I started in fear, barely suppressing a gasp. I had been enamored with the changeling's nursery as well as their educational pod. Even the vilest creatures are endearing as babies, after all. The pod full of cocooned changelings, that was jolting being that it was so dissimilar to anything I'd seen before, but understandable and not such a divergence from the norm. A chamber arrayed with ponies held in these fluid filled green sacs, their essence presumably being drained from them so as to feed the hive, that was atrocious. These were the sort of eldritch terrors that were too vicious to be attributed to even the time of Discord's reign.

I felt the instinctive need to flee. We are herd animals, we ponies, and my whole being screamed to seek the safety of numbers and warn them of what I'd seen here, but again I was ossified with fright. It was even more disconcerting that around half of the imprisoned ponies' eyes were open, dead, unfocused eyes that entreated me to free the minds behind them.

Standing indecisively something surprising came to my attention, something I hadn't heard since the time I'd actually encountered the scout whilst he was retrieving my reports. It was a coherent Equestrian conversation and it was coming nearer to me by the second. Panicked, I attempted to find it's source. It didn't seem to be coming from the captives so it was a relative certainty it was coming through the door. I crouched down as if I could be seen and listened attentively.

"Of course it is still your choice," A sweet feminine voice said with saccharine sweetness, "But you should recall what drove you here and what a state you would be in without our intervention."

"You'd be dead is what she's saying." A lilting male voice put in with a chuckle, "That being the case, maybe this isn't the worst thing that could happen to you."

"You're free to go, if that's your decision, of course, but we'll have to wipe your memories of us." The female said, "Unfortunately that means you'll be right back in the same situation we plucked you out of and if you've tried to end your life once it is sadly likely that the same thing will happen again, won't you let us help you?"

"Look, I, uh, appreciate it and I hate to have wasted your time, but to live out my life in a dream world having my mind sucked out to power this beehive, it's not exactly what I signed on for." A new voice stated.

By now they'd made it through the door and I could see the ponies as well as hear them. The one who'd just spoken was a fuchsia and tan earth pony whose cutie mark I couldn't see. He was flanked by an unlikely set of twins. Though they stood no taller than a normal pony might they were both alicorns. Stark white with flaxen manes, they were a ponyfication of perfection. Their flanks were unburdened by cutie marks which marked them as fraudulent, but they were glorious all the same.

They looked out of place in the hive, a splash of light against the monotonous black and eerie turquoises. The female, laughed brightly, "Oh, Mr. Sweep, we've no intention of sucking out your mind. You will remain yourself, just in a happier, freer world. We are desirous of your love, after all, that's our sustenance, but truly, when love is freely given, can anything truly be said to be taken? Here it can well and truly be promised that you will live a long, healthy life filled with love and companionship, and it's not a truly false world. All these ponies that you see around you will be in there with you. They were once like you but now reside in a paradise the like of which hasn't been seen since the verdant days of the world's youth."

I recognized the pony now, Clean Sweep, a janitor at the university. He was overworked, underpaid, his wife left him and his kids made fun of him to his face over his occupation. If what they said was true I had, perhaps, misjudged the meaning of this place and maybe he would do well to heed their call. Philosophically I've a hard time putting a torturous real life too far above a beautiful dream. I was on pins and needles waiting for his decision.

He walked around the room, peering into the cocoons through the clear portions about the face, "Who's she?" he asked, pointing at a once lovely mare whose muscles had atrophied but still retained some measure of grace in her features.

"That's Sky Bright, she's a special case." The male of the pair said, "She's a pegasus who was mauled by a manticore. She survived, but will never be able to fly or walk right again. For a pegasus especially, such a loss of freedom is unbearable, so she chose to join us here where she can be free again."

"What is she, about twenty seven?" Clean Sweep asked and one of the twins nodded, "And she's in there, right?" again one of the twins nodded, I concerned look crossing between them, "Eh, buck it. I'll do it." He finally assented and the twins led him to a cocoon that had been prepared or him.

"We just have to alter your memory so you don't know it's a dream world and you'll be set." The male twin said. His horn and eyes glowed and shortly Clean Sweep's eyes were illuminated as well. Then they daintily sealed him in the pod, hoisted it up. Carrying it high up on the arch of the ceiling, they hooked it in place. The umbilical cord was inserted into the pod and that was that.

The female twin sighed, "It's just as well he won't remember us, did you hear the lust in his voice when he asked that mare's age? Shameful, just shameful."

