• Published 9th Oct 2014
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The Flower Ponies Tame The Changelings - Cyndaquil



The flower ponies. Will these unlikely heroes save Equestria from the changeling menace.

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General Pinkie Pie

The Cakes were receiving new inventory for their bakery.

“Oh dear,” said Mrs Cake. “Our chocolate order is short again.”

“I expected as much,” said Mr Cake. “They say locusts are attacking the cocoa crops down in Appleloosa.”

Pinky bounced through the bakery. “I know, it’s horrible right? Still we should have gotten a full shipment this week. Last week Donut Joe got his full sized shipment, and this week he did again.”

“Now Pinkie, you know Donut Joe’s famous Boston cream recipe is topped with chocolate. Ponies from all over flock to try them.”

“Aw c’mon, our baked goods are better than his.”

“Now don’t be a boasting billy goat. In times of need ponies must prioritize, and our bakery has plenty of alternatives to chocolate. Why this time of year everyones buying the pumpkin treats anyway.”

“Like Pumpkin Pie.”

“Pumpkin tarts.”

“Pumpkin torte.”

Now this had become a game. The first person to run out of pumpkin themed desserts loses. Whoever that may be, Pinkies mind was distracted from the chocolate shortage.

“Pumpkin ice cream.”

“Pumpkin cheesecake.”

“Pumpkin dream cake.”

“Pumpkin oatmeal cookies.”

“Pumpkin pie crumb bars.”

“Pumpkin cheesecake pillow popovers.”

“Caramel pumpkin pot de Creme.”

“Pumpkin cupcakes.”

“Fudgy pumpkin bars with vanilla bean brown butter glaze.” Pinkie no longer remembered that chocolate was an issue.

“Pumpkin bread pudding with dulce de leche.”

“Pumpkin pecan spiced macarons.”

“Pumpkin coffeecake donuts.”

“Pumpkin cinnamon rolls.”

“Pumpkin seven layer magic bars.”

“Pumpkin spiced pancakes.”

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No light entered the barrel. The changelings traveled in the cover of darkness on an overcast night. Roselucks one peep hole was only good for air. She would press her mouth to the hole and breathe, if only to taste air that was not saturated with the stink of salted fish. Roseluck only emptied the barrel half way. This was actually the smarter thing to do, on account that the filling made her trip less bumpy, and if anypony looked inside the barrel, there was at least enough fish to bury herself and hide. In truth, the real reason she left the fish inside was because the uniquely pungent fish, from the changeling swamps, were very difficult to dispose of discreetly.

The barrels were carried in a net tied securely to several changelings. She was careful to use a barrel at the bottom of the pile, hoping it wouldn’t be opened until the return trip. It was only the reprieve from her motion sickness, that told her they might have landed.

Roseluck tried to open the barrel only to find that the lid was stuck. She would not have this. It was likely that the flower mare was already in Ponyville. It would be awful to come this close only to be taken back to the hive.

She leaped with all her might, and felt the barrel itself rise into the air, then land with a thud. Maybe if she did this again and again, it would break the barrel. The tree’s in the changeling Forest are a fast growing tropical variety and the lumber has nowhere near the strength of the mighty oak. She jumped, and landed with a thud, then jumped again. Little did she know the barrel was inching closer to the edge of a palette which it rested upon.

The barrel tipped onto its side and began rolling away.

Meanwhile, the changelings were discussing how best to transport the cocoa trees. The trees were larger than saplings, and quickly outgrowing their potted planters. They were raised in a warm nursery and would likely thrive in the hives climate. Getting them to the hive meant going through temperatures that would be a shock for the spoiled indoor grown tree’s. The best they could think of was to wrap the plants with dead leafs and old newspapers.

One changeling turned into Daisy for a second, thereby commenting that they should have brought those flower ponies along. He would never suspect the irony of his statement.

Roselucks fish barrel rolled off a rooftop, onto a bushel of hay, then tipped onto the street and rolled away.

At this time Roseluck was no longer worried about being caught by the changelings. She was instead worried about her life. She screamed for help.

