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A promise to end all3,000 words
Do you think this is a game?5,903 words
Struggles1,779 words
No cake for Celestia, bring on the Changelings3,835 words
The awakening of a pony named Idol Hooves Part 1 (Proof read by Vdrake)5,600 words
The awakening of a pony named Idol Hooves Part 25,940 words
The awakening of a pony named Idol Hooves Part 37,504 words
End - An exile no more.2,761 words
Alternative Ending3,559 words

Alternative Ending

Author's Note:

Originally this was going to be ending of the story, but the more I wrote it quickly became apparent this wouldn't fit. So I'm classifying this the 'Original True Pairing' chapter, which isn't connected to the rest of the story.

Our discussion didn’t settle the matter entirely but it didn’t end in disaster either. Her fear is justified if I’m to be honest, but her emotions didn’t really suggest that was the whole reason.

The fear was only a smaller part of the larger whole, where I think its not seeing a changeling itself but the thought her grandfoal had been replaced by one. She seemed receptive enough that this wasn’t the case but she’ll have to be the one to realize that on her own.

There was one more thing I needed to do but felt this info was of the vital variety and thus headed back home.

The return trip didn’t last as long since I was following the herd of ponies this time instead of fighting them, and before long exited onto the side street I knew lead to home. I had assumed Topaz and Nymph would still be here but after a couple of knocks with no answer told me this wasn’t true.

I unlocked the door and called out to them just to make sure they weren’t home before looking for some parchment and quill so I could write out what had happened. Not a long letter mind you, just a couple of paragraphs with the important details before folding it in half and setting it on the table in the kitchen.

I don’t know how long I’ll be away, but at least the knowledge of what happened has been delivered. Checking the time, only fueled my haste to leave.

I had roughly three hours before the next guard shift started, and I must hurry. I had kept her waiting two weeks too long, and Order above, I won’t keep her waiting any longer.

“...The Grindhouse.”

I haven’t been here since Mothchaser first brought me here right after my one and only triple shift.

I didn’t approach the establishment right away, having decided to wait a block away to obverse it without being seen. From my recollection, the shop wouldn’t for another hour and while this would be the ideal time to seek her out, I couldn’t bring myself to make that first step.

All I have to do is walk up and knock; just place each hoof in front of the other, lift a forehoof and knock, Mothchaser will answer and we’ll finally have our talk.

'What a disgrace to the guard I am.'

I survived being exiled and found a home among the ponies, where I dedicated my life to protecting them. I’ve fought timberwolves, detained criminals, and performed every patrol schedule to the exact letter, while learning the art of sculpting and raising a changeling nymph on the side. And none of this experience gave me the courage to initiate a simple knock?

‘I would have better luck getting Nymph to wear that bow.’ I thought as I lost my bravado.

I was in the transition of becoming less exposed by relocating to a less visible spot behind a building when I caught the overpowering emotions of a confused pony; a combination flavors I’ve seldom sampled from official gatherings, let alone from a single pony.

A pony I’ve had the opportunity to taste on multiple occasions over the past decade, with our recent meeting ending in complete disaster. The mare I’ve been trying to talk to for the last two weeks...

“Hello Mothchaser.” I greeted her as I turned around to find the thestral weighted down with the contents of her shopping. She couldn’t even fake a smile to return the greeting, instead, averting her eyes to the ground as she mumbled what I thought was ‘hello’.

We fell into a lapsed silence after that. Unable to find the words I’d been wanting to say for the last two weeks, I reached out. The contact wasn’t planned, and Mothchaser certainly didn’t expect it based on the ear splitting screech she gave out while jumping back just out of my reach.

“Moth..I’m sorry.” Her reaction was nothing like I expected, far from it. Based on my accumulative knowledge built upon years of working together, I had thought she’ll be more receptive to a brief touch on the withers.

Mothchaser looked equally perplexed as I felt. The thestrals I’ve come to know through work and basic camaraderie forged by the participation from after shift activities never display any timid characteristics. This unwilling to display any perceived weakness, especially in public, has evolved into the expected imagine as confident hunters of the night. A ponysona the thestral tribe has come to embrace and even strive to uphold not because the lie was needed, but because it became a goal. A role model of sorts.

The Mothchaser I know followed this to the unwritten rule to the exact letter, and not the mare averting her gaze every time we tried talking.