"Don't be so prudish, lust like that is our bread and butter and who knows, maybe they'll hit it off." The male chuckled, then, with a green flash they were both normal changelings again. I decided they'd be a pair to keep an eye on and for purposes of documentation I named them Lucy and Bub for a different legendary salesman. There was nothing too distinguishing about them, and changelings all looked a lot alike. These two simply looked more alike than the rest and if they stayed together I could pick them out. I could distinguish one from the other because one's horn skewed to the left while the other tilted right. Their conversation continued as they checked pod after pod, but I was left out since I couldn't understand their chittering language. I decided to call it a day and headed back to my camp. This report was one that simply couldn't wait.

For several weeks after I followed my selected changelings around, documenting their activities within the hive. I picked out a further two to follow as well. One was a foal who had started making forays out of the classroom and who I believed would venture out in to the greater world shortly. I nicknamed him Squeaky as he had an asthmatic sounding hitch when he breathed that made him easy to locate.

All the ones I kept particular track of had noticeable physical traits. I worried that it might skew my results but it was a necessity warranted by the otherwise identical ebon creatures. It's predictable, then, that the last of my selected subjects was the only blind changeling I'd observed. He was distinguishable by the lack of glowing eyes and his slow, careful gait. He knew the hive so well as to know his location without feeling for it and his pilgrimage was a short one. He fluttered down from the same spot on the wall every evening and made his way to the chamber of cocooned ponies. There he stood before each and every pod in turn, horn lit for a few moments before moving to the next. Occasionally he would feel around and make minor adjustments, but for the most part his job was simple and repetitive. He was checking in on the sleepers, day in and day out. What I fancied to be a smile often graced his weathered features and I imagined him peeking from the darkness into the bright world those combined minds had created for themselves and I couldn't help but to feel a bit wistful and, right or wrong, my reservations about the whole undertaking flitted away.

Two other ponies committed themselves to that regiment of dreamers during my observations. They were both escorted in by the twins wearing their angelic alicorn looks. The discussions were both much the same as the first, though the second pony, an overwrought and overweight unicorn came very close to backing out. The twins talked her into it eventually, always making a point to sound gentle and understanding. As soon as she took her place in the pod they high hoofed and shared a grin.

Changelings seemed not to show very much emotion in their natural forms, but of those who did become ponies, the twins and those in the classroom, I noticed they acted in a more expressive manner. Generally more playful and talkative than a normal pony, but that's an obvious ploy if your object is to receive love, so I must assume it to be a calculated anomaly and a perfect disguise for a predator besides.

An unseasonable frost covered my meager shelter in a rime of hoarfrost and I was forced to wear a heavy cloak even within it where the biting winds could not reach. I whiled away the worst of it nestled in a mound of blankets for three whole days. It was so cold as to leave me little other choice, I was afraid of being discovered in the hive if I started sniffling and sneezing. The scout had been and gone mere hours before I realized that I had fallen ill and that stoically weathering the cold in the wilderness was not just inadvisable, it was suicidal.

The invisibility cloak was claimed as fool proof because it would make a pony invisible even if it didn't cover them entirely, but I hadn't tested this aspect myself yet, preferring that I was fully swaddled, in fear of some small portion of myself being seen. I tried it, and using a bowl of freshly thawed water for a mirror, found that it didn't make my heavy cloak invisible when worn underneath it, which told me the limits of the spell. I had to drape it over the other cloak for it to disappear as well, which was an awkward, but ultimately serviceable, arrangement as it didn't cover me entirely, but worked nonetheless. I took it back off and reconsidered my options. The nearest town was a half day's walk if I was in good condition, I didn't want to risk it. The scout wouldn't be back for a little over two days. The changeling hive was warm, and so long as I wasn't seen I would be safe, it seemed the most logical choice.

There were few places unused in the hive leaving little room for a sleeping interloper such as myself to reside safely. One was the throne which had stayed unoccupied throughout my stay, but that seemed too disrespectful to my unknowing hosts and too exposed despite the cloak. Beneath the ramp that led to the chamber of the sequestered changeling ruler there were hollows that ran a full two yards back. Their purpose seemed to be no other than decoration, and in fact it did add a certain regal elegance to that chunk of architecture that mimicked the changeling's void riddled physiques. Their size and soft curves made them seem the most likely place to curl up and convalesce. The mere memory of the warmth of the rookery set my heart alight.

