The steady thrumming buzz of my wings filled my ears. I looked down, a small smile tugging at my lips as I regarded the happy little town below. Ponyville.

Straw thatched roofs with white walls, a boutique in the shape of a rather fancy carousel, a schoolhouse in the fields opposite of what I knew to be Sweet Apple Acres from a previous visit, and, of course, Princess Twilight Sparkle’s glimmering crystal tree palace. The very place my best friend called home. The very place I could visit to get away from all the trials and tribulations of being Thorax, King of All Changelings, and just be me—Thorax, the awkward changeling, the same one who befriended a dragon and a bunch of ponies who was still buried underneath my green-yellow carapace and great horns.

As my thoughts wandered back to the hive, my smile faltered. With a heavy sigh, I shook my head and tried to will them away before I slowed my wings to hover down to a soft landing on the well-trodden dirt path below.

I wasn’t entirely sure what Spike had planned for my visit, other than his complete assurance that he’d reserved this time for doing “actual friend things” instead of worrying and fretting. Whatever it was, I was all for it.

Anything to take my mind off the hive for a few hours would be a blessing straight from the First Mother herself.

The ponies in the area stopped to greet me with smiles and cheery waves, a few even called me by name and asked how my day was! Quite a change from the old days. I even received a rather affectionate hug from a little pegasus filly. Scootaloo was her name, I believe. I’d met her sometime before. Rainbow Dash had been quite happy to introduce us.

I turned to scan my surroundings. Spike’s letter stated that we were to meet before Sugarcube Corner, a charming little bakery and confectionary shop he, Starlight, and Twilight had taken Dragon Lord Ember and I to during my last visit. My mouth watered at the mere memory of those sweet cakes. I licked my lips and the tips of my fangs, hidden now beneath my gums. Though we had changed, some bits had remained the same.

Much to my brother’s relief.

The burn of irritation returned to my chest in force. I had to bite back a snarl, gritting my teeth for a moment before I shook myself out of it and tried not to stalk over to Sugarcube Corner.

I failed. But I did, at least, manage a small smile to allay any worries that an angry changeling might be spoiling for a fight. Not a pleasant thought for anyone, really. No matter how—ah—passive I may be.

After a short trot down the east path through town square, I came upon my destination. Sugarcube Corner, in my opinion and quite a few others’, always looked utterly delicious. Yes, I knew from warning when Spike caught me licking my lips before that the gingerbread house exterior was merely a rather impressive display of pony ingenuity and creativity. Something I confess I’d done my best to imitate since taking over the hive. Still, the design was fitting. What awaited patrons through those doors was more delicious than words could describe. But my attention was drawn elsewhere.

Namely, the tiny dragon sitting on the edge of a planter situated on the left side of the door—my right side.

He hadn’t noticed me.

I allowed myself a wicked grin only a changeling can grin. It was the perfect time for a trick. Especially when I noticed the rather impressively glazed look in his eyes.

Grow bored while waiting for me?

Clearly, I had failed to teach him what it meant to befriend a changeling—tricks are fair game. Moreso if you challenge us, slight us, or welcome such games.

I took his boredom as the first and third, with admittedly a smidgen of the second. He invited me, but wasn’t standing at the ready. Ember had gotten a lovely welcome—granted, in an official capacity—and no boredom at all. My visit was friendly, yes, and much more casual.

But boredom?

I could hardly be faulted for transforming into a familiar form, Princess Twilight’s, to be specific, and approaching him with her warm smile upon my face and the happy little swish of her tail she liked to add when happy. A little ruffle of my new feathers served me quite well, I think.

“Well, look who’s got his head stuck way up in the clouds on a fine afternoon like this,” I said in Twilight’s voice, a perfect imitation of her scholarly, playfully scolding tone. “What’s on your mind, Spike?”

My first friend looked up at me. For a moment, I thought I noticed a hint of irritation, righteous indignation flicker across his features before he schooled them into a thin smile. My friend had about as good a poker face as I had an understanding of pony economics. Something to note after my lesson had been taught.

“Just thinking things over,” he replied barely above a mumble. The way his earfins twitched reminded me of the moody nymphs back in the hive.

I flicked one of mine. “Thinking of things? And what things might we be thinking about while looking so bored?” I paused a moment, then added, “And grumpy.”

He snorted, muttering something to the effect of “Like you wouldn’t know.” Before I could question him, Spike turned to fix me with a rather put out look. “So what exactly is it that brought you out here? I’m supposed to be meeting Thorax.”

