//------------------------------// // Home // Story: The Friendship Initiative // by Jatheus //------------------------------// ‘Dear Princess Twilight Sparkle, everypony still seems on edge. I feel like we can’t walk around Ponyville without drawing quite a lot of attention to ourselves. I know Ash Eater hates me, but he hasn’t made any more outbursts, at least not like the one you saw. He asked to go home to see his parents, and since our final week is almost over anyway, we’re going to spend the rest of it with his family in the caves beneath Canterlot. I’ll see you soon. XOXO, Scootaloo.’ Scootaloo approached the gaping maw that was the main entrance to the caverns beneath Canterlot, now commonly called Stone Hive. The name had been used during the war and had continued into the lexicon of the changelings, being picked up by ponies a bit later. She didn’t want to be there. She just wanted out. ‘Three more days,’ she told herself as they left the bright sunny day and became enveloped in darkness. As much as she was relieved to be nearing the end of her assignment, she hadn’t yet told Ash Eater. He was miserable enough to be around as things stood. The last thing she needed was for him to gloat about her failures for the remainder of their time together. With the anniversary of the armistice approaching, she was ready to move on to something new. The cool air of the cave washed over the pair as they were greeted by wary eyes watching them. There were no ponies guarding the cave or evident within. Many changelings were milling about near the entrance at what appeared to be something of a common area, almost like an outdoor market. Scootaloo could only guess as to what some of the wares even were, but many others had more familiar uses. She couldn’t help but feel highly uncomfortable as nearly every creature stopped what they were doing and looked at her suspiciously. She noted that all of them wore the blue dog-tags that non-combatants were issued. They likely also knew she had been a soldier, considering she was with Ash Eater, who wore the red variety and bore scars of battle. That considered, it was no surprise that all of the children were quickly ushered out of sight or behind adults as the pegasus walked by. Ash Eater, on the other hoof, appeared far more at ease than Scootaloo had ever seen him. In spite of the seemingly permanent scowl that he had worn since Klixis’ rebellion, something in the way he carried himself was almost relaxed. It wasn’t much farther in, just at the end of the market where the cave narrowed that the pair came to an abrupt halt at Scootaloo’s behest. “I can’t see anything down here,” she complained. “One second.” The pegasus rummaged around in her saddle bags for a hat which had an illuminating feature. She switched on the headlamp and donned the cap. At Ash Eater’s request, she had put a fairly thick filter over the lamp so as to not blind the changeling inhabitants of the cave, but it did give just enough light for her to make out what was within a few yards. “If you’re quite ready,” the stag griped. She gestured to the well-trodden tunnel ahead, “Lead on.” Ash Eater pressed forward, guiding Scootaloo through the darkness as if he could see in the black. It gave the mare an uneasy feeling, almost a queasy sickness to think that the changelings had used these caves to imprison many ponies during the war, that Sparklefly had been one of them, that Ash Eater had... She shook her head to clear her thoughts. It wouldn’t do any good to dredge up those memories now. They wound their way through passages until the cavern opened up into a massive chamber. The cool air was saturated with moisture, so much so that it seemed to be raining from the vaulted ceiling far above. The changelings had made this their new home. Small to medium dome-like structures were along the path just ahead and as far as Scootaloo could see. She was aided in this by bio-luminescent moss that adorned the structures. The high roof of the cavern also seemed to twinkle much like a starry night. By what mechanism that existed, Scootaloo could only guess. Ash Eater stopped to ask for directions before the duo continued past house after house. In actuality the dwellings seemed to be made of hardened earth, not unlike a dirt dauber’s nest, though much larger. The inhabitants here seemed even more wary of the pegasus than had been those in the market. They were also more brazen to stare at her as the two continued on their way. If the locals were trying to make her uncomfortable, they were succeeding. Scootaloo felt a knot in her stomach and a tightness in her hindquarters as though she had found a place that she was not supposed to be. After navigating the pathways of Stone Hive for about a half-hour and becoming modestly soaked by the fat drops of falling condensation, Ash Eater came to a stop. The dwelling was at least as