Long, wormlike, glutenous strings sat endlessly entwined on the blinding white plate in front of Pharynx. “Spaghetti”, they were called. He assumed that the word for a singular noodle was “spaghet”, as he had heard one of the chefs calling it that from the kitchen. Red sauce stubbornly clung to each spaghet. He resisted the urge to start flicking it off via gathering a bundle of spaghet up and shaking them back and forth on his fork. Apparently, the sauce was made from beets, but he was still unfamiliar with Bitalian culture and subtleties, and as such he didn’t trust a thing that his waiter had said to him. For all he knew, it was some form of mind-numbing substance.
He narrowed his eyes at the plate of food, still steaming. He wouldn’t be intoxicated by spaghetti if he could help it.
Many changelings had taken up eating pony food as a way to supplement their main diet of love and other emotions, but a select few had chosen to remain pure. He was one of the few.
Somehow, he was lucky enough to have never tasted pony food in his entire life, even in the old days, he always had an excuse up his sleeve for why his disguises couldn’t ever eat anything. The amount of sicknesses that ponies could acquire which required skimping out of food was more than abundant.
From a political point of view, he understood why his brother would need to eat pony food—food was an important part of other cultures, and by eating something other than emotion he would seem a little more relatable to potential allies—but love was all he really needed. Love was all his entire race needed.
Deciding to take his mind off the food, he looked up and across the room, towards the real reasons for why he had taken a pony form and was currently sitting in a Bitalian restaurant, hating every inch of himself with every fibre of his being.
Thorax and Ocellus were at a large table in the midst of a confusing arrangement of foreign dignitaries. Most of them were different breeds of ponies, but a griffon or two sat at the edge of the table, looking rather bored by the constant chatter.
Pharynx watched closely as his kin slurped up their bundles of spaghet and drank the strange red liquid that he knew as “wine”, tapping into his empathic senses to get a feel for their emotional states. Thorax had an ample amount of nervousness coming off of him. That wasn’t worrying, considering that he was currently representing the changeling kingdom in front of multiple ambassadors that could ruin their race if they wanted to. Ocellus, on the other hand, seemed rather calm. She had clearly studied each culture at the table and was handling herself rather well.
Pharynx felt rather proud. She’d make a fine ambassador after her education with Equestria’s heroes one day, as long as she got over her pre-meeting anxiety and was properly trained in self-defence under his tutelage. Especially that second part. Her and Thorax being helpless in battle was the entire reason why he was there. It wouldn’t do their race any good if they were suddenly attacked and killed at a dinner where their guard was let down because they were so focused on making friends.
“Sir?” A pegasus waitress was standing over her shoulder, plates balanced on her slightly outstretched wings and a look of concern etched into her features.
“Yes?” Pharynx smiled according to usual pony etiquette. In the back of his mind he hoped that his disguise for the evening, a pink unicorn stallion with blonde hair, looked friendly enough without looking like he was trying too hard. He was out of practice after not having to infiltrate for nearly two years, now.
“Is there something wrong with the food?” the waitress asked. “You’ve been staring off into the distance for a while now. I thought that I might check up on you.”
Hive on fire. He was going to have to eat the food. Sending it back would make a scene that he didn’t need to make. Even if he did, he’d have to eat it anyway. “Oh, no, no,” he laughed. “I was just distracted by my own thoughts—there’s nothing wrong with the food.”
Tapping into his magic, he levitated the fork and stabbed at the orgy of noodles, spinning it to make a decently-sized bundle of spaghetti before floating it into his mouth.
The spaghetti tasted amazing. Each spaghet was perfectly firm and stuck to his fangs in a way that he had never experienced food before—mostly because he had never experienced non-feeling food before. The spaghetti tasted like his favorite strain of joy.
The kind of joy that a young stallion had when he hadn’t seen his best friend in a long while due to something of his own design—usually travel—and then saw that best friend for the first time after stepping off of a train. The kind of bright light sparking within him like a fire flying out from a stick of flint.
Hearty. Warming. Comforting.