Not how I would’ve liked my trick to go, but at least I could cheer him up. I began a slow, casual saunter toward him, drifting ever closer to my grumpy little friend. “Well, maybe I wanted to come see you. And surprise you while I was at it.”

That earned a roll of his eyes. “Surprise me? Twilight, your life is written out on a day planner. I’m the one who keeps it. You couldn’t surprise me if you tried.”

“Oh? Well, if that’s so—” the timing was perfect. My grin returned in force, my eyes flashed green as I leapt upon him, tackling him from his seat on the planter and pinning him to the floor with natural ease.

“Twilight! What the—”

Green fire rushed over my body, changing Twilight Sparkle’s soft, mulberry coat, tricolored mane, purple irises and starburst cutie mark into my green and orange carapace, violet wings, orange horns, and full purple eyes. I leaned in, pressing my nose against his, grinning as I allowed a purr to rumble about in the back of my throat. “—Maybe I can. Hello, Spike.”

His little chest heaved. Spike let his head fall against the ground as he let out a nervous, breathy laugh. “Thorax. Oh, Celestia, you scared the scales off of me!”

Chittering gaily, I nuzzled his nose. “Well, let that be a lesson for you. Never look bored and daydream when you’re expecting a guest, they might be a changeling. And we might take it as an invitation to add a little excitement to your day.” I stood to full height, then stepped back, allowing him to sit up, dust himself off, and rise. When he had done so, I tasted the air around him. A rather burning, dimming spice of annoyance, beneath a rather delicious, cotton candy fluff of happiness. I tilted my head and asked, “Is there something bothering you? You didn’t seem happy to see me when I was disguised.”

“Just … stuff.” His smile fell. Spike’s eyes flitted away to look off at some point in the distance, then back to mine. “It’s fine.”

My smile slipped away like changeling slime under a heatlamp. “Do you want to talk about it?” I offered. If feelings forums could help my changelings, I was certain a talk could do the same for Spike.

Instead, he shook his head. “No. I don’t mean to be short with you about it, but I’d really rather just forget about everything and play for a few hours. If you don’t mind.”

I didn’t, of course. I had long since lost my patience with my own brother’s … demeanor. It was just rather odd to see him feeling similarly. As far as I’d seen, they’d always gotten along well. Spike and Twilight were like changelings in a cocoon—closer and cozier than anyone else.

But if he wanted to avoid the topic, I wouldn’t push him. Yet.

“Okay, then. So—” I offered a smile that felt a little too eager, even for me. “—Who is this new pony you wanted me to meet for this game? And what game is it anyway?”

His reptilian green eyes lit up. A broad grin spread across his face. “How do feel about cards in a barn?”

“… What in a where?”

Cards in a barn, as I was informed once Spike stopped sniggering at the perplexed look on my face (apparently, I had yet to teach him that lesson. I’ll figure something out the next time one of us visits), was meant to refer to playing a game of cards. In a barn.

Specifically, in the great, big red barn on Sweet Apple Acres.

An old dirt path which led the way up to the farm’s sprawling fields, lush with green grass leading up to their seemingly endless apple orchards in the distance. A white fence enclosed the space, more a defining boundary and barrier for some of the animals I noticed milling about than actually trying to keep ponies away—after all, they could jump quite high, even if one ignored pegasi flying. Or, well, my kin doing the same.

As we approached, I saw an open gateway with tall posts and an old wooden sign, its lettering faded with age and the wear of the elements. Squinting a bit, I was able to make out the words while we were some hundred lengths away:

A stallion awaited us, leaning his right shoulder against one of the posts, his eyes hooded and holding an almost lazy look while he gazed out at nothing in particular. His coat was as vibrant red as red gala apples, his mane the same dark goldenrod as the length of straw he was chewing on, and upon his flank a light green apple cutie mark shone as bright as the morning sun.

“Hey, Big Macintosh!” Spike called out from his spot riding upon my back. I could feel his weight shift, no doubt due to his eager waving, if the sound of a limb beating against the wind was any indication. “Big Mac!”

“Big Mac” turned his gaze upon us, a lazy smile made its way across his face. “Spike,” he greeted in a low drawl, nodding his head. His pale green eyes then flitted to me. “This yer friend, I take it?”

