//------------------------------//
// Snow, Snow, Snow 
// Story: Change of Hearts 
// by Mannulus 
//------------------------------//


Change of Hearts

A Misadventure of Derpy Hooves

by Mannulus




Chapter 1
Snow, Snow, Snow


Her nose was cold.  She was armored against the chill of the winter morning by a yellow parka, a pair of matching earmuffs, and a white scarf embroidered with her cutie mark, but Derpy's nose was very, very cold.
She stopped long enough to rub at her muzzle with a foreleg, trying to create some small sensation in its cold, numb tip.  She quickly decided the effort was futile, and continued her march towards Sugar Cube Corner.  When she finally stepped inside the bakery, she rejoiced at the warmth that flooded into her nostrils, not even minding terribly that it only made her aware of how dry and chapped the frigid air had left them.
In short order, her newly thawed olfactory organ detected Sugar Cube Corner's characteristic aroma: so many good things that it was impossible to distinguish one from another by smell alone.  There were muffins aplenty represented in that single uniform haze of sweetness, but at this time of year, there were other things, too:  cinnamon and gingerbread, mostly, though also a faint note of roast chestnuts.
And of course the Cakes – and Pinkie Pie – had, as usual, decorated the lobby with all manner of Hearth's Warming trim and finery.  There were colorful lights and there was tinsel and there were wreaths of holly.  There were silver bells, and red ribbons, and not at any other time of the year or at any other place in the world could anypony ever hope to find so many candy canes.
It was meant, of course, to inspire joy and a sense of goodwill toward ponies, but in reality, it made Derpy's heart sink just a little, though she did her best not to show it.  Part of her melancholy was most certainly owed to the fact that her daughter, Dinky, was, for the first time in her life, not at home this Hearth's Warming season, being away at Princess Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns in Canterlot.  Derpy Hooves, however, had reasons even beyond this to feel less enthused for the season than she might once have.
For one, it was not easy to have a delivery job during this season.  More packages were sent during the month leading up to Hearth's Warming than at any other time of year.  Yet there was more to it than her profession, and though her reasons were unique and quite powerful, Derpy Hooves did not lend them much consideration.  It was not her nature to think too deeply about anything, and most especially nothing which might give her pain.  She was the sort given not so much to an empty mind, but rather one devoted to frivolity.  In cases like this one, where random chance sought to remind her of that which she would rather forget, she had taught herself how to evade her thoughts, and how to do so deftly.
Perhaps that was why, as she took her place in the line leading up to the counter, she decided to try and strike up a conversation with the pony in front of her.  He was a pegasus stallion, pale, pale blue, like ice.  He wore a brown bomber jacket, and his mane, only a shade darker in color than his coat, was too long, as if he simply did not care enough to keep it trimmed.
“Don't you love the way it smells in here at Hearth's Warming?” she asked, verbally contradicting her own feelings in an effort to further distance herself from them.
“Not really,” said the stallion, not even turning to face her.
“Oh, come on,” she said, his dour tone having prodded a little too near her own buried sentiments. “Everypony loves Hearth's Warming.”
“Not me,” he said. “The whole thing's an awful waste of time and bits, and they always want a 'White Hearth's Warming.'  Gotta have snow, snow, snow.”  He sighed. “I hate snow.”
The line moved forward, and Derpy was pleased to see Lyra Heartstrings trotting towards the door, beside her levitating her purchase -- a steaming paper cup of hot cocoa.
“Oh, hello, Lyra,” she said, doing her best to sound cheerful.
Lyra offered her a nod, a smile, and a “Good to see you! Happy Hearth's Warming!” as she passed on her way.
The stallion to whom Derpy had been speaking edged to the side to allow the seafoam green unicorn to pass, and it was then that Derpy noticed a peculiar thing:  His cutie mark was a trio of snowflakes set amidst three gray curlicues that she could only assume were meant to represent wind.
“How can you hate snow?” she asked, genuinely curious. “You've got...”
“Yeah, I know,” he cut her off.
He didn't sound particularly irritable – more tired than anything; like someone who had been asked his whole life how to spell an unusual name.
“Look,” he said, turning his head to look at her for the first time, “just because you're good at a thing doesn't mean you have to like it.  I mean, do you like bubbles?” 
“Why wouldn't I?” asked Derpy.
“Okay,” he said, turning towards her fully, “bad question.  Nopony's talent would ever actually be bubbles.  Fate isn't that cruel.”
He had a thin layer of beard stubble, and Derpy actually thought he would be handsome if his gray eyes didn't appear so cold and tired.  In truth, just looking at him made her feel colder, somehow, which was the last thing she wanted or needed at this time of year. 
He looked her up and down, his gaze pausing on her eyes and cutie mark the longest.  The whole affair took all of two seconds.
“I bet you're a total ditz,” he said, completely straight-faced.
Derpy shrank down slightly in mild shame, and stared at the floor.
“Uh, yeah,” she mumbled.
“But remarkably self-aware," he said, and now he noticed her downcast eyes.
“Look, I didn't mean to make you feel bad,” he said, “but my point is that we don't get to choose what we are.  We can't change it, either.  We don't even have to like it or be proud of it.  We just have to... be it.  So, I don't have to like the cold, I don't have to like snow, and I don't have to like Hearth's Warming just because it's cold and snowy.”
“Okay,” said Derpy, feeling ashamed of herself for having even broached the subject.
The Stallion turned, and for the duration of their time in the line, he said nothing more.


