Students passed newspapers around. When there were not enough, they shared, and there was never enough of anything in Griffonstone. Clusters of three to five griffons would form around a single paper, taking turns reading the front-page article and waiting to turn the paper.
“Princess Flurry Heart Unilaterally Suspends Griffon/Crystal Non-Aggression Pact!” It read. “War Looms?”
Cheval rolled her eyes. “That’s just sensationalism. Flurry Heart is the heir, not the ruling princess. She has no power to break any treaties, much less declare war.”
“Mmph.” Gia packed a remarkable amount of skepticism into a single sound. Then she read aloud from the article. “‘The so-called ‘Republic of Griffonstone’ is nothing more than an oppressive, totalitarian state, unworthy of our loyalty. Our treaty with them is just a piece of paper.’”
“Well I’m sorry she hurt your feelings.” Cheval snapped. A biting wit had come more naturally to her as of late. “But saying something mean about you is not the same as suspending a treaty.”
Gideon, still in his cadet uniform, tapped the paper with a claw. “She wouldn’t say something like that in public if she wasn’t speaking for her mother.”
“Wait, she might.” Griz, the fourth of their group, looked up from the paper. His brow furrowed. “I can’t remember. Is Flurry Heart the changeling or the dumb one?”
Later, a griffon Griz didn’t know tripped him when they were at the top of a flight of stairs. He went down hard and broke a wing. The stranger fled.
Cheval had a mild interest in math. She would read books about it, and listened when her tutors taught her, but nopony ever thought of her as a budding mathematician. She’d get bored of it after the longer lessons, and ask to go study something else.
But Cross Product never got bored of math. It enraptured her. It animated her. A fascinating theorem would set her heart to racing and paint a smile on her face. She’d hug her fellow students when they came to understand, and share in their joy.
Cheval had learned to change forms during her nymph years, as changelings should. But to her, it had never been anything but a mask. Cross Product was the first time she understood her aunt’s lessons.
She knew Cross Product’s joy, but she didn’t feel it. She felt the friendship of her fellow students, the lust of the one griffon in her class who had eyes for ponies, the irritation of those overwhelmed by her energy, and the interest of her professors. She controlled Cross Product, and Cross Product controlled them. None the wiser.
It was a powerful lesson, but casual friendships were not sustaining. Her gut threatened to devour the rest of her flesh.
“Hey, Gia?” Cross Product called, all sing-song. Green flashed behind her eyes. “Take a nap.”
A green bolt shot from Cheval’s horn and struck Gia through the ears. Her eyes rolled back into her skull, and a moment later, her limp body impacted her desk. The cheap little board rattled and the chain that connected it to the wall of their room clattered with the motion. Her textbook tumbled from the edge, and pages crumpled as it landed spine-side up.
Cheval took Gia’s form. She stripped away the few articles of clothing Gia wore and inspected her naked body, careful to get every detail correct.
The distinctive scarf was the only tricky part. Changeling magic could create clothes, but the clothes would be a part of her body. It was thus ill-advised to create any clothing that could get easily yanked, caught or torn. Jewelry was fine, but with a scarf, it would be all too easy to give herself away.
So she stole the scarf too, and left Gia crumpled on the cold concrete.
Ever since he’d called her needy, Cheval had never once been able to deceive Gideon. Every time she had Cross Product make a nice gesture, do something kind or thoughtful, Gideon would watch her closely, and she’d know he knew. One day, she was sure, he’d make a good officer of the secret police.
She sauntered out of her room and locked the door behind her. Spreading her new, luxuriously wide wings, she flew across the campus to the square. He was waiting for her there, sitting on a bench much too small for him.
“Hey,” Gia said. And yet, he watched her more closely.
He knew something was amiss, but it was not suspicion that flooded her senses. He was worried for the griffon he loved, and his love and concern washed over her like a wave. She wrapped her forelimbs around him, held him tight, and ate her fill.
A lesser griffon would have lost consciousness from so sudden a theft. But like Shining Armor before him, Gideon held on. Trying to ignore his sudden headache, he pushed her away. “What’s wrong?”
