//------------------------------// // The Changeling Collar // Story: The Changeling Collar // by SparklingTwilight //------------------------------// i. I'm a changeling in Equestria. A big bright collar adorns my neck and I cannot change. I'm also a pony--in spirit at least--and loyal to the Ponies' Celestia. I left the Hive and its hiveway thinking, and I wear my collar because I'm proud I'm a pony and I want my fellow ponies to feel safe. But pony-fear still surrounds me. Not from all, but surrounding hate taints loving succor. Because of the collar, I can only look like a changeling. Changelings swarmed before and ponies died. Famished, hungry mistakes were made--extracting too much love. But I left the hive--I changed. I'm not alone. Somelings oppose Chrysalis, seek to keep the love-infiltration status quo, oppose her risky policy of war. Others flee. Changelings masquerading as ponies have long-gathered Equestrian love to share with the Hive. I take a risk and return to this land of love for everypony. And I love its ponies, prancing even when I was taking, draining... never again will I take like that. They see me; scatter. And I fear I don't belong. ii. I make some friends. It's not easy--it was simpler in disguise. Tentative steps. Some reach out to me, others I find. Friends--I have them! I work hard--odd jobs, menial even. I can't use my best magic but I can fly. I save bits, spent on gifts and food for ponies since their joy and love is *my* feast. Someponies cannot love me. Those others, not-my-friends, lost ponies in the last war, worry about the risk I pose, or just don't want to know me. I know it's hard but I wish they could change. That's selfish of me. I want their love--I *eat* love. I leave them alone. I long to blend in, become a pony, make them feel better, but because of the collar, I cannot. Will I ever belong? iii. Equestria and the Hive fight a Changeling-Pony war. My friendshipling collar(Portmanteau for "Friendship Changeling Collar") should assuage pony fears, but I'm famished. Pony friends left to fight at the front; no friendship love now to share. Friendship love comes with less intensity than taken love. It's more difficult to process, but it's safely given; greedily grabbing love harms ponies. Did I take too much in the before? I don't know. I don't want to. My changeling holes have grown bigger and I am thin. Otherponies are afraid. A changeling died today. Not many are in Manehatten. I knew the ling but I don't want to think of the death even that impersonally. That ling was me and if I think of it that way, then I'll do the ling more honor. Does that make sense? I'm not sure. It's hiveway thinking, I fear. But it could happen to me--walking--pushed, falling to the pavement, struck by a wheel, not intentional but not unexpected. What can I expect? It's hard to think without enough food. iv. I'm hungrier than before. I don't want to force-take a pony's love--I left that hiveway with the Hive. But I think all the time about what I do not have. I wish I could change; they'd see me as a pony who could be loved, but that won't happen. "Equestria Seeks Allies Abroad", a broadsheet proclaims, "Princesses and Heroes Finding Friends"; the situation is dire. Ponies are tested by unicorns when going outside: infiltrators are found. And I can't remove the collar; that's now illegal. It's for our protection. The Princesses hope we'll be seen as safe...friends. It's not working. An infiltrator had a fake collar that didn't dampen the changing magic. Then a lovelorn Equestrian-ling defected back to the Hive. Ponies panic. Even if I reject the law, only a unicorn could adjust the collar. My holes are growing larger, but the collar won't fall because it's held with magic sensing if I can change, even though on my porous neck it looks like it doesn't belong. v. I bite and hiss and grab the pony; I take its love for others--all of it! vi. I'm in a prison camp with other lings from the Front. Wings clipped, and a magic-field failsafe flummoxing flight. Starving without love. Even less than at the Hive. There, infiltrators would return, spreading stolen love. Our masked guards dare not approach. They give us water, but we cannot live on only that. They know this. Changelings from the Hive see my collar, ask what it means. I don't tell them. I keep to myself. Was I particularly vicious at the Front? Do I have medals? Am I famous? I shift away, but there's nowhere to run. They get suspicious; hurt me. I make something up. It's nonsense; they think I'm a pony disguised as a Changeling. Ponies have magic: it could probably happen, but why here? They're hungry-insane. We have great want. They beat the truth out of me after I can't give a straight answer about my battalion. Now they know. Won't speak with me. Grumble about me being "another" backstabbing ling just like "Thorax". I don't know anything about thatling. Beat me some more, but they're starving and I'm far, far away. Here, I'm the only collared ling. There are other camps. But maybe I'm the only collared changeling-pony in a camp; instead, all others of me who took the mantle are happy and loved and safe in pony cities. I'm every changeling-pony in Manehatten and there's only one of me here? Could it be, though, that all of me dead? But, ponies love. So much love. For ponies... Where are my friends? Did I love-drain a pony... to death? So much flailing, failing... I'm never going to eat here, but I can't be suffering everywhere. Somewhere: I must belong there. vii. They know we're dying. Changelings collapse, sessile on the sand; we are nothing without love. But I understand why they love us not: this war, the last. The deaths. I wish I could change that. Or their hearts could change, but there is pain: they cannot. viii. I'm dying. I'm falling to the ground and my collar falls from my holey neck, and even though it's not there, there's a larger field around alllings. Even if I needed to, I cannot change. There's not enough love, and I can't change. postscript. A dream? Hope? Truth? Sessile like other love-lorn lings in the camp, I await my end: hear a cheer. Hive fell to T-Twiligh...no. Revolt? Thorax? Harmony, Love? War: over? Ponies embracing changelings. Am I sane? Did something... change?