//------------------------------// // Ponyville 3: Uncle Thorax // Story: Celestia Does Stuff in Ponyville While Other Things Happen Elsewhere // by Billblok //------------------------------// “Uncle Thorax?!” “Uncle Throax”; that’s what Lepidos liked to call the oddball worker changeling of her mother’s hive who seemed particularly fascinated by ponies. Ponies this, ponies that, ponies are very soft, ponies like to sing and “Hey Princess, I found this pony stuff while out in Equestria, would you like to take a look?” It would be completely fair to say that Lepidos learned just about everything she knew about ponies because of him. It would also be completely fair to say that he was the very reason the cult of harmony started in the first place. Thorax always emphasized how colorful and fluffy they were, and Lepidos’ brood wanted to find out personally at the time if they were like that. Thorax was not exactly an uncle to her really. If he really was an uncle, she would have to call every worker changeling an aunt or an uncle too— it was something called gen-tics? Whatever it was called, that was just how changelings worked. Nevertheless, uncle to her he was, for she had a special relationship with him; one where she could be open and honest without risk of punishment. It was for this reason that she asked: “What in the heck are you doing here??” Thorax cringed at the question; clearly this was not how he expected their meeting to go. “W-well isn’t that obvious?” he said, trying to shrug it off, “I want to join your cult!” Lepidos could read her uncle like an open book. Whenever he was worried about something or for someone, his left hoof would lift up slightly in the air, sometimes coming back down to make circles in dirt and sand. If he was very worried, his ears would twitch and his wings would rub together. So yes, she knew that he was worried but because she was changeling royalty; actually getting him to admit how he was feeling to her was like pulling fangs. (1) “Uncle, don’t lie to me…” “But I do! It’s a nice cult and I want to be a part of it! Don’t you want changelings to join your cult?” Lepidos scowled. “Your ears are doing the twitchy-thing.” He tried to stick with his story. “Lepidos, please; just tell me how I can sign up?” Finally she had enough. “Uncle Thorax, stop it!” Often enough, changelings had ways that their innate ability to disguise themselves could be disrupted. Those ways could be from being knocked out, a loss of self-control, eating too much, “touching” where horns and wings would be, a pretty big sneeze or itch and in the worst cases touching another being. There was a reason, Lepidos knew, Thorax was never sent out to “infiltration missions” where he might be bumping into ponies left and right. One boop on the nose proved the little changeling princess right in her knowledge as Thorax’s head was knocked back slightly and his poor excuse for a sheep disguise burned away like flash-paper. Those sheep, cattle and ponies that only recently gathered let out a collective gasp, having not known that dear uncle was an adult changeling. Silly Equestrians; anyone that squinted could have seen through that disguise. It was the changeling equivalent of Groucho Marx! Maybe all adult changelings were bad at disguises. She had no idea— she only ever saw Thorax do the disguising thing “properly”, and a sample size of one made very dumb statistical evidence. An awkward beat later Thorax finally caved in, sighing softly with ears folded flat. “Okay fine, you’re right… I’m not here just to join your cult.” “…And?” Lepidos asked, not impressed. “I’m here because the hive was worried about you,” he said, rubbing his foreleg, “You were gone for a day longer than we expected.” Lepidos snorted; “Why, because they wanted to save their hides?” “No!” he protested. “We’d be torn apart if you were gone! You and the rest of your brood are the nicest, sweetest changelings the hive has ever had and a ray of sunshine for all of us! Please believe me, Lepidos!” Thus was their relationship; Uncle Thorax would do something silly or stupid, Lepidos would see right through it and then somehow he would say something else that completely made her love him all over again. It was infuri… annoying. “It’s a good thing I love you so much,” Lepidos grumbled. “I love you too!” He beamed, hugging his little niece. Lepidos wordlessly returned the gesture. Affection delivered, the crowd dispersed from around them as the two left, taking their journey down the hillside to meet up with a rather ragged Celestia. But uncle Thorax didn’t seem content with keeping quiet during the short walk. “So um,” he awkwardly began, “where’s the queen? I thought she was taking you on the trip to Equestira?” Lepidos sighed exasperatedly. “She was.” Uncle thorax urged her to continue, gently. “Chrysalis and we are not on speaking terms anymore.” Thorax predictably gaped at her. “You’re not? But— But she treats you and the rest of your brood