Pharynx shuddered, sitting back in his seat as his eyes closed and he made a soft murmur of delight.
He heard the waitress giggle and walk away, but kept his relaxed position. His ears swivelled towards where he knew Thorax and Ocellus were, always being sure to keep tabs on the two, but now a majority of his mind was soaking in this new revelation.
Pony food tasted amazing.
“Pharyyyynx! We brought you some take-out!” Thorax called as he stepped into the spacious, three story loft they had been given by the Bitalian nobility for the duration of their stay. The thing had taken almost an hour to check for surveillance spells and the like, but in the end Pharynx had approved.
Pharynx sat up from his spot on the couch, pretending that he had been awakened from a good nap. “Take-out?”
“Bitalian pony food!” Thorax explained cheerfully, walking over and setting it down on the table in front of him. Behind the king, Ocellus climbed the stairs to the guest bedroom. “And I know that you don’t want to eat pony food, and I think that’s fine—if you don’t want it, then just leave it here, but I really think that you should—“
It was spaghetti. Pharynx had opened the cardboard box and was digging in before Thorax could say his next word.
Tangible joy graced his tastebuds. Pharynx tried his best to act like it was merely passable. It didn’t work.
He felt his brother smile beside him. “You like it!”
It was no use to lie—Thorax was too close. He nodded, swallowing down another bite of spaghetti. “I do.”
“I’m glad,” Thorax murmured.
“Me too,” Pharynx said. “You’d think that pony food tasted like garbage, because they themselves are pretty close to garbage, but—“
“I’m glad you’re finally starting to open up, Pharynx. I’m so proud of you for trying new things.”
He blinked. “Uh, what?”
Green legs wrapped around Pharynx’s upper torso and pulled, tugging him into a warm chest and nuzzling snout.
Pharynx frowned, about to protest, and then stopped. Love was pouring out of Thorax like a waterfall, cascading down into his tastebuds and pairing delightfully with the already delicious taste of the spaghetti. He decided to let it happen, letting his brother hug and nuzzle him as much as he wanted.
“This really means a lot to me, Pharynx. You won’t regret it. I love you so much.”
“Uhhhh,” he said, still confused as to how to react. “Okay. Sure. Yeah.”
Bitalians sure liked their columns. Their love for them surely rivalled Chrysalis’s love for holes.
Morning light shone through the windows shining on the rows and rows of columns that stood stalwart to either side of Pharynx, preventing the muraled roof above his head from crashing down on him, turning him into a splat on the red velvet rugs that seemed to cover the middle of every hall of the Bitalian consulate; a red streak across the white marble floors that lay naked underneath.
He wondered if vandalizing or even just stepping on marble was a crime in Bitaly. He couldn’t think of any other reason for why the ponies there had gone to such lengths to make it the base for their fancy floors, and then prevent anycreature’s bare hooves from actually stepping on it.
The hive had simple volcanic rock everywhere and nothing else, save for the occasional bed of moss. No majesty, pomp, or circumstance. Just simple needs, simple solutions, and simple desires. It was easy. Familiar. With all the extra stresses that Thorax had started putting on himself, rarely anything seemed simple anymore. There was always a new custom for him to learn, or a new standard for him to adhere to.
Pharynx was glad he wasn’t ruler of the hive. He wasn’t glad that the current meeting required him to be outside of the room.
Great brown doors watched him from a distance, inlaid with ornate carvings that glowed and rumbled on occasion. Soundproof spells and shock absorption spells––to soften yelling and prevent serious fights.
Pharynx felt the urge to profess his belief that he could fight and win against anycreature there, even with his blows softened.
But who would he even say that to? His brother, who would look at him with those overly kind eyes and quietly disapprove? Who would tell him, “I bet you could, but you wouldn’t ever need to. Not anymore,” and then attempt to change the subject?
His wings fluttered. He went towards the doors, getting almost within six hooves of them before two pony guards in golden armor blocked his path.
“Approved foreign leaders and emissaries only,” the one on the right said.