The barrel rolled down the most steeply inclined street in Ponyville.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

The next morning, Pinkie was skipping through town, when she came upon a barrel that was stuck in Matilda’s prize rose bushes.

“Hello,” came a voice.

“Hi,” Pinkie answered.

“Pinkie, is that you?”

“It sure is.”

“Pinkie, this is an emergency. You have to get me to Twilight!”

The pink mare eyed the barrel quizzically for a second. “Okey Dokey Lokey!”

She jumped atop the barrel, and ran in a moonwalk, in order to make it roll forwards, riding it through town.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Some time later, at the hive, Drone was still agonizing over how to come clean. When the flower ponies were first brought to the hive, Chrysalis needed a way to make them work. Torture would have impaired their ability to do hard labour, so instead Chrysalis opted to tell them a harmless little lie. She said that if they didn’t do her bidding she’d turn them all into changelings. Drone wasn’t sure if that was even possible.

Daisy mentioned a princess who turned her friends into breezies once. Maybe ponies were more able to accomplish this feat then the changelings themselves. Though that was beside the point.

To convince them that her threat was possible to carry out, Drone lied and told them all that he was someone named Big Mac, who had been transformed into a changeling. Darn this was complicated. Drone had decided, and Chrysalis even gave her blessing, that he would tell the truth.

There was also an unspoken understanding that they wouldn’t be tortured. Technically everything was unspoken with Drone, he was the least verbal of all his brothers in sisters.

Daisy has this cute notion that changelings communicate by playing charades. In reality they emit complex frequencies by creating micro irregularities in the more regular carrier frequency of their high speed wingbeats, then read these frequencies by using their horns as antennae.

Charades just started as something him and mother did, originally to wile away the hours when they were stuck in the caves during monsoon season. Later, at the end of the changeling invasion, Drone injured his wing shielding Chrysalis herself from what would have been a nasty fall. When his wing healed the tendons were tighter then before. This altered Drones true voice in a way he was still very self conscious about. In changeling terms he now has what would be considered a lovely girls voice.

Still Drone never regretted the incident. Since then he had mothers favour. This afforded him a position within the hive which likened to the harlequins of old. Yes, he was supposed to amuse her with his constant playing of charades, still he was allowed to be more candid and have deeper conversations with his mother then any of his brother and sisters could. Another word for his position was advisor, for he was one of the few who was actually allowed to be critical of their queen. They say his predecessor actually argued against the Canterlot invasion, and he was never punished. He spoke candidly to the Queen for years, right up until the day of his mysterious disappearance.

This again was beside the point.

When Droned wondered how to tell her the truth, he was literally wondering ‘how to tell her the truth.’

Drone could read, but he couldn’t write. Changeling mouths have trouble holding pens. They tend to chew them up.

When he transformed, he could do anything a pony could do, but only through mimicry. If this sounds silly to you, then try pointing both your hooves together then making clockwise circles with both at the same time. It’s not impossible, and of course some of the infiltrators must learn to do just that, it simply is not easy.

Perhaps he could patch together words from different ponies to make the sentences he wanted. Still he didn’t just want to relay a message. He wanted to have a serious conversation. He wanted to have many conversations every day. He wanted to gauge her responses, answer her questions, and so on. Would that ever be possible between them?

Around this time Daisy galloped up to him. “Big Mac, the raiding party is back with the trees. Come see, their flying in now.”

Daisy galloped back to the returning raiding party.

Drone followed after her, and if she knew how to listen she’d have heard poetry, songs, and a even full explanation in his wingbeats.

Daisy was amazed with just how many trees they managed to transport, though feared that a few may not have survived the trip.

“We should let the trees relax from their journey before we try to plant them.” She struggled with the knot on a piece of twine. Seeing this, Drone bit through the twine. Daisy tossed the newspaper to the ground and began sweeping dry leafs aside.

Drone noticed something on one of the newspapers pages. At first he wanted to hide the paper, then decided this was his chance. He presented the page to Daisy.