so well! And she loves you the most!” “Doesn’t count when she hates everyone else you love,” she growled, “I should have talked to her about she treats you.” Uncle Thorax tried to look stern. “She treats me just fine—” “She hates your guts, uncle!” Lepidos shouted back, “because you like ponies just like me! And she said she’s been trying to invade Equestria for years and she locked away the pink princess to starve and ate her husband’s love and she invaded Ponyville and she tried to invade Equestria using us because we were a convenient way to keep the big sun pegacorn from attacking her! Why the hay did I listen to a meanie mommy like her?! You’re so much better than her and she—” “Okay, okay!” Flinching, Thorax cut off Lepidos’ rant. “I get it, you’re right; Chrysalis is kinda a bit of a jerk.” Lepidos stared disbelievingly; “Kinda?!” “A huge jerk,” Thorax corrected himself. “That’s only a little better,” she groused, “Words just can’t describe how peeved I am at her right now.” “Watch your mouth,” he scolded. The two walked on, and Thorax continued the conversation despite it being a good idea to just keep his mouth shut. “But still, Lepidos… you really should be looking out for Chrysalis.” “Why?” “Because grudges aren’t healthy for a pony or changeling, Lepidos; they make an ugly, gross gob of hate build up in your heart, making you bitter and yucky, and unable to return any love to other ponies or changelings.” He tilted his head to one side, concerned. “I know how important the cult of harmony is to your brood. You wouldn’t want to be unable to give any love, would you?” “What is this about being unable to give love?” Celestia asked. Thorax jumped at the sound of the pegacorn’s voice, ducking behind Lepidos in terror... kinda weird for him to be afraid of Celestia, especially since she was so messy-maned. “I only heard a small part of what you were talking about with—Lepidos, who’s that behind you right now?” “N-nopony,” Thorax squeaked. “Uncle,” Lepidos said, “It’s alright.” The messy-maned pegacorn peeked around lepidos’ shorter-in-comparison frame. “…Oh? I had no idea that there were any adult changelings in your little group.” Lepidos sighed. “There weren’t supposed to be…” “I didn’t invade Canterlot, honest!” “She’s not gonna hurt you!” Lepidos assured rather insistently, “she’s a nice pegacorn!” Poor thorax was probably too scared to correct her on the proper term for a pegacorn. All he asked behind Lepidos (who was trying to make him show his face to the princess) was “are you sure?!” Lepidos rolled her eyes. “She beat the hay out of Chrysalis when she found out she was trying to use us as leverage to gain control of the pony kingdom. Sheesh uncle, don’t the infiltrators tell you anything?” A blink, a single twitch of an ear and a widening of the eyes, and the world found uncle Thorax enlightened by the new tidbit of information; “…Oh.” “Oh,” Lepidos parroted sarcastically. As far as she was concerned, it was no longer worth her time to argue that Celestia was actually safe for him to approach, so she stepped forward a couple inches to make eye-contact with the oh so fair sun princess. “Your majesty, the worker cow… cowar… hiding behind me is Thorax… my uncle.” When Thorax dragged his head up, he finally got to see who Lepidos was looking at the whole time… and the two could agree that Celestia certainly had better days as far as her physical features were concerned. Her mane was a mix of pink and mud brown, matted and snarled. It tried to flow in the wind, but the mess only made it good for slightly flopping around. Her fur was caked in the grime, plastered to her skin in odd directions and clearly making her feel very un-comfy. Her tail shared the same problem as her mane, dragging along the mud and making it hard for her to walk. Honestly, it seemed like only her face was spared of the very unwanted mud bath, because the pegacorn took care to hold her head up the entire time— or at least not fall face-first into the larger mud-puddles as she chased after the pigs to try to clean them off. Princess Celestia, in no uncertain terms, looked like all her royal dignity was lost somewhere in the pig-pen and she hadn’t bothered to go back for it. Still Celestia allowed herself to approach and greet the changeling. “…Hello Thorax. Lepidos said you are her uncle; is that right?” Thorax shrunk back. Celestia persisted. “…Thorax, is that correct?” “O-only genetically speaking,” Thorax squeaked, “That w-would otherwise require me to actually be her majesty’s brother.” Celestia nodded sagely; seemingly ignorant of the poor state of her mane as it slapped against her neck from bobbing her head up and down. “Ah, how intriguing….” Brushing away a rebellious strand of hair away from her face, she continued; “Well Lepidos I suppose that farming is not meant for me… or I am not meant for farming. Either way I’m going to have to wash myself up before I tell Twilight I’m ready to move on from this… ordeal. In