//------------------------------// // The Future // Story: The Last Changeling // by GaPJaxie //------------------------------// Once upon a time, there was a changeling named Mirage. She was one of Cheval’s clutch-sisters, gifted to Cadence by Amaryllis. When Cadence decided to accept only one grub into the royal household, Mirage was given to a crystal pony family to raise as their own. Her parents were Quartz Strike and Rose Cut, and they loved her very much. She had two crystal pony sisters named Fire Stone and Heliodor. And when she was a young teenager, she suffered from depression, and spent time with the psychiatrist who would later treat Flurry Heart. She and her family lived in a two-story house on Idol Lane, six blocks from the palace and two from the library. When Quartz Strike spoke up against the Empire’s persecution of changelings and defended his daughter, the secret police came to that house in the middle of the night. They broke the door down, and a dozen ponies rushed inside. Mirage escaped. The rest of her family did not. With Cigar Dream’s help, she fled to Equestria, and thereafter to the Ponyville Hive. She became passing friends with Light, completed her medical training and became a doctor, and was one of the few changelings qualified to treat pony illnesses. She also adopted two children: an earth pony filly and a unicorn colt. She told them stories about the little two-story house in Idol Lane. She talked about how beautiful it was, about the gardens full of crystal berries, about the flowering trees and the library up the street. Her son was named Petrograph, and he worked in the Ponyville quarry. There, he met an earth pony mare named Breccia, and they had four children. One of those children was named Castaway. She was a unicorn and a changeling, and she grew up hearing stories from her grandmother, including the stories about the little two-story house on Idol Lane. When the time came that the Empire formally abolished its laws forbidding changelings from entering its borders, she booked a ticket on a train leaving Ponyville. Several of her pony friends went with her for safety. The customs guards at the border harassed her, insulted her, and forced her to wear a red band that read: “WARNING, SHAPESHIFTER.” But she made it through. She walked the streets of the Crystal Empire, and found the little two-story house. It was as beautiful as her grandmother had said, and the crystalline trees outside it grew flowers like diamonds. It didn’t take long for the pony couple living inside to notice her. Her band was noticeable, and they both eyed it as they walked up to the gate. “Excuse me,” said the mare. “But this isn’t your neighborhood. You’ve got no business here. Leave or I call the police.” “Actually,” Castaway said, “it is my neighborhood.” Though the bars of the house’s little gate, she floated an envelope. Inside was a deed, stamped with an Equestrian seal: “You see, that’s my house.” With the reopening of easy transit to the Empire, tourism increased in both directions. Crystal ponies became a more common sight in Canterlot. Busy Bee rarely saw them in her restaurant—the sign over the door kept them at bay. But once, she was at a food fair in the nice part of Canterlot and a gaggle of them walked up to her booth. “Um…” one of them asked, a mare whose exquisite mane and tail served as a functional substitute for a personality. “Hey, you sell, um, bug food. But you’re not like, one of them, right?” “No, of course not.” Busy Bee giggled. “You don’t think they’d let me set up a booth here if I was, do you? I mean, Canterlot is a civilized, pony city.” “Oh, good.” The mare smiled, and she and all her friends trotted up. “Because, this smells delicious. What do you recommend?” “Well, I’ve got a lovely dish here made from ants. Ponies call it firecracker curry, since the ants release little bursts of flavor when you bite down. But the traditional vespid name is,” she struggled to make the right buzz with a pony throat, “{I’m going to pee in your food, bitch}.” “Ooh, fancy.” The mare gave the booth another sniff. “Can we take three?” Busy Bee rang them up. There was once a changeling name Ersatz, who had a chance to kill Flurry Heart, and refused because of a promise she made to a dying stallion. She didn’t survive the war, but her clutch raised a crystal pony named Lucky Sweep. He studied music at Queen Novo’s Conservatory and escaped the fighting. He never learned to make faces and never thought of himself as a changeling, but he cried when he learned his sisters were dead. Living in exile