• Published 9th Apr 2016
  • 11,220 Views, 878 Comments

Catherine the Great - Scarheart



A six-year-old girl becomes the queen of a changeling hive! Too bad her parents are against this... (May contain musical numbers!)

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3. Love is a Burning Thing

Edited by DJ_Neon_Lights.

Catherine was giddy, wading through the throng of adoring changelings. Her hands went out to each of them, touching and petting. Her newly acquired subjects melted at her touch, purring contently in harmonious bliss. She did not know they could purr. It was almost catlike. They bowed before her and gasped when she hugged each one. Organization began and even though there were no words, they began to arranged themselves in an orderly fashion. Mommy and Daddy were talking to Speaker and Angela. The other named changelings were around the group, remaining for the most part silent.

“We are love starved,” she could hear Speaker say. “Mother could not feed us because she failed. Greed made her fail.”

“Are you dangerous?” Mommy then asked. “How can we trust you? You creatures are not from this world. People don’t know anything about you… we know nothing about you. Nobody would believe us if we told them.”

Catherine frowned. How hard could it be to show her new friends to the world? If only they could see how lovable and huggable her changelings were! Why, there would be no reason to be afraid of them! The girl, on impulse, felt she should share the changelings. Mommy and Daddy always said it was important to share her things. Her friends at school would be jealous of her changelings. She just knew it!

“I’m going to my room!” she announced to her parents.

“No! Stay in the living room where I can see you!” Frank twisted from where he sat on the couch. He was looking at Catherine intently, his eyes darting to the throng of changelings confused as to whom they should be focusing their attention on. A couple even bumped heads in the confusion. The poor man looked on the brink of developing an aneurysm.

“I’ll be okay, Daddy! They won’t hurt me. I’m their queen!”

Mommy turned her head and tugged on Daddy’s shirt. “Sit down, Frank. She’ll be all right.” A smile was beamed at Catherine. “Honey, why don’t you go fix yourself some cereal? Just stay in the kitchen where I can see you. You can play with your new friends there while your father and I speak with their leader.” Her voice did not sound right. There was a hitch in her words. They seemed...uncomfortable?

Mommy had look on her face that was not good. Catherine knew both her parents were scared, but she didn’t understand why. She played with a strand of her long, dark hair, wanting to object. Worry creased her forehead. This whole thing was stressing her parents out. There were too many changelings in the house. Too many 'monsters'. Maybe they were worried about the mess? The changelings were not messy. In fact, they were, in the girl’s eyes, making every effort to respect the cleanliness of the house.

“We brought you a crown,” said a changeling to her right. It was sitting on its haunches and had been looking at the photographs mounted on the wall next to the hallway. Curiosity had given way to nervous awe. “A cape, too, if you like capes.”

“Yes! A crown!”

“A nice crown!”

“Not a tall crown!”

“A circlet, if you wish to be technical.”

“It is ancient. Mo—our former queen thought it once was the crown of Princess Platinum.”

Catherine’s eyes went wide with wonder. “Really?” She had tracked each changeling who had spoken, almost as if she knew who was going to speak before they did. They all wore excited expressions. Changelings were really expressive!

“Cathy, please go to the kitchen. Have a bowl of cereal.”

Catherine noticed Mommy trembling, but not with her eyes. It was a tingling sensation in the back of her mind. The sensation was as if a pair of invisible hands had reached out and touched her mother. Through this connection, she could feel fear. It made her jump a little as it flared. The girl turned, staring at her mother, not sure what to think or say.

Instead, she nodded without uttering a word, her lips a thin line as her smile faded. Contemplation burrowed through her flightiness. On a normal day, Catherine was a flighty girl. She could not, for the life of her, pay attention to anything for too long before something else caught her eye. Today, however, she felt keen and aware of her surroundings and of the changelings, to a lesser degree. There was a need, but she could not place a finger on what that need was.

Tugging at the front of her pajama top, Catherine smoothed it flat. Her fingers twitched, rubbing the fabric between them. Her other hand snaked out, falling to rest at the withers of the changeling she had just spoken to. The skin was hard and cool, she noted, as they walked with shuffling steps towards the kitchen. Beneath it, she could feel the warmth. Her fingers stroked up the neck. Changelings were very petable, she decided.

“Breakfast!” whispered several voices. The kitchen only have five changelings in it. They were exploring: opening cabinet doors and peeking inside. One had figured out the stove and was busy turning burners on and off—a clear and unmistakable ‘oooh!’ coming from its mouth. “Feed the Queen!”

Another changeling was poking around the refrigerator, its head buried at the bottom of it. “It’s cold in here,” it declared with a flick of its tail. The changeling backed from the opening, its hoof holding the door in place as it peered over its shoulder. “What a marvelous device! It keeps food from spoiling! A far more efficient appliance than what the ponies store their perishables in!” There was childlike wonder in the changeling's voice.

