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A Princess and Her Queen

by kildeez

Chapter 27: Chapter XXVII: Scars, Part I

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“The first thing you gotta understand is that we were very different as colts,” Switch said. The tiny group had found shelter at a chariot stop, the mares taking up the middle of the bench with the stallions flanking them. Of course, all involved found a certain satisfaction in being so close to their respective “interests,” though none would admit it.

“Eh, come off it Switch,” Bait chuckled, his hooves crossed over his chest to give Pinkie a little extra space. “You were a jackass: a stereotypical, douchebag jock.”

“Yeah…and you were the little supernaturalist nerd who spent more time locked in the stallion’s showers than not,” Switch retorted.

“Boys!” Pinkie shouted warningly.

“Right, sorry,” the changelings said in unison, hoping to avoid another hit from the puppy-dog eyes.

“Like we were sayin’,” Bait continued. “Switch and I didn’t really see things on the same level. He had his spot in the high school hierarchy, and I had mine.”

“And considering I was the star soccer player and Bait had a level 48 Paladin in his little ‘Dungeons and Dragons’ game…” Switch chuckled. “You can probably guess what those were.”

“Oh, come off it, you’re just jealous because you never reached level 29 with your weak-ass Bard!” Bait snickered.

“Don’t you start this shit with me again, you know they nerfed bards in the sixth edition! And paladins are broken as fuck!”

“BOYS!” Pinkie shouted, standing out of her seat to glare at them both. The changelings sighed, unable to meet her gaze this time, just keeping their blank, pupil-less eyes on the ground.

Then she turned to Bait. “You went Pally?”

His eyes met hers and blinked. “Yeah.”

She grinned. “Level 78 Mage.”

Both stallions’ jaws dropped. “Wha-what?”

“I-I only made it to level 11, for what it’s worth,” Fluttershy whispered. “I never got really deep into the game, but Pinkie keeps trying.”

The changelings bounced their shocked gazes between the mares, jaws hanging slack. “BOTH of you!?”

“Boys?” Pinkie raised an eyebrow testingly.

“Right, right, off topic, doesn’t matter,” Bait rubbed at his temple, if only to distract from the way his hooves quivered when he tried to meet the pink mare’s gaze. “At any rate, those were the circles we ran in, and it might’ve stayed that way for Maker-knows how long.”

“So…what changed?”

A few moments of quiet followed after that. Before either changeling could stop himself, both were rubbing at their respective scars. Bait even bit his lip, his missing fang standing out even more now. Pinkie sighed and sat back down next to him.

“Take your time,” she whispered, her hoof closing around his.

Bait quivered, trying to keep the shaking to his side facing away from her, and failing. Pinkie, of course, mistook his quivering for fear of telling the story and pulled herself closer, which of course only increased the shaking. He looked to his partner for help, only to find the larger changeling enclosed in a full-on Flutter-hug, blushing deeply, struggling every few moments if only to shake out the jitters.

Both changelings caught one another’s eyes over the mares’ heads and sighed. “So fucked,” Bait whispered. He allowed himself a few moments more of feeling Pinkie’s warm body against his own, of memorizing the exact way her hoof felt around his, and then he began his tale.

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Almost from the start, every changeling under Chrysalis knew where Bait and Switch the hatchlings were going to wind up in the high school social hierarchy. Switch’s strange size was not the result of a tremendous, pubescent growth spurt, as one might think. Even at birth he’d been a foal to astound, to make other changelings pause and wonder and marvel at the likelihood that he would have fillies clinging to his hooves by his teens, and for the most part they’d been right. What’s more, that size didn’t seem to impede his agility much, his hooves striking out during self-defense classes with the kind of speed and ferocity the eye could just barely keep up with.

By contrast, Bait had been a shrimp, stunted in the hatchery and, despite the promises of his mother, stubbornly short throughout puberty. The only extracurricular activities that would accept him were also the most likely to get him beat up, whether it be the tabletop gaming club, the Fantasy and Sci-Fi club, or the Young Paranormal Investigators team (of which he was the founder, president, and sole member despite the numerous boxes of YPI t-shirts and buttons he’d made from scratch).

This day found him in one of this club’s “meetings,” which usually consisted of him sitting in an empty cavern in the hopes of a fellow student stopping by and staying longer than it took him to say “This is the Young Paranormal Investig…” before turning around and walking back out the door. These hopes were usually unfounded, but his mother had taught him quitters never won and winners never quit, so he kept at it, even though the closest he’d gotten to finding a fellow paranormal enthusiast was a changeling that had feigned interest just long enough to write “git a real hobby foggot” on the signup sheet. Still, even that had been better than the days where he spent the entire time alone in that room, like this one had been shaping up to be.

He’d just finished up his homework, his mind transferring from quadratic formulae and y-intercepts to what his mom might be making for dinner, when the sound of running hoofsteps came crashing into the empty class-cavern. He blinked as a certain, powerfully-built stallion literally dropped into his life, knocking two fates onto a completely different course forever by stumbling in and throwing himself behind a door frame with the words: “I’m not here.”

Switch you fucking asshole! Where are you!?” The words were screamed at the top of a voice that would have been right at home in a heavy metal concert. The large changeling squeezed himself against the wall and closed his eyes, looking for all intents and purposes like he wanted more than anything to just meld right in with the rock. He was doing a pretty decent job of it too: the black of his chitin blended quite well, if you didn’t look too carefully. Fortunately, that didn’t appear as if it’d be a problem with the mare pursuing him.

