Dear Small Pony Book,

I am about to do something foolish. Something no changeling would ever think themselves brave enough, stupid enough to attempt.

Well. Dumber than being seen in natural form by ponies, let alone two one’s, er, mother held designs against. My apologies, that … was difficult to write. Difficult to think.

Thinking of her.

Anyway, I have kept you waiting long enough. Quite long enough. I write to you, as always, at the end of my day. I can still feel my knees shaking, my shoulders tensing as though I should be prepared to flee out the window and back to the safety of the hive—for a given value of the word “safety” as I’m sure my hosts would say. The though has occurred to me, but it is consistently blocked by … others.

This morning, I was awakened by Flurry Heart, as was my usual routine. But something felt a bit different in how she leapt from her crib and pounced me.

For instance, she did not immediately demand that I pick her up and engage in tickles. Rather, my overlady seemed content to squeal and babble until I woke, then hugged me around my chest, nuzzling almost like a little nymph in disguise might to coax some extra love from an unwary pony. Her little wings fluttered and traced against my carapace in a most adorable manner.

Perhaps I should have taken note that she was less playful and commanding as per the norm, and more like a hungry nymph—clingy, I believe is the word I have heard some of the palace staff giggle behind their hooves after one of her hugs. That, I believe, should have been my hint that she knew I was going to do something so foolish, so simple-minded, that any changeling, yes, even those who had been more foolish than me over our history, might trip over themselves in shock.

Then, she sat upon my belly for a moment and looked me in the eye. Almost as though she wished to see if what had so troubled me yesterday still haunted her favored changeling this morning.

Flurry Heart then let out a little crooning sound from the back of her throat, a frown marring her little face as she leaned in and pressed her nose against mine. Perhaps, I realized, I had underestimated Flurry Heart’s capacity for understanding.

“Tora, sad?” she asked.

I gave a bit of a weak smile. “Tora scared,” I admitted.

Her frown deepened. “No scare, Tora. Home in bed! No—” I shan’t try to spell out the babble which followed, but I could only assume it to be some sort of terrible monster.

A moment of consideration allowed me to understand. Don’t be scared, Thorax. You’re home in bed. There are no monsters here.

I opted against a reminder that some ponies might consider me the monster in her bedroom. I don’t think she would have appreciated that, nor would she have understood the nuance.

“No, there’s no monsters in the bedroom,” I said, laughing just a little with her. How I came to deserve service under such a caring overlady, I don’t understand. I could smell the love on her, strong and full. And sweet.

Almost as though she wished me to have a snack to make me feel better, and knew her love would sate me.

Indeed, I had underestimated her.

A foolish changeling am I.

However, I did not feed upon her, no matter how sweet and tasty her love might be, her mother had not granted me permission and I could hardly claim foalish babble and hugging to be consent. Besides, I was quite content to let her try to chase my worries away.

If only.

Sighing, I let my head rest against my pillow. “What do I do, Flurry?” I asked. I must have sounded piteous, even to her. “Shining Armor and Princess Cadence wish for me to try to befriend ponies, to try and have what they seem to think is a more normal life. But that is not changeling way—nothing they’ve taught me is, but that most especially is against everything I know.”

Flurry tilted her head at me a moment. I dared think she would suddenly gain the power of speech and great insight, and impart me with some sort of great knowledge or snippet of sentiment.

Instead, she reached out and pressed her hoof against my nose, giggling at how my eyes crossed.

I couldn’t help but smile. “Boop?”

“Boop Tora!” she chimed.

Boop Tora, indeed, Small Pony Book. I was lucky to have my home, my hosts, my friend—well, friends. Princess—er, just Twilight. Twilight was rather pleased to inform me that I am counted as a friend in her mind, so I suppose that does mean I have several. She had said so quiet earnestly, and made a point to add it as her own note (I read it sometimes, it is a nice note).

Spike, my hosts, Sunburst, Twilight, Starlight, Pinkie Pie and her cupcakes, Rainbow Dash, Applejack, Fluttershy, Rarity, those troublemaking fillies, and their fellow foals back in Ponyville.