At first Daisy just glanced at the page, and went back to work. It was nice to see something from home. The article was about a pie eating contest. Surprisingly Mayor Mare, and Cranky Doodle Donkey were the contenders.

Drone showed her the paper again, this time pointing to a certain pony in the picture. It was Big Mac.

“I see. One of the infiltrators is impersonating Big Mac.” She noticed how in the picture Applebloom curled around his leg, while Applejack rifled his hair in a playful fashion. “It looks like he’s doing a good job.” Daisy stopped herself, thinking she might have hurt Drones feelings. Was it hard for him to see his sisters with an impostor? Perhaps he was finally remembering his old life.

Drone slapped his head twice against the ground. Next he pointed at the picture, then at himself, and shook his head.

“You’re saying that’s not you.”

Drone nodded.

“It was once.”

Drone shook his head.

“It was. You just don’t remember.”

Drone shook his head.

“So what are you saying? You think you’ve always been a changeling.”

Nod.

“Why are you bringing his up right now?” Daisy demanded. Her voice was angry, so the juxtaposition of what came next surprised her. Drone kissed her cheek.

Daisy backed away. Not too far away, not far enough to be mistaken for a cringe. She blushed, her cheeks turning crimson. Drone cautiously approached her. Then Daisy practically leaped into his privacy bubble, coming within kissing distance. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I need to think. We’ll talk more about this later. I just… We’ll talk about this later.”

Daisy trotted off and a breakneck pace.

One of the other changelings gave Drone a stern look, then faced the trees, and looked at him again. He knew what the look meant. It said: “You had to do this now.” They had a lot of work ahead of them with the trees. Another changeling already cut the trunk of a tree trying to sweep the leaves aside.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Back to the morning of Roselucks escape.

“Twilight, hey Twilight!”

The lavender princess turned her head, then leaped backward. She was surprised to see Pinkie riding a barrel towards her.

“Hey Twilight, This barrel says it needs to talk to you.”

Pinkie wavered, and tipped atop the barrel. Just when it looked like Pinkie was about to crash into her friend, she instead stopped on a dime and hopped off.

“Did you hear me? This barrel needs to talk to you.”

Twilight turned to the barrel.

“Oh, my head, so dizzy,” came Roseluck’s voice.

“Pinkie theres someone inside that barrel.”

“You sure about that?”

As they were speaking, Spike grabbed a crowbar and tried to break the seal.

“Stop you’re hurting her!” Pinkie warned.

With a plop the barrel opened. Fish fell out first, then a vertigo suffering Roseluck slid out overtop the scaly fish.

After a long shower, and an experiment in using tomato juice to get the fish smell out of her mane ( it didn’t work ), Roseluck sipped on some hot coffee and told Twilight her story.

She told them about being abducted. Then she mentioned the threat to turn them into changelings, and how Daisy believed one changeling was Big Mac, yet she had her suspicions. She told them how Lily had adopted a changeling egg, and nopony knew what would hatch from it. Next she spoke about the land they tilled, and how the impostor flower ponies had set up a nursery in their names, even including minor details like how the changelings were increasing their frog population, possibly to protect from pestilence. Finally she told of her escape, how she came in a fish barrel when changelings were retrieving the baby trees.

Twilight took some time to think about all this. It wasn’t a big concern that changelings wanted to take up farming. She would probably have to rescue Daisy and Lily, though from the sound of it, they may not want to come back.

“They must be behind the chocolate shortage,” Pinkie declared.

“What!” Twilight questioned.

“Isn’t it obvious! That nasty changeling queen is creating a chocolate shortage so that she can extort the rest of Equestria. Why after being starved of chocolate, whole armies will surrender to her. The cocoa must flow. She who controls the chocolate controls the empire.”

“Pinkie I seriously doubt that’s her plan.”

“Yes, it is a plan, a plan most diabolical.”

“Are you even listening to me.”

