The Last Changeling

by GaPJaxie

First published 10th of May, 2019

Years after being turned to stone, a changeling awakes to discover themselves in a new world.

"I won't forgive you," Flurry Heart said, moments before she turned Cheval to stone. She didn't think about what she would do with Cheval after.

Years later, Cheval has come back to life, and Flurry must decide if she meant what she said.

The last story in the Third Wheel series. Thanks for sticking with me everyone. It's been a great ride.

Chapter 1

The last thing Cheval remembered was worrying about her mother.

Cadence lay unconscious on the floor, surrounded by palace guards. Flurry Heart had just finished saying something about forgiveness that Cheval had only half-listened to. She was distracted, wondering if she got the poison dosage exactly right.

She only wanted to depose and kidnap her mother, not to hurt her.

Flurry made a sudden movement. Too late, Cheval lifted her head. Green mist filled her vision.

When the mist cleared, she was standing in her family’s living room, in the royal suite of the palace. Her lungs burned, and coughing seized her, but she retained enough awareness of her environment to notice that the palace guards were gone, as was Flurry. The only other creature in the room was standing right in front of her.

It was her adoptive mother, Princess Cadence, a soft smile on her face.

At once, Cheval tried to summon a defensive shield between the two of them. But her horn sparked, and a shooting pain raced through her temples. Still coughing, spluttering, she tried instead to turn into a fearsome dragon. But when she should have changed forms, little blue sparks crackled off her carapace, and pain erupted in her limbs.

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” Cadence said, so soft she was nearly whispering. “You don’t need to fight. You’re not in any danger.”

With no other options, Cheval backed away from her mother until her tail hairs touched the door to the kitchen. She looked around the room, first in a panic-fueled rush, then in more detail as the coughing subsided.

“I’m sure you’re confused,” Cadence said. “Flurry Heart turned you to stone with an alchemical grenade. We waited before restoring you. You don’t need to worry about the coup, or about me. That’s all over now.”

Cheval still didn’t speak, examining the pony before her in detail. As her eyes wandered over the room, she noticed that every way out was shut: every door closed, every window shuttered. It was like standing inside a cave.

When the silence grew too long, Cadence frowned. “I’ve… forgiven you, for poisoning me,” she said. “You made mistakes. You made a lot of mistakes. But that’s in the past. What matters is that you’re back now, and we can be a family again.”

Finally, Cheval said, “Nice try.” Her voice dripped contempt and a sneer touched her face, showing off her pointed teeth.

Cadence’s frown deepened. “Cheval, sweetie. It’s true. I know this is a lot to—”

“Okay,” Cheval snapped, “Whatever your name is, a few tips. First, Mom doesn’t call me ‘sweetie;’ she calls me ‘dear.’ Second, her coat and mane aren’t actually that shiny. She puts on a lot of makeup to make them look that good in public, but I don’t see any makeup on you, so, maybe next time don’t base your disguise on photographs of the target. Oh, and third, this isn’t my family living room.”

She pointed at an easy chair, sitting next to the couch. “That’s a nice chair. And that’s not supposed to be a nice chair. It’s supposed to be dad’s special chair, which is a stupid, threadbare, worn out bit of cloth and corkboard he brought all the way up from Canterlot because he’s convinced it’s the best chair in the universe and he refuses to throw it out.”

She let out a snort to emphasize her words, then finished: “So how about you tell Amaryllis I’d like to speak with her, and that she can go fuck herself, not necessarily in that order.”

Cadence said nothing for several seconds. She licked her lips and looked at the floor. “I called you ‘sweetie’ sometimes.”

“No, she didn’t.”

“And I switched to a new shampoo a few years ago. Some newfangled stuff with fancy chemicals in it. It works great.”

“Not buying it.” Cheval laughed a thin laugh.

“And we threw out that chair when it finally snapped in half.”

“Good improvisation. Nice technique, really. But if that chair shattered into a thousand pieces, dad would glue every one of them back together.” She slowly shook her head. “I played in that room every day when I was a nymph. I read there when I was a teenager. I had to clean every inch of it when I tried to eat solid food and vomited slime over the carpet. You think I don’t know what it looks like?”

“You were turned to stone,” Cadence said, her eyes still downcast.

“Sure,” Cheval took a moment to think. “I’ll believe that. But Flurry didn’t ice me until after I put her on the throne, and if Amaryllis is bothering with this elaborate ruse, I take it that means Flurry is holding her own. Or, maybe she’s winning?” Cheval’s tone turned mocking. “Is the hive not doing so well?”

“Amaryllis is dead,” Cadence said, her voice thickening. She licked her lips and added, “And we threw out that chair when it finally snapped in half.”

“Heh.” A stiff smile appeared on Cheval’s face. “Fuck you,” she said. Then she added, “You think I can’t tell the difference between my mother’s love and another changeling regurgitating energy back at me? You’re a bad fake.”

“I know this is a shock.” Cadence lifted her head to look at Cheval head on. “I didn’t want to leave you petrified for so long. But there is no Amaryllis. There are no changeling infiltrators anymore. The war is over. And whatever things you did, whatever mistakes you made, you’ve been punished enough. All I want is to help you and—”

Cheval lashed out with a leg, kicking over an end table and sending it flying Cadence’s way. She charged, and as the flying projectile caught Cadence’s attention, Cheval lowered her head.

With a burst of magic off her horn, Cadence deflected the table away. Moments later, Cheval wrapped a leg around Cadence’s neck and pressed her horn against her throat.

Cheval’s horn came to a point like a sword. It’s tip drew blood from beneath a thin pink coat. Cadence gasped, and froze stiff on the spot.

“You’re not my mother,” Cheval snarled. The doors to the hallway burst open, and crystal ponies in strange uniforms charged in. “Back off!” Cheval snapped. “Back off or I will kill this one.”

“It’s okay,” Cadence gasped. “It’s okay, back away.” The guards did not seem inclined to obey her, forming a circle around the two of them. “Cheval, the… the windows are unlocked. They’re unlocked. You can jump out one and fly away.”

After a moment’s hesitation, her eyes flicking back and forth, Cheval agreed. “Fine. Shuffle that way. Slowly.” It was an awkward movement. Cheval had to keep her head down, with her forehead pointed at Cadence’s throat. The guards moved around them as they moved, one tiny step at a time.

Then they came to the window. “Go ahead,” Cadence said. “It’s fine.”

“Open it,” Cheval ordered. The window glowed and the shutters lifted. Then the glass pane behind them swung outwards. A sudden blast of chill arctic air made it clear the window opened to the outside, and the sounds of city life could be faintly heard in the distance.

Cheval shivered. Then she pushed Cadence away, spread her wings, and leapt out the window. She didn’t get thirty feet.

The Crystal Empire wasn’t supposed to have skyscrapers.

She squinted into the setting sun. A strange skyline was before her, visible only in silhouette. There were buildings that dwarfed the palace, carved from massive shards of imperial crystal. Trains on elevated rails ran down every street. A cloud city held station over the ground below, home to the pegasi who flew thick as flies.

When the sun stung her eyes too much, she looked away. Eventually, a pink glow surrounded her, and Cadence’s magic pulled her back in through the window. Cadence was still there, along with all the guards.

“You’re hurt,” Cheval said. Her movements were sluggish and jerky, but she managed to turn her eyes to the trail of blood running down Cadence’s neck. “I hurt you.”

Cadence shooed the guards away. “It’s okay,” she cooed. “No harm done.”

“No. No. I…” Cheval reached out a hoof to Cadence, putting it over the wound as though to staunch the blood. It was wholly unnecessary—she’d drawn only a few drops. “I hurt you. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“I know. I know.” Cadence said. “It’s okay.”

A faint shiver in Cheval’s torso built to a trembling in her limbs, until her hoof couldn’t hold steady on Cadence’s neck. Blood smeared. “No no. I hurt you. I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“I know. Cheval, I’m your mother.” Cadence reached out to hold her with both hooves. “I know you. I know what happened. I know who you are, I know what you are, and I love you. I’ve forgiven you for everything that happened. I want us to be a family again. I want you to be happy again. It’ll be okay.”

Cheval worked her jaw open and shut without making a sound. She flicked her tongue over her pointed teeth.

“How long?” she asked.

Cadence drew in a breath. “Fifty-two years.”

Chapter 2

Not all of the guards were crystal ponies. Some were earth ponies, or pegasi. One was a unicorn, whose cutie mark was a zip-tie and a sword. His natural magic gave him the power to shape plastic into more effective restraints.