“I..it’s fine Idol. You just startled me is all.” She regained her voice, but I could feel the hollowness in her words. The enthusiasm and vigor she normally spoke with were absent, and seemingly replaced with a young pony having just joined the guard.

“No. No, it’s not fine Moth. I hurt you, unintentionally, but hurt you all the same.”

I took a step toward her, but stopped once I saw her muscles contract first, causing her to jerk back before I felt it- surprise and want. The taste alone left me feeling like I’ve discovered sugar all over again, and the thought left me eager to try it…

Stepping back, I shook my head clear of this distraction and returned my focus back to Mothchaser, who now appeared conflicted based on her unsure hoof placement. She would meet my gaze ready to say something before retreating back only to halt, and return to her previous position before looking toward her shop and back at me.

I turned to look at the shop expecting to see patrons lining up or her brother watching us through the window, but found a quiet shop on a mellow street.

“Could we talk?” I finally asked after two weeks of waiting.

The question consumed Mothchaser, letting her abandon the timidness so she could move toward me, nodding excitedly.

“Ye..yes! I’ll love to talk!”

I set at the serving counter sipping a ‘Cottage Special, a newer addition to the updating menu and as described to me is a softer touch to their House Special.This drink resembled the House in every way- color, smell, taste, ingredients and how it was prepared.

“I taste a hint of..mint?” I brought the cup once more to my lips, sampling it to confirm my assumption.

“There’s no actual mint leaves in the blend…” Moth started before turning around to open one of the cupboards labeled tea to grab a small bottle, half full of an emerald colored liquid. She placed it directly in front of me for my inspection, the aroma it produced told me what it was.

“Mint juice.”

“Mint extract actually.”

“Indeed.” I agreed, conceding my knowledge on operating a brew house is severely limited.

She then took an empty mug off the counter behind her and placed it next to the bottle. Her leather wings grabbing the mint extract to pour a very small amount into the mug, before setting it down to place a single tea leaf over the poured extract.

“The mint isn’t actually apart of the drink, but used to coat the sides of the mug with a tea leaf.” Moth demonstrated this by using her wings to hold the mug while using the other to gently rub the liquid around until every surface was covered . “This blend is still being refined, but I’m hopeful it’ll turn out..”

“Might I make a suggestion?” Mothchaser set the mug down leaving the tea leaf inside as she looked up, her eyes bearing a little more of their previous shine as she, ‘tasted’ my question before nodding.

“The flavor is acceptable but leaves a taste that hampers my desire to eat or drink anything else. Perhaps it would be better as a seasonal brew?”

“Because it's that bad?”

“Because the drink feels me with a warmth and a taste that reminds me of the Castle Hearth’s Warming Eve pudding.”

“Pudding. It tastes like pudding?” I could feel her irritation at my comparison of the minty beverage to a dessert. Not the best example I could have used but felt it adequate enough to build my argument off of.

“I meant as a festive drink you only brew and sell it during the cold months.” I took another sip finishing the beverage off much to my delight. I sat the now empty mug down as Moth took her own mug in wing to mix herself one of her own creations.

“Festive could work…”

Moth didn’t follow her own recipe this time by tweaking the ingredients, and adjusting the amounts. She finished mixing but stopped as her ear swiveled left and right as if they were looking for something, before darting off the fridge to pull out a small white box. I watched as she removed the cover to reveal an assortment of chocolates, some decorated with a drizzled chocolate sauce with the other half plain- she plucked the darkest, plain one and dropped it into the mug.

“...but I wanted a year-round drink.” She took a sip, smacked her lips twice before a large force rushed down her spine, causing her to shudder as the wonderful sensation… “Yuck. Undrinkable.”

The chocolate couldn’t be that bad?

“I rather enjoy chocolate.”

“Same. Just not salted caramel melting in mint tea, kinda kills the mood.”

I didn’t respond. The drinks allowed us the chance to ease into the thought of addressing the issue we’ve been ignoring, but with the tea drank and our unwillingness to continue…

“How’s patrol?”

“Fine. I stopped another herd of colts disturbing the peace, they were ‘terrorizing the good citizens’ as the report went. “

...we made small talk.

The nature of our talk held little structure as we traded topics back and forth, becoming increasingly excitable the more we socialized. We chatted about work and its less adventurous days before sharing memorable moments we’ve experienced; I started us off with the time I leaped off a bridge to catch a thief, while Moth countered with the time she took part in a fruit smuggling raid along the east coast.