He could always tell when she lied. And so Cheval did exactly what Gia did.
“I love you,” she said.
Cross Product missed class that Wednesday. She had to care for Gia. The poor thing had come down with a terrible fever, so bad she could barely remember the last two days.
Granulated quinidine in Gia’s morning pancakes served to induce fever. Gideon accepted the ruse, and upon seeing Gia in a hot sweat, thought nothing of the fact that she couldn't remember their last date. He suspected nothing of Cross Product. He would never have left Gia in her care if he did.
All that went just as Cheval had planned. What she had not thought through was that, during the day, she would actually have to care for Gia while the poison worked its way out of her system.
“Can I ask you a question?” Gia said, tucked under four layers of blankets. Her eyes were shut, and she sounded half-asleep.
“Sure,” Cheval was at her desk, working through a homework assignment.
“You’ve traveled. Is everywhere as bad as it is here?”
The scribbling of Cheval’s pencil stopped. The light around her horn faded, and pencil fell to her desk. “Um.” She didn’t turn around to look at the bed. “No. No, it’s um… other places get a lot better than this. Yeah.”
“Good.” Gia sniffled. “It’s nice that some creature has it better. I really hate concrete.”
“Well, you know. It’s…” Cheval trailed off. “You should go to sleep.”
“I’m sick. Not dead.” She lapsed into an extended silence, and Cheval rolled her pencil back and forth with a hoof. But before she could pick it up again, Gia asked, “What’s the Crystal Empire like?”
“Beautiful. Nice.” She shrugged. “Mostly cold, but the capital is warm.”
“I could read all that in a book. I meant, what’s it like?”
A sharp snort escaped Cheval’s muzzle. Her equine tail lashed, in a moment most unlike Cross Product. It was a break of character, even if there was no griffon around to notice. “Since when do you care?” she snapped.
“Since you’re here.” Gia let out a weak laugh all her own. “I know you don’t actually like me that much. But you still, you know, do things. Bake and remember birthdays and take care of griffons when they’re sick. And I’ve been kind of an ingrate about it.”
“You’re sick, and we’re friends, so I’m taking care of you. Don’t overcomplicate it.” She rubbed her temples with a hoof. “And the Crystal Empire is fine. It’s great, and it’s fine.”
“So why did you leave? If it’s so great and fine.”
“Because it was complicated. You want to know what the Crystal Empire is really like?” Cheval finally turned around to face the bed. “It’s complicated. And I didn’t like it.”
“Yeah?” Gia’s voice was still soft, if not quite so distant as it had been. “Complicated how?”
“War is wrong. Good ponies solve their problems with friendship and magic instead of violence. But when Queen Amaryllis conquered the Yak, she rained treasure down on every single crystal pony. So that her glories would be our glories. And we increased the size of the army, so that we would be like her instead of being like the Yak. So war is wrong,” she spat the word, “except when you win.”
“You left because someone gave you treasure?”
“I left because we’re the most powerful Empire in the world, and a tribute state, and a laughingstock, and a magical kingdom, and a place where cruel reality asserts itself.” The words came hot, and with a sharp snap behind them. “Everypony knows we rule half the north and nopony knows where our border is. I left because there are more crystal ponies serving in Queen Amaryllis’s army than in Princess Cadence’s army and I'm supposed to cheer when they put on a parade. I left because good ponies obey their princess but when I see a crystal pony who says he wants to surrender the monarchy, I have to smile.”
Cheval waited for Gia to speak. When no sound emerged from under the covers, she sharply turned back to the desk. “Here, I know what I am, and it’s better that way.”
“I’m sorry,” Gia said. She was not a kind griffon. She used people, took advantage, and strung along a lover she did not love in turn. But at that moment, she felt a pang of genuine sympathy for the pony sitting across from her.
Cheval ate it.
Already weakened by the poison, Gia’s digestive system reacted violently to the loss of vital energy, and she vomited over the side of the bed.
Cheval had briefly impersonated many ponies—stealing the form of friends, lovers, and children for a few precious seconds. Such short jaunts were time enough to consume the love of those who cared for them, and if they were not pleasant, they were safe. The longer she stayed in the form of another griffon, the higher the odds she’d be detected.
