Let's Try This Again

by HypernovaBolts11


Chapter IV - Lost

Through the streets of Canterlot, while the ponies were whispering of a late sunrise and an incident at the castle, a lone figure wandered. He had a light grey coat, a pair of quiet, somber, brown eyes, a short, indigo mane and tail, and a pair of well preened avian wings.

His cutie mark was a Hearts and Hooves Day heart, crimson in color, with each side of the heart showing pearly white, so they looked like great fangs, set upon chomping the heart. He didn't care where he was going, so long as it was safe. Nopony could remember who he was when he passed them on the streets, but kept their distance from the stallion.

He stumbled through the extended night, not caring for where he was, which direction he was going, or what ponies thought of him. He just wanted to go home, wherever that was. He didn't care about his freezing wings, nor for his pounding head. He could feel so much, hear so much, smell so much more than he ever had, and he hated it.

He couldn't handle his new amplified senses. He couldn't deal with so much all at once. With his last ties to family gone, he didn't see himself as a self, just another drone, far too far from his home, wherever that was. He was only so smart, barely able to think for himself, just a bit more free a thinker than a foal at the age of five.

Without his mother, his queen, he was nothing. He was a nothing, trying to contain within itself all that had made this land. It was a nothing, trying desperately, to hold a cap down on the magic which had built the world. Faust herself had granted this magic to Celestia, and now, he had it, but knew not what to do with it, or if he wanted it.

Finally, after hours of walking, just as the sun rose at the will of Princess Luna, he collapsed in the middle of the street. Before his nearly unconscious body was a great tree, with windows and balconies, upon one of which a little telescope sat. He saw an owl land in front of him, fold its wings behind itself, and cock its head a bit to the side. It hooted at him, and everything went black.


His unconscious body lay still within the walls of the Golden Oak Library, tucked into a bed, under a blue quilt, decorated with little stars, white and yellow, solid and outlines alike. His eyes slowly slid open, and he still lay there, staring at the ceiling, blankly as anything ever had.

His gaze wandered after a while, having thought more than he should have in that span of time. He sat up, and looked around, grunting as his neck flared with pain when he turned his head, lying back down. He reached a hoof to his shoulder, and massaged it gently, trying to make sense of everything he could remember.

He remembered his mother dying, his horn touching that of the big, white pony, and his seemingly endless walk through the streets. He remembered collapsing in front of a tree, and then nothing. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it, and he began to wonder how badly the changelings would treat him if he returned to the hive.

Perhaps they'd kill him, but maybe they'd let him live out his pitiful little life in the dungeon. Maybe he'd be allowed —or forced, depending on who you asked— to serve as the next ruler's concubine. That wouldn't be so bad. He'd been raised with the task of reproduction at the forefront of everyone's mind.

Or he could just find the nearest pony, reveal himself as a changeling, and lower his head for them to cut off. That would be quick, relatively painless —especially compared to the torture methods exercised by the changeling elite— and at least, that way, he'd die without anyone important seeing it.

It was sunset, and the sky had faded into a red twilight, leaving the horizon to glow a bright gold across the mountains in the distance. When he looked at the small window, he could see his own reflection, onto which he focused his gaze, and only saw a poor, lost foal, who couldn't tell where he was going. The apparition of his bleary eyes felt cold, distant, and so helplessly lost.

He made up his mind when the bedroom door creaked open. He watched as a lavender unicorn stepped through the door. He didn't think much of her at first, as she looked fairly normal for a unicorn. He hoped that she wasn't one of the more recently discovered "seers", ponies who, for whatever reason, could see right through a changeling's disguise.

She spoke, "You passed out on the street. I checked you a few times, and you seem just fine, so what happened to you?"

He cleared his throat, running through his mind all of those pony sounds he'd been taught, but found speech so much easier than he should have. He said, "I don't know, truth be told. Thank you, and I'll be out of your mane before you know it Miss..." He let that hang in the air, and stood up. He made his way towards the unicorn, then froze. He winced as his head lit up with new pain, and the world began to shatter around him.

He felt the presence of something, something all too powerful to be real, something impossibly strong, and much too close. He screwed his eyes shut as he rubbed his forehead from side to side, trying to soothe what his gut told him was a problem with his horn, which he didn't have —not that his body knew that.

He felt lightheaded, fatigued, and sore. His body made the worst decision it could have possibly made at that moment, and his disguise evaporated. He wanted to blame his body, as that only meant a temporary problem for him, but he knew that someone somewhere had forcefully removed his disguise.

