The Friendship Initiative

by Jatheus

Dreams

Ash Eater had finished taking care of his business, but he waited in the restroom still, a cold sweat on his brow. A crack on the head notwithstanding, the brief struggle with Scootaloo had not been nearly enough to cause him lasting discomfort, jarring though it had been.

The nightmare that had awakened him was the true cause of his distress. His unconscious mind had been plagued with terrors since the end of the war. They never bothered him while he was in control of his faculties, but there were times in the fog between sleeping and waking when he doubted many things he had done.

He snorted and banished the thoughts. The ponies were a lesser form of life, and the fact that he had to treat them as equals turned his stomach. He had done what was needed to maximize their chances of victory. It was as simple as that.

His mouth feeling impossibly dry, the changeling wiped the sweat away, ambled to the kitchen and found a glass of water. Given the unintentional brawl he had caused, returning to his bed as soon as possible seemed the wisest course. He didn’t care what the ponies thought, but his queen had commanded him to not cause trouble.

He couldn’t help but smirk as he returned to the room, carefully stepping around Scootaloo’s bed so as to not trip and fall on her a second time. Stumbling over her had been practically inevitable from the moment she had decided to always sleep in front of the door. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her watch as he climbed back into his own bed.

The softness of the cloud mattress was as disturbing as sleeping above ground. Ash Eater seriously doubted it would be something to which he could ever become accustomed. Though he attempted to occupy his mind, memories of the dreams began returning to him.

Most nights he would see his family being tortured at the hooves of ponies. They would be questioned, beaten, or worse. Sometimes he would be there with them, and if he did not answer questions, they would hurt his mother.

Ash Eater hissed and spit out the thoughts. He refused to let the dreams control him. The war was over, and they were simply false shadows that needed to be forgotten. And yet… they came to him nearly every night.

For a moment, he found himself lost in a memory. Flying across the clouds, he was keeping pace with a pony mare, black and white paint in color. Her purple eyes flashed a smug look at him as she pulled away. He poured on the speed as they were passed by an orange pegasus moving swiftly ahead. He danced in the currents, just able to catch up to the black and white. Sacrificing his own velocity, he was able to push the air just enough to create a minor instability and cause her to spin out. The mare had laughed at him for making them both lose the race…

Ash Eater felt a scowl form on his face as he broke himself from the reverie. He’d never forgotten Nimba. He supposed that was natural after having posed as her brother for nearly two months and learning everything about her. It had been vital for his cover to infiltrate her squad during the war. He had most effectively sabotaged their mission but at great cost.

When they had realized he was a changeling, that giant of a pegasus stallion, Regal Masquerade, had unleashed a furious assault against the him. It happened so fast that Ash Eater could hardly remember the swift barrage of blows before he’d been on the ground and repeatedly struck in the head. He had nearly lost consciousness when a blinding pain unlike any he’d previously felt had snapped him back into that moment.

When Ash Eater’s horn had been broken, it was as if a red hot iron spear had ripped through his body as fast as a thunderbolt. He shuddered at the memory. His own reinforcements had arrived in position to flank the pony squad at that time, which is the only reason Ash Eater had escaped. As the weight of that giant stallion had fallen away, the changeling scrambled across the forest and into the brush.

It had taken weeks for him to really recover and begin to regain any sense of being himself. The lethargy that nearly consumed him was normal for a changeling who was… crippled. Ash Eater felt a low growl form in his throat at the thought. It was a little comfort that the very stallion who had damaged him had been killed in the ensuing battle.

Scootaloo stirred, breaking the changeling from his thoughts. He remained silent, unwilling to give her the satisfaction of knowing he was having trouble sleeping. The last thing he needed was for her to gloat about it.

In spite of the restlessness he felt, Ash Eater was finally able to get to sleep shortly before the first tendrils of morning light began to breach the horizon.