In my fevered state I tried to gather what I would need. There were basins of fresh water in the changeling hive and drains below them to deal with...waste water, but it would be risky to use either so I filled three water skins and planned on frequent trips outside, then fitted them beneath my cloak. Though I had no appetite just then, and I found it hard to devote my attention to it, I packed dried fruit and tubs of nutritious paste made from soybeans into a cotton pillowcase, then hung it beneath my cloak as well. Preparations had been too taxing, I was lightheaded so I lay down for a moment deciding to rest before my trek.

I shivered myself awake, stiff, cold, feverish and confused, I knew I needed to get to the warmth of the hive or risk death so I started out before the sleep had even been wiped from my eyes. I struggled against the biting wind, stumbling over the scrub and nothings in the pebbly soil. I looked for that dark spire, but couldn't find it for the low haze that hung over the plain.

Fever dreams played every inane scenario out in my brain as I plodded onward. In one moment I was forever lost, doomed to wander Tartarus for all eternity, in the next I was at the bottom of the sea and the air was water but I couldn't tell because I was a crab. A crab? Yes, certainly a crab in the shape of a pony, but most assuredly a crab all the same. Would that I could find a discarded conch shell to crawl into, out of the cold flow that cascaded down from the frozen north, then I'd have time to think on it and it would all make sense.

Fevers are as powerful a mind altering agent as the most potent intoxicant, but my hooves knew the way to the hive and unfailingly brought me there. By the time I arrived I was fully delusional and needed to rest immediately. Waiting for a changeling to follow through the curtain to the rookery was utter torture. It seemed to take forever, but then my savior, Scar trotted through with a little foal hastily scooped up as a passenger as if he'd noticed my impatient waiting, and I slipped through after him. With very little of the caution due the situation I installed myself in one of the lowest cavities of sufficient size and dropped immediately off to sleep.

Over the next day and a half I slept fitfully, with chaotic madness playing through my head. When lucidity finally returned to me, a black hoof was probing my sweat drenched face.

The crevice I'd chosen as a refuge was low to the ground and couldn't be seen from without unless crouching, unless said viewer was very small, like a changeling foal. I froze in panic, had my cloak fallen off I wondered? A larger hoof reached down and swept up the errant youth, then squatted down see what the foal had discovered. Looking right at me he blinked, then reached a hoof in and swept up the tub of protein paste that had fallen out of my cloak. He turned it over in his hooves, opened it and sniffed. Then he held it to the foal who likewise sniffed it. Then they simply discarded it and moved on.

Clearly I was still invisible, but I'd have to move on in case the out of place object's presence was investigated further. I was still weakened and drowsy so I walked around the hive to restore my vitality. The hive was warmer than the outdoors even though it was unheated, but it was much cooler than the rookery. My fever having broken I was grateful for that because now I was overheated and had sweated through my cloak.

The regular spot that Squeaky had inhabited was vacant. He'd been given a spot in the central tower last week and had slept there several nights so I assumed he'd finally been let out to do whatever it is changelings do outside of the hive, and I felt proud for him as if I'd contributed something to the process.

I was curious as to just what their activities outside of the hive entailed. Lacking pegasus wings to shadow their flights, I had to derive what I could from what was taught in the classroom. Basic magic and transformations were taught along with the rudiments of some martial art of the Eastern style which favored breaking holds and running away over fighting. If they wished to insert themselves as imposters into pony society it was only logical that they should be taught these things, it was a dangerous undertaking.

In transformation they followed their teachers as precisely as they could and were judged for their inaccuracies. It seemed to be the case that they would invariably get the face right, though the stature often varied a bit. They had trouble getting their colors to match precisely and often the cutie marks wore poorly rendered or altogether absent. Also, they spoke in Equestrian as ponies, but never seemed to practice at it very thoroughly, it perhaps being something they gleaned from the ponies they copied. I was uncertain. There were, likewise, a great many magics being taught whose meanings I hadn't the slightest glimmer of.

It was clear, however, that their activities heavily or exclusively involved posing as ponies and that a more detailed investigation into this was urgently needed. I had headed out of the hive to write just such a thing in my report when I heard the buzz of incoming wings. I moved aside to watch five of those sleek black creatures land with another carried between them. I moved closer, curious as to what had befallen their comrade and hitch betraying him, found it to be none other than Squeaky, his carapace shattered and oozing rivulets of bright green fluid.

