Kibble looked at him odd. “It can’t be that hard to tell me.”
Thorax nodded. “Yeah...I guess so.”
The mare tapped her hoof, waiting with a smile.
He grabbed the grub and lifted it with a hoof.
“Kibble, it all started when I was born. I don’t know much about how much of the early years you ponies remember, but I could remember even before I burst out of my egg. There was nothing to see; just black weird gunk in case someone rattles my little home, but I could remember wanting to get out and be...happy.
"I got out of the egg and things got way worse from there. I expected to see some other changelings like me—instinct, I think—and I was right...but they weren’t happy to see me. They weren’t happy to see each other at all. I saw my younger broodmates being hatched and the first thing they did was hiss and argue with their brothers and sisters. It was...t-terrifying, and when I realized that my mother was an evil queen wanting to conquer the world by violence, I kept on thinking to myself, ‘What if there’s nicer beings in the outside world who don’t deserve to be crushed?’
“As I grew older, Chrysalis and our instructors taught us the changeling way: analyze, disguise, plagiarize. Something like that. We were taught how to see which ponies have the maximum amount of love and how we could get that love with the minimum amount of effort. We were taught how to mimic every part of our target’s body, even straight to their internal biologies, so we would be nigh undetectable. We were taught how to copy the target's manners and how to survive in their environment for long periods of time just to get love from their unsuspecting families and friends, to make sure they never question who we were.
“I saw many things in when I was young. I saw my brother rise up in the ranks and, now, he’s Head of Patrol and a commander, too. He became famous in the hive; everyone wanted to be like him because of how ruthless and how capable he was. Chrysalis gave him so many promotions it made my head spin. Me? I was never into the whole ‘love-taking’ thing. I had to do it because...I’m a changeling. I’m decent at disguising, but I never felt good doing it, because when they find out...they would hate me, despise me, insult me for deceiving them this whole time when I had to do it because I would starve to death if I didn’t do it!"
He smacked the floor, staring at the newly-formed crack on it. Kibble was about to say something but chose to drop it.
“One day, Chrysalis announced her plans to the whole hive, the plan to take over Equestria. It was smart, it was perfect, and it was not good. You know how it began: the royal wedding. I was actually one of the better performers out there—I even got to see Cadance and Shining Armor up close and personal, though I was one of the bakers that time. I could feel their love radiating like someone turned up the lights too much and you could feel the heat. It was genuine love, true love, and I imagined them being happily married until death does them part.
“I had to fight the tears when we were given the signal that our queen replaced Cadance. I knew where she was locked up—somewhere in Canterlot Castle. Shining Armor never thought that anything was out of the ordinary.
“I remember it very clear. I was seating near the end of the hall and I was told by my pony boss to stay there since they were done with all the cakes for the party later.” A pause, stared at her with imploring eyes. “Do you know that feeling of being in front of your worst enemies and they don’t know you were there?”
Kibble shook her head. “Not really. I had a close brush with one of your guys once—the bad guys, yeah.”
Thorax winced. “Well, I was sitting in the same room with Princess Celestia and Princess Luna, the very ponies who control the sun and the moon.”
“We all know that,” Kibble said, miffed.
But the changeling powered on: “As I was saying, those two ponies were right there. What if we blew it then? I was wishing we did so I could confess and go straight to their side and be under their protection. I n-never worked up the courage, and I stayed quiet. Next thing I knew, as Celestia was saying, ‘You may now kiss the bride’, Chrysalis revealed herself to the world and all of us had to reveal ourselves, too. I did and I t-took the love out of my own boss—he was my boss for less than two days, but he was just as excited for the union of two loving ponies as they were...as I was." Thorax bent his lips this way and that, trying to form the next words. "He looked surprised. He was more than surprised. He saw me change, and he felt...betrayed.”
He choked, shoved himself on the back, trying to cough out something but nothing came out.
“It broke my heart—his own tears...he was reduced to crying out for help like a foal and I was a part of it! I had no choice; I had to drain the love out of him and he was later sent to one of our gulags on the Eastern Coast. He couldn’t do anything at all but cry, cry, cry. Believe me: I was with him the whole time while we were transporting him and our other prisoners to their ‘rightful places’."
He looked out the window, took in the green view of the forest, and looked back at Kibble.
“As the war went on, we hit some snags here and there. I was secretly hoping we would lose each and every time, but that didn’t happen. Instead, we were slowed down for one to three weeks and then we were back to rolling everypony down to our will. I’ve seen their dejected faces, their eyes and mouths accusing me of breaking their lives, of ruining their futures, of subjecting them to unspeakable terrors that love-draining brings, and I...I….”
Kibble grabbed him and the grub just in time before Thorax fell to the floor. Breathing fast, too fast—hyperventilating.
“Hold your breath!” she whispered loud as she brought out a paper bag. “Here, use this!”
