There are few worse ways to wake up than to an agonizing migraine, pounding in tune to a heartbeat. I groaned, raising my hooves to my head to ward off the light. Without even looking where I was, I stood up, nearly falling back down on the uneven ground.
“Easy there buddy,” came a voice, the jostling movement halting. “Don’t want you damaging our harvest.”
All I could see was orange. After a bout of blinking, the world came into focus, and I found myself face down in a cart of pumpkins. Two earth ponies looked back at me expectantly, hindered by the cart`s harnesses
“You feeling alright?” the one to the left asked. He was a chestnut brown stallion with a black mane.
“Fine,” I lied, standing up to get down from the cart. I didn’t want to bother with other ponies. Not yet anyway.
Somehow, the other stallion, a heavily built grey earth pony with an orange mane, unhitched himself before I could even try finishing the action.
“Easy now,” he said, pushing me back down with a hoof. “You need to rest.” I tried to argue but he just shook his head. “You’re in no condition to be walking around.”
“Besides,” the chestnut earth pony interjected, “we barely noticed your weight back up there. So what’s your name?”
“Amethyst,” I mumbled. It was irrelevant whether I told them my actual name or not; within a few days, it’d either be plastered over the papers, or lying with me beneath the rubble.
“I’m Boulder, and this is my brother Flare,” he said, started forward again once his brother had returned to his position. “So what happened to you? We found you face down on the road.”
“Tripped and landed on my head,” I lamely fibbed. A thought struck me, and I hurriedly glanced down to make sure I still had the grey hooves of a unicorn. It had taken a long time for me to learn how to hold disguises while I slept. From what my teacher had told me, it’s why most changelings chose the pretense of a lone individual, so they had the sanctuary of the night.
They didn’t seem to notice, though, and bought my pathetic lie. “Well, just rest up back there. We’ll be in Canterlot by sunset.”
Seemingly unable to accept me declining their offer, they insisted I rest. I wonder what they would think if they knew what I truly was. Ponies always painted the picture of friendship with whomever they met, but in reality, they were ever so racist. There was this one time a minotaur had come to my town, but if not for the services he offered, few ponies would have even spared him the time of day. Only living there all my life had persuaded them to give me a chance.
“Why are you going to Canterlot?” I asked, trying to strike up a conversation and soothe any doubts.
“You’re sitting on the reason,” Boulder replied. “We’re headin’ into the city to sell them. Not sure how much luck we’ll have, though; after the changeling invasion, not many ponies will be buying.”
“What’s your opinion about them?” I asked, feigning innocence.
“About what?”
“Changelings.”
Boulder stumbled, the words catching him unawares. “Um...” he stammered, “not really sure.”
Did I not hear him correctly, or did he just say he wasn’t sure? Unease, yet open to debate, was something I had not expected to find in ponies. His words struck me harder than I thought they could; it took several seconds to form a response.
“Wha-What?” I almost shouted.
Looking back, Flare evaluated me with a glance. “Do you expect us to judge ponies just because of the actions of a portion of them? Sure, they did try to take over Canterlot, but I don’t buy that it makes them all evil.”
Boulder nodded his agreement. “Besides, dad wouldn’t take too kindly to us judging others before we met. He didn’t raise us that way.”
The words set doubt churning in my mind. Would my father appreciate what I was trying to do? Everytime I tried to think of my past, their agonizing screams sounded out, drowning out all else. Shuddering, I forced a smile to dissuade the brothers’ curious expressions. It didn’t make it any easier to drain their love for me. Well, not so much love as worry.
Now was a good a time as any to explain what separated changelings from ponies.
At first glance, a changeling loosely resembles a pony; a small alicorn, to be more precise. Like zebras, we even used the terms stallion and mare to describe ourselves outside our own language. However, that is where the similarities end. The chitin shell, exoskeleton and membraned wings lent us an almost bug-like appearance, if not for the thin black felt-like covering.
Of course, those are just the visible differences; the main one is in how we feed and cast magic. Changelings aren’t the life-draining monsters many ponies make us out to be. Yes, we do feed off the souls of ponies and their love, but it's how we do it that separates us from a common predator.
To understand this, first accept that every living thing in the world emits some manner of emotion. All changelings feed and flourish on these emissions, drawing sustenance from “magical resonance,” as teacher once described it. Without the energy granted by these emotions, we couldn’t fly or use magic and would be little bigger than a filly or a colt.