large as Scootaloo’s apartment and quite common judging by the surroundings. Scootaloo hadn’t noticed previously, but there were little stone markers in front of the houses. They held no significance to her, but she expected they were a changeling equivalent of addresses. As they stood in front of the domicile, an older changeling doe exited through a heavy curtain or leathery flap that comprised the front door. “I can’t find it,” she called out. A combined grunt and sigh was heard as a stag buzzed his wings and glided into view above the roof, “Did you look where I said?” Her reply was prevented as she caught sight of the newcomers. She planted her hooves, as if uncertain how to greet them. “Hi, mom,” Ash Eater spoke. Both of the older changelings had a wary curiosity on their faces that melted into recognition and then surprise at his simple greeting. From the house, a dark figure bolted through the door, zipping across the distance and impacting into Ash Eater, causing him to stagger backward to maintain his balance. “Ashy! Ashy! Ashy! Ashy! Ashy!” the young doe practically screamed as she tried to charge him down with the efficacy of a stampeding bunny. Ash Eater warmly embraced the little one, “Hey, Sis.” So this was his sister. Scootaloo couldn’t help but feel surprised at how young she was. Even more, the warm and affectionate greeting was unexpected for someone she knew to be so heinous. She had been so focused on the little projectile that Scootaloo didn’t notice the parents approaching. “I heard you made a good accounting of yourself,” his father beamed proudly. “I hardly recognize you,” his mother sang, “such wonderful scars you have earned!” Scootaloo didn’t understand the changelings’ fascination with scars as badges of honor, but she had overheard more than one make similar comments. Pushing the little one back a bit, Ash Eater stepped to the side, making Scootaloo more easily seen by the others. It seemed that they had forgotten about her the moment they recognized their offspring. “This is Scootaloo, my guardian. This is my mother and sister, Haltere and Arista, and this is my father, Soot Nosher.” The warmth that had been there only moments before evaporated rather suddenly. Scootaloo felt herself smile nervously. While Soot Nosher scowled, Arista’s eyes grew wide as she looked to her mother with uncertainty. Haltere stepped forward. “Welcome to our home,” she spoke deliberately. “Our hospitality is yours.” “No need for all of that,” Ash Eater sneered. “She’s just a pony.” His mother glared at him with disapproval before continuing, “Please, come in and get dried off.” Scootaloo followed Ash Eater and the ladies in. Soot Nosher eyed her as she went by and followed behind. The interior of the house was lit dimly with more of the luminous moss that accented the exterior. It was just enough light that Scootaloo turned off her lamp and placed it back into her saddle bags to let her eyes adjust. The soft green glow was somewhat eerie, though the mare didn’t feel in any danger. At least, she felt more secure here than she had on the way into Stone Hive. Beside the door, there was a small rack of sponges. The family of changelings used them to dry themselves a bit more effectively than Scootaloo was able. Between her fur, feathers, and mane, she needed three sponges to make a dent in the sogginess. She felt embarrassed to ask for more, considering that one had been sufficient for each of the others. The main chamber of the dwelling was about the same size as Scootaloo’s apartment. A medium-sized earthen pot was catching a drip that leaked from the roof above. The dim light aside, the space seemed far more cozy than Scootaloo would have expected. The furnishings, however, were more earthen than manufactured. There was a table that seemed at first to be stone, but upon closer inspection, Scootaloo realized that it was hardened mud in the same manner that the structure was made. At the behest of Haltere, Scootaloo seated herself on a soft mound of moss. “Can I get you anything? Food? Water?” the family matriarch asked the guests. “No,” Ash Eater answered before Scootaloo could voice that she was thirsty. She let the request die unspoken. The rest encircled the table, filling out the space. Arista clung to her brother’s side, wrapping around one of his forelegs affectionately. Ash Eater’s scowl, which Scootaloo had thought a permanent fixture, began to soften. “News has been as difficult to get as food,” Soot Nosher addressed his son. “I expect both are being held up by the same blockage?” Scootaloo didn’t miss the glance that the father shot in her direction, but it took her a moment to realize what was being implied. To her surprise, Ash Eater didn’t take the opportunity to levy an insult against herself or ponies in general. “It’s the same out there,” he replied simply. “We knew you were alive, but we hadn’t