So he made a plastic cap that went over the tip of Cheval’s horn, rendering it useless as weapon. He also made caps that went over her teeth, lest she use the points to tear out somepony’s throat. It was as though she was wearing braces, and they made her lisp.

Cadence explained that she wasn’t being punished. She committed crimes, yes. Terrible crimes—mind control, sexual assault, multiple murders or attempted murders, torture, and treason against her monarch. But fifty-two years of confinement was enough.

She didn’t need to pay for her crimes. She needed to get better. Cadence was there to help her recover from the stresses and urges and dark thoughts that made her do all those things. The plastic caps and the inhibitor on her horn and the pills that prevented her from shapeshifting weren’t because she was a prisoner, they were for her own good.

They protected her from herself.

She was free to do whatever she wanted. She could leave the palace, see the world, do whatever made her happy. She only needed an escort. And once she could control herself, and was safe around ponies again, she’d be free to go.

When Cadence was done explaining, an long silence came between the two of them. Finally, Cadence asked: “Do you understand?”

Cheval stared at her hooves for a long time. Then she asked, “But why is dad’s chair gone?”

It was morning when Cheval was turned to stone. It was evening when Cadence restored her. A small matter, easily overlooked among half a century of distractions.

But Cheval didn’t feel like sleeping, even as the hour grew late. Shrine fillies hung up firefly lanterns, and offered flowers to those who had come to grieve. By midnight, she and Cadence were the only two ponies left in the graveyard.

Shining’s headstone was unfit for royalty. It was a plain, square marker in the dirt. “SHINING ARMOR,” it read, “SAVIOR OF CANTERLOT, TWICE-SAVIOR OF THE CRYSTAL EMPIRE, AND A GOOD PONY.”

Only the offerings marked it as different from any other grave. Ponies piled flowers around it, or lit candles, or left notes or poems in the dirt.

Amaryllis was there too.

“You want to cry,” she told Cheval. “But you can’t. Because your eyes don’t have tear-ducts.”

Cheval looked to her left, where Cadence sat silently. Cheval didn’t want to talk, but Cadence had said she’d stay as long as Cheval wanted to be with her father. Then she looked to her right, where Amaryllis sat, her gossamer wings folded against her rainbow-hued shell.

“Changelings,” Amaryllis said, “don’t cry to express grief. We buzz our wings against our shells to produce a sound like rain. Hujan, in vespid. But you were raised by ponies. You learned by watching the ponies around you that your eyes need to be wet when you’re sad. And so if you don’t cry, you think that you must not be sad. You can’t cry, so you think your grief is cheap.”

Cheval looked at Cadence again. Then to Amaryllis she said, “I hate you. I hope ghosts are real, because if there’s an afterlife it means you can burn in hell for eternity. Death is kinder than you deserve. I want you to suffer.”

Cadence didn’t react. A moment later, her ear twitched.

Amaryllis let out a small breath, something that was almost a laugh. Then she said, “Your grief isn’t cheap. Shapeshifting is part of how you express your emotions. If you have to turn into a pony to cry, it doesn’t make you a bad daughter.”

“Does poisoning him make me a bad daughter?” Cheval’s muzzle twisted into a snarl, and her tone turned bitter. “The last thing I ever said to him was, ‘Hey, I made coffee.’ And he believed it. He trusted me so much that even with a black shell and my legs full of holes, it didn’t even occur to him I might do him harm. And I betrayed him.”

“You put him to sleep. You didn’t kill him. He died years later.”

“You say that like it matters. Mom and Flurry didn’t even wake me up for his funeral.” She looked at her hooves. “Why should they have?”

Amaryllis said nothing. A chill breeze blew through the graveyard, rustling the flowers and the offerings. Somepony’s note blew away.

“I thought you cared about him,” Cheval said. “Somehow, even though you’re made of arrogance and hatred, I actually believed your affection for him was real.”

“It was.”

“And you couldn’t do anything about this?” she snapped. Cadence still showed no signs of having heard. “You couldn’t turn him into an alicorn or put his soul in a little jar or… or something? You’ve got thousands of drones who practice dark magic, and not one of them had a way to cheat death?” Her voice cracked. “He was a hero.”

“We were at war. I couldn’t exactly walk up to him with a book of rituals.”

“And whose fault was that?”

Amaryllis’s wings buzzed against her shell. “It wasn’t supposed to be this way. You were supposed to surrender without a fight. Then all the politics in the north would be over and we’d be one happy kingdom. I wanted us to stay together.”

“Right.” Cheval laughed. “You didn’t want to hurt him. You just wanted to take his kingdom, enslave his people, get between him and his wife, then chain him up in your hive as part of your harem. But you’d never hurt him. You cared about him too much for that.”

She couldn’t stop smiling. “I really am your daughter aren’t I?”

“Yes. I’m sorry.”

Cadence lifted her head, and Cheval’s alarm was so great she nearly lept out of her shell. But Cadence didn’t look at Amaryllis, and her smiled showed a quiet sadness instead of alarm. “He asked after you, you know. Often. He wanted to unfreeze you right away, but Flurry wouldn’t allow it. So instead he kept checking on you. He put shield spells around you that lasted through the whole war. He was so scared something would happen to you when you couldn’t defend yourself.”

“He loved me,” Cheval said. “How did he die?”

“He was poisoned. One of his aides was a spy for the international party.”

“Was it quick?” Cheval shifted in place. “I mean, painless?”

Cadence nodded. “Yes. He fell asleep and never woke up.”

“She’s lying,” Amaryllis said. “The poison destroyed all function in his kidneys. He wasted away for weeks under the care of incompetent doctors who thought he had lupus. They didn’t understand why their medicines and spells weren’t working.”

“Ah.” Cheval cleared her throat. “Were you and Flurry there for him? In the end?”

“No.” Cadence lowered her head. “She was ruling in the North. I was in the south, trying to rally the remains of the Stormguard to Equestria’s cause. It all happened too fast.”

“So he died alone.”

A shiver ran through Cadence. She squeezed her eyes shut, and for a moment, her voice cracked. “He knew we loved him”

“He didn’t die alone,” Amaryllis buzzed her wings again. “Others were with him. Comforting him when he got scared. But she’s not lying about that. She doesn’t know. They never told her. The officers thought it would injure the dignity of the army, if ponies knew he was afraid of death.”

“Why was he even with the army?” Cheval snapped, her tone shifting into outright anger. She didn’t know who she was talking too, and didn’t care which of them heard. The plastic caps on her teeth gave her a noticeable lisp. “He was deposed. He was needed, to help with Twilight and to protect Equestria with his shield spells. And he was getting old! There were younger officers.”

“It was what he wanted,” Cadence said. “I’m sorry.”

Cadence tried to hug her, but Cheval pushed her away. And so they stood beside each other in silence.

“I didn’t understand that either,” Amaryllis said. “I don’t understand why anypony thought of him as a soldier. That was never what made him special. He didn’t save Canterlot by stabbing Chrysalis to death, and he didn’t save the Crystal Empire with shield magic or the command of an army.”

Staring down at the gravestone, Amaryllis said: “He saved Canterlot because he loved Cadence so deeply their bond overcame Chrysalis’s dark magic. The first time he saved the Crystal Empire, it was because he trusted the ponies around them, and helped them do what he couldn’t. And when he saved the Crystal Empire from me, it was because he could empathize with a creature who didn’t deserve it.”

She flicked a hoof at the writing. “The headstone is right. ‘And a good pony.’ That’s what made him special. He was a genuinely good pony. All the way down.”

“He never…” Cheval had to struggle for the words. She was still lisping. “He never did tell me what he said to you that day. To get you into bed. He never told anypony, other than mom. And she kept his secret.”

After a long pause, Amaryllis replied: “He asked me what I was so afraid of.”

She needed a moment to find her words. The chill midnight air was descending on the graveyard, and as it gradually got colder, the colors on her shell stood out all the brighter. “To have come so far, and done so much. To have killed so many of my own drones. And to have gambled with my life. He asked what I was running away from.

“I said reform. I didn’t want to be a reformed changeling. But he didn't buy it. I dealt wholesale in atrocities and dark magic, but I expected him to believe this blasphemy was one step too far for me? No. I lied to him because I was too weak to face the truth, and he refused to believe me.

“He said I saw the world as predator and prey. That all there is is the powerful and their victims, and if I didn’t want to be powerful, a victim was what I’d become. Ponies were weak. They were prey. And anything that made me like them made me more like prey.