“Are there eggs?” inquired the changeling at the stove. It had quirked its eyes so one was larger than the other, forming a mask of inquisitive curiosity. “I want a skillet, butter and the eggs, if there are any. And a spatula! I won’t let my days infiltrating as a royal chef to go to waste!”

"Mother's eggs?"

"What?" cried the changelings in the kitchen.

"No, you dummy! Chicken eggs."

There was a collective sigh of relief. Humans did not eat unborn changelings!

“You can cook?” asked Catherine, her eyes lighting up. The kitchen had barstools lining a breakfast bar divide separating the kitchen from the dining room. Clambering into one of the stools, she plopped down on her seat. As she made herself comfortable, the changelings formed an impromptu cooking staff. Catherine propped her elbows on the table and rested her chin on the palms of her hand.

“I can, my queen! If there is anything I can cook with, I can make a masterpiece! I once had Princess Celestia tell me I was responsible for the expansion of the sun!” The changeling grinned at her broadly, his smooth skin crinkling slightly around his muzzle. If he would have had brows, he would have wiggled them.

Flush with excitement, Catherine twisted around at the waist, elbow on the table while the other arm swung around to help keep her balanced. Her green eyes sparkled. “Mommy! Daddy! They’re going to make breakfast!”

“Oh my God, no!” exclaimed Beatrice, flinging her arms in the air as she rose in a panic from her seat. “Not in my kitchen! Get out!” Changelings scattered as she charged like an enraged tigress. Her charged ended as she wrapped her arms in a protective hug around her daughter and peered over the breakfast bar. Outrage came in the form of wide, dark eyes, laugh lines that weren’t funny at the moment, and the darting gaze of a queen witnessing the collapse of her kingdom.

There was a solid tan vase holding various kitchen utensils Beatrice used for cooking. It sat in the corner of the bar, next to the stove. Reaching over, the woman snatched up the first thing her fingers touched. It was a spatula, the one she used for flipping pancakes and eggs. Now, it became a swatter for oversized bugs. Wielding it like a scepter, she rounded the bar, unleashing a warcry that would have impressed an Amazon.

Fear of being swatted set the changelings in a panic. Large eyes went larger and alarmed chirps and cries started a symphony of chaos as the battle for the kitchen began in earnest. They crashed into each other, falling into tangled heaps as blows rained down upon them. The chef changeling at the stove stood his ground, but he cringed as he watched and heard the sounds of a large spatula impacting upon chitin, slightly offended that the tool of his trade was being used in such a way. It must have been a metal spatula. Perhaps aluminum? Such a rare metal, aluminum!

Tong! Tong! Tong! Tong! Tong! Tong!

“It’s annoying! By the Queen, it’s annoying!” cried each of the assailed. They fended off the brutal spatula assault with the combined skills of panicking nerds. Their tone was pitch perfect and synchronized, save for the physical aspect. A landed fish would flop with more grace.

“Mommy! Don’t beat up my changelings, Mommy! Please, stop!” Catherine cried, hopping down from her seat. She was quick and nimble, reaching her mother’s side in the blink of an eye. She began pulling and tugging on her mother’s elbow, pleading, “I’m their queen, stop!”

By now, the group of unhurt (but embarrassed) changelings escaped from the kitchen, save for the chef at the stove. They were also impressed, elated even!

“The queen protects!”

“Savior from the swatter!”

“It’s just a spatula!”

“It burns! It freezes!”

He was balanced on his hind legs while his forelegs were on the edge of the stove. Shifting forward and to one side, he watched over the small island in the center of the kitchen as the human female herded his staff out. It went without saying this was a territorial dispute. So, like any well-behaved changeling with good manners and zero military training, he dropped to all fours, cringed when the woman’s wild eyes fell upon him, and promptly went stiff. He flopped over on his right side and exposed his belly to her. Mournful eyes full of sad and soulful surrender looked up upon the raging female. The battle was hers! He surrendered unconditionally!

“Honey, calm down!” Frank called from the living room. He emerged with Speaker and Angela on his heels. His palms were up and facing his wife as she towered over the cowering changeling chef.

“Tell Mother I love her!” whimpered the chef.

The man grabbed his wife’s arm wielding the deadly spatula and pulled it away from menacing the poor changeling. “The Crawfords. Remember the Crawfords. Lina. Remember what she does. The gossip. The wild accusations. Remember Linda Crawford!

Beatrice stopped cold, her skin paling at the mention of the woman's name. With a squeak in her throat, she turned her head whiplike. Her lips moved in silent prayer, her lungs expanding and contracting. The rage fell away, forgotten. An old threat reared its ugly head, a bad comedy skit she had seen played time and time again. The now listless woman dropped her arm until it hung limply at her side. A look of utter helplessness shadowed her face. Her eyes misted over. “Frank, I have bugs in my house and the Orkin man isn’t going to fix it!” she sobbed, collapsing into her husband’s arms.