the meantime—pending your involvement in the first invasion of Equestria, I would like to say welcome to Ponyville, and would be very eager to talk with you.” Celestia flashed a warm smile, and then she walked herself as regally as a mud-covered princess could over to the Sweet-apple-acres farmhouse. “Applejack, would you kindly lend me use of your hose? I would like to get rid of the worst of the mud before I go inside to use your shower…” Lepidos heard something from Applejack about using a wooden washtub, a scrub-brush and a hefty amount of bar soap being an acceptable alternative, but she was more concerned about Thorax… whose ears were twitching again. “…Are you alright, Uncle?” “H-how did she know I was involved in Canterlot??” Lepidos rolled her eyes. “Probably your oddly pacif… spe… specific denial.” Thorax blinked, and the world found him— once again— enlightened by the new tidbit of information. “… Oh.” “Oh,” Lepidos parroted sarcastically. --- Washing finished, Celestia lay on a couch in the living area of the farmhouse. It was actually very nice for her, having a rough and thorough scrub to get all the mud off of her. Her palace servants— when she actually let them into the bathroom with her— were just way too gentle. (2) The way Applejack treated the job she charitably took upon herself as a chore rather than a privilege was quite a breath of fresh air; she had no silly mane-style after it all, her coat did not smell of any particularly noxious perfumes, and to top it all off she still was clean as a whistle! Yes, her bath made her feel much better after all the trouble she had with the farm work. “Uncle” thorax however, was not in quite such a good mood. The warm and inviting atmosphere of the little farmhouse did very little to make him feel better. Not even the “cult” of harmony congregated behind him could do anything to soothe his nerves; not their cute, bright eyes, not lepidos’ sympathetic demeanor as she lay right next to him, not Brother Formici’s official invitation to his cult… The way he was shaking like a leaf reminded her of her sun, always frightened that she was going to put it out. I’m going to have to get in touch with it soon, she thought to herself, it’s probably worried sick ever since I cut off my cosmic link a couple days ago. She shook her head, the gesture noticeable only to herself. No matter, I’ll just have to have that conversation tonight. Celestia cleared her throat to get the attention of the new and interesting addition to the group of changelings. When Thorax jumped at the interruption to the quiet, Celestia returned a tender smile. “Thorax, the fact that you didn’t try to attack me when you first saw me in pony already makes you a better changeling than any of your kind that tried to raid Canterlot. I’m not going to hurt you.” This did little to soothe the poor changeling; in fact he shrunk further into himself, whimpering. “You’re not gonna lock me up, are you?” “Oh goodness, no,” she said with a wave of a hoof, “if I were to do that it wouldn’t help me, and it certainly wouldn’t help you or the nymphs.” Thorax nodded nervously. “O-okay, what’re you g-gonna do to me?” “I just intend to ask a couple questions about your involvement in Canterlot,” she said, “I understand that Lepidos seems rather fond of you, but I want to make sure that love isn’t misplaced. You can start by telling me what you were supposed to do during the wedding incident.” Thorax squeaked, a sound only audible within a hoof-length or two from is source, and only if one still had full range of hearing in the higher pitches; this was Thorax’ attempt to answer the request without saying anything at all. It was cute enough to draw a smirk from Celestia, but she wasn’t buying it. Following the tilt of her head, he chose to properly answer the query—lest Celestia’s (actually practically infinite) wellspring of patience ran dry and he was thrown out into the Everfree or something by his ears. “I-I-I w-was a m-medical officer… Ma’am.” Celestia giggled at the nervous stuttering. Poor thing, he’s tripping over his words! “I see. It’s a very important position Thorax, you should be proud of that. But tell me, what were you supposed to do as medical officer?” “I… officially I was supposed to tend to any changeling wounded in battle that I could… b-but they actually w-wanted me to care for officers and ignore hoof-soldiers.” “And what of ponies?” she asked, “I would imagine that a hurt pony would find it harder to feel love.” The entire cult of harmony nodded in collective agreement to her statement— also very cute to Celestia. Thorax gazed sadly at the one pony filly in the room— the little apple tilting her head in confusion. “Ponies… were out of the question. They were the enemy after all.” Celestia struggled to hold in her anger. Oh yes, it was completely understandable that no soldier would do anything to tend to a wounded enemy, it was still an outrage that Thorax’s superiors that day had the gall