“Yup!” Spike hopped down from his perch to stand on my right side and gestured toward his farmer friend. “Thorax, this is Macintosh Apple, but everypony in town calls him Big Mac.” The stallion nodded in confirmation, a silent prompting for him to continue. Spike then gave a sweeping wave of his claw in my direction, like those ponies who presented the princesses. “Big Mac, this is Thorax, King of All Changelings.”

Big Mac pushed himself off the signpost and stood up straight. His lazy demeanor evaporated the instant the words left my friend’s lips. His brows raised a fraction of an inch, life shone in his eyes as his lips tugged into a tiny frown.

The farm pony bowed his head to me. “Highness,” he rumbled gravely. “Pleasure to meet ya. Thank ya kindly for visitin’ my family’s farm.”

“The, ah, pleasure’s mine,” I replied with a rather crooked smile. Try as I might, I hadn’t gotten used to being addressed so formally. “Thank you for having me.”

“Well, I wish I could say everythin’ was readied, but …” His gaze flitted to Spike, the frown on his muzzle deepens. “If I’d known we were addin’ royalty to the game, I’d have done more than pull out them old chairs ’n table, ’n put out more than some cider ’n cookies. But our lil’s friend didn’t see fit to fill me in.”

Spike let out a nervous laugh, his claws scratched at his headfin. “Aw, c’mon, Mac! I didn’t mean it like that!”

“I know, but that don’t make it right. Ya gotta tell folks important stuff like that.”

I couldn’t help but grimace. “It’s perfectly fine with me,” I cut in hastily. Memories of recent discussions, arguments which had broken into rather intense shouting matches between Pharynx and I, and then Pharynx with the backing of several other changelings and I, flashed before my eyes. This was the opposite of what I wanted. Them fighting over how best to set their game night up in my presence was just …

Too much like what I’d wanted to escape.

“Honestly? I could use a little time to be just me. Just regular Thorax. Like before—” I gestured to myself, particularly my torso, where three glimmering crystal were set upon my red-orange chest. “—All this. Being King. Everything.”

The farm pony regarded me silently for a moment, his mouth set in a thin line. He seemed to search me, like he expected to be able to pull all the secrets about what made me tick simply by looking me in the eye.

Ponies were quite funny like that.

After that moment passed, he sighed and nodded once. Admitting defeat on the matter. “If you say it’s fine, then I’ll drop it, Highness. Fer now.”

“Thank you. And, please. Just Thorax. I could use some time away from that stuff.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Thorax it is.” He aimed a stern look at our mutual friend, the faintest hint of amusement twinkled in his eyes. “All the same, next time, tell me, or I’m tellin’ Bloom ’n the fillies that yer up fer playin’ Cutie Mark Dragon Tamers with their lil’ day camp group.”

Spike gave a theatrical shudder. “Got it,” he replied with a sheepish grin. Then he took me by the foreleg and tugged me forward. “C’mon! We’re wasting valuable card-playing time! We can teach you how to play Go Bucking or poker or anything you want! And the barn, I mean, it’s a barn but it’s really nice! And big! We can fit half the town in there if we wanted!”

As I allowed my first friend to nearly drag me toward the barn, I cast a quick look at Big Mac. The stallion offered a small smirk and waggle of his ears, following along with his long, lazy stride, easily matching our pace. Somehow, I got the feeling purely by looking at him, that there was no shortage of strength hidden beneath his passive demeanor.

My brother would no doubt love to see him show it.

Again, the burn of my ire flooded my chest. His words, those of my changelings, filled my ears. You’re the King of All Changelings now, you idiot! You can’t just fly off whenever you want!

I banished those thoughts deep into the back of my mind and stuffed them into the thickest, stickiest cocoon I could conjure, then affixed a bright smile upon my muzzle as I was led to the barn.

It was quite a bit bigger up close than I thought during my initial flyby. It stood maybe half as tall as the hive, with decidedly less amorphous holes or plants growing upon or inside of it. The musty smell of hay, wood, apples, and mildew wafted to my nose and only grew more encompassing when I stepped hoof inside.

The barn itself was rather roomy, if a bit dingy. It reminded me of the hive, with its high roof, a second level stocked with some rather massive barrels with the word “CIDER” printed upon their bellies in thick, black text, and space beneath it where I noticed racks upon racks of farming equipment. Rakes, hoes, heavy straps fastened to a ploughing blade hung from hooks in what I could only guess was an organizational scheme familiar to the family and any farm hooves they might have hired out.

