Changeling

by TheOnly


New Places

New forms were always a new experience. When a changeling copies the physical appearance of another pony, they also gain their physical prowess. Changeling wings are thin and light, built for quick, agile movement and turns rather than efficient flying. Pegasus wings, however, gave the changeling a new asset. There wasn't any need to transition between pegasus and changeling wings, as the changeling would already be accustomed to flying. However, the changeling's horn would be gone.

Changelings also couldn't take the form of something that is larger than themselves. The queen was the only changeling that could take the form of a larger pony, or an alicorn. Any other changeling would have to stick with something their own size, although it did not have to be a pony.

When taking on the form of a unicorn, the changeling would lose their wings but gain a different venue of magic. Their short, black horns were only capable of casting a small amount of spells. Most of them involved green magic, the most offensive kind, usually used for explosions on impact. Unicorn horns were capable of a much larger range of spells, and the longer a changeling could stay in the form of a unicorn the more magic they would be able to use.

Although it may seem like earth pony forms would be avoided, they were preferred just as much as the other types of ponies. Changelings, when in a new form, could only fight with physical combat as they would lose their familiar magic. Their fangs, hard exoskeleton, and spiked head would be gone, leaving them with little to fight with. Earth ponies were stronger than the rest, making their form more useful for combat.

Each new form was a learning experience. Although the mind of the changeling did not change, having a different physical appearance meant adapting to it, and it was no different for this changeling.

No names were given to the changelings at birth, so they were always referred to as "you" or "it". The same is true for the lone changeling, finding his way through Ponyville. Everything was so brightly colored in Ponyville, and his new eyes showed the colors fully. Unlike his normal, solid blue eyes, the eyes of a pony could interpret color much better, and his lack of exposure to such color lead to a painful headache. Even though his physical form was that of a pony, his mind still interpreted what his new eyes saw in the same way it would if he was still a changeling. Becoming accustomed to the new eyes would take some time.

Each building and pony had their own unique color, and each color struck his mind like a hammer. Each vibrant shade gave off a different feeling that caused the changelings mind to be stimulated in ways that weren't familiar. It wasn't pleasant. The more vibrant the colors were, the more painful it was for his mind. And as the amount of colors his eyes took in increased, he could feel his mind trying to fight them off harder. Each color caused another throb in his small brain.

The ground felt different to the changeling. Unlike the hard, outer shell of his former self, the hooves of a pony were softer. Not by too much, but enough to cause a difference in his gait. Usually he would never feel the ground through his exoskeleton, but the hoof felt every step, making each one awkward and hesitant. Each step had to be taken gingerly, or he'd feel as though he was pressing too hard. Although it felt awkward for him, to everypony else his trot looked normal.

Within the town of Ponyville, the residents trotted carelessly through the streets. He felt as though all eyes were fixated him, picking him out as "different". Usually ponies would scream at the sighting of a changeling, being cloaked felt relieving. It felt as though a burden had been lifted, that he no longer had to hide from the ponies. He was one of them. Each and every eye was not focused on him, even though each pony he passed he felt the need to look at. Every time somepony would look at him, his heart would skip a beat. His mind would race as he looked for a way to escape, afraid that the pony had seen through his tricks and saw the changeling within. But that never happened.

As he trotted through the town, observing all the brightly colored ponies that were so different from the black color of changelings he knew so well, he felt his head being weighed down. Although it was no hefty burden, a mane hung from his head. Unlike the spikes that stuck rigidly out of his skull as a changeling, the mane was flimsy. It added a small amount of tug downwards, causing his head to tilt sideways if he wasn't careful in maintaining balance. The extra weight was just enough to disorientate him, forcing him to readjust the way he held up his head. A mane was something he had never experienced before.

Changelings that left the nest often had experience with new forms, but for him the transition added plenty of small changes that created problems. Slowly, his steps became harder, and a clear clopping sound could be heard whenever his hoof hit the ground. Keeping his head tilted for a short while helped him adjust his internal balance, allowing him to cope with the mane. He got a couple odd stares while he trotted through the streets of Ponyvile, his head slightly tilted.

In their true form, changelings had short, stiff tails, but the new tail of a pony didn't pose any problem to the changeling. It was simply extra weight that had to be dragged along. Each step became more mechanical, and keeping his head straight required little to no effort. He felt vulnerable without his hard outer skin, but there was nothing he could do to fix that. Anything that brushed up against him felt different. He sensed when something touched him. There was nothing to protect him from outside forces, everything he felt, he felt wholly. The sun was hot. His fleshy skin absorbed every ray and the heat seeped into his body, creating warmth. It was uncomfortable, but bearable.

