‘Twas the night before Hearth’s Warming, and all through the dorms,
Not a creature was sleeping, for there were no snores.
Ocellus frowned, blinking her eyes and sighing. It was too late at night to bastardize holiday classics, but she couldn’t sleep yet. She had important business tonight. Top secret business! But before that business could commence, someone else had to fall asleep.
In the last few months of being roommates with a yak, Ocellus had learned many things. Yaks were surprisingly tidy creatures. Despite her outwardly destructive nature, Yona was a fastidious housekeeper. Their room was almost always clutter-free, though that was partly because most items in the room didn’t last more than a week. Yona always cleaned up after herself when she needed to stomp something into dust. Also, yaks snored. Like, snored-snored. Ocellus had learned the hard way that if she wasn’t the first one asleep, she would not be sleeping in her own bed that night. Yona usually tossed and turned for a bit before drifting off to the sawmill. She didn’t even need to check with her changeling senses; her ears would let her know when it was time.
The bunk shifted below her slightly, but it did not rumble. Yona wasn’t out yet.
Analyzing the seams in the ceiling had grown tiresome, and so she was left with little other than her thoughts and poorly-parodied holiday poems. Well, it wasn’t that bad. ‘Dorms’ kind of rhymed with ‘snores’. It worked fine if she stretched the pronunciation a bit. Snorms?
She fought the urge to giggle. Tired-brained Ocellus was a bit like normal-brained Silverstream, in a way.
She sure was going to a lot of trouble staying up this late, fighting her circadian rhythm the whole way. Back in the hive, sleeping was strictly regulated before the liberation. She still hadn’t shaken off the old habit, typically falling asleep exactly three hours after sunset, which was usually well before Yona went to bed, luckily. It was actually a lot of trouble, and yet she had to do it. She had plans.
I don’t know why I can’t say no to her, she thought. She didn’t exactly vibe with Smolder. Smolder was loud. Brash. Arrogant. Unfiltered, unfettered, unabashed. A lot more adjectives that her brain was too tired to call forth. The first few months at the school, they had been at odds with each other. Opposite ends of an ensemble cast of friends, they only interacted when the group was together. It had taken a near-death experience in the caverns under the school for them to finally connect one-on-one, sharing their deepest held fears with each other.
Smolder was terrified of being caught indulging her interest in glamorous things. It was so fitting. A dragon with that level of confidence surely wasn’t bothered by anything deeply traumatic. All she was afraid of was being seen as weak because she liked to dress up and travel.
But all the same, it was a chink in the armor. It showed Ocellus a more tender side of that orange dragon underneath all the bravado, and as surface level as that fear might have been, it mortalized her. Made her seem more real. They’d become a lot closer in the months since then, especially when Smolder started coming to her about her covert couture capers.
And that was the subject of the night’s activities. Sneaking over to Smolder’s room to give her the Hearth’s Warming gift that had been hiding under her bed for the past week. She didn’t have a ton of money to spend, nor was dragon-shaped clothing readily available in Ponyville, but she’d managed to convince Professor Rarity to help her put something together in exchange for two afternoons of assistant work at the boutique. It was a very simple little cocktail gown, made of black silk that flowed like a river of shadow. Nothing flashy, not like some of the bouffant monstrosities Smolder was fond of and kept tucked away deep in the confines of her closet, but if Rarity’s eye for design told her anything, it would do just fine.
Finally, a rumble coursed through the bed, and Ocellus smiled. Yona was asleep. Time to make her move.
She slipped out from under the covers and lit her horn. Little swirls of green flame wisped around her hooves, replacing the hard chitin with rich, velvety fur that even covered the bottom of her hooves. Each step felt weird as she backed herself down the ladder, but the hair did its job: she didn’t make a sound as she lowered herself to the floor, slipped Smolder’s gift out from under the bed, and snuck out into the hall.
Sweet dreams, Yona, she thought with a smile.
It was dead quiet, not a single sign of life in the hallway. Smolder’s door was at the far end of the hall, so she kept her furry hooves as she crept down it. Carefully, she tapped the tip of her horn against the door. Once, waited two seconds, and then tapped two more times. The secret code knock they’d developed specifically for the occasion.
Light spilled from under the door, and a moment later, the door cracked open, Smolder peering out warily. When her eyes adjusted and she could tell it was Ocellus, the door opened the rest of the way and she waved her in.
Ocellus entered the dragon’s den, and the door was quickly shut behind her, though with enough care so as to not make any noise. Then, Smolder stuffed a towel under the door to hide the light, and she finished it with turning the lock. No disturbances.
“I’ve been expecting you,” she said, keeping her voice low. “What took so long?”
“Yona took a while to fall asleep,” Ocellus replied, also keeping her voice low. “Sorry.”