In the middle of the wooden, hay-covered floor was a moderately-sized table with three chairs positioned around it. A deck of cards rested to the right of one space, the same at which a large pitcher of cider had been placed. Each space had a large mug situated to its left, along with a small plate. At the center of the table, a plate of warm cookies rested. Even through the barn’s musty scent, I could smell them. Perfectly fresh.

My mouth began to water.

All in all, it was a lovely little setup.

Big Mac circled the table to claim his spot, the same one with the pitcher and deck of cards, and motioned for us to do the same. “Hope ya don’t mind chocolate chip, Thorax,” he said. “Ain’t all that sure what yer kin eat, other ’n love, of course.”

“Chocolate is just as delicious as love for us,” I replied, swallowing a mouthful of saliva before it could dribble down my chin like the hungry predator I once had been. Then, I realized I’d made an error and hastened to correct it. “N-Not that we eat love without asking anymore! I mean, it’s still a major part of our diets, but we’ve developed a transference thing that allows us to give something back to our donors so—”

An amused snort cut me off. Big Mac arched a brow in my direction, a smile tugged at his lips as he spoke slowly, “That’s all fine ’n dandy. I just meant I hoped it wasn’t somethin’ ya couldn’t eat.”

The heat in my cheeks at that moment felt like a raging inferno. “So long as you didn’t cook it with misery or rage, I’ll probably eat a dozen.” My eyes fell to the hay at my hooves. “We love sweet things.”

“Perfect.”

I shuffled to my seat, pinning my ears back to block out Spike’s sniggering as he hopped into the one to my immediate left. Even a patented changeling challenge look, with narrowed eyes and a glimpse of my fangs, did little to dull his mirth. If anything, it only amused him further.

There were several lessons to be taught, then.

The little dragon snatched his mug off the table and took a deep sip, quite a bit more than I would’ve expected from one his size. Once he finished and swallowed his drink, he let out a contented sigh and licked the remnants from his lips. His eyes met mine. With a wiggle of his earfins, he prompted me with a glance toward my mug and a slight tilt of his head.

Like he was asking why I hadn’t yet taken a sip. Or why I wasn’t guzzling it as he just had.

An interesting reaction, I must admit. One which made me quite curious to sample the Apple family’s fare.

With a low buzz, I took my mug in hoof and tilted it so I could inspect the foaming golden liquid within. It smelled of apples, of course. What else could it be, though? But, as I had never had cider of any sort, I was quite curious as to how it tasted. I brought it slowly to my lips and took a tiny sip.

The moment the sweet nectar touched my tongue, my eyes went wide. It was delicious. I could taste the cider itself, bubbling to the brim with that delicious apple flavor its smell promised, but with it came something none but a changeling could know—love.

I could taste the love the Apple family put into their craft.

It came as little surprise to me that I guzzled it as quickly as changeling starved on love. Half my mug was gone in the blink of an eye, the rest only survived because of a need for air. My serpentine tongue lashed along my lips and snout. A happy hum rumbled forth from deep within my chest.

Big Mac chuckled. “I take it our cider’s good for a changeling as well?”

I nodded once. The heat in my cheeks redoubled. “If there’s a chance you might be willing to, ah, ship it to our hive … I’m sure quite a few of my changelings would be most appreciative.”

“I’ll see what Applejack ’n Granny say ‘bout it, but I reckon they’ll be all for another buyer. ‘Specially fer a friend.” He waggled his ears, then gestured to the deck of cards. “Ever play?”

I shook my head as I set my mug down. “No. Queen Chrysalis never let us play games. Unless it was something to do with fighting.” Something I was still working to change with the little nymphs.

Spike chose that moment to chime in, “Why don’t we play Go Bucking, then? It’ll be something simple to teach him!”

Big Mac hummed an affirmative. “Might be for the best.” He picked up the deck and began to flex and shuffle the cards. I found myself transfixed watching how he did so, with almost little effort. He seemed to wield some form of unknown magic to make them move exactly as he willed. “Rules are simple: we start with seven cards. If you’ve got a pair, a triple, or all four of the same thing, lay ‘em on the table together. If not, ask Spike or me.” He dealt the cards out, deftly flicking his wrist to send them sliding over to us. “If we’ve got what yer lookin’ for, we gotta give it up. If not, we tell ya to Go Buckin’. Draw what you need, you get to ask again. If not, it’s next player’s go.”

