now she is damned. Cursed to roam the endless night as a bloodsucking monster, just like me. Oh, did I forget to mention that I am a Vampony? That was kind of important. I suppose that to do this story justice, I will need to go back to the beginning. The very beginning to when that strange black pegasus came to town.

It would have been about 6 months ago when he came. A pegasus as black as night. Both his fur and his mane were pitch black. The only colour came from his cutie mark; A bright red Templar Cross, with a white line around the edge. Something about him made me uneasy, but no matter what I could never put my hoof on what it was. Maybe the eyes, red tinged amber that looked like they had seen all the world; far more than any one pony could possibly have seen.

The day was bright and sunny; the weather team had outdone themselves this time and I was out in the park, sitting back up on one of the benches, practicing with the lyre that was the source of my cutie-mark. Across from the park I could see into the store front of ‘Bon-Bon’s finest sweets and candies.’ Inside, seated at the counter was Bon-Bon, the one that I was lucky to be able to call my special somepony.

Plucking out a familiar melody on the strings, I watched as the pegasus wandered around the park, keeping mostly in the shade of the trees. Nothing that unusual about that, but after living in a town inhabited by Pinkie Pie, my perception of unusual may be a little skewed.

He seemed to notice me and sauntered over to the bench sitting down next to me.

“In all my years, I have never seen a pony sit like that. How can you stand it? It looks painful.”

Once again, some pony was calling out the strange way I liked to sit. It was beneficial for my playing; I could hold it with my front hooves and play with my magic. If I had to also hold it with my magic, I would not be able to play it as well.

“I’m sorry, that was rude. My name is DeVille, who are you?” He extended his hoof out to me. I took it, noticing that it was slightly cooler that I would have expected it to be.

“I’m Lyra, Lyra Heartstrings.” I gently floated my lyre down to my side.

“No, don’t stop for me. Your music sounded so nice, I just had to come over and say hello."

Despite his request, I did not resume my playing. It would have been rude, not to mention that I could not talk and concentrate of playing well at the same time.

“So what brings you to Ponyville, Mr. Deville?” Ponyville was a tiny little town; almost everypony knew everypony and I was sure I had never seen him before. His striking black appearance would have caught attention, even in a land where ponies appeared in every colour of the ‘bow.

“Taking a trip out to Canterlot. Was meant to be a right through, but the train broke down and we all were shipped out here for the day. Train should be fixed by tomorrow morning though.” He laughed slightly at the turn of fate. Again I noticed something odd about him; he was making a effort not to show his teeth clearly, but also making the effort not to appear as if that was his goal, but that it was simply coincidence. What possible reason could he have for hiding his teeth? From what I could see, they were a dazzling pearly white, cleaner than anyponies except maybe the town dentist, Colgate. She was fanatical about dental hygiene.

“Would you like me to show you around? Ponyville is small, but has plenty of interesting places to go," I said, getting up from the bench.

“Certainly, if you are offering. This seems like a very quaint little village, very rustic compared to what I normally see. What is there to do here?” DeVille replied smoothly.

“Well, there is the Golden Oaks library, if you are into that sort of thing; Bon-Bon’s finest sweets and candies is great too. Sugarcube corner is the best for pastries and cakes.” I was starting to ramble a bit. He chuckled politely.

“Is there anywhere we can go and get a drink, you look a little thirsty,” Deville said. I hadn’t noticed until he brought it up, but I was thirsty. All that time out in the sun was catching up to me.

“Sure, follow me. Sugarcube corner does a great malt." I led him around town, pointing out various landmarks until we reached Sugarcube corner. Inside, I ordered a vanilla malt for myself from Mrs. Cake.

“Just an empty glass please,” Deville said when I asked him what he wanted. Pulling out a flask from his saddle-bag, he filled the glass when it arrived with a deep crimson liquid. “I have… very specific dietary needs,” he explained, “This is just a tomato juice mix my doctor recommended for travelling."

