I think a bit of clarification may be in order before I continue. I can see that some of you are cringing and expect that I destroyed that young mare’s life.
Contrary to what you might be imagining, I did not spend the next several months draining every ounce of love energy she possessed.
I certainly could have, but there was no need to do so. I wasn’t going hungry, and the mare posed no threat to the secrecy of my hive. So long as she continued to overflow with emotions from one day to the next, I had no incentive to harm her.
It occurs to me that you might have a few misconceptions about my kind.
A changeling hive—and by extension, the changelings within it—is a living thing, and like all living things, it adapts. A proper hive is structured, disciplined, and moves forward with a purpose every single day. Our queen dictates what that purpose is, her princesses train and lead specialized units like a general overseeing her troops, and then the drones march to their tune in the name of our queen. It is our purpose, the reason we draw breath. Nothing, not even our own lives, is as vital as the hive or our queen.
With that said, keep in mind that the hives you may be familiar with today did not exist yet in the time of the Empire. Other queens may do things differently. My queen, Serosa, was every bit as powerful and commanding as Chrysalis—but unlike that megalomaniac, my queen was actually sane. Sure, if somepony threatened the survival of our hive, they were dealt with swiftly and thoroughly, but never cruelly. We fed on ponies because we must, both for sustenance and for magical reserves, which we do not produce on our own.
Ponies are our primary prey because their very existence is the embodiment of love. They create love in such abundance—literally coloring their world—that without it, they devolve into shades of muted grey. They replace consumed love so quickly that even draining them completely doesn’t necessarily mean having to find a new food source. No other species in the known world is as resilient and emotionally regenerative. One healthy pony can feed dozens of active changelings or close to a hundred in a state of rest. They are a perfect food source.
Now, make no mistake, Double Time was absolutely my prey. I fed on her without remorse the same way bears feel no sympathy for the fish they catch or how ponies feel no empathy for cows. That’s actually an excellent comparison since cows are every bit as sentient as ponies but are locked in a barn and treated like, well, cattle. My point being: sustenance is necessary, and the method of extracting that sustenance may seem cruel to those who are being fed upon, but it’s not like she wasn’t getting something out of it too.
While I still don’t approve of Thorax’s hive-wide metamorphosis, I do at least now understand his reasoning, and I certainly approve of his leadership more than I did that of Chrysalis.
Of course, that’s getting ahead of the story a bit. I hadn’t yet discovered the value of symbiotic relationships back then. That is a much more recent development.
No, the font of magical potential that she represented to me was much better reserved for after I located the Crystal Heart. I was quite sure that King Sombra would not part with his treasure easily. I would need to squeeze everything I could out of her eventually, but that energy would be far more potent if left untouched until it was truly needed.
If things seemed routine when Warden was in charge, the weeks that followed his decision to head south in search of a miracle blurred together into a mass of entirely forgettable monotony. Let’s not mince words here, that’s precisely what it would take for any of the tribes to withdraw from their conflict with the other two long enough to care about their northern neighbors.
For several days, Double Time and I went out together to scavenge supplies. It delayed my real mission for a while, but it was time well spent as she became more and more comfortable around me. Her strength, both physical and emotional, grew in leaps and bounds.
I taught her how to be stealthy, how to recognize potential escape strategies no matter what sort of room she may find herself in should she encounter an affected pony in her search. I also showed her a few self-defense moves designed to create an opening long enough to enact one of those escapes.
She was eager to learn and remarkably capable. Her natural athletic ability didn’t take long to come back to her once she had more space than a single cluttered classroom could offer her to move around in.
By the end of the third week, she was self-sufficient enough that I encouraged her to try a run on her own.
“Really!?” she exclaimed, “you think I am good enough to do this by myself?”
Excitement. Pride. Joy.
“Of course. You’ve been ready for a few days now, I just wanted to be sure of it before saying anything,” I told her.
She wiggled like a cat ready to pounce, which prompted me to tighten my neck and shoulders to support the extra weight that was about to be wrapped around them.
She surprised me, though, when she instead straightened her back and stood tall, throwing her hoof in front of her forehead in a poor but well-meaning imitation of a military salute.
It was adorable.
“I won’t let you down,” she said enthusiastically. “Of course, there isn’t too much that we really need at the moment. We still haven’t gone through all of the preserves we found that first day.”
A thought seemed to cross her mind as a brief surge of curiosity and suspicion flowed out of her.
“So, what are you going to be doing while I am out there alone?”