I bobbed my head as I picked up my cards and gave them a quick look over. No pairs, triples, or anything of the like. Unfortunate, but no worry. The game itself seemed simple enough.

The perfect thing to take my mind off the hive for a few hours.

Go Bucking, I found, was quite an enjoyable game, even though I had yet to win a round.

Perhaps it was something about the way I couldn’t help but buzz when I saw a card I wanted. Or how I would try to subtly dim my colors or shrink between glances whenever Spike or Big Mac went searching for their next pairing. Their hooves emptied faster than a buffet of flyders at a changeling Glorbfest.

But it was fun. And both the cookies and the cider were more delicious than I could put to words. Yet the company was even better.

Our conversation seemed to wander aimlessly through some vast forest, down the winding, neverending path with no real destination other than which forks our whims chose. One minute, we would discuss a recent game Spike had played with a pair of local colts named Rumble and Pipsqueak, the next Big Mac would regale us with his stories about tending the fields all day, then going back inside to find his beautiful girlfriend, Sugar Belle, awaiting his return with some mouthwatering confection so perfectly baked even his Granny Smith had to crack a wrinkly smile.

My note that the very air around him tasted of such rich, delicious love it could only mean his feelings were quite strong drew not a flinch or a look of revulsion, but a smile and nod of thanks.

“Darn right,” he rumbled before his smile gained a dangerous edge and he coyly asked if I had any threes.

I did and promptly hoofed it over. Then he laid down the remainder of his hoof and claimed victory.

The chocolate chip cookie I bit into afterward did offer some measure of solace. Here was I, the King of All Changelings, allowing a stallion and a baby dragon to outwit me in a game which relied upon chance, yes, and no shortage of reading one’s opponents.

I resolved to do better during the next game, but I couldn’t contain the smile that spread across my face. “This has been really fun,” I said softly. “Definitely a welcome break.”

“I bet. Things must be hectic for you now that you’re a king, huh?” Spike asked, his gaze flitting up from his cards. “Speaking of which, how’re things now that Pharynx has come around? I remember you two were having some problems before …”

The corner of my mouth twitched. “Pharynx is Pharynx,” I replied. “A change of appearance and willingness to share his love with the hive hasn’t changed much about him. And he’s picked up quite a bit of influence in the hive.”

That gave him pause. “Not, like …” Spike struggled for the right words. “Bad influence, right? Like, he’s not gonna lead them into a city and start feeding on ponies again, right?”

“Not unless they allow it. He’s actually adapted reasonably well to that.” Despite my irritation toward him, I couldn’t help but smile at the memories of watching Pharynx interact with ponies. “He misses the hunt, I think. Likes to try getting any donors he meets to run so he can chase them down, but he’s behaved. So far. And he does share love in return, so there’s that. I guess.”

“Soooo … where’s the problem?”

“Just … him being a nosy, overbearing pain in my carapace.”

“Oh?” he asked as he plucked two cards from his hoof—or was it a claw in his case?—and set them down upon the table. “Pair of twos, by the way. Big Mac, got any suns?”

“Go Buckin’,” the stallion drawled without missing a beat.

Spike grimaced and drew a card from the deck. His frown deepened. “Dang it! Anyway—” he looked up at me again “—Starlight sorta told me how he was before he changed, and that he’s kinda taken over running the defenses. So … isn’t that a good thing?”

“For defense and organizing patrols, there’s none better,” I admitted. Pain or not, Pharynx was good at what he did. There was a reason the hive valued his input so much, despite his gruff demeanor. Or, perhaps, because they knew he could be brutally honest while I preferred to soften the blow, so to speak. “But he’s just so … ugh!” I thumped my head against the wood, barely feeling the impact through my faceplate.

There was a beat of silence. I could almost imagine Spike staring at me a moment, then turning to shrug his little shoulders at Big Mac.

Naturally, it was Big Mac who took up the burden of moving things along. “Maybe y’might consider goin’ into a bit more detail than that, Thorax.”

Grunting, I shifted to prop my chin on the wooden table so I could look him in the eye and heaved a tired sigh. “Look, I love Pharynx. He’s my brother and all, but he can get under my carapace worse than anything if he decides he feels like it.”

“Heh, I know all ‘bout that. My sisters ’n I are pros at that.”

“Same with Shining, Twilight, and me,” Spike chipped in. “Cadence too, but she just likes to tease me a little.”