Gia was the only griffon she’d impersonated for any length of time, and she only did it in front of Gideon. His love was sweet but not saccharine, thick but not stubborn. The sort of fluid that could harden into a lifelong relationship. She imagined it was a bit like what honey would taste like.
One one day in the spring, she thought to spend time with Gideon as Cross Product. It was almost like spending time with him as herself.
The campus had thawed the last day, but frozen again overnight, and everything was covered in a thin layer of fresh ice. Gideon had slipped and hit his face on the pavement, so they’d stopped by a bench while Cheval tended to him. She held a cloth to the cut on his face and used her pony magic to staunch the wound, even after he told her not to.
“What’s it like having a magic bone in your forehead?” he asked.
“What’s it like having knives instead of forehooves?” she replied, raising an eyebrow.
He paused, then chuckled. “What’s it like when griffons stop you in the street to say you’re adorable?”
She poked him with a hoof. “What’s it like when griffons stop you in the street to snitch out their neighbors for the reward?”
“It sucks.”
“Well I don’t like being cute either. Shut your eyes.” Once his eyes were closed, she removed the bloody cloth from his forehead and leaned up to inspect the wound. She eyed the cut, tested to see if it was bleeding, and then sniffed the open wound. “Looks like you’ll live. Just a scratch.”
She tucked the cloth into her saddlebags and settled back down. Gideon reopened his eyes. “Thanks,” he said.
“Anytime.” She folded one hoof over the other. “Seriously though, why?” A gesture at his cadet uniform accentuated her question.
“I hate hypocrisy.”
She feigned a wound, lifting a hoof to her forehead. “And you hang out with me?”
“You’re not a hypocrite. You’re a liar.” He turned away from her, staring off into the frozen campus.
“Oh.” Her tail tucked in between her legs, and she looked the other way -- back towards the dorms. “Sorry.”
Silence hung between them for a time. They both looked back at the other, but couldn’t think of anything to say. Cheval was the one who broke it. “So then, you really believe in all this? With the concrete and the propaganda and the International Party.”
He didn’t hesitate, and his voice was calm. “No system is perfect. But I think the Party is what’s best for Griffonstone right now. And I think that as long as there are governments, there will need to be creatures willing to use force to enact those governments' edicts.”
“‘Behind all kings and princesses, all government and law, stand army-corps and cavaliers to hold the world in awe. Sword-strong races rule the sky, and rule the earth once more, and liberty for those below comes but through deeds of war.’”
They weren’t Cheval’s words, but she said them anyway. Then her tail tightened under her, and she looked at the bench. She flinched, as though to ward off some future blow.
But all Gideon said was, “I’ve read that book. But I thought it was banned in Equestria.”
“It is. But my mother gave me a copy anyway.” Cheval said. “She was… a bad pony. My mother. I get it from her.”
“You’ve implied as much a few times. It’s fine. I’m not mad, Cross.”
She licked her lips. He clicked his beak together a few times. Then, he broke the silence, “How’s Gia doing?”
“Better. She’s been sick a lot lately. I mean, you know that. But it looks like she’s finally kicked the fever.” Cheval lifted her head. “Or were you asking about something more specific?”
“Does she ever talk about me?”
“Sure.” Cheval tilted her head. Then she smiled and laughed. “What’s not to talk about? Half the griffons on campus would kill to have you as a boyfriend. Specifically the female half.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Then what do you mean?” she asked. When Gideon didn’t answer her, she rose from where she stood. With their extreme height disparity, she could stand on the bench itself and still look him in the eye. “Hey, she’s been sick, okay? And you know Gia. She’s not the fluffy type at the best of times. But she loves you. Next time you meet, tell her how much you care about her. And she’ll say the same right back.”
“So she talked with you about this?”
“I’m a pony. It’s innate.” She grinned. “Let me know if you two want to sing a good love song together—I can make a musical happen.”
“Maybe not.” He chuckled too though. “I’ll talk with her. You want to finish that walk?”