I froze in place.

Under my breath, I murmured, “That is more than several.”

You may think it silly, I certainly do. But I hadn’t realized there were so many. And were there more? Did Princess Celestia and Princess Luna count? The former seemed delighted to join Flurry and I in sneaking around her own castle—truly, the silliest of pony things—and the latter made it a point to discuss my dreams and wishes, and fed me those delicious cookies.

Apologies. My mouth waters at the mere thought.

But so many ponies had been friendly. Some held me at length, mostly the adults in Ponyville, but I couldn’t exactly blame them. Other than that, none really knew me for who I am save those here at home.

Home.

Yes, this is my home. And I have been home, never leaving, for months. Not without my Crystal Hoof disguise.

Afraid.

I am afraid. Of them.

That they might see me as what I am from what they’ve heard, not who I am, and reject me for it.

Just as I was when I met Spike, and just as had nearly been were it not for his intercession.

Without him, I did not have any of this.

Any of them.

I was scared then, too. Just as I am now. Just as I was when I wrapped my chitinous hooves around Flurry Heart and held her tight, burying my snout in her mane for just a moment.

No changeling would be so stupid.

None should, I told myself again and again as I carried a newly bathed and diapered Flurry Heart toward the dining room. My stubby tail flicked and twitched nervously, I could think of a thousand and one reasons I should refuse the offer.

All of them rooted in what I’d “known” before meeting my hosts.

And what I’d “known” before, I thought as I stepped through the open doorway leading into the dining hall and exchanged rather cordial greetings with a pair of guards, a pair of cousins from Merriedamme named Prim Dazzle and Prim Stride, was that I should not have been expecting smiles and nods when they let me pass. I should have been pinned on the ground, with their spears at my neck, while they tried to get their young princess away from me.

Instead, I was looked upon as a friend and counted as one they should admit and protect.

Nonsense, I could almost hear my elders hiss. No pony would think to lend a hoof to a changeling. They are weak, anyway, and foolish. You are strong and wily, they will never see through our masquerade.

And yet they had.

On all counts.

My hosts stood by the table, chatting idly with one another while they awaited us. Shining caught my eye first, smiling brightly as he trotted over to wrap his magic’s warm, bubbling glow around my charge and lift her into the air, relieving me of my burden so he might nose against her belly.

The effect was quite immediate. Flurry succumbed to a squeal of mirth and waved her tiny hooves about, unable to escape her father’s ministrations. She babbled and latched onto his snout, giggling as he sat back on his haunches and calmly set about prying her hooves free so he could place her in her seat. “Good morning, Thorax,” he said, idly engaging in a little battle of hoof-baps with my overlady as she tried to regain her hold. “How did you sleep?”

I hesitated. “I don’t think it was well,” I admitted slowly. “I just remember laying down and waking.”

Princess Cadence approached and nuzzled my cheek. “You’ve been thinking a lot lately,” she whispered. “How are you holding up?”

To be honest? I wasn’t certain how to answer.

It certainly wasn’t going well in my head. It certainly wouldn’t go well in practice.

At least, I didn’t see how it could.

My gaze fell to my hooves. I traced an arc in the crystalline floor and stared at the cloudy reflection of my own form.

They wanted me to go to a pony school looking like this?

How had they even convinced those in charge to allow it? Or had they just walked in and said it would be so, and thus it was?

No. Of course not. My hosts were far too kind and thoughtful toward others to make such demands so frivolously. They would have asked and made their case for my presence, just as they had asked me to consider it.

I swallowed a mouthful of slime. “What is it that I have to sign for me to go to school?” I asked, my voice strained and barely audible.

I found myself wrapped in an embrace both of hoof and powerful wing for quite some time afterward, the sweet delectable nectar of Princess Cadence’s love, joy, and pride had me filled well until dinner.

“Thank you for being brave,” she whispered in my ear, “and rolling the dice with us one more time.”