“Comes with the territory.” Big Mac refilled his mug, then slid the pitcher across the table so we could do the same. After taking a sip, he continued, “So, yer brother makes ya twitch. Teasin’?”

I bobbed my head from one side to the other. “I mean, yes, but we changelings do adore our tricks and jokes. And, as much of a jerk as he can be … I don’t mind his. It’s just that he’s gotten so smothering since I put him in charge of security! Since I became King, really!”

The pair blinked, then glanced at one another and back at me. “Uh …” Spike began. “‘Smothering’ how?”

“Smothering in that I can’t go for a walk around the outer borders without an escort,” I deadpanned. “Or how I now have to tell my guards that I’m going somewhere—I have an actual dedicated guard team now! And I have to tell them things so they can spend hours organizing who’s going with me, all sorts of details as to how to account for how best to protect me if I walk through a pony town—and we’re allies!” I smacked my hoof against the table. “Do you have any idea how many he wanted to send with me today?”

Spike shrugged. “I’m guessing enough that really made you—wait a minute.” His eyes went wide. “If he wanted to send guards with you, where are they?”

Rolling my eyes, I gave a dismissive wave of my hoof. “I may be passive, but I’m darn good at getting around unseen if I want.” A sly smirk settled upon my face. “Not to brag, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t notice until—oh—right about now.”

To my left, Spike snorted. “Well, I can’t say I blame you there. I’ve got almost the same problem with Twilight. And Shining’s no help there either.”

“Oh?” I turned to meet his eye and found a sympathetic smile upon his face. I just knew he’d take my side on this. “She … I’m guessing she doesn’t make a bunch of dragons or ponies follow you around, though. Unless Ember is loaning guards out to protect her, ah, favored ambassador.”

“Pfft! Nope!” He blew a puff of black smoke through his nose. “I might as well be a hatchling for the way she treats me!”

I leaned in, oddly eager to hear another’s issues regarding their siblings.

He did not hesitate to oblige. “Like, okay. Cards on the table here, you’ve met Rarity, right?”

“The really beautiful unicorn with the white coat and purple mane?” I asked. Upon receiving a nod of confirmation, I licked my lips. “Her love is delicious. She ruins the scent of it with perfume though, which is sad. Hers is lovely without it.”

“I’ll take your word for it. Anyways, I had a crush on her for … a long time. I’ve kinda figured out that it’s not gonna happen, though, so I started looking elsewhere.” A tiny smile tugged at his lips. “ So, I started talking to a few fillies around town. Kinda hit it off with one named Toola, actually. She’s nice. A painter, if you’d believe it.” He blew another breath of smoke through his nose. His smile fell into a deep scowl. “Unfortunately, Twilight’s taken that as cue to start the nosy routine.”

I winced. “I’m guessing that gets to be a pain when you want to hang out.”

“Like you wouldn’t believe. And Shining won’t even take my side! Anytime I write him, he comes back with almost the same questions!” He scrunched up his nose and gave a rather poor imitation of my former host’s voice, “Well, Spike, you really should think about these things. Don’t get your heart set on her, just focus on having a good time—ha! Says the guy who was over the moon for Cadence when they were back in middle school!”

I shook my head. “Feh. Older siblings. Just live to cause us trouble, I guess.”

“Tell me about it.”

We shared rueful smiles, then bumped our mugs together and each took a drink. I felt a note of smugness, satisfaction at having outwitted my brother and eluded my own changelings. It would teach them to try to treat me like a hatchling, at least. A lesson they could well learn.

It all vanished when I heard a low, discontented grumble from across the table. I paused, slowly bringing my mug away from my lips to regard Big Mac with a quizzical look.

He raised a brow. “’N just what do you think is gonna go through yer brother’s mind when they find you missing? Or worse—if he does.”

I winced. “He’ll probably be annoyed. Maybe he’ll tell me I’m stupid for going off on my own. But that’s about it. He doesn’t care that much.”

“Horseapples,” Big Mac snorted. “If he didn’t care, why’d he bother makin’ ya go through all that hassle?”

“Because …” I blinked twice. “He just … does. He’s always beat up on any changeling who tried touching me before, then gone right to messing with me himself. And this new security thing is like his hatchling. Everything he has is put toward securing the hive.”