Smolder nodded. “Well, I’m glad you’re here! I’ve had this new silver tea set for over a month and I’ve been dying to take it for a spin.” She pointed over to a small folding table set up in the center of the floor, with two little pink chairs with hearts on the seat backs on either side.
“That sounds lovely,” said Ocellus. “I hope you got caffeine-free tea this time though.”
“For sure.” By this point, Smolder had usually adopted her tea party voice, adorning her usual rasp with a posh accent and more complex verbiage. Ocellus thought it odd that she was taking so long to get into character.
Smolder had been so preoccupied with her safety precautions that she hadn’t even noticed the package Ocellus had hovering in her magic. She floated it over, dropping it into the dragon’s arms. “I know it’s technically a day early, but here. Happy Hearth’s Warming, Smolder.”
Smolder grinned down at the little present, her pupils dilating ever so slightly. Truth be told, that was Ocellus’s favorite part of giving Smolder gifts. It prodded the draconic instinct to hoard, and the reactions were priceless.
“Aw dude, you didn’t have to,” she said, still enrapt with the wrapped box.
“You can just open i—”
Smolder tore into it without hesitation, greedily slicing the ribbon and tearing the top off the box without even trying to open it properly. She yanked the dress out of its tissue paper lining so fast that it nearly gave Ocellus a heart attack. She didn’t hear a rip, but it was about the opposite of gentle. “Careful!” she chided. “It’s delicate.”
Smolder froze, eyes darting back and forth between the dress in her claws and the changeling standing across from her. Gingerly, she held the garment out and let it unfurl, revealing it in all of its slender, silky glory. Smolder eyed it up and down for a moment, no doubt taking mental notes of all the ensembles she could throw together that incorporated it. Ocellus was no fashion expert, but she knew the versatility of such a dress. It would look good in just about any situation, but when it was on Smolder? Très magnifıque.
She would have done a chef’s kiss if it wouldn’t have gotten her a strange look.
“I love it! Thanks, Ocellus,” Smolder said with a big smile.
Ocellus beamed. “I’m glad you like it! You wouldn’t believe the work I had to do with Professor Rarity to make that happen.” Internally, she winced. In truth, she hadn’t been required to do much during her assistant time. That little line had been designed to milk the gratitude, which was one of the more satisfying emotions for a changeling to feed on. A little artifact of the social training she’d excelled at as a nymph. Mostly harmless, but she couldn’t help feeling a little guilty for it.
And the gratitude was flowing, as she reached out with her emotion receptors to sample the room. Mission accomplished, though now she felt too guilty to take any for herself. She had all the food she needed, why was she trying to harvest more?
But then she caught a wisp of something else. Gratitude was a fairly similar emotion to love, though it was less rich and, for lack of a better word, flavorful. Sort of like the comparison of hot cocoa made with water versus hot cocoa made with milk, though emotions and tastes weren’t directly analogous. This new taste was sour, and it nearly made Ocellus wrinkle her nose.
It was really easy to pinpoint the source of such emotions when there was only one other creature in the room. Ocellus looked to Smolder, who was busying herself with retrieving the tea set from the deepest recesses of her closet.
Was that… disgust?
“Hey Smolder?” Ocellus asked.
“Yeah?” she said, carefully dragging a box out and shutting the door behind her.
Ocellus opened her mouth to speak, but she hesitated. How could she broach that subject without just making Smolder uncomfortable? It wasn’t quite mind reading, but sensing the emotions a creature gave off was the next best thing. One of the first things she’d learned upon arrival to Equestria was that ponies didn’t like knowing their inner feelings weren’t totally private. It was probably one of the main reasons changelings and ponies had been enemies for so long in the first place, and that logic surely extended to dragons.
Thankfully, her training before The Changing had addressed this. Meeting non-changelings required her to play her cards close to her chest. Play dumb. Acting like she had a built in polygraph was a fast way to get a creature to close off, which was bad for gathering love and also bad for fostering genuine friendship. .
“What kind of tea is it?”
“Green,” Smolder answered, pouring some water into the silver teapot with a heart-shaped handle.
“Oh good,” Ocellus said, feigning relief. “I wasn’t a huge fan of the Earl Gray we had last time.”
“Nah, me neither,” said Smolder. “Nothing like a classic green.” She held the kettle out and exhaled a jet of translucent blue flame onto its base.
“Yep,” Ocellus said, trailing off. Small talk was so hard to force, but at least she had a moment to gather her thoughts while Smolder was indisposed with heating the water. She could probably just avoid the subject entirely. Not every gift was going to be a winner, and she knew Smolder could be a bit particular about what outfits she wore.
But she really didn’t understand why. She knew Smolder had mentioned needing a simple black dress recently. It was what tipped her off to get the gift in the first place! Like, what kind of fashion-forward dragon would turn down a black silk dress? It could go with anything, and she hadn’t even tried it on.