***


In spite of the long line earlier that morning at the bakery and the associated unpleasant experience with the strange stallion, Derpy was going to make it to work on time.  It was a feat she had not accomplished since her very first day with the Equestrian Parcel Service, but nonetheless, there she was at 7:57am, right in front of the door.
Not only was she on time, but by well over two minutes, no less.  For once, she could actually use the door instead of crashing through the window of Boxxy Brown's office.  It was a triumph years in the making.
“Kinda makes me wonder why I didn't just set the alarm a few minutes earlier all along,” she mumbled to herself.
She pushed open the door, and strode through the lobby and into the employee lounge.  Silver Script and Tiger Lily were there, both wrapped in thick winter clothes and the former heavily laden with a pair of oversized delivery bags.
“Big day?” she asked the stallion.
“Celestia's mane,” he replied, blinking rapidly in amazement, “you're on time!”
“I know!” she beamed. “Isn't it amazing?”
“In its own right,” said Silver Script, “but to answer your question, yes, it's a big day.  Hearth's Warming, you know?”
“I know,” said Derpy.
“We all know,” said Tiger Lily, “but believe it or not, I've got a pretty easy route today, myself.  Only two stops for me!”
“Good thing, too,” said Derpy, poking gently at the rust-red mare's swollen belly.  Tiger Lily was pregnant, and the little foal growing inside her kicked even at Derpy's mild intrusion into its tiny world.
Tiger Lily grunted.
“Yeah,” she said, through a painful-looking smile. “It's got hooves, by the way.”
“Sorry!” said Derpy, withdrawing her hoof suddenly, “but trust me,” she giggled, “that's better than a horn.”
“I'll bet,” said Tiger Lily, and she grinned, though it might have been as much a gritting of her teeth in discomfort as any expression of amusement. “I'm gonna go lie down for a minute or two before I start my route.”
“Hang in there!” said Derpy.
“Doing my best,” said Tiger Lily, trying to sound cheerful, but Derpy noticed her gnawing at her lower lip as she walked towards a nearby sofa.
“Well,” said Silver Script, “I gotta get going if I'm going to get all these things delivered today.”  With that, he trotted out the door.
“Wonder how big my day's gonna be,” said the gray pegasus, stepping to a small cork board on a nearby wall.
“That's odd,” she mumbled. “There's no route list posted for me.”
“Oh!” said Tiger Lily, from where she lay on her enormous belly. “Boxxy said to tell you to come see him if you happened to come in... you know, through the door.”
“Am I in trouble?” asked Derpy. “I'm on time and everything, for once!”
“I don't think he was upset, but he looked pretty serious,” said the other mare, and she laid her head down beside her. 
“Just two stops,” Derpy overheard Tiger Lily mumble to herself. “Two little boxes, and I can go home.”
Poor thing, thought Derpy, as she climbed the short flight of stairs to Boxxy's office, and stopped in front of the door.  It was tough for me too, I guess.
She sighed, glancing back once more at Tiger Lily, who winced, probably due to an unexpected assault against her her innards on the part of her unborn foal.
No, it was tougher, Derpy thought.  Different reasons, though.  Best not think about that, Derps.  You've probably got enough trouble waiting for you on the other side of this door without adding that to it.
She knocked.
“Come in!” sounded a gruff voice, and she opened the door.
Boxxy peered at her from over a mountain of paperwork strewn across the top of his desk.  He looked mildly stunned.
“You're here?” he asked.  “Now?”  He checked the clock in disbelief.
“What did you want to see me about?” asked Derpy, a nervous edge in her voice.
“Special delivery,” said the big, brown stallion, reaching into the mountain of paper to produce a small, brown box.
“Oh no,” said Derpy, glumly. “How special?”
“What's big, black, and evil?” asked Boxxy.
“Lots of things,” said Derpy. “Could you be more specific?”
“What's big, black, and evil, and eats souls?” asked the Stallion, totally deadpan.
“Well, let's see,” said Derpy, rolling the question over in her mind.
She had never been any good at guessing games.
“Can you give me another hint?” she asked.
“It's female, and raggedy-lookin,' and has a voice like somepony dragging their horseshoes on a gravel road,” said Boxxy.
“Oh!” said Derpy. “Your mother-in-law!”
“Touche`,” Boxxy replied, shrugging, “but I meant Queen Chrysalis.”
“Oh,” said Derpy. “Well, that makes senWHADJASAY!?”