“I just need to check on my brother,” Pharynx explained. He thought back to the moment he had refused to go to any of the meetings during the summit, feeling the cloying taste of regret in his mouth.
“King Thorax is just fine, sir.” The guard shifted hooves, like he were bored.
Which really pissed Pharynx off.
“Are you preventing the leader of the changeling army from seeing his ruler, pony?”
He met the guard’s stare with a glare that could break bones, crouching lower and lower, inching down into his combat stance—
The doors opened. Creatures of all kinds streamed out of the conference room, flowing around him like he was a rock in a river. Most of them were ponies, but there were all kinds of griffons, a few zebras, a yak prince and a couple of hippogriffs added into the strange mix. Pharynx kept an idle but watchful eye on all of them as they passed, keeping most of his focus on finding the familiar lime green chitin of his younger brother.
A minute seemed to pass until finally he spotted Thorax coming out, leisurely chatting with a blue dragon at his side.
Dragon Lord Ember. Pharynx had yet to meet her in person. Apparently she was good friends with his brother, and was teaching him about assertiveness, whatever that meant. As far as he could see, Thorax was the same spineless, sentimental fool that he had known for all his life. The only change that Ember had seemed to bring out in him was a cloying crush that made talking about her a crack in his carapace.
He trotted over to greet them halfway.
“––and then we can go to the beach and trot by the water and then we can fly over the ocean and oh hi Pharynx!” Thorax shifted his attention as the older brother approached.
Pharynx nodded in Thorax’s direction before turning to properly greet Ember. “Dragon Lord Ember. Thorax has told me about you.”
“Has he?” Ember asked, giving her fellow ruler a side eye. “What’s he been saying?”
“I don’t listen to most of it, but he seems very enamoured with your eyes.”
“Pharynx!”
“What?” he asked. “It’s true.”
“You’re not supposed to—“ Thorax stopped himself. “I mean, I said nothing about her eyes!”
“You did say some things, though?” Ember’s cheeks twitched.
“I…”
“Were they good things, Thorax?”
“O-Of course, but I don’t want you to think that I was talking about you behind your back and—“
Pharynx stopped listening, instead watching the two of them interact. Thorax was a mess, as usual, but something about the dragon lord surprised him: she was actually listening attentively, not speaking out of turn or over him at any point. The gentle look on such a dangerous creature reminded Pharynx of the few times he saw Chrysalis in the hive nursery. It was a phenomenon; unsettling and fascinating at the same time.
Something that Thorax had stammered out caused Ember to giggle, and sweet emotion leapt into Pharynx’s tastebuds. The sort of infatuation coming off the two was like a saccharine mist.
He had mixed feelings, of course. Affection tasted wonderful, but it was his brother’s affection for another creature. Something about tasting it felt unbelievably wrong.
Still, he sat there and ate it. It would be stupid of him to refuse a free meal.
“—anyway, Pharynx, did you want something from me?” Thorax nudged him, in a hurry to move to another subject.
“We have some business to discuss regarding the hive.”
He watched as Thorax’s brows scrunched up, and his mouth curved slightly downwards. He noticed as Ember sensed the shift as well, one of her claws raising up, and then falling back down to her sides. Confusion and concern came off of her, directed towards the changeling king.
Pharynx approved of her. She wasn’t stupid, unlike most dragons he had met.
He shook his head at Thorax. “Don’t worry. Cornicle’s having some trouble corralling the nymphs and settling some disagreements. It’s nothing we won’t be able to fix with a letter, but we do need to discuss this.”
Thorax nodded, and turned to Ember. “Hey, I’ll—“
“Tomorrow, at the…coffee place, right?” Ember said.
“Café.” Thorax smiled.
To Pharynx’s surprise, his brother leaned forward and nuzzled the slender blue dragon right under the crook of her neck.
“I’ll see you,” he said.
Ember was too flabbergasted to speak.
Pharynx didn’t blame her. It seemed that her lessons on assertiveness were actually working.
It turned out that towards the end of that afternoon, they had a spot of free time, and neither of the brothers objected to the idea that they use it to lie on their couches and do nothing at all.
