//------------------------------// // Nymph Cycle Epilogue // Story: To Be a Changeling // by PlagueRat //------------------------------// A glass of strong cider levitated up to Lieutenant Silverspark’s lips and the unicorn absently took a long swig of the potent liquid. From the corner of his eye he noticed the command tent’s entrance flap move and it caused him to look up warily from the papers resting on the table in front of him. A brief but uncomfortable moment passed as he listened intently, ears twitching and swiveling about, searching for any sound that might be hidden underneath the chirping crickets beyond the canvas walls. Annoyed at himself, he let out an angry snort and shook his head. Setting the drink aside and taking up a quill, the unicorn returned his focus to finalizing his report for the crown. While I am no psychologist or doctor, I am familiar with the effects stress and shock can have on a soldier. I feel it necessary to include my observations in this report so that on return to Canterlot a proper assessment along with any needed care can be provided to the mentioned individuals. Out of all the recently released changeling captives, I feel Sergeant Shield has been faring the best. For as long as I have known her, she has always been a strong willed and capable pony. Though she’ll likely turn it down, at the very least, she deserves the offer of an extended leave to recuperate. Over the past few days, Privates Tradewind, Spark and Breeze have been showing continuing signs of fatigue. The three stallions have been tested for any changeling venom that might be lingering in their systems and all of their results returned negative. Each of them reports as feeling well, but they become quickly exhausted while doing anything physical. While this might be simply due to the lack of muscle usage from their time suspended within a changeling cocoon and through exercise become alleviated, for their own wellbeing I recommend all three to be evaluated by a proper medical expert. Notwithstanding her injuries, Private Spring has been in high spirits. She claims this is due to the care she received while prisoner to the changelings, though it was rudimentary. During this period she conversed regularly with the drone who was tasked as both her jailer and her healer. Private Spring has reported that on three occasions the drone had driven off another changeling who desired to feed on her while she was ill. Despite the drone directly admitting to her at one point that she was only helping because a healthy pony makes for a better meal, I fear that under duress Private Spring has misconstrued the drone’s actions for affection. Private Ballista has shown an increased hostility for changelings, reformed or otherwise, that I’ve never witnessed in her before. While it’s understandable for her to be resentful after being attacked and cocooned, the amount of anger she’s displayed is troubling. Because of this I strongly feel her request for transfer to the newly formed Castle of Friendship guard be rejected for now and as with the others, I recommend she be evaluated by a proper medical expert. Since escaping the changeling ambush, Private Dustoff has become withdrawn and exhibits bouts of paranoia. She has insisted that each member of the platoon use a specific code phrase to identify to her that they are not a changeling. Even after receiving the correct code she remains distrustful and jumps at the slightest unexpected movement. To see such a compassionate and talented medic reduced to a shell of her former self has been distressing and I believe she is suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. Silverspark let out a resigned sigh, returned the quill to its inkwell, leaned back into his chair and stared up at the tent’s ceiling. The drink returned to his lips. Cicada, under the guise of Harmony Honey, took a sip of her vanilla chai tea as she sat alone outside an upper-class Applewood café. Despite the provided shade of the oversized red and white umbrella that was attached to her table, she wore a pair of orange rimmed neigh-ban sunglasses and a large tan sunhat to help prevent passing ponies from easily recognizing her. This little moment of calm was greatly welcomed by the changeling after her morning photo shoot and the multiple costume changes. Using a wing, she plucked up the freshly made cannoli off her plate and took a dainty bite from it. The wonderful taste of the sweet cream filling along with a sprinkling of confectioner’s sugar atop the pastries’ crust caused her to release a contented sigh. It also reaffirmed her decision that the treat was definitely worth twenty bits. Taking another sip of her drink, she placed down the half-eaten desert and glanced at the open newspaper sitting adjacent to her plate. A half smirk crossed her lips as she re-read the headline, ‘Changelings on the loose again!’ She shrugged inwardly, only slightly disappointed at the outcome of her plot; she was new to this after all. “You look like you’re enjoying yourself,” said a unicorn stallion who suddenly sat down, uninvited, next to her at the table. “Do you have any idea how long it took me to track you down…” “I’m sorry, do I know you?” she asked, her voice musical but her tone conveying how little patience for company she had right now. “You should, we’re hive mates after all,” The lapis colored stallion frowned at her. “I really have no idea what you’re talking about,” Cicada said, eyes narrowing while she placed her drink down and stared at him over the rim of her glasses. “While you don’t smell the same as you used to,” he grumbled and sniffed at the air in her direction, “I still know it’s you Cicada. Unless Harmony had a twin hidden away somewhere…” A snort escaped Cicada’s nostrils as she looked the unicorn up and down. “I guess that means you have an advantage over me,” she said, “I can’t tell who you are.” “Scarab,” he said, quirking an eyebrow. “Now what in the hive is going on with you?” “Whatever do you mean?” she asked, sitting back and taking a sip of her chi tea. “To start with, why are you here and not back in Las Pegasus?” Scarab asked. “Fame and fortune,” she quipped, “and freedom.” “Freedom?” blinked the unicorn. “That’s right,” she answered with a smile, “I’ve quit my old part time job so I can focus on my new career.” Scarab gave her a puzzled look. “I’m a pop star now,” Cicada elaborated. “A pop star?” he deadpanned. “Correct,” she said, taking another bite of the cannoli. “A pop star,” Scarab repeated. “Are you a parrot or a changeling?” Cicada scoffed. “So what? You’re a rogue now?” hissed the unicorn, “Done gathering love for the hive?” “Rogue, reformed,” she shrugged, “call me whatever you want.” “You reformed?” balked Scarab. Again the pegasi shrugged, appearing completely comfortable with her disclosure. “I can’t believe you!” he snapped at her, slamming a hoof down atop the table and causing some of the other café patrons to look in their direction. “Ma’am, is this stallion bothering you?” one of the serving staff asked as she quickly trotted over to the table. “He is, but it's fine,” Cicada told the mare, “I have to talk to him.” The waitress turned her attention back to Scarab who now sat back in his seat with a deep frown across his face and his left front leg draped over the back corner of his chair. “If everything is alright, I’ll leave you be then,” the mare said, bowing her head to Cicada, “if you need anything please feel free to call any of us over.” “I will, thank you,” Cicada said with a smile to the departing waitress before peering at the other changeling. “You know how angry this is going to make the queen?” Scarab whispered to her once everyone around them returned to their own business. “You’re the hive’s biggest supplier of love.” “The hive will get along fine without me,” said Cicada with little concern. “Now then, I have an appointment in half an hour and I want to finish my snack, are we done here?” Clearly angered, the disguised changeling’s ears turned back and his muscles tensed up. Cicada clenched her jaw and subtlety adjusted her posture in case she had to defend herself. No attack came however as Scarab got to his hooves, called her a foul name and knocked the remainder of her drink onto the ground. Chrysalis looked down into the freshly excavated hole in the cavern floor and watched as a group of changelings studied the stone masonry they unexpectedly tunneled into. A few moments of whispering passed between the workers along with some head shaking and nodding before they all turned their eyes upward. “Well?” prompted the queen. “It's really old but it looks pony made,” one of them said. “The bricks are thick but it shouldn’t be hard for us to get through it,” said the second one. “We can’t tell what’s on the other side, but it is completely silent in there,” the third reported. “Break it open,” Chrysalis commanded them. All three workers lit their horns and together they released prolonged beams of green energy. Carefully the trio directed the magic along the mortar between the grey stonework so that a moment later, there was the sound of stone grinding against stone. A section of the structure fell away, there was a crash, and a plume of dust shot up from the hole. Fortunately for her, Chrysalis had enough time to jump back and avoid the cloud of debris. The other changelings however were directly in the dirt’s path and stumbled away blindly. Her magic gripped the three sputtering and coughing workers and pulling them along behind her, she quickly retreated from the cavern. Once the dust settled and the three workers confirmed they were fine to continue, the group re-entered the chamber and once more peered down into the cavity. “Those are bones,” one of them pointed out. “Pony bones?” questioned another. “A tomb,” Chrysalis stated and without another word steeped forward to drop into the uncovered vault. Her perforated hooves touched down next to the broken section of the ceiling, creating an echoing clack throughout the crypt and kicked up a smaller but still annoying cloud of dust. “Isn’t this interesting,” she said to herself, eyes drifting over a row of inset alcoves located along one wall. “These are threstal skeletons,” said one of the workers as they leaned over a casket that had been damaged by the falling ceiling. “They are,” Chrysalis agreed as she thoughtfully ran a hoof along the delicate bones of the unmoving inhabitant’s wing. Returning her hoof to the floor and dragging it backwards, the changeling queen created a trench in the settled dust. “The air tastes stale, uncirculated for years,” she stated aloud. “The dust is thick. No living creature has visited this place for a very long time.” Chrysalis strode across the floor and over to an iron bound wooden door. Her horn illumined softly and cast the