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// 0 - Reminisce 
// Story: Forward 
// by Dconstructed Reconstruct 
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“There is a very important rule that you always have to remember, little grub,” a changeling twice his size and thrice his age said to him. “Always follow your heart and do what you believe is right.” She placed both hooves over her mouth and stretched the corners upwards. “And smile from the heart, even in the lowest of times!”

He tilted his head to the side. “Uh… why would we smile from the heart?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “We’re changelings. We’re good at faking them.”

She let go of her lips and placed a hoof over her eyes. “Aya!” she exclaimed, running the hoof down her face. “Little grub, I know it is hard to go against your instincts, but you and I, we are not like the others. To reject one’s queen and seek the path of coexistence is something that only very few have ever done!” She set eyes on the young changeling before her. “You of all ’lings—because you are young, but I can see a wild spark in your eye, let me tell you—you should heed my words most of all.”

He shrugged. “I was only making a suggestion.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Then why seek me in the first place?”

“Where else would I go?” He sat on his haunches and sighed. “To go from being trained as an infiltrator, to an exile...” He set his eyes on the elder changeling. “Just as it happened to you.”

She nodded. “The hive is indeed harsh to those that do not think like it,” she said, and her eyes drifted towards the distant horizons of the Badlands.

“The other grublings used to say you were a witch,” he said, standing on his hind hooves and spreading his forelimbs. “ ‘Follow the code of the hive, lest the witch comes to eat you up’!” He shook his head. “Feels like a bad joke now.”

She laughed in reply.

He shook his head. “The others never really thought about walking up to a pony and asking for love nicely. I can’t help but wonder why. I mean, it feels like such a natural thing to try.”

The elder changeling closed her eyes. “Changelings are slaves to their hunger. You are free now, but that freedom is frail. You must be prepared to lay everything down to protect it.” A smirk formed on her lips. “But don’t worry little one. Everything will be fine as long as you stay true to who you are and never forget to—”





"—Smile!" he told himself.

“Hey, are you listening to me? I said I wanted some custard-stuffed eclairs, not strawberry!” The noble slammed his hoof on the counter, a single strand of his well-groomed name falling over his face. “I cannot be late to the Royal Wedding!”

The changeling sighed and put on a toothy grin. “Of course! I apologize for the error.” He lit his horn and wrapped the box of erroneous treats in his emerald-toned magic. “I’ll exchange them right away. Free of charge, of course.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” the noble haughtily said. “Make it fast. I am a very important guest and now behind schedule!”

Without another word, he took the box behind the counter and emptied it. With practiced skill, he split his focus, levitating a pair of large silver tweezers and using them to carefully box a new dozen custard eclairs. He placed the new box on the counter, smile still worn on his lips.

“Here you go. A dozen custard eclairs.”

The noble popped the lid open and took a bite of the first eclair he could get his hoof on. With a grunt of approval, he closed the box. “I do hope this is the last time I have to complain about mixed purchases.”

“Of course,” he replied cheerfully. “Won’t happen again. I can guarantee it!”

Nodding, the noble levitated the box and walked out of the shop, not even bothering to look back. 

With a weary sigh, he let his smile drop ever so slightly. “I could have sworn I gave him the right order.” He turned to look at the returned strawberry eclairs. The corners of his mouth rose as an idea formed in his head.

He packed not only the eclairs into a new basket but a menagerie of other treats. Not every day that a Royal Wedding takes place. What better time to advertise? He reached to the counter and picked up a large pile of business cards, turned over the sign sitting on his door, and with an erasable marker, he wrote:


Out on business. Be back later in the afternoon
If you need any orders filled, slide request under door


After locking up his shop, he took a huge breath of the clear and crisp Canterlot air before setting out for the Palace. There was a spring to his step, for there hadn’t been this much excitement since the last Summer Sun Celebration, the happy memories of that day bringing an even larger beam to his lips.

He passed by groups of excited citizens, waving at them and offering some of his pastries as free samples. Some would take the offered treat and business card that went it, but most would turn up their noses and go about their day. He had already gotten accustomed to the ‘high and mighty’ attitudes of most Canterlot folk. Deep down, he knew the grand majority were good, and he was happy to just be able to live among them in peaceful coexistence.