to demand sole care from the field medics, to completely ignore the underlings who half the time knew better than their officers— her teeth ground against each-other in an attempt to stifle a growl. It failed, and poor Thorax whimpered at the sound— as did the other changelings. To this, Celestia resolutely stood up tall, hopped off her couch, determinedly stepped over to the sole worker changeling in the entire room, and when she lay herself down in front of him, ever-so-gently touched her head to Thorax’ skull, horns crossing, white-against-black. This was incredibly awkward for Thorax. If chitin had the pores for it, he’d be sweating buckets. “U-uhm?!” “Thorax,” she asked softly, “you do know those officers ordered something heinous, right?” Thorax’s eyes awkwardly crossed as he tried to look back at her. “Y-yes?” “You also know that an order like that must be disobeyed, yes?” Thorax nodded, still nervous being close to the most powerful princess on perhaps the entire planet. “…Did you obey those orders?” Thorax shook his head. “That’s very good to hear. So tell me, what did you do instead?” Celestia watched Thorax fidget in his current position with his head right up against hers. If she were honest with herself, she felt a little bit guilty about doing this particular method of interrogation to a pony so terrified to be in her presence… unfortunately, her acute need for information regarding the changeling worker’s involvement demanded that she do such a thing. She’d probably give him a cup of tea and a blanket after it was all over and done with, or something. As if it was an insurmountable effort to do so, Thorax answered the question, and completely honestly. “It-it was maybe five minutes after the shield broke… of course, there was the shouting of panicked ponies across the city, but while I was nervously watching the guards do a poor job defending the city… I saw a pony fall from a window several feet up and break her leg on the landing.” “Who was this pony?” She asked. “A little filly with a pink coat,” he answered; “she had a crown mark on her flank, and the little crown she was wearing before she fell was almost just like it.” Celestia saw Apple Bloom cringe out of the corner of her eye. Perhaps she recognized the pony in Thorax’s recollection? Celestia didn’t let it distract her. “I would have thought you’d managed to get her name.” Thorax’s ears twitched. “Th-there wasn’t any time; she was too busy crying her eyes out to get anything out of her a-and I only had enough time to splint the leg with hive material and calm her down enough to get her back in her bed before…” He whimpered; the recollection apparently painful. “… before some pink wall of death smashed me through the side of the house and into who knows where.” “Oh you poor thing,” she cooed, pulling Thorax into a hug and subsequently scaring him out of his wits. He struggled in vain for release as Celestia continued to speak words intended to be comforting. “I’m sure it must have been so hard for you to live among changelings who didn’t share your opinions of ponies…” Thorax squeaked in protest, “Y-your majesty, please!” “…And I’m sure it frustrated you to no end that they even bother to listen to what you were talking about…” “P-please let me go!” “No no, don’t talk yet; it’s okay, you don’t have to worry anymore.” Celestia’s hoof stroked Thorax’s fin, even as he tried to push her away and get back his personal space. “I promise you Thorax, for as long as you remain here, I will give you asylum here from the changeling kingdom, and full rights as a permanent resident or—” It was at that moment when a wayward hoof from Thorax— whom Celestia had apparently not noticed was having a heart-attack from the super-close physical contact— struck her in the nose with a sound much like a squeaky toy, bouncing her head back, ruffling her pink hair and completely disorienting her. Thorax took the moment of luck as an opportunity to scramble out of the now loose hoof-hold and dart for the nearest open door, screaming “BAD TOUCH! BAD PRINCESS TOUCH!” as he headed for the hills and out of sight. Celestia stared out the window of the farmhouse, hurt by what happened to her. “Was it something I said?” The nymphs in the room looked at each other, passing along an unspoken question. Then when they seemed to get an answer, Brother Formici, esteemed leader of the cult of harmony stepped forward, gingerly sitting down next to Celestia. “Mizz pegagorn,” he lisped, “While it waz kind of you to acczept Thorax under your friendzhip, perhapz you were exprezzingk your affection a little too haztily.” Celestia nodded softly. “I see; thank you little one.” Thorax was going to need cookies too; a blanket and tea were insufficient. But for now, she spent long enough not following the list Twilight had prepared for her. She still had time before she had to fetch Sunset from the high school she was attending. Now… where did my bookish little ex-student run off to?