heard much else,” his mother ventured. “The last real information we got was during the war.” “When your Shock Force group was battling the ponies near Apple Loosa,” Soot Nosher continued. “We heard your commanders and doctors got killed in an air raid.” “That’s right,” Ash Eater confirmed. “That put me in the second group. The following battle at Ghastly Gorge saw another command group wiped out in an avalanche. That’s when I took command of our Shock Force.” Scootaloo felt the hairs on the nape of her neck stand on end. The air raid was one of Sparklefly’s missions, back when the ponies’ Assault Corps was having trouble getting the timberwolves to chase them. They’d had no idea that they’d crippled the changelings command. The rockslide at Ghastly Gorge had been Scootaloo’s doing during her first real engagement while commanding the Assault Corps. Ash Eater had told her these things that day on the battlefield, but she only now did she believe him. “After that, we chased this one all the way back to Ponyville,” he gestured at the pegasus. “We managed to have an equally devastating attack on their leaders, which put her in charge. We met on the battlefield, and that’s how I lost my leg.” Scootaloo felt nervous about the reaction Ash Eater’s family would have toward her if he kept talking. A sheen of sweat instantly was on her brow, and her mouth went dry as though it were stuffed with cotton. She wasn’t worried about being disliked, but killed in her sleep by angry changelings was not how she wanted to die. “I found her on the front line just after our timberwolves overcame their earthworks barricades. I wounded her flank before we crossed blades a few times. Then she made a feint move, making me dodge low, but she pulled her strike down and impaled me, right through the leg with a spear.” The stag winced at the memory. His family seemed enthralled with the tale. “I knew if I continued at that point, she’d have the better of me, so I twisted, rolling down the ridge and nearly got trampled by timberwolves. I made my way to the rear, but we didn’t have any more doctors, so there wasn’t anything we could do but pull the spear out and try to stop the bleeding. It got infected by the time we battled at Ponyville, so I tried to settle a few final scores before I died. After Cloudsdale was dropped,” he frowned, “most of us got rounded up and taken prisoner. The pony doctors took my leg but were able to stop the infection from spreading.” “That calls for a drink,” Soot Nosher announced as he turned toward another chamber. “At this hour?” Haltere objected. He returned a moment later with a set of earthenware cups and a taller vessel. It appeared to all be made of fired clay. Haltere scowled as the patriarch poured drinks for them, but Scootaloo had no idea what she’d been given. “Had your aim been true, my son would not have come home. To poor aim!” The toast was eerily similar to the way ponies would achieve such. Scootaloo wondered whether they had adopted it from the ponies and what other traditions she might find familiar. Following the example of the others, Scootaloo upended her cup gulped down a fiery liquid that had a pungent flavor of black licorice that nearly made her choke. Tears burned her eyes as she forced herself to swallow and keep it down. She didn’t want to embarrass herself or offend her hosts. Having already been thirsty and a bit hungry, the alcohol went straight to her head, making the mare a little giddy. She took a deep breath to maintain her even disposition. The pegasus’ eyes went wide as Soot Nosher poured another round, “To doctors and the wonders they perform!” “To doctors...” they said together as they took down another shot. Scootaloo hated licorice, but she was glad that the second one was easier to manage than the first. “Can I try?” Arista pleaded with her father. He grinned gleefully, “Of course!” “Absolutely not!” Haltere was quite adamant in the way she set down her cup. “You didn’t let me finish. Of course when you’re a bit older.” The parents exchanged combative glances that even Scootaloo couldn’t misread. It seemed mostly playful. He poured yet another round. “To new friends!” Scootaloo was beginning to feel funny. She wobbled slightly as she set her cup back down. “To life!” That was the last coherent thing she remembered. Scootaloo’s head began swimming, and the whole room seemed out of focus and even darker than it had been. She set her head down on the table just to regain some stability. It was so cool against her face. She was lost to sleep before she had a chance to fight it. ... Ash Eater stared at his ward, now in the stupor of a drunken slumber, resting her head on the table. “I’m a little impressed she took four of those. Ponies must have a solid constitution,” Soot Nosher smiled. “How much did you give her?” Haltere asked. The older stag shrugged, “Twice what I gave