As he approached the palace grounds, the giddy feelings from earlier waned, and something strange filled the air. He couldn’t place his hoof on it, but he could swear he had sensed it long ago, almost like something instinctual. He stopped in his tracks and looked around. What’s this overbearing feeling gnawing at me?

His eyes scanned the horizon, and he noticed a few ponies pointing upwards with horrified faces, while at the same time, something that very closely sounded like cracking glass echoed through the hair. He himself finally looked skywards, and he felt his jaw drop.

High above, thousands of black spots flung themselves against the magical barrier meant to keep the city secure during its ever-important day. And, the barrier was cracking.

Dropping his basket, he turned around and galloped at full energy. Of all creatures to be here today, why them? he thought as he raced past the many stunned onlookers. He didn’t look up when he heard the sound of shattering glass, nor the sound of explosions around him.

“Help!!” rang a female voice, somehow cutting through the din. 

Against his instinct to flee, he stopped in his tracks. His eyes fell on the source: a young mare and her two fillies, all cornered by a trio of vicious changelings in blue armor. His brow creased. Chrysalis had no right to be here threatening his people. As flawed as ponies could be, they were the family he had been denied.

Without another thought, he jumped in front of the three attackers. The invaders laughed, screeching orders to each other that to every other pony would have sounded shrill, non-sentient, and animalistic.

The first changeling jumped at him, fangs bared and hooves ready to strike. Moving in a rhythm that was at once familiar and alien, he dodged and riposted. He did the same when the other two charged him.

Combat was a dance he had been taught before his exile many years ago, and he’d always thought he’d forgotten it all by now. Yet, when it mattered most, he recalled every jab, kick, tackle, hook and haymaker from the gulf of time. He'd been a surefire candidate for the hive's elite, all the way till the moment he'd been exiled

It didn’t take much more to make all three changelings flee in terror. Only when they were far on the horizon did he allow himself to breathe.

Another explosion—this time from above. His ears twitched as they zeroed in on the source of the cacophony. He didn’t bother looking upwards before diving at the family he had just saved, knocking them out of the way as a small cascade of rubble fell.

As the dust settled, his vision returned. He tried to move, but failed. His body was pinned, a ton of stone pressing against him. He looked towards the family, and a wave of relief washed over him when his eyes met the young mare and her children slowly recovering from the earlier shock.

The young mare let out another scream. She grabbed hold of her children and crawled away, eyes wide in terror. “M-monster! He’s a monster!”

“H-hey,” he said, reaching out a hoof, “It’s okay. There are no mons—” he paused, feeling something cold in his gut. His eyes were on his own hoof, no longer the charcoal gray, but rather a shiny, holey black.

At once, he knew why the young mare was freaking out. If he could just talk to her. That was how he had gotten out of other sticky situations in the past.

“Hey, I think we found one!” the deep voice of a stallion rang not too far away. Had he been able to, he would have turned his head to see them. It didn’t take long for the group to become visible. Five stallion unicorns barely out of colthood, all glaring daggers at him.

He put on a broad smile. “Gentlecolts, so glad to see you all! Could you maybe, perhaps, help me out of here?” he asked, a part of him already knowing pretty well what was about to happen.

The burliest of the five pointed his hoof at him. “Look, it’s smiling! It’s planning to attack!”

“Then let’s wipe that smile off its face!” another of the fellows bellowed. At the command, all five were upon him, kicking and punching.

Remember, you gotta be happy. Even when there doesn’t seem to be a reason to, he said to himself after every blow. Sure, it hurt, but his chitin was very durable. It also helped that they weren’t the strongest ponies he’d ever met—they hit like nobles.

There was a very loud boom coming from the palace.

“L-let’s get out of here!” one of the five unicorns yelled. The other four followed, not even giving him one last look back.

His gaze fell on the young mare, her eyes still locked on his figure. “Uh… what’s going on?” he asked.

The young mare said nothing, only shaking her head as tears flowed from her eyes. 

Something massive, like a wave of water, caught him. Before he knew it, he was flung out of his entombment and was flying past the streets of his beloved home.

Well, at least I locked the store…