They bore him inside to the rookery and I followed, much saddened by his plight. Once inside several of the regular inhabitants of that space took charge of him, laid him down on a raised section of floor and started to carefully lick at the edges of the wound. The bleeding was abated in short order and he was placed in an oversized section of honeycomb that had been hastily assembled for the purpose. It's sides were thin and translucent, affording an easy view in. Order returned and the tenders of the rookery went back to their various tasks so I ventured a peek at my injured subject.

It was a crushing injury, and though the bleeding was controlled, his damaged shell was almost certainly compressing his vital organs. I was heartbroken because I knew enough to know he had a scant time before his body failed entirely. There was nothing I could do, even if it wouldn't give me away, I wasn't that kind of unicorn, so I sadly left and headed back to my encampment.

The cold had thankfully become less bitter and though it was still rather chilly I found that it was at least sufficiently warm in my shelter that I could shed my sweat soaked and bedraggled cloak. When I threw it down on the bedding I discovered a strange thing. There had been another cloak laying there already. My first thought was that I had a visitor, but upon closer inspection I realized that it was the invisibility cloak turned inside out so that the lining showed.

I chastised myself for my stupidity for leaving such a rare and valuable article behind before I realized the implications.

Cognitively, the facts presented could only be mistaken somewhere. In bewilderment I found that it had been stuck by frost to the bedding and crackled as I picked it up. It was just where I'd left it two days ago when I was preparing my supplies, which meant I hadn't been invisible to the changelings that whole time, and yet they ignored me entirely. It was inconceivable, but seemingly true. I even went to the effort to thaw a some water to use as a looking glass to convince myself that I wasn't currently invisible, victim of some unknown side effect of overusing an invisibility cloak or somesuch thing, nor was my heavy cloak so imbued.

It was more than my mind could handle and set my eye to twitching in frustration. My attention, though, drew me to another article I'd forgotten about, the only book I'd brought with me. Medical Aide for Unicorns, Practical Application and Theory as Established by Mages of Her Majesty's Royal Guard, it read, and I instantly thought of Squeaky and started leafing through the spells.

As might be expected, there was nothing strictly meant for the repair of chitinous exoskeletons, but I found a work around in a spell which I thought I could use and could be adapted either to repair hooves, or with slight modification, knit together broken bones. It was a reach to say for certain that it would work on a changeling, but it was the only chance I saw. I put the book in a saddlebag and slung it over my back, then I donned my heavy cloak and marched back to the hive.

Being certain that I was fully visible, the guard outside the hive was my first test. I walked up to him as I'd done many times before, and he ignored me as he always had so I walked on by closer than I ought and let my cloak's flaring tail brush against him as I passed. He shivered at the touch, but pointedly did not react. I was shivering too, but at my bold and reckless actions. It made me wonder who, if not ponies like me, he was meant to be guarding against? Wild animals, insurgents, rogue crusaders bent on destruction? I was baffled and vowed to quit this place as soon as I'd accomplished my task. I knew it was intolerably daft, but I wanted to save Squeaky. He was so adorably plucky that I couldn't imagine letting him die if there was something I could do about it. We are all of us in thrall to the cute ankle biters of the world.

The other changelings ignored me the same as always, but now that I was aware that they could see me I felt that they were surreptitiously watching me out of the corners of their eyes, insofar as their eyes had corners. I boldly strode through the curtain that segregated the rookery from the central tower, having no further need to disguise my passage. Inside I found Squeaky just where I'd last seen him, with Scar watching over him.

I took a deep breath and finally broke my silence, "Do you think he'll make it?"

Scar looked at me and blinked his big turquoise eyes, "No, she won't make it through the night. It's lamentable, but there's little enough I can do about it. Our latent, more primal healing magics generally do the job and grievous wounds such as this are so very far apart that I've fallen out of practice. Healing ponies is a different undertaking than patching up my beloved little ones besides, so there seems to be a dearth in our archive of spells. But...the loss of one drone, even in a hive of thousands is still a tragic event." Scar spoke in a confident feminine voice that sang with a warbling echo, as if two ponies were talking in unison. I pulled out my book and laid it at my hooves.

"I don't know for sure if it will work, and I wouldn't want to try it if there was any hope she'd heal on her own, but...maybe I could try a spell?" I ventured.

"It will do no harm even if you fail, do as you wish so long as it doesn't increase her suffering." Scar said gently.