I retorted with the time I was temporarily stationed in the Appleloosian Desert during the ‘hot’ years of the Buffalo-Pony conflict where I was given a name by both sides for my actions that day.

“The Rock?” Moth laughed, her lips reeling all the way back to expose her fangs. I didn’t flinch, but joined with my own mild laughter as I explained how I got it.

“I’m unmoving, and stoic against the world around me. It means I simply am, and the Buffalo respected my honesty.”

“What did they town folks call you? She asked leaning a little closer to hear my reason, I followed suit while trying to hide my slight embarrassment.

“The agreed upon name by the town was Iron Apples.” Moth lost it, reeling back so her wings could cover her face as she screeched. I held my position like a guard should, but found her merit enduring and honest enough to accept it.

I waited until she exhausted her amusement from the story, but wouldn't mind listening to that laugh a bit longer.

“This..ha..this is true?” She asked while trying to regulate her breathing, and I nodded. A little disappointed she would question the integrity of the story, but understood the circumstances involved did provoke a sense of doubt often than not.

“It sounds fabricated, but every word is true as Celestia raises the sun.”

“So that’s why the Element of Honesty is so friendly with you.”

“Lady Applejack has admitted to family living there so it's possible she has been informed. It’s a title I don’t like advertising.”

“Well…” She returned to the counter to lean on it, I waited while she used the claw of her left wing to curl a lock of her mane. How she maneuvered her wing to perform this caught my attention briefly”...a moth to a flame.”

“Excuse me?” I asked, coming back to my senses. She didn’t laugh, but the sparkle in Moth’s eyes as she exposed the fangs left me feeling unsure.

“It’s a saying us thestrasl use, means we got something we like.”

“Got what?” I asked looking around the shop for anything I might have missed on my way in, but turned around once she started giggling.

“Don’t worry about it Idol, it’s not important right now.” she told me as she swiped a hoof at me, but I knew it to be the pony way of saying ‘it's fine, let's move on.”

Not wanting to press, took the advice and resumed our conversation where we left off.

Mothchaser listened to my story before chiming in with her own story about how she earned her own ‘titles’. I listened and asked questions when appropriate, and found the responses peaking my interest the more she explained.

I never made the effort to learn more of the world around me, only showing an interest when it coincides with my duties. My interactions with the thestrals was limited to those of the Night Watch, and while welcomed into their culture, I never ventured further than the occasional gathering. Not because of any fear or prejudice, but for the simple reason I’d never felt the need to.

As I sit here listening to Mothchaser, I wonder what else have I missed? What other aspects of life have passed me by that I might never experience because of my self isolation?

“Order above.”

“Uh? You say something Idol?”

“I was just reflecting on some personal matters I feel might be lost to me.”

“Did you want to talk about it?” She asked me, the absence of her earlier smile meant she was worried.

I was fine physically fine, but mentally my thoughts refused to be repaired but not from a lack of effort.

Until the failure of the invasion, I’d lived to the best of my abilities as a displaced changeling among ponies, and for a decade I managed. With help from Topaz and her highness’ guard, I developed a schedule to keep me occupied, and productive while obeying the commands placed upon me; I found a purpose..an outlet for my radical questions, and life was good as the ponies often told me.

Now, I struggled to keep that life functioning without the commands to guide me.

I couldn’t think of any other explanation for my mind's infliction than the sudden loss of the structure I’ve relied on my entire life. The trepidation of being exiled from the hive mirrored my current mood, and only because of Topaz and the Guard I’ve been able to function to some degree while rebuilding myself.

I had no guidelines, orders other than my own to follow and lead me; to have the power to make a decision without knowing the boundaries terrified me. How can a changeling..a pony willing make these choices everyday without the fear of crossing some threshold they couldn’t uncross?

I looked up and noted Mothchaser still held her concern for my well being, and if I were honest, hated how she worried. My problems were my own and for her to fret over them only caused the thestral unnecessary stress, and distracted her from the more important matters of her life. I wanted to tell her no, that nothing besides mild exhaustion and paperwork were my only aliments and would clear up soon.

But I didn’t. Instead, I dragged her further in by seeking her offered support.