“We… have inconvenienced you,” said Speaker in contemplation. Sad buzzes and chirps echoed his statement. “We are sorry.” He closed his eyes, his ears drooping as rejection was now a growing reality. His crest fell and the changeling looked as miserable as the human. The other changelings offered their countenance.

Angela shuffled her hooves uncomfortably on the edge of the plush tan carpet where it met with the gray colors of the kitchen tiles. “We had hopes for a better life. A life where we had a bright future. We could have come to you as kittens or puppies.”

“Or parrots!”

“Marsupials!”

“Jehovah’s Witnesses!”

Leaping around and facing the others, Angela hissed in frustration, splaying her legs out aggressively beneath her. She lowered her head, flaring her horn. It reflected her unhappy mood, it seemed. “Shut. Up. Please, just shut up, all of you!” the changeling snarled. “This is serious! I know you are all excited about exploring your individuality, but now is not the time! Our future hangs in the balance and you guys just have to be so random and idiotic! Please, just stop!”

Sad faces were thrusted deeper into melancholy. Ears splayed out and there was a great deal of shuffling hooves and shamed posturing. Someling passed gas then coughed awkwardly.

“We need air freshener,” muttered Reggie as he waited in resigned anticipation of stinky changeling methane. No doubt the silent killer would soon be upon them. Already the changelings closest to the one responsible were trying to cover their nostrils. Holed hooves were poor barriers against natural gas. “It was Foghorn... again.”

Catherine was confused. She was sad. The changelings were sad. But, a funny had been said. There was a changeling still on his back and on the kitchen floor. He was holding his legs to his body and whimpered quietly. He trembled visibly and had tears in his eyes. She went around her parents, who were also completely lost. Mommy didn’t know what to do. Daddy was scared. The changelings were depressed. The little girl felt something had to be done. She was a queen!

“Stop being sad!” she cried, hugging the chef changeling. “Gordon didn’t do anything wrong!”

The changeling she hugged blinked. How he could blink with compound eyes was astounding. “Gordon? Did you give me a name, Highness?” Fear melted away and a spark of hope could be seen in his orbs.

“You’re a chef, right?” reasoned Catherine with a quirky smile little girls her age used impulsively all around the world that made them universally adorable. “Chefs cook. Mommy watches a chef all the time named Gordon. He’s always yelling. But he makes yummy looking food and wants other chefs to cook as good as he does. I want to call you Gordon because he wants people to eat good food that tastes good.”

Beatrice stared down at the pitiful thing daring to cast hopeful eyes upon her daughter. Catherine glared, her eyes warning, yet pleading for her mother’s approval. Frank could do nothing more than run a hand in a circular pattern over his scalp. He kept rubbing it around and around, unable to stop as habit and circumstance did wage war upon his comprehension. Torn between his wife and his daughter, the man was receiving no help from his unwanted guests.

Without warning, Gordon exploded in green flames. Frank and Beatrice recoiled, throwing their arms up as they cried out. The changelings flinched in response, baring their fangs as if in sudden distress. Fear broiled over to horror. Both parents reached towards Catherine, who was screaming.

There was no scent of fire.

There was no smell of burning flesh.

The flames grew larger and larger, encompassing both girl and changeling. For some reason, ‘Ring of Fire’ began to play from the entertainment center in the living room.

As the fires receded, Speaker gravely said, “The song speaks true. Love burns within us. We cannot hold on to it. But, we can change and that change is affected by the love we are given. Look, Mr. and Mrs. Human, upon the changeling your daughter freely gave love to. Look upon my brother. It is our gift. It is…” The changeling’s monologue fell away like a discarded candy wrapper. “Really, Gordon? I mean….really?”

Catherine looked at Catherine. The Catherines poked at each other with fingers.

Mother and Father suddenly found the floor demanding a hug.

Author's Note:

I'd like to thank everyone who made this story plant a flag at the top of the featured box, if even just for a little while. None of this is possible without you guys. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart!

Revised 04/12/2016

"Ring Of Fire"
(originally by Anita Carter)

Love is a burning thing
And it makes a fiery ring.
Bound by wild desire
I fell into a ring of fire.

[2x]
I fell into a burning ring of fire,
I went down, down, down and the flames went higher
And it burns, burns, burns,
The ring of fire, the ring of fire.

The taste of love is sweet
When hearts like ours meet.
I fell for you like a child,
Oh, but the fire went wild.

I fell into a burning ring of fire,
I went down, down, down and the flames went higher
And it burns, burns, burns,
The ring of fire, the ring of fire.

I fell into a burning ring of fire,
I went down, down, down as the flames went higher
And it burns, burns, burns,
The ring of fire, the ring of fire.

And it burns, burns, burns,
The ring of fire, the ring of fire,
The ring of fire, the ring of fire.