“He told me I was afraid of a world where Equestria forgave me for what I’d done. That I didn’t want to be your friend or your ally, and so I poisoned everything around me. I wanted you to hate me, because hate was an emotion I understood.”

For a moment, Amaryllis paused. Then she finished: “And he said he’d give me everything I wanted, all the treasure, all the power, the Crystal Heart, if I just gave friendship a chance. If I couldn’t do that, I was crippled. And he had too much dignity to surrender to a creature that couldn’t stand under her own weight.”

“Heh.” Cheval looked up at the sky. “And then he fucked you.”

“No. Then we made love. And I gave peace a chance.”

“You lied to him. Took advantage of him.” Cheval sneered. “Betrayed him and everything he stood for. You are a monster and he was a fool.”

“He wasn’t a fool.”

“He believed he could change your heart. But all he did was change how you look. He turned what should have been a quick battle into decades of suffering.” She spat the words. “Changelings are monsters and we always will be. And I don’t know if you’re a ghost or a hallucination, but I’m tired of you. Leave.”

Amaryllis vanished into the thin air.

“I’m done,” Cheval said to Cadence. “Let’s go.”

Field Hospital 7A, Fifth Equestrian Army Group

Shining Armor was dying.

In books, he thought, dying was a passive affair. It was something that happened that happened on its own while a character did other things. But as he lay in bed, soaked in his own sweat, a bucket by the bedside for when he vomited blood, it occurred to him that dying felt like quite the active chore.

It has been easier, earlier. Then he’d had orders to give, officers to quickly promote, final letters to dictate to friends and family. He’d dictated a formal letter to Celestia, informing her he was no longer fit to fulfill his duties as Captain of the Guard. Then he send her a personal letter, thanking her for everything she’d ever done, and asking her to keep Cadence and Twilight company through the long years ahead.

He’d summoned Cadence and Flurry to his side, but they wouldn’t arrive in time. All his affairs were in order. And so there was nothing left to do but die. It was an active verb. He was spending his last moments in the mortal world dying.

He hated it.

In the field there were things to do. But in his hospital bed, which was full of lumps and itched furiously, which smelled like antiseptics and bile, in that bed there was nothing to do but think. To think about the daughter he didn’t save, or the wife he was leaving alone for eternity. Or the fact that he didn’t really believe in an afterlife.

His stomach revolted. The world spun. He rolled over to the side of the bed and vomited a mix of brown and red into the bucket. It burned when it came up.

“Here you go, sir.” A bottle of water floated into his sight. Shining looked at the creature offering it to him, took the water, and swished the taste of vomit out of his mouth. He spat it up into the bucket, and it took him effort to get comfortable in bed again. He didn’t have much strength left.

“So,” he said, “you’re not my real doctor.”

The creature, who looked very much like Shining’s doctor, looked down at herself. She appeared to be a young unicorn mare, green-coated, white haired, with medical red cross for a cutie mark. A white lab coat hung over her shoulders, a stethoscope around her neck, and a collection of bracelets on all four legs.

Chagrined, she finally asked: “What gave me away?”

“Your bracelets are fused to your ankles.” He pointed with a hoof. The bracelets on her ankles were tight, so snug they were flush against her skin. “The real doctor’s bracelets are loose. They shake or jingle when she walks.”

“Oh. Yeah.” She smiled and shook out a leg. “Sorry. I didn’t think you’d like it if I assaulted a medic, so I couldn’t steal her clothes. I faked a message saying she was urgently needed at a field hospital about ten miles away.” She cleared her throat. “I didn’t make you sick. I don’t think any of us did. Or if we did I didn’t know about it.”

“I believe you.”

She paused at that, tilting her head to one side: “Really?”

“Would it make a difference if I didn’t?” He tried to laugh, but it came up as a belch with a foul odor, and a spasm of pain wracked him. “If it doesn’t matter either way, I’d rather trust you.”

“Oh.” She nodded quickly. “My, um. My name. My real name, is Ersatz. I’m a spy in one of your artillery units. And I’m your daughter. I’m not here in an official capacity. I wasn’t ordered to be here, I mean. But I heard you were…”

She indicated the bed with a nose. “I had blue hair, when I was a grub. But now I have a frill and it turned red in my nymph phase. I don’t look that much like you anymore. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Shining let out a breath. “But why do you say you’re my daughter? I never loved you.”

“I know. But you’re the reason I exist. And, my brother always wanted to meet you.” A section of her skin melted, and from inside that gristly pocket, she produced a small folded photograph. When Shining took it and unfolded it, he saw a colt in that awkward teenage phase. A crystal pony, with a coat like diamonds and a mane like garnets. His cutie mark was almost visible—something with shapes and a musical note.

“After the first war,” Erstaz said, “My clutch heard about you adopting a changeling. And we thought, aren’t we supposed to be good now? Like, don’t we believe that friendship is magic and love conquers all? And there were so many war orphans. So we adopted one. The caregivers and teachers and all the nymphs. Like a group pet.”

“Cute kid.” Shining managed to smile.

“He always wanted to meet you. Um. I already said that. But he asked if you’re his stepfather, and I said I didn’t know. Because, in the hive, you wouldn’t be my father. But we’re siblings, and he’s a pony, so maybe that counts.” She cleared her throat. “His name is Lucky Sweep.”

“You love him?”

“Yeah.” She chuckled. “I’d have strangled him if I didn’t. You things are impossible to raise. You need love and food and to be kept out of danger, and when you’re little, you somehow manage to create more poop than could possibly have been formed from the food that went into you. Diapers are ridiculous. We all had to install the hive’s first toilet just so I could explain potty training. And then I discovered puberty is a thing. You can’t just crawl into a cocoon and grow up over two weeks like a respectable species. You’ve gotta go through eight years of being angry balls of hormones.”

Shining managed a laugh. “It’s true. He learned he could defy you?”

“He was going to be a diplomat for the hive. To Equestria. Straight A’s, perfect performance, he was inducted into a caste like a proper changeling, and then he goes and gets a cutie mark for musical theater and says he’s going to run away from home.” Erstaz put on airs of frustration, but her face was covered by a broad smile.

“Did he?”

“No. He’s a huge wuss.” She giggled. “He’s studying music at Queen Novo’s Conservatory at Harmonizing Heights. He wanted to go to the Crystal Empire, but we all wanted him far away from the war. And he loves it there.”

“Good. I’m glad.” Shining handed the picture back. “If you’d like, I could write him a letter. From his ‘stepfather.’”

Shining dictated a short letter full of encouraging words. Erstaz wrote it diligently, and tucked it and the picture back into her skin-pocket. Then she said, “There are a few others who would like to see you. If I bring them, will you promise not to shout?”

“I want you to promise me something first,” Shining said, and after Erstaz nodded, he continued. “I know you’re a soldier, and you’ll do what your queen commands. But promise you won’t do anything that would make your brother stop loving you if he knew. Don’t go back to being what you were.”

After a moment, Erstaz nodded. “I promise.”

“And don’t kill my wife or daughters. Promise that too.”

“Okay.” She bit her lip, then nodded again. “Okay, I swear.”

“Good.” He gestured with a hoof. “Go ahead and bring the others.”

There were four more spies. Shining joked that learning how many infiltrators were running around his army was the most embarrassing way to die. There were two changeling soldiers who crossed the lines when they heard he was dying. Their disguises were crude and unrealistic—it wasn’t their caste. There was one defector, who had switched over to the Equestrian side at the start of the war and never looked back.

They talked about their lives and their families, and he made all of them make the same promises Erstaz did.

They stayed with him until he died.

Three years later, Flurry Heart shrugged off her battle armor. The metal plates hit the ground with a clatter. “That gets heavier every day, I swear.”

She’d been with the artillery when the sun set, and didn’t want to walk back to the infantry camp until she was sure the ammunition problems were dealt with. Colonel Rain had offered her the use of his command tent for personal quarters for the evening.

The other officers were distracted. Flurry Heart was tired, soaked with sweat, and wearing no more armor than a thin underlayer of cloth. And she’d turned her back to the room.

Erstaz picked up a knife from the table. She took a step Flurry’s way. For a half a moment, she froze.

“Your Highness,” she said, offering the knife to Flurry. “Respectfully, there are changeling spies in the camp. It is not appropriate for you to be unarmored and unarmed with your back to the door. Something could happen.”

Flurry thanked for for her diligence, took the knife, and promptly forgot the entire incident.

Chapter 4

Cheval’s room was just like she remembered it.

Of course, some things looked a bit more worn than they had fifty-two years ago. Her books were yellowing and in places water-damaged. Her window had scratches. And the thank-you note she’d forgotten to write to Twilight before she left for school was, all things reasonably considered, now severely overdue. It had mostly fallen apart in any case.

