Coming soon: The Worst 'Ling For the Job

Almost done with the final edit of "I Didn't Vote For You," and decided on a different title. Now I just need a screenshot to use as cover art, and we're good to go. In the meantime, enjoy this preview. It's a pretty big piece of the final product this time, but hey.

Enjoy!
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Thorax let out a hiss of a yawn. He stretched out his limbs one by one, as he always did when he woke up from a lovely nap in his soft bed. Only now his bed didn't feel so soft. Now it felt hard and rocky. Like he was back in the Hive.

He jumped, and instantly regretted getting up so fast, with the awkward weight of his antlers throwing him off balance.

What the... antlers?

He reached up to feel them. Yup, he had antlers, or something similar. They didn't branch out like antlers, but they had the same hard, smooth texture. And as if that wasn't strange enough, he now had growths on his neck that looked like pearls or diamonds. He was taller than he remembered, too, and decidedly more colourful. His neck and limbs had turned yellow at the edges, moving to a more reddish shade as they neared his now red-rimmed blue carapace. All in all, he wasn't sure he liked it very much. He tried turning into his old shape, that of a simple changeling infiltrator, about a head shorter than his current form and sporting holes in his limbs.

As he shifted back, noting the vague sense of other-ness that old black form now held, the memories came pouring back in. He shook his head to clear it from his post-shapeshifting amnesia, like a phantom pain from an amputated identity. Yes, he was back in the Hive. His comfy bed in the Crystal Empire was no longer his. The few friends he'd made there would likely be missing him.

Yes, yesterday had happened, and he'd caused quite the ruckus.

Still, thinking on it, things were looking up for Thorax: no more having to beg for love, no more getting told how useless he was, no more getting made fun of for his lack of violent tendencies, he was King now. He nodded to no one in particular and took a deep breath. Stretching out one last time to make sure everything worked, and admiring his new gossamer wings for just long enough, he went out to greet the new day with a spring in his step.

The Hive was in disarray, but that was to be expected, and his fellow changelings were already trying to mend it, buzzing this way and that, shouting orders at one another.

Busy as bees.

A group of workers, five changelings trying to patch up a hole that, unlike most holes in the Hive, wasn't meant to be there, turned to face him.

For a second, he hesitated. The old feelings of inadequacy, the frustrated groans of his superiors, everything about his old life still haunted him. He had half a mind to pack up and move back the Crystal Empire right then and there. Then the changelings did something very unusual: they smiled and nodded in greeting.

Guess things are different when you're King.

He bade his recently changed subjects a good day as he passed them by, as expected of a proper monarch, and strode confidently into the throne room.

The throne room where he'd ascended to his new form by vomiting out excess love, as opposed to the regular love his subjects used to vomit out for the Hive.

The throne room where the throne had been destroyed, making it less of a throne room and more of a regular room.

The throne room where the walls had been destroyed, making it less of a room and more of a balcony, really.

He looked around idly. His first royal decree would be to find a new name for this place. No matter, he could work all that out with his subjects. By now, the change in colour and distinct reduction in the number of cavities in their anatomy would have settled in, and the shock of it all would have subsided, along with any memory loss.

Thorax still didn't understand how it happened, really. One moment, he was a normal changeling, about to smitten by his Queen for treachery, the next he'd purged himself, and become this new... thing-ling, more resembling a colourful deer beetle than the black menace his kind used to be. Mere moments later, the whole Hive had followed his lead.

He wondered if they were happy now. Doubtful, considering changelings weren't used to happiness, as Thorax could attest to. The organs responsible for even registering happiness as a concept were atrophied, and would take some time to become functional again.

Still, he was ready for his first day as King.

The throne room had taken the brunt of the explosion, and as such there were a few dozen changelings flitting about aimlessly. He smiled when he noticed all the colours: reds, blues, oranges. He hadn't even noticed it before, but some of them even lacked horns, or had the same pearly growths on their necks, or had some fancy horn shape. It would make it so much easier to tell everyone apart.

They were individuals now, and it was thanks to him, he realised.

"All hail the King!" one changeling called out.

"Oh, really, there's no need-"

"All hail King Coleopter!"

"Wait, what?"

Looking where the Black Throne used to stand, Thorax found not a throng of his adoring subjects, but a colourful 'ling like himself being waited on by smaller 'lings. Getting closer, he realised this other changeling was bigger than him, too, unlike most of the Hive, who stood a head smaller than him.

Coleopter. One of Chrysalis's finest specialist infiltrators, as well as one of her better fighters. Usually those two functions didn't mix, but when an infiltrator specialised in replacing sports stars and manages to feed on the admiration of dozens of fooled fans, the results could be terrifying, doubly so if the sports in question were violent ones, which they usually were, in Coleopter's case. He'd always been one the Queen's aces, an asset to be deployed when the need was dire. As a regular changeling, he'd been a burly bug with a penchant for using the holes in his legs as hooks. His carapace was rounder, too, more of a hard shield than the soft leathery forms his less athletic kinslings sported.