“Well, I will be out there too—nearby, in case you need me—but I will be looking for a few bigger ticket items that will be a bit trickier to bring home.”
A raised eyebrow was her only response to that. Still, her suspicion was replaced by excitement once again before she picked up the modified towel she used as her face mask of choice and quickly slid into her saddlebags, wrenching the belt tight with her teeth once it was in place.
“You like what you see there, big guy?” Her voice called out to me as she struck a pose by the door.
She hadn’t turned to look my way, and judging from the amusement in both her voice and emotions, it was clear she was making a joke more than accusing me of staring at her.
This was lucky for me because her words alerted me to the fact that I was indeed watching her closer than was strictly necessary.
Ugh, I gotta find that Heart and get back to the hive soon. The last thing I need is for this mare’s Buckholme Syndrome and my disguise’s hormones to conspire against me.
“Yeah, yeah. You’re gorgeous... for a dirt-encrusted mare who hasn’t seen a mirror, brush, or bath in almost a year.”
Shock. Self-consciousness. Sadness.
Great. Think before you speak next time, moron.
“But... don’t you worry about that, Miss Time. I am just teasing you,” I quickly amended. “Now go have some fun breaking and entering, you little delinquent. Bring us back something useful, and I might have a surprise waiting for you when you get back.”
That did the trick, as her emotions immediately returned to what they had been moments before. She looked back at me with a tear still in her eye but a smile crawling across her face.
“Deal!” she said as she walked outside, closing the door behind herself.
Well, so much for getting back to the search today. I guess I have to spend the day looking for something to surprise her with.
I waited about ten minutes for her to make her way a suitable distance from the school before I stepped out. Right away, I ducked behind my favorite house—the one with the blind corner in the backyard, surrounded by a whitewashed wooden privacy fence on two sides and a once-trimmed hedge wall along the rear property border.
Once out of view, I called up the comforting flames of transformation and bathed in the intoxicating feeling of melting away and reforming into something completely new.
The only thing that ruined the moment was the form I took.
I really hate these northern birds.
Taking a moment to quickly inspect my wing and tail feathers—a precaution I took seriously considering how poorly these animals actually fly. I would only spread my wings and throw myself into the air once I was satisfied that they wouldn’t spontaneously fall out upon hitting the first breeze.
I decided to return to the mansion in which I found the unicorn lamp. The layout was at least somewhat familiar to me, and I knew the third-floor balcony was an obvious access point.
En route, I had a clear view of the activity within the city. There were dozens of two and three-pony patrols actively entering buildings—something I hadn’t seen them do before without direct intervention from Sombra.
Teams of two would enter buildings together and leave again in the time it took for me to fly out of sight. They were obviously not looking for hidden objects. What they sought could only be to flush out free-thinking ponies, assuming there were any others left in town.
Inconvenient. I am reasonably sure there are no others in the city, which means he’s either looking for Warden or for me. Possibly both.
I was able to watch a three-pony team performing a search as well, though they seemed to act slightly differently. Only one of the ponies would enter while the other two remained outside the front door. These teams took significantly longer to move on, either being more thorough or simply because there were half as many bodies doing the actual work.
In either case, it meant that it was only a matter of time before we would have to defend or abandon the schoolhouse. Thankfully, the city was relatively large, and the patrol groups seemed to be radiating out from the central palace, meaning it would likely be a few days, if not weeks before they found our little shelter in what amounted to the suburbs.
It was something that would have to be monitored, but as I approached my destination, I had to put it out of my mind to focus on the task at hoof.
Alighting on the familiar counting-room balcony railing, I hopped along the length of the marble to look inside as many windows as I could. It was evident at a glance that the building had already been searched since I was last there.
Vases once filled with wilted flowers were not shattered on the floor beneath the thin tables they once stood upon. Chairs—once neatly tucked under desks or tables—were overturned and, in some cases, across the room from the furniture they had once been matched to.
It looked as though an effort was made to look into every room of the mansion, but not actually search through it, as bookshelves remained untouched and wardrobes went unmolested, safely hiding their contents away without having been opened in months.
Convinced that the building was in no immediate danger of a second visitation any time soon, I hopped down off the railing and made my way to the door before taking my natural form and walking inside.
I already knew there was nothing of interest in the counting room, so I simply made my way to the opposite door and stepped out into the hallway.
I had a few hours before I expected Miss Time to return to the school, so I was in no real hurry. I turned left and walked down the hall to the first door on the left and entered it.