“The hive ’n one other thing.” His mighty hoof jabbed in my direction. “His kin.” Then he turned to fix Spike with a stern look which made my little friend squirm and duck his head. “’N you ’n I know full well why Princess Twilight’s so protective of you. Ya ain’t blood, but ya might as well be to her, ’n Prince Shining’s ‘bout the same, I reckon.”

Spike’s eyes fell to the floor, he mumbled something unintelligible under his breath.

Then Big Mac’s attention returned to me. The stern frown upon his face melted away into a patient smile, one that could only come with age and years and years of explaining things to those younger than he. “Y’all remind me of how Applejack used to butt heads with me, always complainin’ that I got on her to do her homework, do her chores right ’n thorough, ’n how I would call over any stallion she brought home ’n make sure they knew there was a nice, quiet patch of land in the orchard where I’d be happy to work out any understandings if they tried anythin’ funny. Got so mad at me when she caught me havin’ that talk with her high school sweetheart. ‘Till he proved me right.”

That made my ears flick. I knew Applejack. Not as well as I knew Spike, Starlight, or Twilight, or even Trixie and Discord, but I knew of her. And I knew she was precious to Spike.

“What happened?” I asked as calmly as I could manage.

The stallion took a deep pull of his cider. When he finished, he heaved a sigh. “Invited her back to his bed. When she said no, he tried pressuring her into it.”

My blood boiled. My changeling heritage demanded retribution for this slight, no matter how long ago it occurred. I could feel my fangs beginning to lengthen.

“And then?” I found myself asking, barely a note above a hiss.

“She broke his jaw in one punch ’n came runnin’ home in tears,” Big Mac drawled. His eyes flashed dangerously. “Made me proud she dealt with him on her own, but madder ’n a hornet that somepony did that to my sis. So after Granny ’n I got her to bed, I went ’n had a word with the idiot. He left town after graduatin’ ’n ain’t stepped hoof in Ponyville since.” He gave a low chuckle. “Funny now how she ’n Apple Bloom have their lil’ fights over the same things now, ’n she’ll come to me grumblin’ ‘bout how stubborn a filly we’re dealin’ with, then gets huffy when I start laughin’ at her.”

Slowly, my hackles lowered. I let my fangs shrink again as a relieved smile spread across my face. “That must be something to see.”

“Eeyup. It’s quite the show.”

Then, my ears twitched. I realized something I’d missed. “Wait. You said you were proud she broke his jaw?” At his nod, I tilted my head. “Why?”

His smile turned positively wicked. Almost a perfect imitation of Pharynx’s. “I’m no genius, but mama didn’t raise no fool. I taught her how to throw those hooves myself.” Big Mac inclined his head toward me, then nodded to Spike. “’N I’m willin’ to bet a barrel of cider to each of ya that yours did the same.”

I didn’t bother trying to think of a way to dispute it. What little I knew of fighting, I had gotten from one source. The same one who beat up all the other nymphs who tried to bully me, and always claimed that only he had that right. The very same who took me to the river and taught me how to catch fish. The same who made sure I knew how to shapeshift, and even complimented me as the best in the hive.

And the same changeling willing to take on a raging beast with me.

Pharynx.

Maybe he had a point. Maybe both of them had a point.

A sudden thump of hoof striking wood made my ear flick, I turned so fast my neck muscles strained. The barn doors burst open to reveal five figures standing in the dim light of the dying afternoon.

My heart dropped into my stomach.

Two of my guards, the twins, Mayfly and Flitterwing, stood to the right their teal faces split by wide grins and orange eyes gleaming with amusement. Princess Twilight Sparkle and Applejack were on the left, their ears pinned and sheepish smiles spread across their faces. The good Princess mouthed “sorry” to me as the fifth figure let out an angry hiss.

I’d never seen my brother so angry before. “You!” he snarled, stomping into the barn with his navy ears pinned and fangs bared and lengthening. Fury flashed like flame in those deep red eyes.“Do you have any idea how much trouble and worry you’ve caused the hive with your little stunt?”

I let out a yelp and scrambled out of my seat, scooting away until my backside hit the far wall. “Ph-Pharynx!” I stammered. “H-How did you—“

“Find you? Don’t be an idiot!” He paused a split second to spare a respectful nod to Big Mac and Spike before resuming his approach. I could feel the anger rolling off him in waves. “I had everything planned out for you. These two—” he jabbed a hoof over his shoulder at the twins “—were going to come with you to keep an eye, but maintain a distance to give you room. I was going to keep watch back home and make sure everything went smoothly until you came back. But you went sulking to your chambers—but wait! No you didn’t!” he said with a big, false smile. “No! What did my idiot little brother, the King of All Changelings, decide, in all his infinite wisdom?”