“Sure.” Cheval lept down off the bench. When she hit the ground, something in her left made a loud snap.
She froze to the spot. Her entire body went stock still. In a matter of seconds, her eyes dilated.
“What’s wrong?” Gideon was in front of her in less than a second, his concern washing over her. “Cross? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she stammered. “Nothing’s wrong. I cracked a hoof. I’m in a bit of pain. I’ll be fine, but I need to take the weight off it. Sorry, I need to go back to my dorm. We’ll finish the walk later.”
Before he could object further, she vanished with a soft pop.
Cheval couldn’t teleport all the way back to the dorms. She appeared behind a nearby statue and hid until Gideon left. She walked back to the dorm on three legs, badly limping the entire way.
By the time she reached her room, her front left leg was twisted all the way around. Her knee bent backwards instead of forward, and her hoof was stuck on sideways. Her sandy coat was splotched with orange, and the hoof itself was bulging outwards like it was melting. She stepped in, shut the door behind her, locked it, and checked for Gia.
Once she was sure she was alone, she reverted back to her natural form. Her carapace was covered in small cracks. Over her front-left leg, it had actually broken, and a crack ran all the way from her shoulder to her knee. Wisps of improperly processed transformation magic still hovered around that crack -- a green haze in the air that never quite cleared.
“Oh, horseapples.” Cheval hissed. “What do I do? I need to uh…” The gears in her head turned. “Find an empty dorm room. Lock myself in it for a few days. Say I went on a bender.”
She’d stolen a utility key from the janitor weeks ago, and hidden it under her bed. She lit her horn, intending to draw the key out and make good on her escape. A loud crack emerged from her horn. The light went out, and her telekinesis failed her.
She had to bite her lip to stop from screaming. Her breath came in quick, deep gasps.
Then a key turned in the lock behind her. She dove onto her bed and pulled the covers around herself, wrapping up so tight that not even the tip of her nose could be seen. Her carapace produced a symphony of cracks and pops all the while—like she was walking on broken glass.
Gia stepped into the room, slamming the door behind her. “Ugh. Cross? Are you awake? I need to borrow your homework.”
“Fine, take it,” she said. But she said it in her own voice, not Cross Product’s.
Gia frowned. In a mad panic, Cheval tried to transform her voice box, but all she managed to do was make a sound like she was gargling marbles. “Go away,” she croaked.
“It’s my room.” Gia covered the distance to the bed. “You’re not my roommate. So who the hell—” She grabbed a corner of the covers with a talon and yanked.
The rest of her sentence went unspoken as she abruptly fell into silence. Before her lay a changeling, still wearing Cross Product’s saddlebags, it’s carapace cracked in dozens of places. The changeling stared at her, and she stared at it, both of them with wide eyes.
“Um…” Gia finally said. “You’re hurt. You’re um… you’re hurt.”
“I’m not injured. I’m molting.” Cheval spoke slowly, and her sentences were full of unnatural pauses. “It’s the process where a changeling sheds their exoskeleton.”
“Okay.” Gia stood stiff, the blanket still grasped in her hands. “Because you look really hurt. Like you look like you’re going to die.”
“I’m not. My outer shell is destroying itself to make room for the new shell to come in.” When that didn’t adequately resolve the situation, Cheval asked, “Are you going to turn me in?”
“Um. No. Not right now.” Gia clicked her beak. “Do you need me to do anything?”
“No. I’m going to need a lot of rest for the next few days while the new exoskeleton hardens, but that’s it.”
“Okay,” Gia said again. “Well, I’ll um… I’ll stay. Let me know if you want water, or something.”
“That’s um…” Cheval’s eyes flicked over every part of Gia, looking for the something in her face or posture. “You might want to look away for this part. It’s pretty nasty.”
“I’ll watch, thanks.”
Cheval hardly had ground to object further. So she reached back, wrapped her teeth around the base of her left wing, and ripped the wing out of her back by its socket. The right wing followed. Then she ripped her tail out of her spine.
Once the accessories were gone, she reached up to her head, found a suitable crack around the base of her jawline, and tore her face off her skull.