room in a green glow that to almost any other non-changeling creature could be considered eerie, especially in such a place. The hinges shrieked a brief protest until the deteriorating wood gave way and the door collapsed to the ground in splinters. “There’s a long corridor out here,” Chrysalis said, looking from her left to her right, “and many more doors. This is a rather large complex…” Continuing the impromptu sightseeing, the changeling queen, along with the three workers, traveled along the empty hallway, eventually reaching the site of a collapse that blocked their way. “Now we know why no creature has returned to this place,” said one of the workers. “I want you three to gather up every ling available,” announced Chrysalis, turning away from the cave-in and looking to the trio with a grin. “This is a fortuitous find.” “My queen?” asked one of the changelings, who tilted their head in confusion. “We’re re-purposing the crypts,” she said while walking away. “Hey! Wait up a moment!” someone called out to Thorax. Looking back over his withers, the changeling king spotted a dark blue pegasus flying in his direction. Curious, he stopped in mid-flight, began hovering in place and turned to face the approaching stallion. “Hello,” he said in a friendly tone, “did you need something?” “Yeah,” the pegasus said after stopping a few yards away from Thorax and looking around. “Um, could we talk on that cloud over there?” “I don’t see why not,” answered the changeling king with an inquisitive tilt of his head. The two made their way over to the lazily drifting cloud and landed upon its surface. Thorax quietly watched as the pegasus peered around nervously as if he was looking for something. Once he appeared to be comfortable with his surroundings he focused back on the changeling. “Don’t freak out okay?” said the pegasus. “Why would-” Thorax cut off his sentence when green fire erupted around the pegasus. “Oh.” “I’m looking for someling,” the newly revealed changeling said. “Her name is Cricket, do you know where she is?” Feeling protective over the denizens of his hive, Thorax regarded the other changeling with suspicion. “Why are you looking for her?” the king asked. “She’s my sister,” answered the changeling. “You’re Phasmid?” Thorax, intrigued, blinked his rose colored eyes. “Yeah…” he softly confirmed. Dozens of questions filled Thorax’s mind as he studied the other changeling. A long time passed in silence until Phasmid coughed into his hoof to snap the king out of his thoughts. “Oh, sorry about that,” said Thorax before quickly clarifying, “me zoning out, not that Cricket is your sister.” “Ah… that’s fine,” blinked Phasmid. “So, do you know where I can find her?” “Yes, but if you don’t mind me asking, why do you want to see her?” asked the king. Phasmid looked down at his hooves and watched the little wisps of water vapor as they slipped through the holes. “I wanted to talk to her again,” he said, “about, well, about anything really…” “Are you maybe thinking about reforming?” asked Thorax. “No!” said Phasmid immediately, his solid blue eyes wide for a moment before they softened again. “No, I don’t want to do, that…” “Because of the illness?” probed the king. He received a single nod from the other changing. “She’s staying in Ponyville right now,” Thorax explained, “she volunteered to help the ponies research changelings, so we can watch out for any dangers to our health.” Around a third of the larva were in a half circle around the nymph, listening as she told them a story she made up; the remainder clung, sleeping, to her back. As she weaved her tale she would gesture dramatically with her front hooves during times of excitement and the larva’s eyes would alertly follow the moving limbs. But inevitably, little by little, the larva would lose interest and wander off; some to crawl up to her so they could find a comfortable place to sleep, others attracted by something else in the nursery. “She has quite an imagination,” Lacewing said to her sister. Katydid, surprised at how caught up she was in the nymph’s story, blinked her eyes a few times before looking away from Pupa and over to her sibling. Lacewing gave her a teasing grin. “She does come up with some interesting things,” admitted Katydid. “Is she telling the story about the spider queen again?” asked Lacewing after finding herself a comfortable place to sit on the floor. “No,” said Katydid, “this time it’s about a kingdom of rats living in the walls of an alicorn’s castle.” “Really?” chuckled Lacewing, “well, what have I missed so far?” “One of the alicorn’s maids was a changeling spy in disguise and she would sneak the rat’s leftovers,” Katydid summarized, “but one of the other servants discovered the rats and told the alicorn. The changeling was fired and had to leave the castle and then the alicorn had traps set to eliminate the rats.” “A little odd for a changeling to feed the rodents and not feed on them,” said an amused Lacewing, “but Pupa does have a unique view on things. So then what happens?” “The rats kept outsmarting the servants so the alicorn tried to catch them herself,” continued Katydid. “They just chewed through the legs of her chair so when she sat down at a dinner party, she fell backwards and pulled the tablecloth causing all the food to splatter all over her purple fur.” “How mischievous,” giggled Lacewing as she settled down to listen to the rest of the story.