The town was all foreign to the changeling. It wasn't desolate and empty, but busy and populated. Crowds of ponies trotted up and down the streets, and he trotted among them. There was no duty to the queen, or days spent wallowing in the emptiness of the nest. Here, there was plenty to do and see, even if it hurt his eyes. Although, he still felt as though he was in the nest. He was just another pony among many others, but he was separated. His new form had color and uniqueness, something that made him different from the other ponies. All changelings looked the same, but as a pony he was an individual. He could have a name, and nopony would confuse him with another one. There was a sense of power that he gained, that he was himself finally. He wasn't just another "minion". He was-

"Hello there!"

He stopped. His thought process completely froze and so did his legs. He felt something on his forehead but he didn't know what it was. The colors that surrounded him were ignored, and his eyes focused only on the stallion that stood before him. He didn't know what to do. A voice in his head was screaming at him to run, that the stallion knew who he really was.

"I haven't seen you in a while! How've you been?" asked the stallion.

The changeling's eyes were wide open. There was no escaping now. He swallowed the saliva that had collected in his mouth and looked to find his voice. With a new body came a new set of chords to pluck when it came time to speak, and learning how to use them was difficult. Within his body he searched for the vocal chords and with great delicacy, spoke. Changelings didn't have voices, but were educated enough to know the language. It was the only way they could understand their queen. With his new set of vocal chords, he let out a coarse noise. Voices were a tricky thing. The stallion looked at him quizzically.

"Something wrong?"

The changeling shook his head, and continued to search for the voice that his new form gave him. Changelings never needed to use their voices to speak, and finding out how to form words was difficult enough. Time spent around the queen had given him enough time to see what speaking looked like, and how to do it. He opened his mouth.

"I'm fine." He did it, the words had come out. His throat felt every breath leave and form familiar sounds. He had found the vocal chords, and manipulating them was as simple as controlling how the sounds exited the mouth.

"Well that's great to hear. Do you remember who I am?" The stallion smiled, expecting an affirmative reply.

"No." The stallion's smile fell, and he stared into the eyes of the pony.

"Really? You don't remember me. I thought you'd know me." The stallion turned his head, giving another view of himself for the pony to see. He was sure that this pony knew him.

"No."

"Well... You must be the wrong pony, I'm terribly sorry. What's your name?"

The changeling felt as though an arrow had been shot into his heart. A name? Changelings didn't have names, and they had no idea what a proper name was. He could feel something wet and warm rolling down his forehead. Although he didn't know what it was, he couldn't bring himself to wipe it off. This small bead of water rolled off his face and onto the ground as the changeling stared into the eyes of the stallion, speechless.

"Is it really that hot out?" The stallion looked up towards the sun and back at the sweating pony.

The changeling thought of all the names he knew. Chrysalis was the only finding. That was the single name that he had heard, but it was a name unique to the queen. Calling himself Chrysalis would be suicide. There were no other options. He looked around, houses and market stands surrounding him. There was nothing to help him.

A voice from behind called out a word unknown to the changeling, and then again. A pony approached the changeling from behind, continuing to say the odd word.

"We have to go," said the pony. Without saying goodbye to the stallion, the changeling was whisked away by the pony that had called out the odd word.

It sounded like a name.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Twilight waited patiently in the central square. Ponies trotted by, on some sort of arbitrary errand, or sat around to watch the blue sky, or bought things from the multiple markets. From the street nearby trotted in Applejack, who was holding a basket in her mouth, and Rainbow Dash. Twilight smiled at them and waved, her hoof sticking up over the crowd of ponies. Applejack nudged Rainbow, who was eyeing some fresh apples on a nearby stand, and the two made their way towards Twilight.

Within a few minutes, Rarity and Pinkie Pie stood outside the sea of ponies, looking for their friends. A purple hoof stuck out over the crowd, and they trotted over. They made idle chatter with their companions as they waited for Fluttershy.

Through the groups of ponies, Fluttershy found her way to her friends, and the six of them shared a greeting. The weather was perfect for a picnic, and with Twilight being ahead of her schedule and everypony else being free that day, there was no way the opportunity would be passed up.

"Applejack, did you bring the apples?" asked Twilight.

"You betcha!"

"And Rarity, did you bring the blanket?"

Rarity stared blankly at Twilight. "What blanket?"

"The blanket, the one I asked you to bring! We can't have a picnic without a blanket, it says so in my book!" Her yelling elicited no more than a blank stare from Rarity.

"It must have slipped my mind." Twilight sighed.

"I guess I'll just go grab a blanket from the library, then." Twilight turned to trot off, and as she did she noticed Pinkie Pie.

"Is everything alright, Pinkie?" Pinkie rubbed her forehead with a hoof.

"I'm fine."