"Okay, here goes." I said and cast the healing spell as best I could. It seemed to work. The shell drew itself together and formed itself back into it's original shape. Finally the cracks faded away as the edges sealed themselves just as it would have on a cracked hoof. Thank Celestia for the zebra magic adapted from potion to standard unicorn casting. Squeaky squealed out in pain, which startled me, but I'd planned ahead and marked another page. I flipped to it and quickly cast a painkilling spell and she settled down. I wiped my brow in relief, "The rest will have to heal on it's own, but that's all I can do for her."

"If there's not too much internal bleeding, I think she'll pull through, thanks to you." Scar said kindly.

"So...while I've got you talking I was just wondering, how long have you been able to see me?" I asked.

"Oh, the whole time." Scar said dismissively, "When the first pony came wearing that silly coat we didn't know what it was meant to be. Once we figured out what he was about, well honestly we interrogated him, you would have too I suspect. Anyway, we simply wiped his memory and released him. The queen gave orders to pretend we couldn't see anypony who happened to approach wearing the thing and figure out what your intentions were. It has been a lark to let you sneak around after us. I was rather worried when you seemed intent to install yourself as a resident beneath the queen's chambers. That would have proven...awkward. Then I suppose you are incapable of hanging from a spot at the feeding matrix like a civilized drone."

"So, now what are you going to do to me?" I fearfully asked. I'd stupidly revealed myself and I was afraid that I'd have to trade my life, or at least my memories, for Squeaky's.

"Do to you?" Scar was taken aback, "I see no reason why anyone should want to do anything to you. So long as you do not interfere unduly with us, you may come and go as you please. We have little to hide and if you do happen to learn something we believe would endanger us, we are quite likely to wipe your memory. In fact we could have done so already, maybe more than once, and you wouldn't even be aware we had, so I should not live in fear of that occurrence either, if I were you." That was not a wholly settling thought, but I chose to let it pass uncommented on.

"What about this queen? I've not seen her on her throne, is she hiding in her chambers because I'm here?" I asked sheepishly.

"Oh my but you do have a high opinion of yourself!" She laughed, it sounded foreign coming from changeling lips, "The queen...well the queen is in mourning, though she's been at it longer than is seemly. You see, this hive was established some time back by one of the queen's daughters and though it thrived for a time, that daughter aged and died without producing an heir to keep it alive. A hive with no queen cannot survive, so our queen moved her own swarm here, added on the more fitting regal accoutrements that her daughter deemed unnecessary, such as the spire and the throne, and took the hive over for a time. When her mourning is concluded we are likely to abandon this place and let the earth and sand reclaim it as it has reclaimed her fallen daughter."

"That's so very tragic, and moving this entire hive seems quite daunting besides."

"It's not such an undertaking as might be suspected. With all of the drones present we could relocate the hive and it's inhabitants in a single night without undue strain, but it may be some time off before such a thing occurs. Plans toward that end have been hazy at best." Scar admitted, then excused herself saying, "Really I do appreciate what you've done and I would be more than happy to talk more later, but there are so many things to be done and the hive waits for no one."

After that day things changed for me in the hive. Word apparently got around about me and the drones cheerfully greeted me when I was around. I talked to them often but few of them could communicate effectively in their own form as Scar could, instead they'd chitter and gesture in answer even though I couldn't understand them. One turned into me and answered in my own voice, telling me about the classroom and the proceedings of those which I'd already deduced. Another turned into a matronly pegasus only to tell me she didn't know the answers to my questions, giggling that she just worked here.

I'd been skirting the issue of trying to pin down the activities which provided the energy the hive consumed. In all cases they simplified it to, 'Find someone with love to give, receive that love and return to the hive to distribute it.'

Did they replace the dead? Make up new characters to act as? Did they trade off and keep a relationship alive or did they leave their lovers in the lurch, never knowing what happened? Did they kidnap ponies? The answers were vague.

Bub, transformed into his alicorn state, had the best answer, he said matter of factly, "Changelings have been around a long time and in the past we, as a species, have done every terrible thing you could think to accuse us of, just as ponies have. You could count us as parasites, but we've not a lot of choice in the matter, really, and we do try to act as honorably as is practical. Do we lie? Constantly. Our whole existence is one big lie, but you know about us now. We do little enough harm and can you really begrudge us a little bit of ill gotten affection when your species is awash and overflowing with the stuff?" I didn't guess I could, at that.