Her bed sheets though, were fresh and smelled like mountain air. Evidently those had been replaced shortly before she’d awoken. The sharp edges of the holes in her legs tore scratches in them as she lay down.

“I wanted you to see that we didn’t touch anything,” Cadence said. “We can replace all this with new stuff tomorrow. But I wanted you to see we never forgot you. It was always your room. And you were always family.”

“Why isn’t Flurry here?”

“She…” it took Cadence a moment to find her words, “thought it would be better if you got more used to the modern world before the two of you met.”

“Because I’d be shocked by how exactly the same she looks?”

Again, Cadence struggled for an answer. Her hooves shifted on the ground. Finally, she said. “It’s complicated.”

Cheval didn’t reply, and so Cadence stepped up to the side of her bed. “But your Auntie Twilight hasn’t changed a bit since you saw her last. And she’ll be arriving tomorrow morning to keep you company. I’m sure you have some complicated feelings on me right now, so I thought it would help you recover if you had somepony else to talk to.”

When the silence went on long enough, Cadence leaned down to kiss her daughter’s cheek. “Good night,” she said.

Cheval tried to refuse Cadence’s love. She thought to starve herself in her bed. But her gut twisted, and a powerful hunger overtook her. It was as if a pit had opened inside her, and she devoured all that was offered.

Somehow, Cadence noticed. She stayed a few minutes more, her horn softly aglow, thinking sweet thoughts until Cheval felt better.

Then she left.

Twenty-four hooves clattered on hard crystal.

“Cadence!” Twilight called, her enthusiastic words only partially muffled by the door. There was a brief silence, and Cheval imagined them exchanging a hug. “It’s so good to see you again.”

“You brought friends,” Cadence said. Her tone, not unwelcoming but with a hint of doubt, made it clear she’d been expecting Twilight to be alone. Then the introductions started. Twilight’s new friends—who were indeed new, having only been the bearers of the Elements of Harmony for two months—took turns sounding off. One was Comet Flash and one was Jade Star. A colt’s voice introduced itself as Astral Heat. A griffon, also male, said that his name was Sky Guard. The last Cheval did not hear, though she did hear Cadence asking them to speak up.

So Cheval got out of bed, and pushed out into the main room. Cadence and Twilight were there, along with two mares, a stallion, a griffon, and one very quiet yak.

“Hey!” Twilight’s eyes lit up when she saw Cheval. Without the slightest hint of fear, or even sign that she recognized Cheval’s warped state as concerning, she rushed across the gap between them and seized her in a tight hug. “How’s my favorite niece in the whole world doing?”

Her love was like caramel and candy-floss. It always had been. And so it seemed that alicorns really didn’t change.

“I’ve been better,” she said.

“I can tell.” Twilight made a show of looking her over, and kept her tone forcefully light. “Because, wow, you don’t look great. I mean, last time I saw you, you were like this cute little orange beetle. Now with the blue eyes and the dark shell you’ve got this ice queen theme going.”

“I am a queen. And there’s a lot of ice in the north. So I suppose that fits.”

“Um… right.” Twilight hesitated. “I was making a joke. To lighten the mood. I didn’t want you to—”

“I know what you were trying to do. It’s okay. You’re being a good aunt.” Cheval hesitated half a moment. “You sent me a book, before I left for Griffonstone. I meant to thank you for it, but I forgot and never got the chance.”

“Oh.” Twilight scoffed. “Come on. That doesn’t matter now.”

“You were a good aunt, Twilight. You were always kind to me.” Cheval looked at the floor. “Thank you.”

“Oh, come on.” Twilight's smile turned strained, but she tugged Cheval along with her magic anyway, pulling her towards her friends. “Don’t be so serious. Sure, life has dealt you a bit of a rough hand right now. But, the future is great! Trust me, you’re going to love it. And we brought the new new new new new new new new new new new new Element of Laughter up to cheer you up. That’s the griffon.”

Reassurance delivered, she turned back to the group for one more introduction. “Everycreature, this is Cheval, my niece.”

Twilight’s new friends stared back at her. A few of them grimaced. The yak hid behind the griffon.

“Well?” Twilight glowered. “Say hello.”

“Oh, uh… hi.” One of the mare stepped forward—a little black pegasus whose cutie mark was two chopsticks sticking out of a bowl of rice. “I’m Jade Star. I met Twilight two months ago. But we’re best friends now, which I guess makes me your friend. So um. Hi.”

She stuck out her hoof. Cheval didn’t reciprocate the gesture. Behind Jade Star, one of the other mares asked: “Why is she wearing a muzzle?”

Cheval snorted. Then she reached up with a hoof, tapping her plastic braces. “Because I tore a pony’s throat out with my teeth.”

Jade Star backed away so quickly it was like she’d teleported. One moment she was extending her hoof to Cheval, the next she was in the rear of the formation, hiding behind the yak who was hiding behind the griffon.

“She did not!” Cadence burst out, her reaction half a second delayed. The sharpness in her tone made Twilight’s friends jump. “She did not. She…” What else could she say? “She’s never bitten anypony.”

“Very reassuring,” somepony said. One of the mares.

“Okay, you know what?” Twilight cut in, her tone quick and matter-of-fact. “We’re changing the topic. Cheval, we’re here to introduce you to the future. Take you around town, show you the sights, meet some ponies. Help you get accustomed. There’s all sorts of cool new technology, and new kinds of ponies and other fun things to see. One of Rarity’s grandchildren is a tailor here, and he offered to make you some clothes. Something fashionable, that’ll help crystal ponies relate to you.”

“Okay,” Cheval glanced over the group. “There’s something I’d like to see first.”

“Sure, anything.” Twilight smiled. “Is it the monorail? I know you can see that from your window. Monorails are a lot like trains used to be, but, smaller. Also vaguely cooler.”

“I’d like to see a war museum.”

“Oh…” Cadence cut in. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. There’s a lot that might come as a shock, and you’re still so stressed from what happened.”

“I want to see it.”

“Cheval, dear,” Cadence’s tone turned firm. “It’s not a good idea.”

“I was told,” Cheval looked at Twilight, “that I wasn’t a prisoner. That I was free to travel as I pleased.” For a moment, her voice betrayed emotion, strain audible under her words. “I thought fifty-two years was long enough.”

“You’re not a prisoner. You’re not.” Twilight reached out to rest a hoof over Cheval’s. “We’ll go to a war museum. And all of us will be there to talk you through it.”

“Twilight…” Cadence frowned. “There’s a lot of things she doesn’t know. This will hurt her.”

“So did putting a muzzle on her,” Twilight’s tone turned snappish. “Didn’t stop you from doing that.”

Cadence froze. Her eyes went wide, and when she spoke, her tone was hurt. “That wasn’t my decision.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but this isn’t either.” With a lash of her tail, Twilight turned away from Cadence. “Come on,” she said to Cheval and her friends. “Let’s go.”

As the seven of them passed out of the royal suite and into the palace hall, Cheval watched the door behind them. Once it was shut, and she was sure they were out of earshot, she turned back to Twilight and asked: “Why did you let them leave me there?”

“I didn’t.” Twilight drew in a breath and let it out through her nose. “I wanted you released. Flurry said no. So I shot her with lasers. Pew.” She licked her lips before adding. “Flurry kicked my butt.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, she threw me through a wall. A solid wall. Broke three ribs, all four legs and one wing. I got better, because, you know. Immortal alicorn, but.” Twilight shrugged. “Your sister doesn't mess around.”

“I remember her when she acted like a fluffy ditz. I guess she grew up.” Cheval looked at the ground. “Did Mom fight her too?”

Eventually, one of Twilight’s friends whistled. “Aaaawwkward.”

The Crystal Throne

“Flurry, we—that is, Cadence and Celestia and Luna and me. That is to say, the other alicorns. We are, um, collectively. I mean, all together. We’re concerned about some of your actions. Recently.”

After a moment, Twilight cleared her throat. “We’re worried a bit.”

Flurry sat on the throne of the Crystal Empire—her throne. She wore her full battle armor, and rested her glaive by her side. And she made quite the sight. The throne sparkled, her armor was a work of art, her weapon had a shaft of ivory and its blade was magically formed as a single diamond. She was young and beautiful and always would be, but where Twilight was young and soft, Flurry’s limbs showed muscle.

There were two lines of crystal pony guards, flanking her throne on either side.