in Harmonizing Heights, he wrote plays and songs and recorded movies criticizing Flurry’s regime. He called her a tyrant and a murderer and a self-important fool, and he did it in a way that made hippogriffs laugh. They laughed, and they stayed out of the war. They refused Flurry’s offer of a military alliance. That was the deal. When free passage into the far north reopened, he returned home for the first time in more than fifty years. Having been a child when the war broke out, he was one of very few creatures left that remembered growing up in the old northern hive. The entire structure had burned, but the stone frame remained. He stood in an empty room, fresh snow and old ash mingling around his hooves, when he became aware that a creature was watching him. Turning, he saw Cheval, and bowed low to the ground. “Your highness.” “Don’t let me interrupt,” she said. “You seemed lost in thought.” “Yes. Um… this was my bedroom, once,” he gestured around the space. “My name is Lucky Sweep. You’re my um… you’re my aunt.” “It’s good to meet you, Lucky Sweep. Tell me, do you want your old room back?” He chuckled, rubbing the back of his head with a hoof. “It uh… it might need some cleaning. And a coat of paint.” But Cheval only smiled and said. “I think we can arrange that.” Light Step got a statue of herself outside her old dorm. She’d have been frustrated to know that she did end up being remembered for her art, rather than for starting the Ponyville Hive. Twilight got all the credit for that. She’d have been even more frustrated to know that the students mostly invoked her name during trivia games. “Okay, okay,” said one stallion. He was sitting on the quad with five friends. Together, they were one earth pony, one unicorn, one pegasus, one crystal pony, one changeling, and one thestral. They joked that they were clearly the friend group from the front of the packets they got on orientation day. From his deck of cards, he drew another question: “This famous artist once resolved a family dispute by spraypainting an image of Princess Cadence vomiting on the side of a train.” After a few moments of silence, his thestral friend asked: “Do you mean, like, they spraypainted the picture on the side of a train? Or did they paint her throwing up onto a train?” “Oh, you want to accuse me of complicity in crimes that happened before I was born?” Diamond Path shouted, “My mother acted without the knowledge of the general staff and her crimes are her own.” “You expect me to believe,” the reporter demand, “that Flurry Heart ran a government where the heads of her armed forces signed orders without reading them, where the disappearance of millions of citizens went unnoticed, and where no questions were asked when—” “The changelings were not citizens of the Crystal Empire!” Diamond snarled. “Then do you deny the thousands of crystal ponies who were lead away for questioning her orders?” The reporter’s hoof hit the desk. “Who were killed for trying to protect their changeling neighbors?” “That’s it,” Diamond pushed the microphone away. “This interview is over.” Fifteen years after Cheval’s return, Twilight found five wonderful new friends to keep her company. The new Element of Loyalty was a crystal pony colt, and the new Element of Honesty was one of Cheval’s children. Together, they learned a friendship lesson about overcoming racism. Twilight had learned that lesson twenty-seven times before, but after consulting all her books and sticky notes, she decided the twenty-eighth time was the best. And then it was over. Shrine fillies hung up firefly lanterns and handed little crystal flowers to those who had come to grieve. The sun set and the sky grew dark. Soon, Cadence and Cheval were the only two creatures left in the graveyard. To their left was Shining Armor’s grave. Ponies still left him flowers or offerings; they still lit candles and left poems in the dirt. Next to him was Flurry Heart. Her headstone was bare. “We need to write something,” Cadence eventually said. “Ponies are going to deface it anyway. Spraypaint it or knock it over” Cheval shrugged. “Put her name. She’s next to dad. That’s all that matters.” “She deserves more than the name.” Cheval glanced at her mother, then down to the headstone. Her horn glowed green, and magic etched the stone away. “FLURRY HEART,” it read, “LOVED BY HER FAMILY” Then Cadence’s horn glowed, and she added one more line: “SHE DID NOTHING THE WORLD CANNOT HEAL” “That’s good,” Cheval said. “That’s good.” She turned into a pony so that she could cry, and when the crying was done, they both left.