It had been a long day. After sorting out the select problems with Cornicle, Pharynx’s second-in-command and the drone that they had left in charge of the hive, Thorax had several other meetings to attend to. They were meetings that allowed for Pharynx’s presence, at least, but they quickly turned from ‘less boring than waiting outside’ to becoming infinitely boring on their own.
Pharynx soaked in the golden glory of the rays of light beaming in from the windows, feeling the soft, plush texture of the couch underneath his belly coax him into a state of true relaxation––the kind he hadn’t felt since leaving the hive.
“I’m sorry,” said Thorax, somewhere vaguely to his side.
Pharynx exhaled. “For what?”
“I can tell that you’re homesick.”
“What?” Pharynx snorted. “Don’t be stupid.”
“You can go back, if you want.”
“I don’t need to go back.”
“But you want to?”
Pharynx rolled to his side and opened his eyes, staring intently at the white fabric of the couch. “The ruler of the hive needs the best guards with him. What will it look like if my brother gets in trouble while I’m lounging around at home? We’ll lose all respect for our power within the hive, and the next you will overthrow us and potentially destroy all diplomatic ties you’ve managed to make for us thus far.”
“…You sound excited by that idea.”
“Maybe I’m itching for some action. Honestly, part of the reason I’ve been longing for the hive is because I’ve realized that ponies are utterly incapable of any excitement. I mean, come on, we’ve been away from the hive for a month now and the most I’ve had to protect you from is a dignitary mispronouncing your name.”
“So you are homesick!”
“I never said I wasn’t.” Pharynx stretched a leg out, feeling a small pop in his shoulder joint. “But I trust Cornicle. She’s become a decent member of my patrol, and we can always use the teleportation spell if we need to get back to the hive quick.”
Thorax whined softly in discomfort. “I don’t like that we keep that thing around.”
“Deal with it. You already had us toss out the communication scarabs.”
“Because—“
“I know. You don’t need to explain it to me again. Let’s drop this before I get another lecture from you about how you don’t want anything from Chrysalis’s reign around because it makes you feel bad.”
Thorax went silent. Pharynx wondered if he went too far.
Then decided that even if he did, he didn’t care.
He closed his eyes and focused on the sunlight, and all the idle love drifting in from outside.
“Where’s Ocellus?” he asked.
He heard his brother shift his seating. “Discussing a trade deal with Queen Novo.”
Pharynx sat up and turned around, eyes wide. “You’re letting her handle the hippogriffs?”
Across the room was Thorax, reclined peacefully with a big, stupid smile on his face. “How do you think we have so much free time right now?”
“Why did you think that was a good idea? Queen Novo will take it—“
“She knows that I’ve been feeling overworked recently, and she was happy to let an emissary come and discuss the boring stuff with her if it meant that I could catch a break. Plus, Ocellus knows them better than I do.”
Pharynx reexamined the smile on Thorax’s face, this time finding hints of smugness and calculation. “You’re not feeling overworked. You love diplomatic meetings. What’s this really about?”
“Oh, nothing,” giggled Thorax. “Just that my big brother’s finally opening up, and even missing me a little bit when he can’t come to meetings with me.”
“That—I do not—“
“When you fed off of mine and Ember’s emotions, I could feel yours, as well,” Thorax cut in, smile growing a smidge wider. “ "Not that I needed that initial link, but it made everything so clear. You missed me, and you were worried. And I thought that maybe you were bored, which you are, and also that you were homesick, which you are again. So, I figured that we could spend some quality time together today. I’ll say it one more time: Queen Novo was happy to reschedule last minute. She’s a sweetheart.”
Pharynx narrowed his eyes at his brother, ignoring the heat rising in his neck and face. “You can’t just skip out on your duties because of some ridiculous—“
“I’m done!” Thorax said, and held up a small plush toy.
Pharynx looked at it. “How were you sewing this whole time? I didn’t notice anything.”
“I’m sneaky.” Thorax winked.
“You are anything but—is that supposed to be me?”
“Yep!”