“Have you ever felt..uncoordinated? That everything you sought for stability would be its undoing?” I added that last part when I noticed her features shifting to a mild confusion.

Her mouth lost its foal like innocence as it fell into the wary, and heavy expression of a venerable adult struggling with the difficulties of life. Her amber colored irises dimmed to a near hazel as the window shut itself off from the world, I leaned back as well and found the captivating mare had aged. Her youthful mannerisms I found so enduring had quieted down as she entered a deep reflection- I shuddered as I cautiously nibbled on the two feelings drifting my way.

“I have Idol.”

I waited for Moth to continue, but gave up when she refused to talk let alone look my way. Now, I try to respect one’s boundaries by not shifting through their emotions, a practice that made understanding the moods of a pony more difficult, but helped me in deciphering the many gestures they displayed.

This understanding made me curious in the common usage of these gestures and how it enhanced an interaction between two beings, and with a little lecturing from Topaz began applying them slowly into my daily life. Right now, this very understanding told me nothing more than Mothchaser was hurting deeply.

Looking back years later, I still can’t explain what made me reach to comfort her the way I did, but it was a decision I will never regret.

Before I understood what I had done, my hoof had already reached out to seek her own; she didn’t even realize what I was doing until her hoof was safely cradled in mine, our hooves twisting so they both could interlock with the other.

We both stared- I at her while she at her hoof.

“Idol.”

“Moth.”

Nothing else was said after that with both of us having addressed what had happened, but not willing to do anything about it. So we remained like that for what felt like hours, but was only minutes because of the stillness of the world around us. When she squeezed my hoof, I would return the action leading her to repeat it.

But after the fourth time, she finally made the effort to free her hoof.

“Idol, please.”

“Do you want to get some coffee with me?” I blurted out.

I watched Moth’s expression as a reflection of my own feelings at this moment. Her mouth opened and closed as she struggled to find the words to reply, while I kept my mouth shut trying to mentally figure out why I asked the question at all. I came here in the hopes of talking, and possibly repairing our friendship to an acceptable level when the strange feelings began to surface.

They urged me to keep talking to the thestral, to be near her in the hopes of seeing her smile again. Conflicted and confused by my actions and own feelings, I stood up already accepting her silence as my answer when I was pulled back into my seat by the very mare.

She was leaning on the counter this time so our muzzles were only a hoof away, when she shattered my disbelief with a single word.

“Alright.”

“Pardon?”

“How about this weekend, after my shift?” I looked at Mothchaser, who in her family’s dimly lit shop appeared to be a tad brighter than her surroundings. I blinked trying to rid her of the haze that had suddenly surrounded her, but every time I did the effects only grew in brightness.

Did she always have dimples?

“I uhm..yes, that would be satisfactory with me.” She didn’t laugh more so than giggle at my falling speech. Lost in my own studies of her glowing features, wondering how had my training and experience failed to notice it before?

“Great. How about some coffee, and muffins from this little place I know of?” She punctuated this by leaning forward until we were nearly muzzle to muzzle.

“I like Donut Joe’s.” The warm air escaping her muzzle told me she found amusement in my statement.

“I meant here you silly golem.” I thought about correcting her but felt it wasn’t necessary to address it this moment.

“There’s still time to make corrections at a later time.” We both moved until finally our muzzles bridged the gap and connected. The glow surrounding Moth hadn’t dimmed but actually grew brighter as Celestia’s own day would during great displays of merriment.

“Your eyes…” She mumbled, the rest lost under her breath.

“...are not amber as I had thought.” The glow around her continued to only brighten as we held our formation of ‘booping’ our muzzles together. We were about to fall into a silence when I felt another presence appear, full of jubilance.

The mechanical soundings of gears and springs broke the impending silence before it ever began, and as with thunder came the flash. Mothchaser broke our connection to address this challenge.

“Hearth's Warming cards!”

“PRIS!” was her war cry before leaping over the counter to pursue her brother up the stairway behind me, his laughter nearly overlapping Moth’s own angry name calling.

The shop wasn’t expected to open for another 20 minutes by my guess, and as a newly ‘committed’ stallion was unsure what to do. From my own learning and told to me by my peers, I decided it’s in my good health to wait here and support my mare.

“Go..uh..get him?” I yelled, unsure if these words of support were correct just as a loud THUMP echoed from the floor above.

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