Flurry allowed the silence to hang. She considered Twilight and Cadence, and sat as a ruler sat, with her forehooves on her throne and her back straight. It was only when she was done thinking that she allowed the conversation to proceed: “Are you?”

“Flurry, dear…” Cadence took half a step forward. “We know you’re in a difficult situation. The Crystal Empire still isn’t safe and action needs to be taken. But some of these sedition laws you’ve been enacting… you can’t. You just can’t.”

“Or you’ll scold me and send me to bed early?” Flurry let out a derisive snort. Her horn glowed, and she pulled her glaive over to her, idly inspecting the shaft. “I think we’re a bit past that, Mother.”

“It’s un-Equestrian,” Twilight interjected. “Alicorns have a divine right to rule because we embody good things: love and friendship, the warmth of the sun and the beauty of the night sky. We’re avatars of harmony. We can’t hurt the ponies we rule.”

“I’ve hurt the ponies I rule; my wings haven’t fallen off.” When Flurry lifted her eyes from her glaive, her expression was hard. “And I will hurt them again, if it is necessary to keep the Empire safe.”

“This isn’t necessary! Amaryllis is retreating and—”

“She is retreating to preserve her army to fight another day. Which it will.” Flurry raised her voice, and assumed a commanding tone. “You have liberated empty tundra and logging camps, while Yakyakistan, the Diamond Republic, and Vanhoover remain under Amaryllis’s control. You have suffered heavy casualties, and are now far enough from Equestria that supply is becoming a serious problem. The griffons are preparing for a major offensive against the badlands. And I will not—”

“—we will protect the Crystal—” Twilight tried to cut in.

But Flurry shouted over her, her face twisting back into a snarl. “And I will not lose my throne the way she did!”

With a flick of her muzzle, Flurry indicated Cadence. “Weak and helpless, unable to protect my ponies, waiting for Equestria to save me. You left us to die, Twilight. We screamed for help and you didn’t come. So this time I’m not wasting my breath. The Crystal Empire must be able to defend itself and wage war in the North in its own right. I will not weaken our defensive posture in return for promises of Equestrian protection.”

“And how does killing ponies who question your rule enhance your ‘defensive posture’?” Twilight demanded.

“Don’t be a fool. Nearly a fifth of the Crystal Empire thinks that Amaryllis would be a better ruler than me. Our ranks are riddled with spies. We talk about changeling infiltrators, but for every shapeshifter, there are three traitors who willingly support Amaryllis’s cause. Left free to act, their influence will spread, and we will lose the Empire not through any military action but when I am overthrown. Sedition is a crime, and if I want to enact exceptionally severe punishments for that crime, the circumstances warrant it.”

Silence hung over the courtroom. Cadence looked at her hooves.

“You can enact laws to that effect if you wish,” Twilight said, her tone cool. “But when you accuse ponies of breaking those laws, they get a trial. They get to defend themselves. And if they are found guilty, they get a punishment that is appropriate to the severity of their offense. You don’t have the right to have them abducted in the night and murdered.”

“Why not?”

Cadence’s head snapped up. Her mouth hung open in shock. Twilight pulled back, and grimaced like she’d eaten something sour. “So you don’t deny it?”

“No.” Flurry folded back her ears, and stared down Twilight and her mother. “Why should I? When a naive young stallion defects from the army, it is my right to have him summarily executed for treason. But when a scheming mare with a love for changelings in her heart encourages him to defect, she is somehow entitled to a trial and fair treatment? Better that the schemer dies and the young pony lives.”

“So you’re bringing back the secret police. Just like in King Sombra’s day. What’s next?” Twilight snapped. “Banning public gatherings? They might be plotting against you. Arresting ponies with foreign friends? They might be communists. In fact, why have courts at all? Declare martial law, and you can personally dispense justice with your glaive and a storm drain for the blood.”

“Flurry, dear, please,” Cadence said. Her voice was weak, and it wavered up and down. “I know I was a terrible ruler. I made so many mistakes, and I’m sorry. But you were my sweet little foal. Don’t do this. You were a princess. Please don’t grow up to be a warlord.”

“Mother, I am a warlord.” Flurry sighed, and lowered her voice back to something like normal. “At this point, the Crystal Empire doesn’t do much except wage war. Food is grown for the army, crystals shaped for weapons, schools exist to train young ponies to calculate artillery tables and march in formation.”

“And when does it end?” Twilight snarled.

“When my enemies are dead.”

“And if Amaryllis surrenders?”

Flurry’s snort perfectly captured her contempt. “Then that would make it much easier to kill her.”

Then Cadence said: “And what about your sister?”

Twilight, midway through another angry retort, fell silent. She turned to look at Cadence, and Flurry did as well. The Alicorn of Love was trembling where she stood, and quite obviously trying not to cry. “What about Cheval?”

“She’s a threat to the Empire. She stays where she is.”

“How?” Cadence demand. “How is she a threat? She’s a teenage mare.”

“That is an exceptionally stupid question,” Flurry snarled. “She’s a changeling queen, and she’s pregnant. She can start another hive.”

“And her first batch of drones will come of age in, what, fourteen years?” Cadence struggled to speak, her eyes red and bloodshot. “Is that strategically relevant? Were you planning for this to go on for that long?”

“It’s not over until it’s over,” Flurry said.

“And that doesn’t happen until all your enemies are dead,” Twilight summarized, her words laced with disgust. “Is Cheval one of your enemies? Are her unborn children? Are you plotting to have your nieces and nephews killed because they might one day be a threat to your rule?”

“I will do whatever is necessary to protect the Crystal Empire,” Flurry snapped. She descended from her throne, picking up her glaive as she did. “That’s my destiny. That’s why I was born. And that’s why Cheval put me on the throne in the first place.”

“Then she made a mistake,” Twilight said. Her horn glowed. “This is wrong, and I can’t allow it to continue.”

Flurry didn’t wait. As her horn formed a shield in front of her, she pointed to her guards. “Shoot her, now!”

A bright purple beam fired from Twilight’s horn.

“Bitch!” Flurry kicked Twilight’s unconscious body. She lay in the rubble, surrounded by guards, her body burnt by laser blasts. Flurry’s battle armor was blackened and dented, and her glaive had a notch on the shaft. Long scorch marks covered the walls of the throne room, meandering along it’s walls and ceiling like great serpents.

“Think you can come and tell me how to run my kingdom!” She kicked Twilight again. “Like you know what war is?” She kicked again, and one of Twilight’s ribs broke.

“I have watched ponies die. I have seen what torture does to a creature. I saw what happened when my own sister tortured one of her inlaws until she tried to kill herself. And I know that it will!” She kicked Twilight again. “Not!” Again. “Stop!”

She lifted a hoof, and brought it down on Twilight’s exposed leg. It snapped, and bone protruded from the skin. “Until they are all gone. You understand? It’s not over until it’s over!”

Tears were streaming down Flurry’s face. She wiped at them with an ash-stained hoof, and then violently shook her head. “Make sure she doesn’t die,” she snapped at a guard, before storming off.

Cadence hadn’t fought. She’d thrown up shields to protect Twilight, but she hadn’t attacked herself. As Flurry marched out of the throne room, she shot one last curse at her mother: “What? Nothing to say?”

Cadence was crying as well, but she kept her composure better. She reached up and gently wiped her tears away. She straightened her back, and stood like an Equestrian princess should.

Then she said, “Both of my daughters are monsters.”

Chapter 6

Ponies stared at Cheval as she walked down the street. One could hardly blame them. Even those who didn’t know what a changeling looked like could see she was not a pony. She was a strange, monstrous thing, with a cap on her horn, a muzzle on her jaw, and an armed escort to prevent her from escaping.

One pony pulled out a camera and took a picture. When Cheval didn’t leap across the gap between them and disembowel him, others became emboldened. Lens bulbs flashed and shutters clicked as they made their way down the sidewalk.

“Hey!” shouted Twilight’s griffon friend. Sky Guard was his name. “Photographs with the princess are fifty bits.”

Collectively, crowd paused. One pony snapped a picture, and in a flash, Sky Guard was at his side. “Fifty bits,” he commanded, resting his talons on the pony’s shoulder, “or your camera.”

The pony pulled the film from his camera, and the pictures stopped. When Sky Guard returned to the group, Cheval offered him a chuckle. “So you’re the Element of Laughter?” She tilted her head. “It fits you.”

After a moment, she added a softer, “Thank you.”

The war museum was quite a large structure, taking up the entire city block on which it was built. Despite a long line and a staring crowd, Twilight held them up a full minute at the checkin counter asking about the suggested donation. A banner over her head proclaimed there was a special exhibition this month on “Patriotic Music of the Great War in the North.”