The room was another study of some sort, with bookshelves built into the walls on either side of a highly polished table. Unlike the counting room, this room looked like it was used often with multiple stacks of books piled up on the table itself as well as the floor next to a pair of chairs.
I took a few minutes to browse the titles but didn’t see anything that I thought a young mare would find interesting.
Moving on, I worked my way around the third floor one door at a time. Among the rooms, I discovered three different bedrooms as well as a second library. I looked through the mare of the house’s closet and briefly considered bringing back a fancy dress or two, but they all seemed to be much too large for Double Time.
She was filling out quickly, having easily put on a few stones since Warden left, both from a natural growth spurt as well as our much healthier diet since finding the cellar full of food. However, she was still gracefully athletic, whereas the mare these clothes were designed for was easily twice Miss Time’s girth. In short, they were for a rather matronly build, and I wasn’t terribly interested in trying my hoof at tailoring.
I descended the main stairway overlooking all three levels with its grandiose chandelier and floor to ceiling windows to the second floor.
Here I found a few more bedrooms, but these seemed to be intended for guests, as there were little more than folded towels in the otherwise empty dressers and closets. There was also a lavish bathroom with polished stonework around the sink and sunk-in bathtub that could have comfortably sat four or five ponies.
The only thing of value I liberated from the second floor ended up being two bottles of expensive-looking shampoo and a half dozen bars of soap, each wrapped in some kind of wax paper.
I made my way down to the ground floor, ignoring the kitchen, which I had already searched once, and began opening doors.
Aside from the opulent sitting rooms and ‘family’ rooms that were meant to impress visitors but showed little evidence of actual use, most of the first floor was dedicated to housing servants, it seemed. Two larger bedrooms with multiple beds in each, likely split between stallions and mares, served as a sort of barracks for the hired help.
Nestled between the two rooms, however, was precisely what I was looking for. Stepping inside the comparatively smaller hall whose doors opened into each of the servants’ quarters, I examined my prize.
It was twice as wide as a pony, slightly longer front to back and not quite as tall as my shoulders in height… it would be difficult to move.
Knowing the strain it would put on me, I reasoned that the investment would be returned tenfold within just a few days, so I pictured the burning ring of my fire portal and made sure that it completely encircled the object as well as myself.
I was momentarily worried that I had made a mistake as I sank into the ground and watched Miss Time’s gift melt away next to me in slow motion. The time spent in the realm of nothingness seemed to last far too long, and I began to panic that I may not have enough energy to exit on the other side of the portal and be stuck in-between.
Thankfully, the flames eventually receded around me, and I found myself in the middle of the classroom we called home with a substantial piece of porcelain next to me.
I staggered backward, feeling more drained than I ever had before. I barely had enough strength left to remain upright, which forced me to do the one thing I really didn’t want to do.
I was barely able to pull myself free of my saddlebags before quickly rifling through them in search of my love crystals. I pulled the small wooden box which housed them from the bag and fumbled the lid open, dropping two dull gemstones on the floor in my haste.
Ignoring those for the moment, I grabbed one of the remaining charged crystals and drained it hungrily. I could feel the strength returning to my limbs, and my horn lit briefly as I absentmindedly pulled the discarded treasures back to me in an aura of pale green and replaced them in the box.
Setting the box down next to my saddlebags, I bathed in the soothing flames once more and melted into the shape of ‘Headway’ mere moments before the front door opened. Double Time backed herself into the room while dragging a relatively large burlap sack up the few stairs and into the school.
Rather than put the box away properly, I quickly slid it next to the pile of blankets I used as my bed and moved my saddlebags in front of it to keep it out of sight.
With her back still turned toward me, Double Time let go of the bag she was dragging long enough to close the door and begin talking.
“You would not believe the stuff some of our neighbors have left lying around their houses! I found a full suit of guardpony barding and enough spear tips to make dozens... of...”
Her voice trailed off as she turned in place to look my way, her eyes fixed and staring at what now rested where students once sat, daydreaming of the hour in which they could go home.
She blinked, unmoving before finding her voice again.
“Um, Headway, there’s a bathtub in the classroom.”
I stepped around the massive white obstacle, chuckling softly to pull her attention away from my barely-adequate hiding spot.
“You noticed. Very observant of you, Miss Time. Truly, you could have a career in investigation,” I teased her. “I told you I would have a surprise for you when you returned. It was harder than I thought, dragging that thing back here without being seen, and we don’t exactly have running water or a proper drain in here, but give me a few hours, and I can solve at least one of those problems.
“We should be able to get you cleaned up sometime this evening.”