A tall, thin, gorgeous-looking thing Bait recognized from one or two cheerleader competitions, and subsequently one or two nights with the holes in his legs (he was a very lonely stallion), stormed in, enough mascara to drown a whale streaking along her perfect cheekbones, her deep, blue eyes scouring the cavern. For a second, Bait’s heart stopped as those awful eyes paused on him and glared as if he were standing atop a pile of dead puppies with a bloody knife in his hoof, but she relaxed and passed him over almost as quickly as that hateful gaze had risen, apparently relegating him to his usual dustbin in most cheerleaders’ minds.

Swallowing shakily, he asked: “Can I help you?”

She glared back at him, as if seeing him for the first time since coming in, but quickly went back to scanning the room. “Where is he?” She asked simply.

“I-I’m sorry, who?”

“That big guy. Where is he?”

Bait opened his mouth to speak up, initially having every intention of giving the larger stallion away. He was a big guy, surely he could defend himself better than Bait could! Besides, this madmare was the only thing between him and the warm, comfortable familiarity of his house with his bed and his mom’s dinner and his research books on Bighoof sightings. But then, he spotted the tiny, colored pinpricks of the stallion’s eyes, pleading with him from just behind the mare’s head.

Bait sighed and cursed himself for being such a sap. “I dunno, I think I saw someling running past the cavern’s entrance,” he said.

The mare glared at him, then promptly turned around, taking off out the front cavern without so much as a thank you. “I’m coming for you, you cheating sonofabitch!” She called, and then she was gone, just a set of hoofbeats echoing down the hall.

The larger stallion flitted out of his place in the cave’s wall, grinning ear to ear. “Thanks…uh…”

“Bait,” the smaller said, sticking out his hoof.

“Yeah, sure, Switch,” Switch replied, not taking the hoof, visibly distracted by something. Bait watched as the stallion trotted right past his extended leg, looking over the small pile of t-shirts and buttons spread out on the desks. “YPI?” He read aloud.

“Young Paranormal Investigators,” Bait explained with no small amount of pride in his voice.

The larger stallion turned to him, eyes narrowed in thought. “Hold on,” he said. “Aren’t you the guy that got in trouble for setting the toy woods on the North edge of the Hive on fire?”

Bait drooped instantly, his ears folding to his skull. “I was gonna smoke out a skunkape…” he whispered, almost too quietly for Switch to hear.

Switch just grinned. “Yeah, figured that was you. Man, that was one helluva party, huh?”

“Wh-what?” That wasn’t the usual reaction of someling learning what he’d done. It was usually either sudden laughter, or backing away, keeping an eye on him the entire time. This guy was acting like he thought Bait was…cool?

“Hey, speakin’ of parties,” Switch crashed on one of the hard, carved chairs and eyed Bait. “My parents are headin’ off on a love-gathering mission in Neighpon this weekend and leaving me with the house by myself. I’m throwing a party, and I’ve got the whole class invited. I think I forgot your invitation, though…”

Did Bait just hear right? Did this guy just invite him, Bait the Irate, to a party!? Bait the Irate didn’t get invited to parties! That just didn’t happen! “I-I dunno,” he said, his old suspicion flaring up, screaming at him that anywhere he went with this stallion would only end with him duct taped to a tree or suspended upside down over a flushing toilet. “My parents don’t like me staying out too late and I got a lot of homework…”

“Oh, c’mon!” The larger stallion jabbed him on the shoulder. “It’ll be fun! There’ll be booze, and mares! Lots of mares!”

That caught Bait’s attention. “Mares?” Even the remote possibility that he might be able to walk up to a mare without having her laugh at him on his way over was enough to pique his interest. What cinched the deal was Switch’s next sentence:

“Oh yeah, I’ll even put in a good word for ya! Whaddya say, li’l buddy? You, me, and all the pussy we could ever want, eh?”

Despite the alarm bells still blaring in the back of his head, Switch leaned towards the stallion, eyes widening. He already knew he was going to nod yes, how could he not? With that disarming smile and only-too confident look, it was impossible not to. It was easy to see why the stallion standing there was such a hit with the mares: when he turned on the charm, there was only one thing anyone could do.

“O-okay…” Bait whispered.

“Awesome!” Switch cried, jabbing him in the shoulder again. “I’ll drop the invite over by your locker tomorrow! Trust me, you’re gonna have the time of your life!”

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“Aww…” Pinkie cooed.

“That’s so nice,” Fluttershy said with a smile.

Bait grinned, his massive incisors bared. Somehow, the ponies didn’t even flinch back this time. “Yeah, I guess it’s an alright story, looking back.”

“It’s really great that you guys met in such a nice way!” Pinkie said brightly. “It’s the perfect friendship story!”

At that, the changelings cringed, shifting uncomfortably on the bench. Pinkie looked from Bait, to Switch, and then back again. “What?” She asked.

“That part’s nice,” Switch sighed, rubbing a rough patch on his back, just below his wing. “The next part…isn’t.”

Next Chapter: Chapter XXVIII: Scars, Part II Estimated time remaining: 7 Hours, 6 Minutes
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