I shrugged and waited for my malt to arrive. It was delicious as always; the Cakes really knew their stuff when it came to treats. All too soon it was gone, and as Deville was just finishing up his own drink, we said goodbye to the Cakes and headed back out into the sun. Deville flinched slightly upon exiting, raising a hoof to cover his eyes, but continued none the less. We continued our tour of Ponyville when I saw Deville looking back at another pony I felt was slightly familiar. She was looking into the window of a record store, her grey coat gleaming in the sun.

He shrugged and kept on walking. We walked on for about another fifteen minutes, until I noticed that Deville was swaying a little on his hooves. He noticed it as well. “Do you think we could get out of the sun for a bit, I’m feeling a little bit faint,” he said. I turned and led him towards a nearby alley, the space in between buildings was fully shaded.

He walked in and sat down, grateful to get out of the sun. “Just a touch of heatstroke. Give me a few minutes and I should be fine.” He gave me a tight lipped smile and motioned for me to sit down next to him.

“Get away from her, you fiend,” a voice called out from the alley entry.

A pony in a white garb, hooded, so that we could not see their face stood in the entryway to the alley. From their voice, they appeared to be a mare, and she was able to stand and walk upon her hind legs only. From one hoof, a long silver stake dangled, strapped to her wrist by leather. A small crossbow was nestled in the other, with a silver arrow loaded and ready to fire. She took aim with the crossbow.

“Die again, you unholy monster,” she called out, traces of a refined Canterlot accent present behind the disgust. With that she fired the crossbow. The bolt streaked out towards us.

I don’t know why I did what I did, but I pushed DeVille out of the way, hoping to get us both clear of the shot before it landed. I was half successful. Deville cleared the line of fire, but a sudden throb and lance of pain made it clear that the bolt had hit me.

I fell down to the alley floor, unable to move my legs. Looking up at alley entrance, I could see the mare drop back to all fours and dash away, her dark brown black tail flowing in the wind behind her. Deville looked from her retreating figure then back to me, indecision clear on his face.

“Lyra, hold on, you are going to be fine. It’s just a flesh wound.”

Deville was a terrible liar. Even to my untrained eye, the crossbow bolt was clearly a fatal wound. They say that you feel a moment of extreme peace when you accept the truth that you are going to die, but all I could feel was that dying bucking HURT.

“Tell Bon-Bon that I love her,” I managed to splutter out weakly.

Deville looked down at me, seemingly coming to a decision in his mind. “Do you want to live?” he called down to me. His voice was beginning to become indistinct and my vision was blurring. “If I could offer you the chance to live, would you take it?”

I nodded, no longer able to speak. Deville brought his head down close to my neck and I felt something clamp down, though there was no pain. After a moment, he returned to my line of sight. His mouth was bloody. He brought his own hoof up to his mouth and bit on it, a dark crimson dripping down between his teeth. As my vision faded away the last thing I heard was him calling to me “DRINK.” Something warm and salty entered my mouth, but I could remember no more.

When I awoke, I was in a bed, but not one that I could recognize. Looking around, I could see that it was night-time out the window. Turning my attention to my own body, I was amazed to see that the wound to my body was fully healed; only the faintest traces of a scar line remained. A noise from the corner called my attention. DeVille was resting on a couch. Without looking away from the window, he spoke to me.

“You are awake at last. That's good. I was afraid that I was too late to save you.”

I tried to get up, but a wave of lethargy kept me flat on the bed.

“What happened, what did you do to me?” I called out to him, noticing for the first time that two of my teeth felt funny. They were longer than they should have been, sharper too.

"I suppose I should tell you, seeing as how what happened now applies to you as well. We were attacked by an ancient order of assassins, the Monks of the Silver Sun. A group that was established by Celestia back during the reign of Discord, if you believe the legends. I had thought their brotherhood disbanded in these modern times however. Seems I was wrong, and you I’m afraid had to pay the price for my mistake.”

“So what did you do to me?” I asked, slightly scared about the answer.

“I am afraid that I did the only thing I could to save you. I gave you some of my blood. It healed your wound up instantly, but at a terrible price. You…” He turned to me, allowing me to see his face clearly. Two gleaming and wickedly sharp fangs jutted down from the roof of his mouth, “have been, like me, turned Vampyre.”

I screamed.