Thorax yanked it from her hooves and breathed into and out from the paper bag, the poor bag inflating and deflating in rhythm.
A minute passed with this breathing, tension rising as the grub neglected everything in his sleep.
Then, Thorax removed the paper bag, gasping for air.
“Are you OK?” Kibble asked, worried and sweating. “You’ve got to be OK!”
Thorax nodded, waving a hoof off in sweat. “Yeah...yeah...I’m OK….”
Kibble sat down on the floor, distressed. “I was scared for a moment. I thought you were going to die or something!”
“Not now.”
“Oh, no! Not now! I don’t want you to die right now! You’re a fun guy for a changeling...I never expected to meet a fun changeling!”
A smile went up on his face. “You don’t need to flatter me—“
“It’s not flattery,” Kibble said. She turned her head down. “Sorry for being so irritating—or, I’m about to be irritating to you—but, ever since they took our home back in Seaddle, we had to stay in Bean Pot’s hidden house and it’s been months. We could never say a word against him—he’s well-meaning and he’s looking out for our best, but he’s...traditional.”
Thorax raised a brow. “Seriously? Is that why you wanted to talk—“
“Which is why I said I’m sorry in advance,” Kibble blabbered. “I don't want to use you to fight my boredom, but...maybe I’m desperate.” She slumped her shoulders. “I’m a city rat. I’m used to the hectic days and the busy nights—the nightlife there in Seaddle with all their coffeehouses and their cruise ships and their orchestras...talking to a changeling is many times better than staying here without anything to do.”
Thorax groaned. “You have work to do. Farm work.”
“I had work there, too, but it’s better than here and—“
She stopped herself. Saw the irritation in Thorax’s eyes.
“I’m sorry again! I...I’ll just let you speak, right?”
Thorax tilted his head, lightening up. “Don’t think too much about it. It’s alright with me.”
They relaxed on the floor, let themselves settle for a while as they allowed the grub to continue sleeping, and Thorax continued:
“Where was I? I was, uh...headed for Ponyville. They’d already gotten it by the time I arrived and I was sent by my brother on a mission to Appleloosa. The same things happened: I went with some squadmates, we infiltrated the base, they did not see our ruse, and we got the whole town under changeling control thanks to...my brother. He stepped in; wasn’t part of the plan, but he did it anyway.
“I met a pegasus named Swift River. He was an honest pony—so I thought. It turned out that he wanted to become a slave to us. I’ve never heard of that before; even the most obedient always had something to say against us behind our backs. But him? Over time, he became chummy with the other changeling captors, he began berating his own kind behind their backs, and he’s even sent a letter to Chrysalis about how to oppress ponies further.”
Kibble gasped, about to bite her hooves. “That’s horrible! How could he do such a thing?”
“Perhaps he gave up,” was Thorax’s sullen reply. He was silent for a short time, contemplating that pony. “Who could blame him? I don’t want to see my own brother suffer the things we subject ponies to. It’s cruel...cruel….”
Kibble let him be silent, caressing the grub with her hoof.
Thorax sat in his small guest bedroom which, besides the bed, consisted of a cabinet where one could see the various books, instruments, and pillows that the family had stored over the months. He sat up and looked out the window.
The chirp of crickets flooded the air. Fireflies twinkled in and out of view, turning the forest fantastic, into a wonderful place to walk around in. He could feel the pull of those fireflies, desiring to see one alight on his hoof and see them glow upon himself.
“Wouldn’t that be something?” Thorax asked. “I’m sure they’d let me frolic around if they were awake. Isn’t that right?”
He turned to the grub sleeping on the floor.
“They’re always cute,” he remarked to himself as he looked back at the outside.
Knocks on the door.
Thorax turned round. “Uh, I’m a-awake! Who’s that?”
“It’s Iron Starch,” was the stallion’s clear voice. “You don’t mind if I come in and have a chat with you?”
Thorax smiled. “Sure! Come inside!”
The door creaked open, revealing the stallion. He was wearing a hat which covered his brown mane. His hooves were shaky, turning the knob with a painful, creaking slowness.
He double-checked the lock. Triple-checked it, quadruple-checked it.
“It's strange for me to ask a changeling to keep a promise,” he began, taking his hat off by thrusting it inside the cabinet, “but that’s what I’m going to do. I need you to keep a promise.”
Thorax’s smile disappeared. “Anything, Starch, as long as it’s not bad or evil. I don’t want to be a part of that again.”
Starch nodded as he sat down on the bed beside Thorax.
Their bodies shone under the faint moonlight.
The pony took in one huge sigh. “First of all, I want you to tell no one else about this. Your lips are sealed until you’re allowed to say it.”
“Which is when?” asked Thorax.
“When I say so.”
The changeling blinked. “Alright. What’s the promise?”