He'd gotten even bigger through the change. Thorax had assumed he'd be the only one with antlers, but Coleopter more than compensated with a double horn, clearly modelled after a rhinoceros beetle. It made Thorax wonder if that design was intentional or not, and how one would even be able to tell. "What is going on here?"

"We're just getting our new King ready for his first day of work," one changeling replied. "Will you be wearing regal purple robes or gold, my liege?"

Coleopter shrugged. "Eh, purple is fine. Just chew on some grapes before you spit out the fabric and it's all good."

"Hold on a second," Thorax objected. "Since when are you King of this Hive?"

"Since this morning," The black and blue brute replied.

All the smaller changelings in the room nodded.

"But I'm supposed to be King!"

"Really?"

"I didn't vote for you," one of Coleopter's supporters said.

Not-King Thorax groaned. "Well, of course not; that's the whole point of a King! You don't vote for them."

"That seems kind of silly, seeing as we just got rid of a Queen. Don't you think we should get a choice in who rules over us?"

"Well, yes, but..."

Coleopter smiled. "There you go, then. The Hive picks me. You are excused, Thorax. You can go back to whining in the nursery with the rest of the babies."

Thorax gritted his teeth. Coleopter always had been a bully. It came with the territory, really; he'd been replacing little jocks since he was old enough to steal lunch money. Thorax felt his body shake, but he couldn't just stand down, not now, not after everything that had happened. "But, but... you can't do this! I'm the one who freed the Hive!"

"Yes, and how did you do that, exactly? By puking out love? Because we have a few unchanged infiltrators who've tried that, and it's not working."

A webful of black and holed changelings came into the room, attracted by the noise, no doubt. Here, much to his dismay, King Thorax had to concede the point. "Okay, I don't know how it happened, exactly, but it worked for the rest of you. I'm the one responsible for that."

"I agree. Which is why I'm giving you a royal decree to go to the nursery. You know, to take care of the babies who now have to figure out how to spend their entire lives on empty stomachs. You're responsible for... whatever this technique is that lets you live without needing to feed on love. Teach it to the babies, I'll take care of the regular food, and we're good to go."

"I can't just teach babies how to do it, all I did was live in the Crystal Empire and eject the love I got from there."

"Hmm, we'll have to get some crystals, then. Royal secretary, make a note that we're installing crystals."

Thorax didn't know the names of many changelings, mostly because a majority didn't have names in the first place, but the secretary was another one he remembered. Secretary Libel, a thin-limbed creature with big eyes and a set of lenses grown over his face that made it look like he was wearing a permanent set of safety goggles. The change had been kind to him, it seemed, leaving his body a faded shade of blue that was decidedly less offensive than the pastels most of his kind had been saddled with. He'd served as the Hive's memory before, taking charge of the stolen archives underground.

Thorax felt his hearts sink. They still had stolen goods in their Hive. Oh, that was going to take some explaining. Besides that worry, he'd hoped Libel would side with him. Libel was, after all, that rarest and most dangerous of creatures: a clever changeling. Apparently the smart thing to do was to side with the bigger 'ling. Couldn't blame the guy, really.

"I shall remind you next Tuesday, Your Highness," Libel said.

Coleopter smiled, then tapped his chin. "Which day is Tuesday, again?"

"The second one."

"Perfect. Now, then, Thorax, if you don't mind, I have a kingdom to run."

The crowd of changelings ignored Thorax. He let out a curt snort and thrust his chest forward in defiance. "No."

"What?"

"No. I am King, the throne is mine by right."

"He's right, Thorax should be King!"

Thorax smiled. At least some of the Hive liked him.

"Why?" another voice asked.

"I don't know, a Princess said so!"

Not quite the praise he'd hoped for, but he was drawing a blank for any better arguments himself.

Coleopter shook his head. "Look, it's simple maths: I'm bigger than you. I should be King."

"We're shapeshifters! Size doesn't exactly factor into these things!" Thorax protested.

Behind him, the growing swarm of supporters murmured and nodded. Whispers of "Good point" and "Well said" came through, along with the occasional "He always was good at whining."

"It is now. The King says so," one of Coleopter's supporters offered.

Thorax let out a grumble. "No, I don't, and I am King, so it's not a factor."

Coleopter snickered. "Why? Because you accidentally beat the last Queen? With help from foreigners, I might add?"

Thorax looked behind him. No one supporting him objected to the argument. "Yes. And because Princess Celestia said so. The ponies expect me to rule. They know me."

Coleopter groaned. "A foreign ruler can't tell us who's King, you idiot. What do you think we are, Belgians?"

Libel rolled his eyes. "Well, there's our lovely trenches, our infrastructure's impossible to navigate if you're not a native, and we do have some odd communication issues... I think all we're really missing is waffles at this point."

"Yes, secretary Libel, we're all aware of the joke, thank you. No need to spell it out." Coleopter got off what remained of the Black Throne and strode towards the usurper. "You honestly think you have what it takes to be King?"

Thorax clenched his jaw. "Yes."