Thorax tossed the toy over and Pharynx caught it with his hoof, holding it eye-level to examine it closely.
It seemed that he was holding a smaller version of himself. His face was twisted into a ferocious growl, and the silk that he was made with played nicely with the light, catching on the edges of his form so as to make him look more menacing. And that wasn’t even the most impressive part. Somehow, Thorax had managed to create and stuff tiny little fangs into his mouth, tipped red in what he could only assume to be the blood of his enemies.
Overall, not bad. He set the miniature version of himself on the table.
“Craft time’s paying off, huh?” Thorax chuckled.
Pharynx glanced at his brother and made a show of raising an eyebrow, before bringing his gaze back to the plush.
He didn’t realize until later on, but he didn’t take his eyes off of it until it was time to leave the loft again.
The next morning Thorax had woken him early, insisting that they go to a specific spot in the local market.
That spot turned out to be a dusty old magical artifact preserve in the middle of a street that was much too busy for Pharynx’s liking, and it was something like half an hour before Thorax had finally concluded his business there, trotting up to proudly announce that—
“I got us necklaces!”
Pharynx sighed. “What?”
“I got us—“
“No, I heard you, you dolt. Why?”
“Because they look cool!” chirped Thorax, proudly puffing out his chest, looking down at the thin band of metal wrapped comfortably around his neck. It was made with radiant gold and shaped to look like a pair of vines woven together, with a bright blue jewel inlaid into where the middle of his neck was.
Around them, ponies were stopping to stare. Pharynx fought off the urge to glare them away, instead directing that annoyance to his brother. “Is that it? Is that the kind of ruler you’re going to be? Unnecessary extravagance at the drop of a—“
Thorax touched a matching necklace—silver in color—to Pharynx’s chest.
“There’s also a communication spell enchanted into the metal,” spoke Thorax, directly into his mind.
Pharynx stepped back, but took the necklace with a hoof. “From how far away does it work?”
“The stallion who enchanted them said it would start getting static-y if you went more than halfway across Equestria, but anything within that limit is fine.”
“Why is this not a common item?”
“They’re working on it, apparently. Something called a ‘foam’ or something, I don’t know. I wasn’t listening because I was so excited!” Thorax fluttered his wings. “Do you like it, Pharynx? I think I want to get you a sword, next.”
Pharynx raised a brow. “I don’t need a sword. I have hooves. And claws, if I wanted. And just about anything that I can imagine.”
“But you’ll look even cooler! And super dignified. The Saddle Arabian sheik has a sword, and he looks extra cool and dignified, in addition to being as tall as Princess Celestia.”
“Why don’t you get one for yourself, then?”
“Because you’re my protector, silly!”
Pharynx was too slow to stop the lime green hoof from bumping gently against his snout. He swatted the thing away as soon as it made, contact, though.
And now Thorax was looking at him weirdly.
“What?” he asked.
“Did you smile after I booped your snoot just now?”
“No. Can we please get walking? We’re going to be late.”
“You did!”
“No I—“
Thorax was hugging him, now. Pharynx idly wished for death. He attempted to pull away from the bigger changeling’s grip, vehemently ignoring the many passersby who were now staring at the pair, but all that did was get Thorax to squeeze harder.
So he gave up, and a thought crawled out of the sandpit that was his frustration and declared that his brother was warm.
Very warm.
“I’ve been thinking,” said Pharynx.
Thorax looked up from his pile of paperwork, glancing over to where the older brother was curled up on the couch. “Uh huh?”
“The taste of pony food—“
“It’s like emotions?”
“Yes, but I was thinking that I wouldn’t mind going for some more. Just to compare.”
“So why don’t you?”
“No, that’s not what I…” Pharynx trailed off. “I was saying, that maybe I could go for some more sometime.”
“Right,” Thorax said, dragging the word out like Pharynx was a nymph. “So why don’t you?”
“Unable to pick up on implications and loaded sentences that play on relationship dynamics.” Pharynx groaned. “You are the worst changeling in the entire world, and somehow you’re our ruler.”