I want to get this out of the way immediately. We only harm someone when we steal emotions. Love given freely can never cause harm; how can you steal something which is given? Distance degrades it, but love always touches you. Even when I left town for a week with my teacher, I could still feel my parent’s love. As mighty as it sounds, however, nothing is without fault.
Love is a drug.
I had lived so long with it, that, even though I physically didn’t need it, my body demanded it, even altering my mind to convince me of its views. Long enough without, and I would unconsciously seek to strip it from others, causing more harm than a disguise would. If I went long enough without enough, I would dissolve into nothing more than a mindless monster, seeking to drain an unfortunate victim into a husk.
Well, at least I’d fit their expectations.
Boulder and Flare were talking to each other once I returned from my thoughts. It was clearly a conversation just for the two of them. Sighing, I took their advice, squirming around to find a comfortable position on the pumpkins to rest. Once more, my thoughts gathered around the events of last night, despite my best efforts. They either didn’t hear or notice my quiet sobs as I drifted off to sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~
“-ake up!”
Something prodded me, and I swatted at it, raising my head from the lumpy bed.
Boulder withdrew, chuckling to himself. “Have a good sleep?” he asked, hooking himself back up. “You certainly look better. Just letting you know, we’re coming into Canterlot soon.”
I bit my lip when I noticed their drooping shoulders, drawing blood. No wonder I looked so much better; I had been stealing from them as I slept. After a minute, though, I dismissed it as my imagination. They had been pulling a cart all day with me as a late addition, and even though they said I wasn’t noticeable, over the course of the day the small difference would be enough.
I hopped down off the cart, and trotted up to join the pair, narrowly avoiding stumbling as I hesitated on unfamiliar legs. Finally, I had the chance to examine my destination and target: Canterlot.
The slender spires of the castle rose from the mountain side, appearing to spell out peace, but in reality that was even more of a forgery than my disguise. How they must love to look down on the world as though we were nothing more than pawns, tools to be disposed of when broken. Beneath the castle sprawled the city, the roofs forming a solid, multihued mass. Yet, even from this distance, I could make out the damage done by the invasion
I didn’t give a shit about the damned place; their version of justice had shown they deserved no sympathy.
The presence of the guard, standing at attention for their perverted doctrine, was stifling when we finally reached the city. Four of them glared menacingly at us, deciding if it was worth their time to drag us to the castle for interrogation. I met their gaze unflinchingly, engaging in the visual duel. But to imply that it was a contest would be unfair. Scarcely three seconds passed before their eyes drifted away, as if they couldn’t bear looking at me.
“Ehya...” Boulder whistled, looking around in shock. “The changelings sure hit this place hard.”
Flare merely grunted an acknowledgement, while I took a deep breath of air. The entire place simply reeked of fear and paranoia. It seemed like all traces of joy had evaporated as fast as morning dew.
Oh... guess I should mention that changelings can “smell” (for lack of a better word) emotions. Sympathy to hilarity were as tangible to us as bitter and sweet. Trying to explain it, though, would be like trying to explain the colour orange to a blind pony; you’ll just have to take my word for this.
“So where are you staying?” I asked.
“We’ll probably bunk up at our cousin’s inn for a little bit before trying to sell. Doesn’t look like we’d have too much luck at the moment.”
“Yeah, I guess everyone’s a little spooked.”
Oh, how I hated the act I was forced to put on. Were it not for the judgement the city deserved, I would have told Boulder and Flare to flee, to avoid the coming storm. Even though I believed them to be relatively pure of heart, they would alert the guard in an instant.
“That is an understatement,” Flare commented, watching a mare slam shut the shutters to a window.
“What happened to everypony?” Boulder asked, after a stallion pulled a colt playing on the street inside, shooting the three of them a baleful glance..
“Changelings,” I grunted.
“I know that, but why?”
I didn’t have an answer for him; it didn’t make much sense to me either. There was nothing to be gained from them by invading Canterlot. Sure, maybe at first they would have all the love they could ever dream of, but fear and terror would eat away at that like cancer, withering the energy to a trickle.
Direct assault is always the last resort for any changeling, as we are physically weaker than any type of pony, even unicorns. More than once I had come home battered after school, having lost another fight. Thankfully, the love my parents gave me allowed me to grow past that to be roughly on equal terms. Illusion and subterfuge was the strength of changelings, not sheer power.
“I dunno,” I sighed. “Hopefully, they get over it quickly.”
Flare dismissed that theory. “Ponies don’t ‘get over’ something like this so readily. I have a feeling we’re going to be sellin’ little this year.”