“I need you,” said Boxxy, keeping his voice calm and level, “to deliver a package,” and here he thumped the box with a hoof, “to Queen Chrysalis.”
“Are you even...” She almost added the word “serious,” but one look at Boxxy's face made the question moot.
“Egad, you are, aren't you?” she said. “Who would... ship her... anything?” asked Derpy, her head swimming a little. “Who?  Who would... What would she even, like, order?  Do changelings even have Hearth's Warming?”
“Beat's me,” shrugged Boxxy. “Go ask that what's-her-face... Rarity.  She's the one who dropped this thing off.”
“I really need to have a talk with her about her clientele,” said Derpy, her jaw twitching slightly.
Boxxy leaned back in his chair, and stretched.
“Business is business,” he said.
“I don't even wanna see Queen Chrysalis,” said Derpy.  “Let alone speak to her, or get close enough to give her a package.”  She paused long enough to draw three quick, ragged breaths.  “Boxxy, she's big... and scary... and she pretty much eats souls.”
“I know,” said Boxxy. “I already mentioned that.”
“Eats. Souls.” said Derpy, spacing the two words out for emphasis.
“Well, somepony's gotta deliver this thing,” said the big stallion.
“BUT WHY ME!?!?” screamed Derpy.
“Because it's technically closest to your route!” Boxxy shouted back, his voice for once not quite matching the mare's for volume. “I already shuffled all of your deliveries over to Tiger Lily and Silver Script on account of you're the only pony here who doesn't have any family obligations.”
“I have a daughter!”
“So does Silver Script,” said Boxxy, “and a son, and a wife!  What am I supposed to do?  Send Tiger Lily?  You've seen her; she's pitiful!”
At this, Derpy's ears drooped in shame.
“Ponyville's got the closest EPS hub to the changeling border,” said Boxxy, “There's no one else for us to pass this off to!  Somepony's gotta go.  Look, you'll get overtime and a bonus!” 
“I'm not going.” said Derpy, firmly.
She dropped to her haunches in front of Boxxy's desk, and crossed her forelegs indignantly.
“Then you're out of a job,” said Boxxy.
“I don't care,” Derpy shot back. “I'll make do until I find another job. ”  She scowled. “I'm NOT doing this one, Boxxy.”
Boxxy recoiled at Derpy's obstinance.  In the past, she had protested, complained, and even whined, but this was the first time in all her years with the Equestrian Parcel Service that she had outright refused to make a delivery.
“Derpy,” he said, sighing, “it's just a delivery.”
“It's for Queen Chrysalis!” said Derpy, her voice permeated with incredulity.
“Yeah,” said Boxxy, “and it's gotta be done!  You think I asked for this to be dropped on my desk?'
“Look,” he huffed. ”If I could take it myself, I would, but they'd fire me for leaving the office for that long in the middle of the season. We got more packages coming in all the time.  Somepony has to sort them and keep track of all the paperwork.  I'm the only one that knows the filing system!”
He gestured at his overflowing desk, and Derpy cringed.  Given the choice between managing that disaster area and making this delivery, she still would have erred on the side that did not involve meeting the changeling queen, but not by much.
“Boxxy, the EPS can't really expect us to do this!” Derpy protested, shaking her head.
“Actually, they can,” replied the stallion, scratching at the back of his neck. “Since Queen Chrysalis is technically the ruler of a sovereign nation with whom Equestria is not currently at war, all normal protocol applies, here.”
“Which means?” asked Derpy.
“If the EPS doesn't make this delivery, we're technically interfering with international commerce.  That's against the law.  In other words, we have no choice.”
“I don't care,” said Derpy. “I quit.”
“I don't blame you,” said Boxxy. He looked at his desk, and sighed. “Guess I'll have to send Tiger Lily,” he said, sounding perturbed and glum. “I can cover her two stops between...”
“Wait!” Derpy interrupted, her mind flashing back to the weary mare sprawled out on the sofa in the staff lounge. “You can't send her!”
“Silver's dance card is full, – and I mean FULL.  I've got – or rather had – three delivery ponies.  With you gone, it's gotta be Tiger Lily.”
“Hmph,” he grunted. “What do you even care?  It's not your problem; you don't even work here, anymore.”
Derpy stared at the floor, still thinking of the rust red pegasus – her friend -- consoling herself with the thought of an easy day's work and then a little rest for her weary body.
“Yeah, I do,” she finally mumbled.
“Hmm?” Boxxy grunted.
“Just give me the box,” said Derpy. “I'll take it.”