A blush, followed by a strong wave of embarrassment as well as a curious hint of excitement.
It didn’t take a genius to realize I had inadvertently implied more than I had intended. While the wording worked in my favor, I knew I had to dial it back and act the part of modesty, for now.
“Oh! I didn’t mean it like that. I meant, you know, you could use it to wash up in by the end of the day, if you wanted to… not that I would be involved in the process. I mean, beyond getting it all set up, that is.”
We spent the rest of the afternoon inside.
I was putting together a makeshift aqueduct as a drain pipe. She was sliding desks around, creating a sort of divider between the bathtub and the rest of the classroom.
My plumbing solution wasn’t perfect, but short of digging up the floor to run pipes underground, it would have to do. Thankfully, the tub was lifted off the floor by four clawed griffon feet, so there was at least some decline to my trough leading out to the emergency exit.
I didn’t dare leave the rear door open or cut a hole into it, so the homemade drain simply stopped just in front of the former teacher’s entrance and allowed the water running down it to empty onto the floor and seep under the doorway.
The drain trough itself was cobbled together using crafting materials we found in the schoolhouse; several long strips of flat crystal bound together in a V-shape with twine and some sort of glue along the seams in an attempt to keep it watertight.
I chose not to read the adhesive’s label. There was one particular ingredient involved in the production of glue that I always found repulsive. How ponies could use the remains of their friends and families in such a way, then cheerfully use the end result in arts and crafts, always struck me as more deviant than anything a changeling could think up.
If you still don’t understand, look it up for yourself.
“There,” I said once I was reasonably convinced the glue seals had dried, “that should do it. There is still an hour or two of daylight left if you want to help me carry in a few dozen buckets of water from the well out back.”
Double Time grinned widely as she made one final adjustment to the overturned desk she was repositioning between her gift and my sleeping area before looking over at me with large round eyes.
“Um, okay. Let’s do this!” Miss Time happily exclaimed before the grin slid off her face in slow motion. “The water’s going to be cold, isn’t it?”
I laughed at her comment, enjoying a moment of schadenfreude.
“Oh yeah. Sure is… but you know what they say about beggars?”
“They get everything that they want?” she chirped hopefully.
“They can’t be choosers,” I finished the phrase, deadpan, as I bent down to pick up the bucket we customarily used for bringing in drinking water. “Now hurry up; grab another bucket, and let’s get started, or you’ll be waiting until morning to take a bath.”
She picked up a wooden pail from the pile of useful items that we may one day find a use for and followed me outside.
It took a lot longer than I thought to fill the basin up to roughly shoulder height—two buckets at a time—but we managed to complete the job just as the sun was setting and the brainwashed neighbors started filtered into the cul-de-sac for the night.
“I can’t wait,” she said dreamily. “I don’t even remember the last time I was clean and pretty.”
She launched herself around my neck and nuzzled the side of my head.
“Thank you, Headway. This is the nicest thing anypony has done for me all year. The only thing that could make it better is if you also found some soap.”
Drunk on the affection I was consuming, I replied before I thought about what I was saying.
“Oh, I found soap. Shampoo, too, they are over there in my saddlebags.”
She gasped as she dropped off of me and raced over to my sleeping area quicker than I could have imagined possible.
“In here?” she asked as I could hear her lift the flap of my bag. “Oh, I found them. I can’t wait! Ooh, this smells like rose petals! This is the good stuff, Headway. You picked…”
She trailed off just as a chill ran down my back. I couldn’t see her over the wall of desks she erected, but somehow I knew what caught her attention.
I think I was grinning, still enjoying the feast she had provided me, but my face fell into a determined resignation once I heard the sound of a wooden box sliding out from its hiding place among my blankets.
Well, this is it. She’s going to be a liability now. How unfortunate, I had hoped to keep her around a bit longer.
“Headway,” her awestruck voice drifted over the divider. “Are you a Crystaller?”
“A… what?”
“A Crystaller. You know, the pony who performs the ritual that recharges the Crystal Heart. The one who dedicates foals and introduces them to the whole Empire! You have Crystalling purity shards over here.”
I shook my head vigorously as I stepped around the desks to look her in the eye. She wasn’t angry, nor was she curious about the love crystals. She recognized what they could do, but misinterpreted what I was using them for.
That’s when it hit me.
Changeling love crystals are the same thing as these purity shards. They are both reservoirs of pure love energy made from flawless gems. The only difference is that the changelings draw from them like emergency rations while ponies fill them with love to feed into the artifact. That means… there are probably more of them around!