“What?”
“I’m asking if you want to get dinner with me, Thorax. Ocellus can come too.”
A moment passed as Thorax let the words process. For that single moment, Pharynx could only hear the drifting conversations of ponies in the street outside.
Buzzing filled his ears, and paired with that was Thorax’s pearly white teeth, glinting in the sunlight and nearly blinding him.
He drew back, but a long leg kept him from moving too far.
“You mean it?” asked Thorax.
“When did you learn to move so fast?”
“You mean it?”
“Please don’t hug me.”
“Pharynx!”
“Yes!” he barked. “Yes. I mean it. Let’s…eat. Together. Tomorrow afternoon. You’re supposed to see Ember later today, yes?”
“Yeah,” Thorax said. “Pharynx, we’ve never scheduled time to simply be together before.”
“I realized.”
Thorax’s leg began to tug.
“Don’t hug me,” said Pharynx.
Pharynx was hugged anyway.
He didn’t bother trying to fight it.
In fact, it never came to his mind.
Thorax had gone out to a full day of meetings, and for once, Pharynx had decided to stay back.
It was a split second decision. Just before leaving the loft, Thorax had turned to him and said, “You don’t have to come, you know. Everything I’m doing is all in the same building anyway, and that place is super secure. You can stay here, and meet me at the restaurant later, if you wanted! And I’ve got my necklace on, so it’s not like I’m gonna be alone.”
And that made sense, so Pharynx had said yes to his proposition. The communications necklaces would do their job, if anything went awry.
And now Thorax was late.
Why?
It didn’t make sense to Pharynx. ’Time’, in the way that ponies used it, never really did. Time was simply a way to measure how fast the Queen wanted her bidding done, after all. Time was an enemy that you had to fight against to service the hive in the best way possible, as soon as possible.
He tapped his hoof against his necklace, rubbing it against the bright blue jewel laid into the centre and watching it glow faintly with magic.
“Thorax. Where are you?”
Like the last dozen times he had tried, he received no response.
Maybe it was broken. He put his hoof down, feeling it clop against the dusty beige ground. He looked out to the ponies walking by, looking for his brother.
Ponies flooded his vision. Pastel blues, pinks, and yellows were everywhere to be found.
Every color of the rainbow, really, save for lime green.
“Sir?” someone said.
Pharynx turned to see a pegasus mare––the same one that had waited on him a few days ago, though she wouldn’t recognize his true form.
“What?” he asked.
“You’ve been standing here for an hour. Are you okay? Are you lost? Do you need me to call the consulate?”
“No!” he barked, feeling a small sense of satisfaction in her reactive flinch. “I’m just waiting for someone. My brother’s just running late. I’m—I’m alright.”
The mare nodded, and left, leaving Pharynx alone once again.
Thorax was late for something that he had surely been looking forward to for years. Something that he had dreamed of.
Pharynx looked to the sky, searching for smoke, or of any other sign that the fate of the world was in danger, but found only a cloudless sheet of silky blue.
Thorax was late. Maybe he had run into Ember?
But he would have never left with her without telling him.
“Pharynx?” A high pitched soprano interrupted his speculation.
He turned towards Ocellus, who stood, rubbing her leg. “Are you guys okay? We were all supposed to go to the gala tonight, remember?”
“I remember,” he said. “Do you know where Thorax is?”
“Wait, you guys haven’t even gone inside yet?”
“You haven’t seen him anywhere?”
Ocellus shook her head.
Pharynx’s wings buzzed out. “So neither of us have seen him all day, and now he’s an hour late for an important meeting.”
“…Pharynx?” She sounded like she was shivering. "Are you okay?"
“We have to consider the worst possibility,” he said. "There's no reason why he should be anywhere but here. His necklace isn't working, which means it's either junk or he isn't conscious enough to receive my messages. I've been waiting for an hour, Ocellus. We need to take action before it's too late."
He set his sights on the Bitalian consulate, tall and mysterious with its fading white marble and its many columns. “Thorax has gone missing. We have to find him. Now.”