us, maybe a little more.” Ash Eater felt a little giddy himself. If he had taken down as much as the stupid pegasus, he would likely had passed out as well. “That’s a dirty trick!” the elder doe sniped. “Relax, I’m not going to harm her. I just wanted to be able to talk freely.” Ash Eater snorted, “I didn’t hold back for her. I don’t care what she thinks.” “Are they keeping you captive by force?” “What? No,” he couldn’t help but laugh at the notion. “Is it true that the queen has been coerced by ponies this entire time, and that Klixis was stopped by them?” Ash Eater frowned. He was still baffled by Chrysalis’s actions that night. Though he had personal reservations about how it had gone, her will had been clear. “No, Queen Chrysalis acted freely and alone to stop the rebellion; I was there.” Both parents gasped, and Arista’s face lit up with excitement, “You were there?” “Yes. Our queen was adamant that any move against the ponies is a move against her, that the peace was not forced upon us, but one that she fought for. She invited Klixis to take a spear and make her the first casualty in the new war.” Both Soot Nosher and Haltere were mortified. “What did he do?” Arista asked. “He dropped his spear and begged the queen’s forgiveness. She pronounced no dishonor, but deemed that the ponies would decide his punishment. She gave him to them to keep the rest of us free.” “And the old nags went along with it?” Soot Nosher asked. “Our Queen only left them with the choice of that or imprisoning her, and myself and Seta. We were the only four that had been discovered when we turned ourselves in.” “Who’s Seta?” Arista asked. Haltere prevented a reply, “And to think that we were making precautions to evacuate when the war started again.” “You were?” Ash Eater was a bit surprised by that. “Who’s Seta?” “Of course,” Soot Nosher answered, “we had heard what Klixis was planning, and all of Stone Hive was preparing to move as soon as things began.” Ash Eater felt a chill. He’d known they had been on the verge of a second war, but he realized now just how well their preparations had been going. In spite of the pride he felt for the resilience of his people, he couldn’t help but feel sad. There would be no second war. His queen had chosen subjugation to the ponies. “Who is Seta!” Arista huffed as nobody seemed willing to so much as acknowledge that she had spoken. Scootaloo stirred slightly but did not awaken. Her head was draped on the table, and she had begun to drool. Haltere cleared her throat. “The least you boys can do is lay her down so she doesn’t wake up with a stiff neck.” “I’m not touching that,” Ash Eater sneered. “If she’s stupid enough to drink too much, then she deserves whatever she gets.” The stag felt himself smirking until he met his mother’s gaze. She stared at him, stone faced with every feature in unmoving condemnation, the look. She didn’t have to say a word, Ash Eater knew he was in trouble if he didn’t comply with her request. Soot Nosher also saw it and quickly moved to lift the inebriated pegasus. Grudgingly, Ash Eater assisted. Missing a hind leg made this task exceptionally difficult, but between the two of them, they managed to carry the limp form into a sleeping alcove and lay her down without awakening her. Haltere wore a thin smile, “Thank you for being a good example. Arista, always be careful of any creature who gives you something to drink so you aren’t left to their mercy, and don’t you ever treat anyone the way your father just did.” The young doe nodded. Soot Nosher mumbled something of an apology as the leaky roof continued dripping into the clay pot near the table. “Now, didn’t you have something to do?” the family’s supreme matriarch asked. “Yes, dear. Come along Ash Eater, we’ve got a roof to repair.” Haltere called after them as they made their exit, “Arista and I are going up to the market to get some extra food for dinner for our guests, if there is anything to be had.” “But I want to stay with Ashy!” Arista whined. Her mother hardly glanced at the little one before returning her attention to her son, “I expect you’ll let the poor pony sleep?” “Yeah, yeah,” Ash Eater said as he waved her away. Following his father out into the larger cavern, the two became pelted with fat drops of condensation that fell from above. The pair began buzzing their wings and hovered up above the house. Ash Eater’s eyes had quickly adapted to the almost nonexistent light when they had first entered the cavern, and he had no trouble here either. There were a few items to repair the leak already on top. Soot Nosher had marked the area with a ring of the glowing moss to make it easy to find. Ash Eater noticed that there was no hardener just as his father grumbled to himself. “Stay here, I forgot something,” he said before buzzing back down. Ash Eater inspected the hole. It didn’t look too bad, but rain constantly