Twilight donated a bit for each of them. Ten paces from the front, she felt bad and ran back to add another ten. “Pay what you want,” she explained, was a tax on ponies with anxiety.

The first two floors of the museum were dramatic, Cheval supposed. They had flying machines that hung from the ceiling on cables, defused bombs, model submarines, and wax soldiers with full kit. She read about decisive battles in towns that she once visited to wave at crowds, and saw pictures of famous generals who she distantly recalled as staff officers.

But she didn’t learn much from it. She thought she understood “blitzkreig,” only to have Twilight explain that it didn’t actually involve lightning, or even any pegasai. It had something to do with armored vehicles, and the others’ explanations only confused her more.

When they reached the second floor, she learned more from an exhibit on yak soldiers. They were all dressed in black, their shoulder patches adorned with the symbol of Amaryllis’s Hive. Twilight’s stallion friend cracked a joke.

“How many yak does it take to screw in a lightbulb?” he asked. “Two! One to change the bulb, and one to willingly collaborate with the darkness.”

Then Twilight’s yak friend cried, and seeing her cry reminded Twilight of Yona, so then Twilight had to cry. One of her mare friends poked her stallion friend and called him a jerk, and they all had to go learn a friendship lesson about racism. Cheval had seen Twilight learn that lesson already, so she didn’t interrupt. She wandered off, along with the two crystal-pony guards escorting her, and while teenagers argued, she climbed the stairs to the third floor.

There was a tour group forming outside one of the exhibit halls. “CHANGELINGS,” the sign above the hall read, “THE PARASITE RACE.”

So Cheval stood in the back of the tour group. A few ponies noticed her, but Cheval’s handlers said it was fine.

“Okay!” The tour guide was a slight little mare, with a blue coat and a blonde made so voluminous it looked bigger than her head. She wasn’t quite out of puberty yet, an adult but only just, the blue museum shirt that was her uniform slightly ajar on her frame. Nopony doubted her energy—it made her voice crack. “Who’s ready to learn about… um.”

Cheval stood head and shoulders above the other ponies, and so it was hardly possible for the tour guide not to see her. As the guide trailed off, the rest of the tour group turned to stare as well. “Um. Hi.” The tour guide said. “Who are you?”

Cheval stood with her head high and her back straight as she’d been trained her youth, and she said: “I’m Her Royal Highness, the Princess Cheval, daughter by right of Princess Cadence and Prince Consort Shining Armor, daughter by blood of Queen Amaryllis and Prince Consort Shining Armor, peer to alicorns and fifth in line for the throne of Equestria.”

When she was certain the tour guide had understood her, she added: “Who are you?”

“Um…” The mare cleared her throat. “I’m Misty.”

“Please continue with the tour, Misty.”

Misty had to collect some permission forms from the ponies who had foals with them, since the content in the exhibit was at times mature and disturbing. It was awkward. Nopony said a word and she fumbled with the paper.

“Okay everypony,” she said at the end, clapping her hooves just in case anypony failed to notice the concentrated enthusiasm dripping from her every word. “Welcome to the changelings…” She paused a moment to glance at Cheval. “Welcome to the changelings tour. If you’ve ever seen Invasion of the Body Snatchers, or had nightmares that your spouse isn’t really your spouse, this is the truth behind the myth. You’re going to learn about the race that murdered, lied, and whored their way the top, and who nearly enslaved all of ponykind. We all know about Princess Flurry Heart’s legendary deeds, but now you get to see the monsters she was fighting.”

The tour group, collectively, looked back at Cheval. But Cheval said nothing, and after a few seconds, Misty let out an awkward cough. “Okay!” she said again. “I’m going to walk backwards. Walking and talking. Let’s go.”

She backed into the exhibit, and everypony followed.

There were wax statues of changelings, posed mid-hiss. Collections of weapons. Samples of resin and model eggs. An exhibit entitled, “WHOREHOUSES: A CHANGELING’S HUNTING GROUNDS” discussed what perversions a shapeshifter could use to pry open the heart of an unvirtuous pony.

There was a statue depicting Flurry Heart and Queen Amaryllis locked in single combat, moments before Flurry plunged her glaive into Amaryllis’s heart. It was across the way from a diagram explaining changeling social structure.

“What made changelings unique among monsters,” Misty explained, “was their ability to use the magic of friendship and the power of love. All other races who touch the powers of Harmony this way are intrinsically good, with ponykind being the most notable example. But changelings had the ability to feel friendship, to feel love, to feel kindness, without letting it influence their inner desires. This was called, ‘becoming the mask,’ the process by which a changeling temporarily felt love or affection for the target.”

“Is that how they fooled Equestria?” a little colt asked. He must have been eight.

“Yes! Very good.” Misty beamed. “Are you learning about the magic of friendship in school right now?”

The colt nodded, and Misty went on: “Well you’re exactly correct. The princesses of Equestria were used to their powers of love and friendship telling them how every creature really felt. They couldn’t understand that they were being tricked! Even Princess Twilight was once famously conned by a changeling named Thorax, who used his power over the magic of friendship to convince her he really was her friend. That’s why Equestria got deceived again and again, and might even have been conquered if things went on.”

With a practiced smile, Misty turned to the group: “Only Princess Flurry Heart had the wisdom to see what was really going on. Today we take our safety for granted, but if you take the time to study history, you’ll really start to appreciate how her decisive action saved all of ponykind.”

“Why do you use the past tense?” Cheval asked.

Silence fell over the group. Everypony turned back to stare at her. The color drained out of Misty’s face.

“Um…” she stammered. “They’re… extinct. Changelings are extinct. Other than you, I suppose.”

“How?” Cheval asked. “How did that happen?”

“They were… um. You’re… changelings.” She stammered. “Eusocial. Were a eusocial species. The queen is the only one who can lay eggs. When Princess Flurry Heart heroically slew Amaryllis during the final assault on the hive, the changeling race was doomed.”

“What about Thorax?”

“Oh, um… the southern changeling hive was destroyed earlier in the war. That one is actually less important to—”

“What about the drones?” Cheval pushed, raising her voice so as to be clearly heard. “The ones outside the hive.”

“Changeling spies were—”

“I am not talking about spies!” The words emerged as a hiss from between her pointed teeth, and a number of ponies lept back from her. “A changeling drone lives seventy years. Amaryllis laid at least one batch of eggs a year. There should be hundreds of thousands of drones who are just past middle age.”

“Well, without their queen, many of them killed themselves.” Misty said, drawing herself up and finding a bit of her spine. “The rest left. The North wasn’t a good hunting ground anymore, so they left in search of easier prey. Some went to Griffonia. Others to Equestria. Only spies and saboteurs stayed behind.”

“The Northern Changeling Hive coinhabited the North with the Crystal Empire for nearly twenty years. Changelings made friends with crystal ponies, found work, built houses. Some of them married crystal ponies or adopted foals. They wouldn’t just leave.”

“I’m sorry, I understand this is a museum and you’re a historical artifact, so we can make some exceptions to the rules.” Misty glared down the length of her muzzle. “But in this day and age, the thing you’re mostly known for is poisoning your own family and trying to murder our princess, Ms. Fifth-in-Line-For-The-Equestrian-Throne. So you’ll excuse me if I don’t trust your appraisal of the virtue of the changeling race.”

With an apologetic glance, she turned to the rest of the group: “And in any case, the facts are the facts. The Crystal Empire proper was formally declared changeling free in 29 AR, and the greater North was declared as such in 37 AR. Survivors lasted longer in weaker nations, but Equestria’s last infestation died off about six years ago.”

Misty took a step back, resuming her habit of walking backwards while talking to the group. “Now, if you continue this way, we have a collection of authentic shed carapaces.”

Twilight and her friends found Cheval sitting on the steps outside the entrance to the Changeling exhibit.

“Oh my gosh.” Twilight was breathless. “I am so sorry. I can’t believe I got distracted. I can’t believe it. That was such a teenager moment I am so—”

“It’s fine.” Cheval shrugged. Her eyes were downcast, and her voice quiet. “It’s fine.”

Twilight looked to her, then to the exhibit. Her friends shuffled uncomfortably. “Did you go in there?”

“They’re all dead, aren’t they?”

“No! No. Not… not all of them. We still have two left in Ponyville.” Twilight bit her lip. “And there’s rumors there might be a previously unknown hive in the Amber Isles. Nopony’s ever seen it, but if they’re hiding then—”

“Please don’t try to make me feel better. You’re being a good aunt, I know.”