Come to think of it, this tea session was off to a weird start. Usually she had an outfit waiting on Ocellus right when she arrived, but this time there was none. Just tea. The dress was sitting draped over the bed, and no other ensembles were in sight.
“So,” Ocellus began. “What sort of outfits did you have planned for tonight?”
Smolder blinked, shutting off her flame breath. “I didn’t really have anything planned,” she said.
“Really? You always have something ready to go.”
Smolder shrugged. “Meh, I didn’t really think that far ahead this time,” she said, returning to heating the water for their tea.
Ocellus frowned. That was the sort of casual nonchalance that Smolder usually presented to the world. Unbothered, armored from the world by indifference. The Smolder she knew from their Top Secret Tea nights was a very different side of her, fussing over details and stressing when things didn’t go according to plan. Her undragonlike side.
Ocellus opened her emotion receptors again, and this time she got a hint of several emotions she didn’t like. Anxiety. Fear. Even the faintest wisp of disgust hung in the room. Emotions that should not have come after getting a nice gift from a close friend and confidant.
“Well, what outfits did you have in mind?” Ocellus said, crossing to the closet door. “I was thinking of using my dragon form with something backless, you know, to let the wings breathe,” she said, pulling the closet open and flipping on the light.
It was empty. The small hidey hole, usually stuffed to the gills and overflowing with gowns and other assorted treasures Smolder collected, had been reduced to just a few boxes stacked in the corner.
She heard an indignant huff behind her. “You know it’s rude to just barge into a dragon’s closet, right?”
“What happened to all your dresses?” Ocellus asked.
“I sold them.”
“Why?”
“Because,” Smolder spat, crossing her arms.
“Because?”
“They were taking up too much space,” she said, keeping her eyes averted. “You don’t need to make a big deal out of this.”
“This is just so sudden.” Ocellus bit her lip. “Is something wrong, Smolder?”
“No, everything’s fine.”
“Really?” I haven’t known you for too long, but I know this isn’t a normal Smolder thing to do. Like Headmare Twilight says in her class, ‘A friend in need—”
“Ugh, save me the lecture.” Smolder rolled her eyes. “Look, those were my dresses, and I’m free to do what I want with them. It’s not a big deal.”
“But you cared about them,” Ocellus said.
“Says who?”
“Says my changeling senses.” Ocellus tapped her horn with a hoof. “I could tell you loved those things.”
“Oh, so now you’re reading my mind?”
“That’s not how changeling senses work, Smolder, but that’s beside the point. If I know anything about dragons, it’s that you don’t like to get rid of things. It goes against your instincts. Something must be pretty bad for you to get rid of some of your most prized possessions at the drop of a hat.”
Smolder grimaced, the facade faltering. “You want this tea or not?” she asked, a last-ditch attempt to change the subject.
“I want you to stop shutting me out,” said Ocellus. “I’m your top secret tea buddy. You can talk to me, Smolder.”
With a sigh, Smolder deflated. “I didn’t want to get rid of them,” she said, carefully placing the pot of hot water on the floor. “I had to.”
“Was it money?”
She shrugged. “Not really. I used some of the money to buy a Hearth’s Warming gift for Gallus, but that wasn’t it.” She sat down on the bed, and Ocellus made her way over to sit next to her. “I sold them because I needed to get rid of them. For me.”
Ocellus frowned. “For you?”
“Yeah, for me,” Smolder confirmed. “I just felt like I needed to get out of the whole fancy costume game. Put it behind me.”
“Just all of the sudden? Time to make a change?”
“Yeah. I’d always kind of liked pretty things, but we didn’t have many of them in the dragon lands. When I came here, they were everywhere. I could get my claws on all the latest trends, buy things that served zero purpose other than making me look flashy and interesting. Well, at least to ponies.
“But that’s not what dragons are supposed to do,” she said with a sigh. “It would be one thing if I just hoarded all of that stuff. Some of those gowns were pretty expensive. But I did more than hoard it. I used those dresses. I liked feeling pretty when I looked at myself in the mirror wearing them.”
“And you felt like less of a dragon because of it?” Ocellus asked.
Smolder nodded. “I’ve got an image to uphold. If I’m here prancing around in frilly dresses, acting like the ponies I swore I was better than, then what am I?
“A dragon with a sense of style?” Ocellus offered.
“A disgrace,” she said. “I have to be tough, and this stuff is making me soft.” She snorted, a dry laugh rasping out. “Like right now. I’m sitting here talking to you about how I feel. If I did this with another dragon, I’d be the laughingstock of the lava pits. I swear, this school is turning me into mush.”