dripping in that spot had worn through. There were other divots already forming. It seemed that whatever sediments the water carried were perhaps acidic to the rosin they used to harden the mud. “Constantly fixing the roof,” Soot Nosher grumbled as he flew back up with a small vial. “Pass me the mud.” Ash Eater found the small covered pot of mud and passed it closer. Anticipating the next request, he picked up a stir-stick, and made note of the location of the trowel. “Hmm,” his father uttered thanks. Soot Nosher scooped out a generous bit of mud into the roof, and then added a few drops of the hardener, stirring it and thoroughly mixing it up. Ash Eater watched in silence as the rain pelting the roof and the rest of the cavern played almost melodically in his ears. His thoughts were still consumed by recent events. He simply couldn’t understand why the queen would accept anything short of victory over an inferior form of life. “I can’t believe our queen has given in,” he sought agreement. “Well, things get a little more complicated sometimes.” “I know that, but we are superior; we should be ruling.” His father looked up inquisitively, “How do you come to that?” “Don’t be coy with me, I know you hate them as much as I do.” Returning to his stirring, Soot Nosher replied, “Hating them is not the same as believing oneself or one’s race to be superior.” Ash Eater felt himself gasp at the heresy, “But we are superior!” Soot Nosher took the trowel and began spreading the mud patch, making sure to fill the hole and then smoothing it out above. His son held the pot lid over the work to keep the condensation off. It didn’t take long to complete the work, and they soon gathered up all of the tools, only leaving behind one pot lid to shield the patched area until it could harden. The pair made their way back to the ground, Soot Nosher’s brow furrowed in thought. “Son, your mother and I have been talking about some of your... ideals. I’m not sure where it comes from, but as long as you believe that others are somehow lesser than you, that you or your people are somehow better in any way not related to achievements, you’re always going to be finding trouble over it. It’s just not healthy.” “Don’t make me laugh!” he sneered. “What do you know of ponies beyond the one battle you fought? I have made many of them turn on each other just to avoid a little pain.” Soot Nosher’s concern only seemed to deepen, “War is an ugly business, and there are things you have to do, but the way you seem to relish hurting others is... can’t you see how dark that is?” “I never hurt others, only ponies, and they don’t matter.” “They don’t matter? They are no different than us!” his father’s words became heated. “We have, nothing, in common! They are forever trapped, limited in scope of what they can be. We have the ability to be anything we want, to take whatever we need.” “We have different gifts, but you should only take pride in what you accomplish. Taking pride in what the fates gave you is vanity and foolishness.” “It’s not vain or arrogant if it is true,” Ash Eater sneered. “Tell me this then if you’re the smart one! If we’re so superior as you claim, why are we at peace?” Feeling irritated, Ash Eater searched for a reply. “Why does our queen bow to pony princesses?” Spot Nosher asked indignantly. Ash Eater growled in reply. If anybody else had said those things to his face, he’d have given them the fight they were instigating. Instead, the younger stag’s wings began buzzing. “I don’t have to listen to this!” he seethed as he took flight, zipping off into the rain. He picked up some speed, snarling and growling as he went. He grew louder and faster for a time, channeling all of his rage into his utterance, eventually landing on a small ledge against one wall of the cavern. He drew his breaths in deep fast heaves to recover from the exertion. “Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” he roared, pacing the few steps he could on the narrow stone shelf. “Ponies don’t matter! They are a source of food and nothing else!” the angered stag snapped, gnashing his teeth until his head began throbbing. He let out another enraged yell before the fury began to dissipate. Ash Eater didn’t particularly want to calm down, and so continued grinding over the things that were on his mind. It was confusing that the queen and even his own parents didn’t seem to understand that little truth that changelings should rule Equestria, second to none. Anything for victory was justified and necessary to ensure that they did so. And yet... the queen who had told them to pursue anything for victory had also put a stop to the war. She was the one who stopped a second uprising. Ash Eater sat down in a huff, no insight seeming forthcoming. At the very least, he had managed to get away from that stupid pegasus for a few minutes. Even that didn’t make him feel any better.