The unicorn gasped as her guest erupted in a pillar of green fire, a flame she recognized all too well. Before she could do anything more than jump backwards, the changeling, now without a disguise, fully exposed, fell flat on its side, its eyes clamped shut, its lips pulled back, its unusually ponylike ears pinned against the sides of its head, and its green wings quivering.

He lay there, grunting in pain, twitching as an immensely powerful gaze fell upon him. His grunts became yelps of terror as the beam of magic focused on him, drawing away his will with each shockwave of magic that hit him. He felt his limbs freezing up, his chitin growing numb, then it stopped.

The unicorn had enclosed him in a dome of purple magic, shielding him from whatever had been causing him so much pain. The dome contracted around him a few times, swelling back to its original size between the strikes of magical energy, then it stayed as large as when it had been first cast, and the offensive magic left.

The changeling lay still for a moment, still encased in the purple magic, breathing heavily, recovering from his initial shock. He felt the gaze of the powerful being move away from him, and he sighed in relief. He looked around, then locked his gaze with that of the unicorn, who held a hoof against the shield spell she'd made.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded him, her voice just barely muffled by the walls of the bubble. "You're here to steal my place, aren't you? That's why you came towards me, to knock me out, or tie me up, or kill me." She pinned her ears back, narrowed her eyes, and waited for him to answer her.

He slowly sat up, wincing as the right side of his neck burned, having received most of the force from the magic. He lifted a hole-filled hoof to massage the chitin on his neck, and shook his head, emphasizing his answer by pausing. "N-no..." he said. "I... I had no destination in mind, but home."

The unicorn narrowed her eyes even more, now jotting down notes on a clipboard she'd summoned. She wasn't even looking at the quill as it flew across the paper. She held the changeling's gaze, and asked him, "You expect me to believe that you have a home left, after Queen Chrysalis was blasted away in Canterlot?"

He whimpered at the mention of his mother's name, his ears flopping down, his eyes widening as memories rushed through him. He felt the grief returning to the forefront of his mind, and he began to cry. He clamped his eyes shut, turned around, and lay down. "M-my m-m-mother didn't die during the invasion," he corrected her, trying to contain himself.

The unicorn asked him, "So she's alive, then?"

He burst into tears, and remembered the horn. He lit up his curved horn, and summoned the jagged, crooked horn that had once adorned his mother's head. He held it above himself, so the unicorn could see. "Sh-she was," he corrected her, then hugged the horn to his chest. "Th-they killed her... just yesterday." Tears began streaming down his cheeks, and he threw his head into his hooves, sobbing pitifully.

The unicorn went silent, and the scratching sound of her quill on the clipboard stopped. She made no sound, aside from her calm, thoughtful breathing. Her shield spell faltered for a moment, and the bubble flickered. She lost her concentration, this time, long enough that the spell died.

The changeling's sobbing came to a sudden stop, which threw the unicorn into a panic. Perhaps the crying had been an act, and it'd succeeded in making her drop her guard. She frantically tried to remember the spell, but only managed to shoot a few sparks of purple magic from her horn.

He sighed when he realized that she was trying to cage him again. A plan formed in his mind, and he remembered that he was a changeling, master manipulator of the Equestrian world. He said, "Go ahead." He sniffled. "Just assume that I'm here to hurt you, like those guards, who killed her for no reason."

The unicorn stopped, and said, "W-well..." She lost her words, and could only swallow as the changeling rose from the ground, teleporting his mother's horn away. He slowly turned around, and she began to back away from him. She tripped, and frantically continued to move backwards. She found herself pinned against the wall, with the changeling coming terrifyingly close to her.

The changeling stopped when his nose was mere centimeters from that of the unicorn. With such a look of terror about her, he recognized her, and recalled —from his mother's ramblings— a few things about this unicorn. "Speak, pony, or have you forgotten who is supposed to be smarter in this situation? Twilight Sparkle, have you lost your mind, letting a predator get so close?" he asked her, his voice authoritative, confident, and melodious, but deeper than it ever had been.

Twilight swallowed hard, glanced to her right, and smiled at the changeling. Her eyes filled with smugness for a moment. She said, "Sleep well."

The changeling opened his mouth and asked her, "Wha-" Then something solid, heavy, and blunt hit the back of his head, and he wobbled on his hooves a bit, before falling over. He hadn't even heard the purple and green dragon coming up behind him, nor had he smelled ash on his breath, nor had he heard the creature grabbing a book with which to hit him over the head.

He grunted, still awake. "Well played," he admitted. Then the book returned to strike the back of his head, and everything went black.