Twilight and her friends looked at each other. Sky Guard reached out and put a talon on Cheval’s shoulder. Twilight pressed into her side. “I… I know you probably can’t forgive Flurry. I don’t know if you should forgive her. Ever. Some things are… but you’re here. Now. And you need to have hope. Things can—”

“There’s nothing to forgive, Twilight.” Cheval drew in a breath. “She’s right. We’re all monsters. The world is better off without us.”

Nopony knew what to say to that.

“I’d like to go home now,” Cheval said. “I’m tired.”

The Ponyville Hive

Light Step did a lot of radio interviews; she was something of a famous pony. Shortly after the war ended, she was asked to give an interview on her latest avante-garde art installation, The Showmare. It was a return to her roots, graffitied onto the side of an abandoned factory in the industrial district. The whole thing was getting rave reviews, and everypony in Canterlot knew it was the new thing they just had to see.

She and the interviewer sat down. The little light went on to say they were live, and the radio pony cleared her throat. “Hello, Light. Thank you for joining us today.”

“Hello, everypony,” she said into her microphone. Then she said, “And if we have any changelings listening, I live in the large white house on the north road leading into Ponyville. I have shelter and affection for any creature in need. I’m the sister of Princess Twilight, and she will protect you from anypony who comes after you. If you can make it to Ponyville, you’ll be safe. Flurry Heart can’t get you here.”

Then she talked about her art or whatever. The Showmare wasn’t great.

When she got back to her house late that evening, she got out the spare blankets and the cot. Double Time told her she should go to sleep, but she decided to stay up instead, and Double stayed with her.

That night, two changelings showed up seeking sanctuary. One got the guest bedroom, and one got the cot. The next day, a third arrived, and they had to use the couch cushions to make another bed.

The day after that, a group of twenty-two arrived together. They were all that was left of an engineering battalion that had been halfway home when the war ended. Some were still in uniform.

By the end of the first month, there were seven thousand changelings camped on Light Step’s lawn.

“Hey, Double,” Light gently nudged open the door to their bedroom. “How you feeling?”

Double Time didn’t respond. That was not so unusual, since the war ended. She lay in bed in her natural form and stared out the window.

“Well, I um… I have something for you. For us, really.” Light pushed the door open the rest of the way. A basket levitated beside her. “Look.”

Inside the basket, wrapped in layers of green cloth, was the little face of a baby earth pony colt. He couldn’t have been more than a few months old, and his face still looked squashed in that way that newborns do. He had a pacifier half in and half out of his mouth, but was more curious about what was going on around him. He reached out to Double Time, with his trembling little forehooves.

“That’s a child,” Double Time said.

“Yeah. A mare left him. She walked up and said, ‘you take creatures that aren’t wanted, right?’ And I thought she meant, you know, bugs. So I said yes. And she gave me him.” Light cleared her throat. “I checked. He’s really a pony.”

“Rarity wanted another child, didn’t she? She could adopt him.”

“Oh, um…” Light nodded. “She could. But I was actually thinking you and I should finally—”

“No,” Double said. Then she got out of bed and walked out.

Four years before Cheval left for the Griffonstone Institute of Science, Light had asked Double a question. Light had been in the form of a stallion named Burner, and Double was in the form of a mare named Smoke. And so, as a proper stallion, Light got down on his knees in front of the mare of his dreams.

“Marry me, you wonderful creature,” he said.

She flew away.

The ponies of Ponyville took them in, of course. They were a kind breed.

There wasn’t even a discussion. Every house in Ponyville threw open its spare room to a changeling that needed shelter. Twilight quartered nearly a hundred drones in her palace, and Filthy Rich another twenty in his mansion. But even with everypony working together, Ponyville simply did not have anywhere near seven-thousand unused beds. It was a small town, after all.

So the construction ponies of Ponyville built new cottages, next to the refugee camp that was forming on Light Step’s lawn. The changelings of the worker caste inspected the new buildings with a wary eye, knocked on them with a hoof, and nibbled on the wood a bit.

“Not bad,” they said. Then they piled rocks around the buildings, covered them in resin and spit, and peed on the whole thing to start the hardening process. The buildings that resulted were so solid a rampaging dragon would bounce off the side, and cottages meant to hold two ponies comfortably fit twenty changelings in their pods.

For the next set of structures, the ponies of Ponyville skipped the cottages and gave the changelings the wood directly. The refugee camp on Light’s lawn disappeared tent by tent, and in its place, a miniature hive rose.

“Double,” Light called, chasing Double Time out into the hall. “Double, come on. Don’t be this way, you…”

Double pushed open a hallway window, turned into a pegasus, and flew out into the open air, quickly gaining enough distance to be out of earshot. Not that that stopped Light from shouting, “Bitch!” at Double’s retreating tail.

Then the baby started to cry. It took her awhile to deal with that.

Some of the changelings in Ponyville were nursery workers. On the day of the final battle, they had fled the burning hive with their children stuffed into backpacks and saddlebags. In total, eighteen grubs and thirty-two nymphs survived the journey.

They asked Twilight to inspect them.

“Um…” Twilight asked. “Inspect them for what? I don’t know anything about children’s health. Um. For changelings or ponies.”

“Overall quality,” one of the changelings explained. A large swarm had gathered outside Twilight’s castle, looking up at her silently. “To determine if they’re good. And correct their parents if their upbringing has been deficient.”

“Oh, I can’t.” Twilight blushed and raised a hoof. “I don’t know anything about raising children. I’m kind of a teenager myself.”

“But you’re the…” The spokeschangeling cleared her throat. “Princess. The leader. Of the town. You must decide if the children are good.”

“I’m sure their parents can decide if their own children are…” Twilight frowned, biting her lip. She looked back at Light and Double for direction. “Are good. Can’t they?”

“Of course not,” Double snapped, “Parents love their children. They can’t be objective about them. That’s why in the hive, Amaryllis inspects all the children once a month. Inspected. She lined the little brats up and walked down the line like it was a military review.”

“Don’t talk about inspection that way,” the changeling from the mob said. “It’s important the nymphs have an authority figure to look up to.”

“Why?” Double asked, buzzing over her way. “Why is that important? What’s going to happen if they don’t have an authority figure in their lives? Mmm? What precisely is going to happen?” She got so close, she and the other changeling were nose to nose. “Do you not understand that it’s over? It’s all over. Your queen is dead. She is gone and the hive is gone and they are never coming back and the sooner you clue into that the better!”

“Double, that’s enough,” Twilight snapped. “You don’t have to—”

Double flew away.

The next morning, all seven-thousand changelings lined up on the outskirts of Ponyville so Twilight could inspect the nymphs. She picked one up, and said that it looked, “Very clever.”

For six months, a thousand changelings worked menial jobs in the greater Ponyville area and pooled all the money to send that nymph to a university in Canterlot. They all knew Twilight was only being polite. But it made them feel better.

There was work to be done. Light couldn’t sit around the house waiting for Double to come back. So she levitated her basket beside her, and marched out into the hive.

It was dark, crowded, confusing, and had a smell that was strongly reminiscent of urine and pollen, but that was apparently how changelings preferred it. Some were in their natural forms and some pretended to be ponies, but all of them politely made way for her. If they treated Twilight like their leader, they treated her like an officer. Some even saluted her as she passed.

She was surprised the little one didn’t cry, but the smell and the buzzing of many insectile wings lulled him right to sleep.

The first order of the day was resolving a dispute between the hive and some ponies from outside of town. The ponies were seasonal laborers, who came to Ponyville every year as hired hooves to help with the harvest. But that year, they arrived to find themselves displaced by changeling refugees, who didn’t rest and worked for hugs. After some haggling, she paid them a fair wage to help teach the new arrivals more advanced farming skills. It smoothed things over.

Next, she had to deal with a group of changelings who were uncomfortable being in their natural forms. They preferred to impersonate ponies, but the ponies of Ponyville had made it clear that nopony’s form was to be mimicked without their consent. And so, Light Step gave her consent, and a dozen copies of her ran out into the world, each wearing a prominent purple pin that said: “Secret Shapeshifter”

Finally, she went into Ponyville to run her errands. She had to meet with her sister, send some letters, get more formula for the baby, get her mane cut, and pick up some things. The last item on her list was heading to Bon Bon’s for some candy—that always made her feel better.