There wasn’t anything to say as we continued to plow through the streets. The trek only served to validate my beliefs at the harsh glares we received. Twistedly, I imagined just what they would do to me if they found out I was a changeling. My mind was stuck between boiling oil and decapitation, but to be frank, they’d probably want to see me suffer. I’m going to go with slowly being burnt alive; they’d already shown that they were more than willing.
“Celestia damn it!” came a voice.
Boulder and Flare shared a look and darted ahead, the cart rattling perilously behind them. I was left in the dust for a few moments, before managing to catch up, huffing alongside them. An off-white unicorn with a shoulder-length lemon-yellow mane stood atop the battered roof of a building, struggling relentlessly with a fractured piece of lumber.
“Everything alright, Marmalade?” Boulder called up.
“No, it’s not!” she cried. “I’ve been up here all day trying to fix the hole those bloody bugs made, but this beam just won’t come loose.” She gave it another fruitless tug as if to emphasize her point.
“Why don’t you come down and cool off a smidge?” Flare wisely suggested.
Marmalade examined the speaker for a moment with her light-brown eyes. “You just want me to help you with your pumpkins, don’t you?” she countered.
The thinly veiled amusement didn’t escape my senses, as a smile played about his lips. “Perhaps,” he said, “but it couldn’t hurt nonetheless, and besides, we brought somepony else along.”
Marmalade noticed me for the first time, her face colouring in slight embarrassment at her outburst. “Hey there,” she said. “Sorry about the mess, but those damned changelings tore up my inn pretty bad. I’m Lemon Marmalade by the way.”
“Amethyst,” I replied, giving a small nod.
“Care for a drink?” she asked, beginning to untangle herself from the wreckage.
“Sorry, but there’s something I need to do. My parents would never forgive me if I forgot.”
It was easier keeping track of white lies than complete fabrications. I actually had no idea what my parents would think of me, but I knew if I didn’t do this, I would never forgive myself. That wasn’t the only reason I wanted to get away, though. Truthfully, she was beginning to sound like another one of those fanatical bigots. Yes, she probably wasn’t as extreme, but “bloody bugs” and “damned changelings” left little to the imagination.
“You sure?” Boulder asked.
I nodded in reply. “Yeah, I’ll miss my chance if I don’t do it now.”
“Well, see ya, I guess. Why don’t you stop by before you leave; take a raincheck for that drink.”
The muscles in my face twitched my smile into a sinister grin. If only they could have seen it form as I walked away.
“Don’t worry,” I called over my shoulder, “I’m sure you’ll hear all about me.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This entire city could burn in the depths of Tartarus, for all I cared.
Ever since I left Marmalade’s inn, I wandered around the city eavesdropping on conversations, trying to get a feel of where to strike. The comments were at best, dreadful, and at worst, horrific. I gnawed on a pear core, listening to the table behind me. With what they owed me, I would hardly call it stealing.
You know what? Screw compensation, I just want justice.
“Did you hear? They captured four changelings in a wine cellar yesterday,” a stallion’s voice sounded out. “They found those parasites hiding in empty barrels.”
A few grunts of approval followed his words.
“What did they do with them?” another pony asked.
“Not enough, if you ask me,” the original speaker continued. “The princesses banished them to the wastelands.”
“They should have just killed the bastards and been done with it. Those filthy beasts are just mindless drones, so why should it matter. You see...”
It was all I could do not to race over there and kick his skull in. This hadn’t been the first time today, either. Everywhere I went, there was some remark to be had about changelings. To save time, let me sum up what they thought of me.
Changelings were the worst of parasites, their only purpose to ruin others’ lives, taking joy from their suffering. We are incapable of thought, and couldn’t feel emotion, being mindlessly guided along by our queen. Our second favorite thing, besides ruining love, of course, was the spectacle of skin slowly being peeled away, and the tortured screams that accompanied it. I could write a book filled entirely with the shit that I had heard that afternoon, all of it slander and lies.
To them, calling me the epitome of evil, the foulest of creatures born in the dark of night, would be a compliment; I was far worse.
Fate is a fickle mistress, despite any initial impressions. She was convinced to show me the innocence that remained, even as she showed me their hearts of darkness. A pink ball tumbled across the cobbled stone, bumping into my foreleg. A group of fillies and colts (I’m betting they snuck out) stood in a little grassy clearing, obviously passing the ball around.
The air here felt so different. It was as though a physical weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Taking a deep breath, I felt the happiness flowing through the air. That experience alone was more valuable than any energy I received. The first genuine smile since the event flowed onto my face as I kicked the ball back, taking a moment to watch them return to their game.