Pharynx didn’t stop until we were nose to nose. He blew an angry breath into my face.

“Like the idiot he is,” he continued, “he shapeshifted. I don’t know what, because it’s always been his gift, one I helped him discover myself, and he slipped away. Leaving the entire hive in a buzz, searching high and low for their lost King until my mate roused me from my sleep and agreed to take charge so I could come find him and play nurseling for a full-grown changeling. Again.”

Nurseling?

Older brother or not, no one was going to play nurseling for me! I was an adult! The King of All Changelings!

And now, protective big brother or not, he was smaller.

I leaned down, narrowing my eyes at him. “You’re not going to collect me or drag me off anywhere!” I snapped. “I’m sorry I caused trouble, but I promised I’d come visit my friend for the weekend! I’m allowed to do that! And I will! So … so …” I stuck out my tongue and blew a raspberry in his face, adding insult to injury.

His eyes flashed green. Pharynx calmly reached up to wipe spittle from his snout. For a moment, I thought he might leap upon me and start a fight like when we were nymphs. I would have actually preferred it if he had.

Instead, a slow smile began to spread across his face.

“Thorax,” he purred. “My dear, sweet, idiot little brother, who said anything about taking you home in the middle of your trip?”

My blood ran cold. “What are you—”

“That, dear idiot, would be a mercy. You’ve slighted me three times now,” Pharynx continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “First by stomping off in the middle of our conversation and slipping away from your guards, second by making me come all the way out here to find you, and now by disrespecting us in front of a Crown Princess of Equestria and your friends. Oh, you’re staying for the full duration of your little trip. In fact, I insist.”

That, more than anything, made me long for the chance to find a deep, dark cave to hide in. “You … do?”

“Oh, yes. But that’s not the best part.” His hoof shot out, wrapping around the back of my neck and jerking me down to his level. His eyes glowed a deadly green. “I’m going to stay here with you. Won’t that just be fun? C’mere, you little maggot!”

I didn’t have a chance to recoil or try to fight. Quick as a flash, Pharynx had my ear in his teeth and was dragging me back toward the table as I danced on the tips of my hooves and cried out in pain. He never let up, not until we were back over by my seat. My brother hissed, kicking it up so it was back in place, then deposited me into it. “Sit!” he barked.

With a whine, I rubbed at my ear and made as though to rise.

A single look made me freeze. I saw his brow arching, daring me to challenge him.

I sat down in silence.

Pharynx nodded once, then turned to face Spike and Big Mac. He bowed his head. “Thank you,” he said, “for entertaining my idiot little brother and looking after him in my stead.”

“Ain’t nothin’,” Big Mac drawled with a lazy smile and a playful wink toward Applejack. “Older sibling always looks after the lil’ ‘uns. I’ve been there.”

To my surprise, Pharynx regarded him for a moment. I daresay I saw a measure of respect show in his eyes, and a hint of a genuine smile tug at his lips.

Applejack coughed. “Er, well, this has been … a hoot. But I think I’ll leave y’all to it.”

“Agreed.” Princess Twilight failed to hide a grin behind her hoof. “Goodnight, boys.”

“Oh, please do stay,” Pharynx said as he turned to aim a smile at both mares. “You’ve both helped us in our search for our wayward King and agreed to house us. I’d like to offer something in return.” He looked directly at Spike and Big Mac in turn. “To all of you, for befriending and looking after him.”

I blinked. What in the First Mother’s name was he planning.

Pharynx laid a hoof upon my shoulder. His smile turned vulpine.

“I’m quite fond of telling stories,” he mused aloud. “I’ve told the one about how I used to make him hit himself a hundred times over, so I think I’ll tell a few I haven’t shared before.” He turned to meet my eyes. “How about the time he woke up and shrieked himself hoarse because he was scared of his own shedding? Or about his longstanding crush on a pretty little changeling named Libulella?”

There was no hole deep enough, nor cave dark enough, nor cover thick enough to hide the shade of red which must have spread throughout my faceplate. I buried my face in my hooves and let out a groan as I lowered my head to rest upon the table.

I hate my jerk of a big brother sometimes.

But he’s my jerk.

And crack my carapace if I don’t love him to bits.