When she arrived in the shop, she found the counter unstaffed. A faint rustling and thumping was coming from the back room. Light assumed Bon Bon was hard at work. “Hello?” she called, pushing open the door. “Is anypony…”

Peering through the doorway, she saw Bon Bon In flagrante with two identical Lyras. All three were frozen in alarm at the sight of the open door. The pose they were all in was quite complicated. Both Lyras had their hooves in interesting places, and they were doing something with their horns that caused a magical glow under Bon Bon’s tail. It looked fun.

Light sighed. “Just to check, are any of you my girlfriend?”

“We’re not in a relationship,” one of the Lyra’s snapped.

“Oh my gosh,” the other Lyra quickly covered her privates. “Shut the door!”

“Aaand, the mood is dead,” Bon Bon said, falling back to the floor. “Thanks, Double. Really.”

“Look,” Light said, without closing the door first, “Will you just come home please?”

“I don’t have a home. You have a home,” Double said, still using Lyra’s voice. “I sleep in other buildings you know.”

“Yes, and you sleep with other ponies. Case in point,” Light gestured.

“Shut the door!” the real Lyra yelled. Both Double and Light ignored her.

“Double,” Light spoke quickly, “I accepted that more than a decade ago. I’m fine with it, and we planted a garden together. There’s a mug in the cabinet with your initials on it. It is your home. It is our home. Please talk to me.”

Double scrambled out the door into the alley behind the shop. Lyra, for her part, remembered she was a unicorn -- and with a blast of telekinesis, slammed the door to the front.

Some of the changelings tried to offer Light Step a replacement girlfriend—one who looked just like Double Time, even in her natural form. At first, Light was furious, but then she noticed all the ponies in the group around her were worker caste.

None of them, she realized, really understood what a special somepony was. And so she stopped yelling and spent an hour explaining the birds and the bees to creatures that were, in some regards, very much like bees.

They didn’t get it.

Ponyville was a good town. Nopony minded if Double Time slept around, but when word got out she and Light were on the rocks, she found her comfort food frequently interrupted by good intentions.

Nothing ruins the mood like being asked, “But have you really tried to work things out with her?” midway through cropping a bound pony’s flanks.

It still took three days for Double to come home. Light didn’t hear her enter. She woke up one morning, and there was Double in her bed. She was still trying to decide what to say, when the baby started crying.

“Don’t you dare vanish before I get back,” she said, stumbling out of bed and off to the next room.

When the little one had been fed, burped, and changed, Light returned. To her surprise, Double really was still there, curled up on top of the blankets and staring out the window. “You can’t just show up with a foal,” Double said. “You can’t walk in on your partner and give them a child like it was a toy.”

“You heard the part where someone abandoned him on my doorstep right?” Light grumbled as she slid back into bed. “I’d give him to the nursery workers, but some of them are still unclear on the fact that ponies can’t eat all their food for the week in one enormous meal.”

“Give him to somepony who can take care of him then.”

“We can take care of him.” Light wrapped her legs around Double, holding her from behind. “Don’t you want to create something together?”

“We do. We create art. You paint and I’m your muse.” Double shifted in bed, like she couldn’t get comfortable. “What do you do is beautiful. Looking at it… it makes me feel better.”

“I’m not going to be remembered as an artist. Decades of art school and painting and gallery shows, and if history remembers me, it’s going to be as the mare who saved seven-thousand changelings.” She kissed the back of Double’s head. “It’s a good legacy.”

“I’m sorry. But you’re wrong.” Double gripped Light’s hoof with her own. “You’re a genius, Light. Ponies will be looking at your art for centuries. Little art students are going to bitch at each other about trying to rip your style, just like we did at that age. But all this?” She gestured out the window at the hive beyond. “In fifty years, this is going to be ruins.”

Double’s wings buzzed, tapping against her shell. It made a sound like falling rain. “Nopony will ever want to live in them, or maintain them. But changeling buildings are… are very strong. They’ll stand for centuries. The ruins will last long than we ever will. Tourists will come to Ponyville and take pictures of these weird, mystic-looking structures full of dust and shed carapaces. And there’s going to be a little plaque with your name on it, saying that you did this during your blue period.”

“I wish I understood the hold Amaryllis has on you.” Light let out a breath, and smiled a sad smile. “I don’t know if it’s biological, or magic, or how you were raised, but no matter how many times ponies forgive you, no matter how many good things you do or build, you always think of yourself as Double Time, Changeling Infiltrator. Like the last twenty years were playing pretend, and she’s the real you. Like any day you’re going to go back to being that creature.”

“It’d be pretty impressive if she had a hold on me at this point, seeing as how she’s dead.”

“I don’t know if it’s impressive. But she does.” Light drew in a breath and squeezed Double again. “You still think she is the hive. That without her it’s all over.”

“My species is going to go extinct. I’m not sure how much more over it can be than that.”

“I…” Light hesitated. “I’m sorry. I don’t… I don’t know what…” She stumbled over her words. “Your legacy isn’t just the creatures that Queen Amaryllis squeezed out of her thighs. That’s how you think of it. You came from her and will one day return to her, and your legacy is the next generation she creates. And that’s crap. Your legacy is the ponies you influence and who care about you and the mark you leave on the world.”

Light sniffled. “And if there are parts of the hive you think are worth preserving, you can… you can teach. You’re a drone, remember? You couldn’t breed children before and you can’t breed them now. But you can still raise them. You can still create something in this world that’s a worthy legacy. And…”

She started to choke up, managing a weak: “And fuck you for thinking that my art matters more than this. How much am I going to have to love you before you stop thinking of yourself as an expendable pawn? They matter and you matter.”

For a long time, there was silence between them.

“I don’t have a…” Double spoke slowly. “Pair bonding instinct. You’re really not my girlfriend, Light. You’re not. I don’t feel that.”

“But you love me,” Light said. “I know you love me.”

“I love other ponies too.”

“Yeah, I know, and I don’t care.” Light squeezed her eyes shut. “I know you’re never going to be my little pony wife. You’re not going to dote on foals and coo over grandkids and carry pictures of them around because they’re just so cute. But you’re the creature I’ve chosen as the love of my life, and I can’t imagine raising a foal with anyone else.”

“Our relationship isn’t fair. It never was. I use you. You love me and only me, and stay up late to see if I’ll come home. I run off on you when the conversation gets boring.”

“Yup. You can be kind of manipulative. And do you think I’m so stupid I haven’t noticed that in the last twenty years?” Light stiffened her tone. “Or do you think I’m still the stupid, emotional filly you met in college who can’t make her own decisions?”

“I think I’m a monster, and you deserve better.”

“Well you’re wrong.” She tightened her grip around Double. “And I’m keeping him. Because I don’t think you will run off. I think you’re better than you believe you are. I think this is when you admit that you…”

She couldn’t finish. Her voice cracked, and she lapsed into silence. In the next room, the baby started to cry again.

“I’ll… I’ll…” Light stumbled out of bed. “I need to go.”

Before she made it to the hallway door, Double asked: “What’s his name?”

“He doesn’t have one yet.” Light rubbed her eyes. “But, it should be something important to both of us. So. I was thinking of naming him after his uncle. Shining Armor.”

“No. It’s a good idea, but Shining hasn’t been dead long enough to reuse his name like that. It would be disrespectful.” Double thought it over for a moment. “Gallant.”

“I like ‘Gallant,’” Light said. The baby’s crying intensified. “I gotta go.”

When she returned, Double was still there.

Gallant. Like all good pony names, it had layers of meaning. It meant one who is brave and heroic, which he certainly was. He got that from Light’s side of the family. But in old Equestrian, it referred to a stallion with many mare friends, and he was certainly that too.

He got it from Double, everypony said. Ponyville loved to tell stories of his adventures. He was Daring Do for a new generation, punching out griffons and escaping with a beautiful mare.

He even saved Equestria, once. There was a communist superweapon in a volcano base and everything. It was a big deal, at the time.

Of course, by the time he turned forty-five, his adventuring days were done. His mane had turned grey, his interests mundane, and he spent a little more time at home. Like most children of the Ponyville Hive, he’d developed a preference for small spaces and confusing architecture.

One day, while sitting in what used to be Light’s study, he flipped open the newspaper. “CHANGELING PRINCESS CHEVAL SIGHTED IN CRYSTAL EMPIRE,” the headline read. There were pictures.

He got up, walked over to the bookshelf, and from it lifted a special wooden box. It was covered in dust. The last time he’d touched it, his mothers had been alive.

Opening it revealed a collection of books, scrolls, and magical items. On top of all of them was a pair of letters, neatly addressed to the last changeling princess.

He booked his tickets to the Crystal Empire that afternoon.