• Published 7th Jul 2018
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The Cuckoo Child - Nyarlathi



Black Hat made the mistake of sassing Discord in one of his videos, a mistake resulting in his unceremonious transformation into an infant changeling with no clear way home.

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Chapter Five: Delve Into Dreaming

Things were vaguer in dreams, the flow of time fuzzier, but Sparrowbee was quite aware of what he wanted to do. Leaping into the air like a frog, he began to swim – it made sense to him at the time. His wings were only new, after all, and the night sky did look particularly like an expanse of deep dark liquid, intermittently bedazzled. It was a relaxing swim, and he was tempted to slow down to enjoy it, and sing with the stars. He pressed on, though, despite enjoying the increased vividness to dreams this realm offered in this case. Soon enough, far too soon to be realistic, he touched down on the soft lunar surface. It was so tempting to take a delicious nougat bite, or bounce-bounce-bounce, but… wasn’t there something he’d come for? What was it again… Ah, yes, that was it.

Priiiiiiiinceeeeeeessssss!” He hollered, cupping his mouth with appendages that didn’t seem to know whether they were hands, hooves, or possibly tentacles. “Wheeeeeerrrrre aaaarrrrrre yoooooouuuu?” It was getting woollier, harder to grasp the substance of the dream, and he dimly realised that his awareness was fading. If he didn’t find his quarry soon, he’d have to chalk this one up as a failure, and he didn’t like having to do that. Maybe calling her name would be more effective? Didn’t she have two? Which one should he call, and what were they again? “Nnnnniiiiiightmmmooooonnn Wooooonnnnaaaa!” It struck him faintly that something about his attempt at her name was garbled, but his mind was somewhat too sleep-fogged to grasp precisely how. He could barely see the moon any more, and the stars not at all – but as he sank deeper into Morpheus’ embrace, he just about perceived a snort, and a dark shadow. Not having the wherewithal to remain, he lapsed into unconscious blankness.


Within her lunar prison, Nightmare Moon stared at the spot the ‘young’ dreamer had melted from. While it had been both amusingly and embarrassingly distorted, it was clear to her that the apparent child’s utterance had been meant to be her name. While she’d certainly sown nightmares among the slumberers during her exile, never once had one sought her out so blatantly. What could he possibly have wanted with her? What had he even been? His shape had hardly been what she’d call stable… Then again, considering his mode of addressing her, perhaps it had been a consequence of his fatigue? In any case, it had been an interesting break in the monotony of her seemingly-endless incarceration, and quite pleasing to have a petitioner of any sort. He’d seemed youthful, too – perhaps she could coach him, teach him to revere her night and prepare for her return? Oh, she definitely hoped he’d emerge into her domain again – preferably well enough rested for intelligent conversation.


Upon waking, Sparrowbee suppressed a groan – both as he was somewhat too comfy to want to get up, and as he recalled how little he’d achieved the previous night. Clearly, his first day of nymphhood had been more tiring than he’d anticipated. His cheeks heated a little as he recalled just what manner of foolery he’d wound up spouting, and he hoped that wouldn’t set him back in his preparations. Having an alicorn even loosely on side could be invaluable, and right now she was in the sort of mental frame for him to make his approach. It was yet another big risk, but she was neutralised at best for now, he figured, and the payoff could be very much worth it. Besides, she was currently a villain, and he knew villains. If anyone could get something out of the Mare in the Moon, surely it would be him, right?

Yes, he knew she would be redeemed during her triumphant return, but he could use that, too. From what he knew of her character, she was a forthright sort, and quite likely enamoured with old-fashioned ideals of things such as honour. If he could get her to uphold an arrangement regardless of the outcome of her return, surely her redeemed self might well feel honour-bound to uphold her end of the deal – so long as it didn’t seem too unpalatable. It was definitely a roll of the dice, and not one he’d have rushed into taking if Chrysalis hadn’t been a factor – starting slow and not involving major players so soon would have made his enforced quest more satisfying, but dear Chryssie just had to botch an operation that would have most if not all major powers in the area in likely vendetta against any and all changelings. That would, in combination with this world’s obvious Good bias, make love gathering and infiltration ludicrously perilous, and even hives themselves could be smoked out.

That was not a workable situation if he wanted to both avoid starvation and work towards freeing himself – not to mention, hives under threat would contain vulnerable maggoty-looking young, not all even possessing the means to get away under their own steam. There was no way ‘harmony’ could guarantee their safety from xenophobic stomping, something cutting altogether too close to home. Therefore, he had to curry the favour of the Princess he thought he’d be able to make any form of meaningful connection with. The one Princess, in fact, who was slated to be absent for the majority of the wedding fiasco. If he played his cards right, whatever she’d have been doing instead of attending a fellow Princess’ wedding – which would surely be significant enough for even a nocturnal ruler to wake for – could end up protecting other hives from backlash. Crucially, including his own, and thus also his project.

True, she probably wouldn’t be all that sympathetic to changelings right off the bat, but he thought he knew just what carrot to dangle – one that could serve both as insurance and rite of passage at the same time. He’d likely need help pulling it off, to his chagrin, but – his train of thought was fractured as his face slammed into Chitin’s butt, the other nymph having stopped in their tracks. While he’d been immersed in his plotting, he’d barely paid attention to his surroundings as he and the others were led to breakfast. An older nymph guffawed, not bothering to subside at his acid glare, and Sparrowbee made a mental note of the other’s face and scent. Who even was that? As was becoming habit by now, he pinged the hivemind for information on this other nymph, making a mental note as he did to try not to become dependent on the hivemind for everything. His observational skills clearly needed sharpening anyway, and dulling them further would not be at all of use.