“Don’t worry Twilight. I have my own plan. I know how to deal with these chocolate stealing baddies. Just leave everything to Pinkie.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Lily was the only one directing the changelings in the planting of the trees. Fortunately it was a fairly routine process. Dig a hole, put manure and fish guts in the hole, place the tree, and backfill. After about five trees, the changelings were working pretty independently. The biggest problem was lining up the rows to Lily’s satisfaction. Changelings weren’t pattern seekers to the extent that most intelligent creatures were. As long as the roots had space, who cared if they were in neat rows or not. Drone was already in a section of the fields that was out of sight from the remaining flower pony.

A frog ate a locust. The frog eyed Drone cautiously. Drone was the first to turn away, more or less stating that he had no intention of eating the creature, as long as they held their end of the agreement.

There were loud croaking noises in the distance. Many frogs were gathered in one spot. He flew in to investigate.

There was a strange creature. It was currently in the marsh lands. It didn’t have wings and the swampy terrain would make it hard to run fast. Drone reasoned that it would be safe to get a closer look.

It was roughly the shape of a stallion. What stood out most was that its mane was made of locusts. The stallions skin looked rotten. It had holes in it, not like the pristine cauterized holes on a changeling, more like places were the flesh had decayed away. Was it even alive?

The creature turned to face Drone.

Its voice was strong, deep and booming, yet raspy and old.

“You are the ugliest honeybird pony I have ever seen.”

“You’re one to talk”

“I thought I had destroyed your kind. All these centuries in Tartarus were made bearable only by the thought of what I had accomplished. I know I killed the pink queen. She was weak.”

“She subdued you.”

The creature answered only with a glare.

Drone smiled a toothy grin.

“Good! If the old queen could subdue you, then my mother will destroy you.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Lily came home after a hard day of planting. It was hard for the changelings at least. The egg was still in her wool saddle bag. She mostly took a managerial role on account that the other changelings were quite possibly more protective of the egg than she was.

Daisy hadn’t been to work in days. There was some complaint, though everyone was more concerned about the missing Roseluck.

The remaining flower ponies kept expecting a visit from Chrysalis. Daisy was in fact goading her to come, yet she never did. Unbeknownst to her, Chrysalis trusted Drone to manage issues with workers, and didn’t generally interfere unless he said there was a problem.

Lily washed her hooves. They had a cordial supper together.

Soon it was getting dark. Lily, needed rest more than Daisy, who napped most of the day. With her mouth, Daisy pulled a blanket over her friend, then nuzzled her affectionately.

“You’re my best friend Lily. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Lily closed her eyes and Daisy walked quietly away. Cautiously Daisy turned. “Lily, if I ever forget you, please forgive me, and would you try to be my friend again.”

The dead tired Lily didn’t even hear enough to understand what she was asking.

Chrysalis didn’t seem to be coming, so Daisy made her way slowly to the palace.

She walked the long steps, explained herself to the guards and was actually allowed to go into the queens chamber.

The queen was still quite terrifying to her. She had all of Celestia’s grandeur and none of her aura of kindness. She put down her book and addressed the flower mare. “What do you want,” Chrysalis demanded.

“I want to be a changeling.”

Chrysalis made an awkward squeak. It was rare that anypony could throw her so off guard.

“Our deal was I work or you make me a changeling.”

“That was more of a threat.” ‘I thought Drone told her that was also a lie. Perhaps the twit only half understood.’

“I haven’t worked in three days, and I won’t work again unless I become a changeling.”

The two engaged in a staring contest. Neither wanted to be the next to speak. This went on possibly for minutes.

The tension was broken when another changeling rushed into the throne room. The changeling was surprised to see Daisy, on account that she was the very pony he impersonated back in Ponyville until recently.

He quickly shook off his surprise and addressed the Queen.

“Your majesty…”

‘He just spoke,’ Daisy observed. ‘He must be part of the changeling A team.’

“Your majesty, a giant statue of your beautiful countenance has been left at the northern drawbridge of the hive.”

“A giant statue of me,” Chrysalis gave a critical expression. “This day just keeps getting stranger and stranger.”

“Another thing your majesty, it’s made of chocolate.”