Ocellus sat quiet for a moment. She was one of the privileged few who got to know Smolder on this level, and that came with a responsibility. She had the power to help her like few others could, and she was needed now. “Can I tell you a story?” she asked.
Smolder nodded.
“When I was a nymph before The Changing, I kind of went through the same thing you did.”
Smolder cocked an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize changelings were like dragons.”
“We aren’t,” Ocellus said, holding out a hoof to shush Smolder. “But that doesn’t mean I haven’t felt similar. See, back when Chrysalis was in charge of the hive, we lived our lives by very strict rules. We all dedicated our entire selves to the service of the hive, and that meant everything. Everything was a collective effort, and to go against the flow was to go against the hive. We were only allowed to possess our memories, everything material belonged to everyone. We slept in communal spaces, ate the love our infiltrators gathered at the same pool, worked different jobs every day so that we didn’t develop a sense of identity even with our jobs. We didn’t even get names. If you were found to think of yourself as anything other than a part of the greater Hive, then you would have your mind wiped.”
She sighed, the memories of those dark days still like fresh wounds. “Even so, that didn’t stop a lot of us from trying to be someone anyway. When we left the Hive on training missions, we entered a world full of life and color. I learned of the way ponies lived, in a sea of individuals with opposing interests, clashing with each other and only figuring out how to coexist if the conditions were right.”
“It seemed weird to me at the time, but instead of feeling disgusted by it like we were supposed to, I was intrigued. The idea that I could make my own choices, to live life guided by my own will? I was curious about what that was like, so I started collecting things. At first just a few pebbles that I hid outside the hive, but later, I started getting real things. A snow globe, a sweater with snowflakes designs stitched into it. Just a few little trinkets here and there, since I didn’t have access to much. But they were mine.
“One day, I went to my hidey hole under the cover of night to stash a coin I’d found on the ground during my training. I looked down at all the things I’d collected, and I wanted to vomit. I was betraying my hive and going against everything I had been taught my entire life.”
“So what did you do?” Smolder asked.
“I filled the hole in with dirt,” Ocellus said, a pensive frown on her muzzle. “I tried to go back to the way things were, the way it was supposed to be. It was tough. I wanted to go back and look at my possessions and feel like I wasn’t just a mindless cell in a bigger body. But the shame I felt nearly pushed me to turning myself in. I would have gotten my mind wiped if it hadn’t been for Starlight breaking into the hive and dethroning Chrysalis.”
She turned to Smolder and smiled. “But I’m here now. It’s not really a perfect analogy, but I think it leads to more or less the same place. I realized something a few days after The Changing. Being yourself is not a sign of weakness. Cowards bend to what the world says they should be. It takes a lot of strength to be honest about who you are and what you want. You might get ridiculed by some, but the ones who matter will admire and respect you for being authentic.”
“I get what you’re saying,” said Smolder. “But it’s not that easy.”
“I never said it was,” Ocellus agreed. “It’s a process. I’m still unlearning a lot of the things I had ingrained into me as a nymph. Half the time, I still feel like I’m supposed to be sleeping on the floor.”
Smolder chuckled. “Yeah. The truth is, I’m afraid. I don’t know if I have it in me to stand up to the other dragons about this sort of thing. Heck, I don’t even trust everyone in our friend group here to not be weird over it. So if any of this leaves this room, I’m gonna claw you.”
“My lips are sealed,” said Ocellus. “This is between us.”
“Thanks,” said Smolder. The room went quiet for a few moments. “So, what now?”
“It’s up to you,” said Ocellus, looking down to the black cocktail dress laying on the bed between them. “If you want to be done with fashion and just live like a ‘real dragon’, then you can do that. But if you want to be your own dragon, then you can do whatever makes you happy.”
Smolder followed her gaze down to the dress, and she picked it up in her claws. “It is a really nice dress,” she commented.
It was all the answer Ocellus needed, and she smiled. “Professor Rarity did a great job with that one,” she said.
“You can’t go wrong with a black silk dress,” said Smolder, hopping up from the bed and walking over to the closet. She opened the door and stood in front of the empty shelves for a moment, her shoulders sagging ever so slightly. “This was a mistake.”
Ocellus giggled. “Well, at least you have a nice dress to start your new collection with. And what about all those bits you got from selling them?”
“I still have a bunch left over,” said Smolder. “What do you say we catch a train to Canterlot and go shopping?”
“In the middle of the night?” said Ocellus.
“Ugh, ponies and their sleep schedules,” Smolder lamented. “What about tomorrow?”
Ocellus shook her head. “Everything’s closed for Hearth’s Warming.”
“Right. We’ll do it the first chance we get, how about that?”
Ocellus giggled. “I’d love to.”
Smolder beamed. “I’m gonna slip this bad boy on, and then we’ll get that tea going.”
Ocellus smiled.