I realize now that I'd lost my objectivity. Back then I just kept at writing out reports and sticking them under the rock for collection for weeks. I'd taken to staying many nights in a row at the hive and they seemed genuinely glad for me to be there. I questioned Scar on many occasions and found her to be elusive and evasive, a tease, but I thought little of it. She was different than the other drones, somehow. Well spoken, more expressive, and the only one with a sophisticated sense of humor. I should have known I was being played the whole time. Were I a cynic I might have even questioned if Squeaky's injuries were not a ploy to see how I might react, but that seemed too cruel to be true.

I'd gone out of the hive to relieve myself, hidden in the shadow of the nursery. I had returned from my camp a few hours before having left the most detailed report yet on the reproduction methods of the swarm, which is not saying much, as it simply covered the larval stages and glossed over where the eggs came from precisely. It was written on a scroll I'd saved for just such a purpose. It happened that a green flash drew my attention and I saw a single drone coming from the direction of my camp with that scroll in his hooves, it was unmistakeable.

I wanted to rashly confront them, to air my grievances, but I knew that would have done nothing but get my memory erased, so I wasted no time and simply walked away, starting at an angle to the hive where the guard couldn't see and following the hills along the eastern edge of the valley. There was nothing in my camp worth the risk so I simply left it and made as good a time as I could back to the nearest city. There I bought a cape and hat to disguise myself and headed back for the city of Tanis and it's University, grateful the whole time to have been spared my life and mind.

When I got back I quietly gathered as many academics as I could to hear me and told them my whole tale, excising no detail. I figured that with my tale told and disseminated I was no longer a viable target for retribution, and if I was, at least everypony would know what happened to me. Call me loony, but I still believed the changelings acted rationally and, on the whole, honorably.

It took me several hours of non-stop talking before a packed room to get it all out there. When I was done I felt that a huge weight had been lifted from my chest. Then everypony wished me well, said they were glad that I survived my little safari and likewise congratulated me.

When I asked what they were congratulating me for they gave me a surprising answer, "Your marriage, or have you already forgotten?" I protested that I hadn't gotten married, but they insisted that they'd all attended and certainly I had. Then there were perturbing queries as to my mental health.

Vexed, I finally returned to my apartment, already suspicious of what I'd find there. I entered quietly and found myself reading quietly on a low sofa, "You've redecorated."

"Urk! I um...I mean that is to say, oh my!" The counterfeit me stammered.

"Hey, who's out there with you?" A feminine voice sang from the bedroom. I eyed my duplicate with an arched eyebrow demanding answers.

"It's just an old friend, honey, I'll tell you all about it later, but for now we're going to head down to the pub for a quick pint." He said.

"Alright, but do try and see that it's only a pint, alright? I don't want you out all night like last time." She replied and my imposter ushered me out into the hallway. For my part I figured I could use the pint and headed for Lucky Shot's, the pub down the way. He simply followed dumbly.

The pub was poorly lit by sparse candle stubs that dripped rivulets of wax on great alluvial flows that marked the demise of their predecessors. The tables were made of wine barrel ends and the stools were small casks long since depleted of their contents. Dark, homely squalor made for a good drinking environment and saved the added cost of cleaning as an added incentive. I waved a hoof and mouthed, 'two' and the barmaid shortly had us set up with a fine wheat beer drowned in filthy well water. If it wasn't for the atmosphere, I should think to complain about it.

That atmosphere consisted of several ponies at the bar proper, trying to remember the words to one song and sing them to the tune of another, a table full of louts arguing about taxes. One was for, one was against while the third of the group tried to stay neutral by insisting that they were both plot holes for ruining a perfectly good night out by starting up the same old fight they always had.

Our table in the corner was removed enough to talk while the overlapping noises ensured our privacy. No one could make anything out in that din if it was farther than three feet from them. My doppelganger spoke first.

"Um, so hey, I'm sorry. They were supposed to warn me when you were coming back." He said.

"I snuck away to keep them from wiping my memories or throwing me in a cocoon." I replied, "Then, as soon as I was back here I told everypony who would listen everything I knew about the changelings, that way, if something happens to me they'll know who did it and, since everything I know is already out there, there's no incentive to keep me from spreading it."

"That's...that's not really my department..."

"Your department is stealing my life, then?"

"Well, now, when you say it like that it sounds so bad, but I mean, come on, you weren't even using it right then, were you? It would have been a shame to leave your mare alone all this time and let all that love go to waste, I mean, right?" He asked, somewhat abashed.