If only we were all like children. Children never judged, never held grudges and always saw the best of life. Sure, there might be bullies here and there, but they were just a byproduct of growing up, as they became ‘’adults”. Fillies and colts with cutie marks bullied those without, calling them blank flanks, even if they had only had their own for days. I was all too familiar with that particular taunt myself, while growing up.
It pained me to realize that Canterlot couldn’t burn. At least, not all of it. Without any method to save those who refrained from propagating the paranoia and hate, I would be no better than my parents’ killers. Luckily, there was someplace I could target, which, in retrospect, should have been my goal all along.
I just wondered how those elegant white spires would look when they were darkened with ash.
Absentmindedly, I reached up to my neck, feeling for the comforting weight of the locket, and remembering the promise I made. Nothing but my warm flesh greeted my touch. A dark pit of horror bloomed in my stomach -- the locket wasn’t there.
“Masters damn it!” I hissed, wracking my mind for where it could be.
Of course, the cart! It must have fallen off while I was resting in their cart. If Boulder and Flare had unloaded their pumpkins, they were sure to have found it. Ignoring the suspicious glances I received, I galloped back to the inn, hoping I wasn’t too late.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Hey Boulder,” I shouted, drawing the attention of the chestnut stallion on the roof. From the looks of it, he had finally gotten the beam loose. Marmalade and Flare were nowhere to be seen. “Did you find a locket in your cart by any chance?”
“What...” Boulder stammered, missing the first part of my question. “Amethyst, why don’t you come inside for a moment.”
I should have noticed the look on his face and the change in emotion wafting through the air, but in my haste, I missed all of it. Nodding, I walked around to the front and waited for him to come down.
The door opened. “Come on in,” he said.
The door had scarcely closed before a searing pain flared across the back of my skull, sending me tumbling to the floor. Magic wrapped around my body, but in my daze, I lashed out, catching something with a hoof, before fighting against the glow with my own. All I could see were stars, flashing points of light in the darkness, and a second later I found my head pressed up against wooden flooring, forelegs held firmly against my sides.
“What’s your name?” demanded Flare, from somewhere above me.
“Wha-”
“Your name!” he repeated, voice growing in volume.
“Amethyst,” I answered.
“We mean your real name, changeling,” Marmalade hissed.
So that what’s it was. No sense in hiding it any longer. The grip on my legs tightened as tongues of purple flame washed over me, as my skin changed to chitin, as my legs hollowed with holes. My eyes shifted, the sclera changing from white to the purple of my namesake, my pupils stretching into slits.
“My name’s still Amethyst, I wasn’t lying to you. Can you let me go?”
“Not until you tell us how you tricked those ponies,” she commanded.
“What ponies?” I asked in confusion.
“The ones in the locket,” she said, dangling in front of me.
“Tricked them?” I sputtered. “If I tricked them by letting them raise me since I was a foal, then yes, I tricked them.”
The brothers’ grip loosened slightly.
“Y-you’re lying.” Marmalade stammered, as if unable to accept the idea.
My voice dipped dangerously in anger. “You’re just like the rest of them. Look beneath that first picture, and keep going till you reach the last one. Look at any of them and try, just try to say I’m lying.”
It took many long seconds, but I was finally let go and allowed to stand up.
“So what now?” I demanded, snatching back the locket and placing it around my neck.. “Are you going to ask me, ‘Where are the others?’, ‘Do I enjoy blood warm or chilled?’, or ‘How many ponies have I senselessly murdered while living with them?’. Hmm?”
“Why are you here?”
I chuckled. “Now, there’s a rich question. I’m here for justice, here for answers. Ponies like you thought what I was born as was reason enough to burn my parents alive.”
“Ponies like me?” she asked, giving a gasp.
“Maybe you’d understand if you were one of those ‘bloody bugs’ like me.” I offered. My magic spiraled over my body, restoring the disguise. I made for the door, only to be stopped by Boulder placing himself in the way.
“Tell me, Boulder,” I began, “what ever happened to not judging others before you met them? Or was that all just another lie?”
“Well?” I asked, after a moment’s silence.
Shamed, Boulder lowered his head and stepped to the side, unable to meet my unwavering gaze. I never so much as spared them another glance, and trotted out without looking back, my sights set on the castle. It had been foolish to think they would have been any different, even after what the brothers had said to me. Everyone loved to sound so amazingly noble, yet when push came to shove, how quickly those same morals crumbled.