“Ye— Yes,” I stammered out, responding simultaneous to thinking my way through a revision to my disguise’s backstory. “I mean, I was, before I left the city. Now that King Sombra has the Heart, though, I don’t think there is too much need for a Crystaller.”
Her eyes softened a bit from their previously vast state of wonder.
“Oh, right. I guess that’s why two of them are still charged, huh? You couldn’t deliver them to the Heart.”
“That’s right. Though those two were filled outside of the Empire. I ran across an expecting couple during my travels several months ago,” I lied. “When their twins were born, they begged me to be their Crystaller. Their little village participated, even though only the couple and their foals were actually from the Empire. I was coming back to feed them into the Crystal Heart when Warden found me.”
Not a bad story for something cobbled together spur-of-the-moment. It doesn’t even contradict anything I’ve told them before.
“Oh. I’m sorry. I hope you get to finish the dedication soon,” Double Time said with a bit of sorrow starting to well up and seep out of her. “It must be nice. I never had a Crystalling.”
I didn’t know everything there was to know about crystal ponies, but I knew enough to be skeptical of that statement. Every crystal pony goes through that ritual, long before they are even capable of walking in most cases.
“Are you sure? I mean, everypony is introduced to the Empire. I am sure you were just too young to remember.”
She shook her head slowly as she sat down next to my bedding. “No, mom and dad told me several times that they were sorry it hadn’t happened yet, but they were planning to hold my Crystalling soon. It was always ‘soon’, but never ‘today’.
“They were both just so busy with their duties as royal guards, you know. It wasn’t hard to spend time with them, just not at the same time. They rarely had a day off together, and they insisted that they both be present for my special day.”
She sighed.
“Eventually, the topic just stopped coming up. I loved going to all the Crystallings I heard about, though, and I used to pretend it was me up there being presented to the crowd and the Crystal Heart.”
I saw an opportunity here.
“Tell you what, Miss Time. As soon as we buck the mind-controlling tyrant to the curb and restore the Crystal Heart to its rightful place—” my queen’s throne room, “—I will be your Crystaller.”
I’ve never felt a more energetic rush of pure love in my life than I did in that instant. I fully expected that declaration to strengthen her dependency on me a little and perhaps enjoy a second helping of the affection I was dining on earlier. Still, I was unprepared for the flood that threatened to drown my senses entirely. It was nearly uncomfortable how much raw love energy was being directed at me, and I quickly felt bloated. To date, I think that may have been the only time I have ever cut myself off.
Once again, I felt another pony’s weight hanging from my neck; only this time, that weight was accompanied by a distinctly damp barrel as the young mare wept against me.
“Thank you, Headway, thank you!” she cried. She stayed there, pouring her heart out at me, quite literally.
Had I not been so overwhelmed by her response, I would have done the intelligent thing and refilled one of the crystals. Unfortunately, the mare had counted how many were dull and which remained charged. If a third one suddenly lit up, it may have been difficult to explain.
“There, there. You’re embarrassing me. Besides, your cold bath water is getting room temperature,” I joked.
With a sniffle and a laugh, she backed away from me. Quickly picking up the bottle of rose shampoo and one of the wax paper-wrapped bars of soap, she ducked behind the room divider.
“No peaking now,” she giggled as I heard the telltale sound of water splashing. I suppose it doesn’t take a pony long to prepare her bath when the only piece of clothing they wore was a cheap silver necklace.
The sounds of vigorous scrubbing died away after half an hour or so and were replaced by a contented sigh and still waters.
“Headway?” she asked, completely relaxed.
“Yes?”
“Do you think Warden is okay?”
No.
“I am sure of it,” I replied.
“I hope so. I’d like for him to be at my Crystalling too.”
“I have no doubt that he will be there. I am sure he will be just as proud of you as your parents. I haven’t known you very long, but I know I will be.”
Several long minutes of silence followed before the sound of her getting out could be heard. The gentle drip of water hitting the crystalline floor also slowly faded as she dried herself off.
“Headway?” she called again, voice heavy with contentment and fatigue.
“Yes, Miss Time?”
“I’m going to bed now. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Miss Time.”
I decided to follow her lead and made myself comfortable on my pile of blankets. Just before I fell asleep myself, I could just make out three words whispered in a very groggy voice. No emotion flowed along with them, so I couldn’t be sure if they were intended for me to hear or if she was speaking in her sleep, but for some reason, they gave me pause and made it harder to clear my thoughts for slumber.
“I love you.”