"If you say so. Who is the mare anyway? Did you really marry her?" I asked flatly. His face fell and he stuttered for a moment.

"What do you mean, who? It's Concertina Melodia, wasn't that your mare?"

"Hoo boy. That's sure some trouble you've gotten me into isn't it?" He was perplexed, "No? Let me explain. I went on one date with her and found out she was already living with a stallion and pegged her for a mare looking for a living situation rather than a lover. So when I heard she started telling her mare friends about all this soul mate and love at first sight garbage, I knew she was somepony to stay well away from."

"Why?"

"Well, it means she's like a gold digger, disingenuous." I explained. It was odd, but I found I couldn't even be mad at the changeling.

"Ah, I see. You think that just because it's also convenient for her to be with you it means she can't possibly love you?" He reiterated.

"That's the way of things, I'm afraid."

"You find her attractive?"

"I did, yes." Which was true. She was one of the prettiest mares I had ever dated. That alone put me on my guard.

"Would you reconsider you opinion if I told you she well and truly loved you?" He laughed, "Really, consider the source. You know what I am, I'm here to feed, I have little enough interest in a marriage of convenience have I? Could we take it as a given that she really does love you, deeply and truly?"

"Loves you, you mean." I rebutted angrily.

"Well, if you want to go down that road then I'm actually the seventh drone on this particular assignment."

"Seventh!?"

"Yeah, but keep in mind, we met you at the hive, imprinted your mind upon our own, for practical purposes we are you, save for a few memories and I can fill you in on those quick enough, then you'll be all set with your new wife and ready to harvest all that love for your own self. Really you're a very lucky stallion." The changeling said optimistically.

"There's not a chance in the world that I'd go along with that." I angrily swilled down my beer and ordered another.

"Oh! But you've got to! You'll break her heart if you don't!" Then the changeling considered it, "On the other hoof, maybe if you went back to Canterlot we could keep her, she really is quite a find."

"That's even worse, are all you changelings sociopaths?" I demanded.

"No, we're just pragmatic and we'd hate for true love to go to waste."

"True love my flank. The way you have this set up, you weren't planning on me ever coming back, were you?" He grunted non-noncommittally, "Because if I had come back you'd be in this situation we're in right now, with you out a food source, and me legally bound to a mare I barely know!"

"Really it's not as bad as all that. Just think of it as a surprise arranged marriage." He shrunk under my glare, "Really though, tell her the truth if you have to, but for hive's sake, give her a chance! You won't regret it, I promise."

I looked at a pony identical to myself, "Even your face is a lie, why should I believe you? Besides, you never answered my question, what were you planning to do to me?"

"Me? Nothing. I think the queen had designs on you."

"So you changelings do kidnap ponies and throw them in you cocoons," I growled, "I figured as much. I should tell everypony about that part too and they'll exterminate your hive so fast..."

"Hey, easy there Galahad! Don't go overreacting, she just thought you'd end up staying of your own accord once you got to know her."

"I never even met her, never so much as laid eyes on her and she was planning to use me as a paramour? Really? How likely is that?" I spat out.

"Ah, our queen is magnificent indeed and you couldn't mistake her for any other...unless of course she disguised herself as a drone so as to converse with you freely." He smirked, "As to the other part, she's a changeling like any other. She needs to be loved, and she seems to have a thing for blushing, bumbling incompetents. Take from that what you will." He finished his beer in a quick swig, dropped some coins on the table and headed for the door, "Anyway, consider what I said and give Concertina a chance. Beyond that, we'll be around if you need us. I mean we will even if you don't, actually."

In my rage I nearly missed an important bit, "She was Scar, wasn't she?"

"Oh, because of the cracked shell? Scar, that's funny. Makes her sound like a pirate or something." He laughed as he slipped out the door. Green light flashed and by the time I made it to the door he'd already blended into the patchy crowd.

At the start of the day I had an army of perfect imposters with ambiguously hostile intentions towards me to worry about. By the end of the day I was still uncertain of their intentions towards me and I had two mares to worry about, one being legally bound to me and the other being the evil queen of a whole different species. After much consideration I made the only logical choice and stayed in the pub all night.

Once I'd gotten enough beer into me I joined the table arguing politics, decrying communism by explaining that it only worked in ant colonies because ants are neither self aware nor are they ruled by a conniving sex fiend, plot hole of a queen.

"Mare trouble?" The neutral asked.

"You could say that." I sighed and both of his tax obsessed friends nodded in sympathy.