"You were always a terrible liar, Thorax, and a terrible changeling. All you do is whine and whinge about how bad life is for you. That's it; that's all you're good for. Your sole purpose in life is to find someone who's just as whiney and whingey as you, someone who gets showered with attention they don't deserve, and to take their place. A changeling like that can't be King."

Thorax shivered, but he didn't buckle. It was all true, of course; Thorax had only ever been assigned one role, that of a whiner. He remembered trapping little rich foals and calves, or tricking them into running away from home so he could bring back the love that was so undeservedly lavished upon the little brats. It was a foul way of collecting love, but it got the job done. And much like Coleopter, Thorax was stuck in a role, he had to admit. Or rather, he had been. "That's not who I am, Coleopter, not anymore. I've changed. And I'm not backing down."

"Oh, come off it. You're bluffing, or lying to yourself, and you know it. You've never done anything on your own that was worth doing, you never make a smart decision, I'm willing to bet you couldn't even make friends with ponies without having to make them feel sorry for you. So why should you be King, huh?"

Thorax closed his eyes. He tried to think of a reason, a good reason. He wanted there to be a reason, so desperately, but none came. "I'll fight you for it."

"Wha..." Coleopter's ears perked. It took him a good two seconds to fully realise what Thorax was suggesting. "Are you sick in the head or something? I'll crush you in one blow. I'm stronger than you. Anyone can see it."

Thorax looked him up and down. "Maybe. But in case you hadn't noticed, things have changed. What if I am stronger than you, and you just can't see it?"

"Take him down, King Thorax!" One changeling yelled.

"Squash him, King Coleopter!" Another replied.

More cries erupted as the two stood face to face, glaring at each other. The crowd started buzzing their wings in an infernal din. The roar of "Fight! Fight! Fight!" echoed through the battered stronghold.

"Quiet!"

Deathly silence fell.

"Now, look here, you two." Libel stepped in between them. "I'm all for settling the matter of leadership the old-fashioned way, but we can't afford this. Our Hive is in shambles, we've lost our main defence with the throne in pieces, and we have no idea of how our magic works now or how we're going to adapt. So we are not going to get caught up in a fight that'll only weaken us more."

"What do you suggest, then?" Coleopter asked.

"Well, we've made enough enemies to warrant a strong leader, which, begging your pardon, you are not, Thorax."

Coleopter smirked.

"However, Thorax still has a point." Libel turned to Coleopter. "He, more than any of us, knows how ponies live, how they share their love, how they organise their lives. And as much as you want to belittle him for being a whiner, that experience taught him how the higher classes live, how the ruling class is expected to act. If we are to survive, we will need a King who knows these things."

"Why don't we let the Hive decide?" Thorax asked.

"A vote? In a changeling Hive? Please. We'd have a civil war before lunch, and an uncivil one around dinnertime. Besides, not everyone is accounted for yet, so it wouldn't be a fair vote. No, one of you needs to cede your claim, openly, and the other needs to make sure no questions are raised."

"Why don't you rule?" Coleopter asked. "You were the Queen's foremost advisor, you can read more scrolls than any of us. You're the smartest changeling we have."

Libel chuckled. "I would gladly lead. But then I'll be needing someone to take over moving our stolen archives. Or returning them, as the situation demands. Not to mention sealing the ones that are leaking."

Coleopter sighed. "Yeah, we can't spare you, then, unfortunately."

"Unless you want to risk those Caneighdian grimoires opening up again, now the Black Throne isn't holding back that magic," Libel said with a shudder. "I can still taste that blasted maple syrup."

"Right, so Libel is on containment. Then it's between you and me. Unless anyone else wants to get their say in?" Thorax asked.

Coleopter looked around and was pleased to find no one else dared challenge him. "Doesn't look there's any more volunteers. Okay, you heard him: withdraw your claim."

"No, you withdraw your claim. I have a legitimate right to it."

"Someone else gave you permission to call yourself King. We didn't."

The secretary grumbled. "Right. War it is, then?"

Another changeling, a bright green one with red eyes, came fluttering in. "Excuse me? Is this a bad time?"

"No," Coleopter said. "No, it's a perfect time. What news of the outside world?"

The scout shivered. "Umm, the outside world is... making its way in."

"Say what?"

The little 'ling pointed out the giant hole in the room. "There's an army marching on the plains. They say they want revenge for what we did to their kind."

"You're going to have to be little more specific than that," Libel remarked. "Which nation is it? The zebras, the elephants?"

All at once, the ground began to shake, and the echoes of war cries filled the air.

Coleopter cringed. Thorax felt a chill run up his spine. They knew the cries all too well, even after so many years.

Libel shook his head. "Sounds like they've finally decided to finish the job."

"Who's coming?" A tiny changeling asked, one whose wings hadn't even fully developed yet.

"A savage tribe that tried to wipe us out before we got the Throne installed," Libel replied. "You're too young to remember."

That high-pitched, savage 'boloolooloo' scream that left naught but dust and blood in its wake, was as iconic as it was terrifying. Only one creature, one fiendish terror cast out of the darkest depths made that kind of sound.

"Turkeys."

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Expect the whole thing to be up sometime next week, the week after that at the latest, depending on more editing required.