Starch let out another sigh. “Well, before that, I have to tell you a part of my story.”
He placed a hoof on his eyes, rubbing them. Then:
“I was...I was on my way here one night—recently since you were here already. I was out collecting fruits and berries. Didn’t like the job, but don’t tell my Dad.”
Thorax snickered.
“It’s not funny.”
Thorax then stopped snickering.
Starch removed the hoof from his eyes and faced the changeling. ”When I came home and shook your hoof—you were there by the door—I noticed something about you.”
“A-And what would that be?” said a nervous, shaky Thorax.
Starch stretched his forelegs, cracked his neck and his wrist. He gave Thorax a long look, staring at his eyes with an icy stare. “Do you know a certain...Swift River?”
Thorax inched away from him, though he smiled. “What’s the color of his c-coat, if I may ask? Where did he come from?”
“He came from Stratusburg,” Starch continued. “He was trying to apply for a spot in the Wonderbolts before...well, before you came along.”
Thorax gulped, sweating. “Look, I knew better but what could I do? I can’t publicly rebel against Chrysalis! I apologize—I’m very sorry for what I did to him! Please, forgive me and give me another chance! I don’t want to steal love from you—“
“Then how are you still healthy?” Starch inquired, raising a brow.
Thorax opened and closed his mouth. “Y-You know how we changelings eat! We sometimes consume love passively, keeps us—“
“I’m not asking how you're not dead,” Starch corrected. “I’m asking...how are you still healthy?”
Thorax placed a hoof on his head, murmuring to himself. Then, he blurted out: “I only get...some love, but I told them! I asked permission from them and...they’re a very loving family and I can be healthy on a...a fiftieth of their love, which is what I’m doing—“
“And why did you hesitate?” Starch asked further, growling and inching closer to him. “I didn’t expect you to lie to me, especially when you’re supposed to be keeping a promise.”
“O-OK!” Thorax said, raising both of his forehooves. “I may be taking a bit more than a fiftieth of their love.”
“More like a fifth?” Starch tilted his head to the side, smiling. “Or, was it more like half?”
“Do you want me to die on the spot?!” Thorax said, almost yelling at him. “I had to do what I had to do! They’re happy I’m here and that I’m not forcing them to work for me—I’m the one’s who working for them and—“
“Let’s not talk about that,” Starch said, calming him down with a gesture of his hoof. “Let’s get back to Swift River, OK?”
Thorax's ears drooped. With lowered voice: “What about him?”
“You see,” he began, scratching his mane, “I know him. Not personally—we’ve never really met until this month, but I know him, knew him even before we met. I said something about him wanting to be a Wonderbolt, didn’t I?”
Thorax nodded, glancing at the window.
“Things went downhill from there. He was down in the dumps, became some poor old border guard. He had to resort to being a newspony for the surrounding camps as well and he did his best to scrounge up money if we somehow won. He had a wife before she perished in a fire back in Manehattan. He didn’t have a foal, so he’s the only one left in his family.”
Thorax was shivering all the time. In a mutter: “Why does he sound so familiar?”
“He used to feel remorse over his wife," resumed Starch, "but then...I managed to get in touch with him. He’s currently one of the pony supervisors over at the changeling site in Klugetown, beating up unruly pony slaves. He’s in cahoots with your kind, and I have a feeling that..."
He pointed at him, mad.
"...you had something to do with it.”
Thorax gasped, eyes dilating. “How did you know?!”
Starch grinned. “That’s because I’m your brother.”
The stallion glowed. He disappeared and in his place, Pharynx.
Thorax muffled his scream with a hoof. "No! You can’t possibly be here! I must be dreaming, I must be drea—“
Pharynx grabbed him by the neck. “It took me a long while to know your whereabouts, but you were too clumsy! You were always sloppy when it came to hiding your tracks from me, Thorax.
“But, really, I am surprised,” he went on, smiling. “I’m surprised you were OK with lying to a pony about how much love you were stealing from his family! They trust you so much, those gullible ponies!”
Thorax shivered, desperate for air.
“Face the truth, brother! You are a changeling. You can’t run away from your nature! No matter how ‘good’ you want to be, you can’t resist eating their love! You will always be a changeling! Now, come with me and—“
“Not if I can help it!”
“What?!”
Thorax flapped his wings and hit his head on the ceiling, threw Pharynx off balance, and cast him off to the door. He opened the window and flew out of the lodge.
Lights were turning on around the house. Voices stirred:
“Hey, what’s going on?!”
“I told you we should’ve given Thorax my night soup!”
“But the window broke!”
“It’s not broken!”
More were fading from his ears as Thorax flew, upsetting the fireflies and the crickets, passing by the trees and bushes, feeling the forest's cold wind.
He opened both of his forehooves.
There, the grub lay, still sleeping.