Anxiousness, Exhilaration, and Hope

On the outskirts of Canterlot was a rundown shack within one of the poorest districts in the city. Said district was so poor, it wasn’t even built into the cliff face, but rather on the plains at the base of the mountain.

It was where the ne’er do wells and unlikeables were placed. A happy “accident” orchestrated by uptight nobles and rich landowners who preferred to be surrounded by like-minded — read jerks — individuals.

That meant other unicorns and fabulously wealthy pegasi stayed on the cliffside. Zebras, griffins, minotaurs, earth ponies, the other half of the pegasi and everyone in between were shunted off to the base of the mountain.

Despite the unfairness of the situation, the area was useful for one pony’s purposes since no one visited and no one kept a close eye on its residents.

Now, this shack had one occupant and could be described as old, however, between the mismatched aesthetic that was reminiscent of the founding of Equestria, and the structural stability best summarized as how, it was more apt to call it ancient.

The roof leaked. The walls would bow out if one were to lean too heavily on them. None of the doors fit properly and frequently got caught on the frame. Locks were barely functional and rarely managed to achieve their primary purpose. The whole building rattled, and shook, and groaned at the barest hint of a breeze.

If anything stronger than a breeze blew past this house, it would go flying off to some other forsaken township. Somewhere like Ponyville probably.

A terrible home, but useful for a pony that wanted as a few guests as possible.

Especially when that pony wasn’t a pony.

Stinger the Changeling, or drone number seven something something something as per Queen Chrysalis, rearranged the bottles of love stacked in a hidden attic space accessed solely through his bedroom.

There were, of course, security measures put in place. The entrance was only accessible by flying, the latch was closed by a rotary lock, the panel that opened into the crawl space was made of heavy wood that needed to be pushed up to open access, and a contraption was set up to spit acid at anyone that opened the door.

Harmless to Changelings, painful to anyone else.

Love was stored in glass mason jars filled to the brim with a honey-like liquid of a shade anywhere from white-ish pink to deep red. He filled the jars through regurgitation when he came home from a night of gathering, a process that disgusted most others.

Stinger thought they were being overly dramatic for no reason.

He was currently organizing them by shade from lightest to darkest. The jars were to be picked up at a later time by a drone to be taken to the Badlands Hive.

One set of jars filled with the darkest red and mixed with green swirls was separated from the rest. They were oddities that, on testing, proved to be only edible to him. He didn’t understand why, but he knew the source.

Stinger was actually soon going to meet said source.

Another quick count excluding his private reserve resulted in a respectable number for any infiltrator to acquire. A sum that could feed the entirety of the hive for a week if rationed properly.

Based on the timing in conjunction with the total amount collected over the last year, it would soon be time for Stinger to return to the hive.

There was reluctance in that idea that Stinger quickly categorized as silly. He had done his job and it would soon be time to leave. Nothing he hadn’t done before. After a week, he would then be told to go elsewhere to start the process all over again.

The logic did nothing to quell the feeling.

Closing the trap door behind him, he landed back on the ground. He ignored his ratty bed, decrypt dresser, and the one comfy chair he owned to look into a mostly intact mirror hung on the wall.

It spanned from floor to ceiling and was covered in a few fractures that only partially obstructed his appearance. A quick glance out the broken window of the room saw the sun slowly sinking below the horizon. He was running late for his da— engagement.

Inspecting his appearance closely to ensure no errors were present, Stinger began transforming into his “Wild Heart” disguise. Dark green carapace grew into forest green fur. His wings and horn retreated into his body as black-green mane sprouted along his head and tail fin. His fangs retracted, his compound eyes turned into that of a pony’s, and a messy chin strap beard grew along his face.

Another moment later and his build filled out into heavier musculature, scars criss-crossing his body with one singular one along the right side of his face from a ‘close encounter with a dragon.’

Using his disguised horn, he pulled a wide brimmed hat, and suit from the dresser in the green glow of his magic. Gifts from his colt— acquaintance that he was going to see that night.

A quick inspection in the mirror showed that his disguise was complete, each piece perfectly in place.

He was Wild Heart. An explorer from all over the world (he had visited many places outside of Equestria), wilderness expert (for Changelings), and talented storyteller (blatant lie).

Hopefully, Jet wouldn’t be too mad about him running late.

As Wild Heart ascended through the various zones of Canterlot, rough cobblestone streets gave way to paved paths; dimly lit, rundown storefronts transformed into high end boutiques and restaurants. A right off the main thoroughfare of the wealthiest residential area took him to Copperfield and, finally, the Golden Biscuit: the ‘trendiest’ restaurant in Canterlot.

It was the encapsulation of everything that represented the upper echelon of society. Unnecessary ornamentation of gold filigree and marble that added nothing. Velvet drapes that cost more than the entirety of the district he lived in. Everyone dressed in finery with no practical use or comfort.

A waste of space. All of it.

“Wild!” A voice called out.

Maybe not all of it.

Wild Heart turned towards the light gray unicorn that approached him. Unlike the snobbish ponies that had immediately given him a wide berth with a single scathing glance, the unicorn skipped towards him with a massive grin on his face. He was dressed down even compared to himself with only a simple green sweater vest to break the light chill of the evening.

He didn’t miss that it perfectly matched his own coat.

“You made it!” The pony said as he reached him, “and only a half hour late this time.”

Excitement, nervousness, and anticipation. Those were the feelings that washed over and began to fill Wild. It tasted like that zing of sweetness in an otherwise savoury meal, surprising but more than welcome.

“Wasn’t it you that told me I should always be fashionably late?” Wild responded in the dull monotone he was known for.

The unicorn laughed, a deep, brassy tone that made Wild feel warm inside. “Being fashionably late means at most ten minutes. You’re just late, as you always are.” Wild tried to hide his amusement behind a hoof, but Wild could see the crinkles around his blue eyes. “So, what does the wilderness expert ‘I can fight off a hydra’ Wild have to say for himself?”

Wild scowled. “Your sarcasm is unwarranted as I can, in fact, handle a hydra.” A feat he accomplished when undercover in Trottingham. His ears pinned themselves to the back of his head. “But I am sorry for being late again, Jet.”

Jet Set laughed again. He laughed a lot. At least when Wild was with him. “Don’t worry about it, Wild. You’re actually right on time since I made the reservation half an hour past what I told you.” He smirked. “I’m used to dealing with you by now.”

Wild snorted. “Rather foalish of you. What if I came exactly at the time you told me?”

“Then I get to see you a half hour longer than I would have otherwise.”

“I hardly think a half hour would make much of a difference.”

“It does for me,” Jet said with a beaming smile.

Wild felt his cheeks heat up at the sentiment. “Well, it hardly matters since I’m here now. Where are we sitting?”

“On the terrace, the best spot and most expensive seating in the restaurant.” He rolled his eyes. “Only the best with my father’s money.” He turned away and headed in, calling over his shoulder, “Follow me.”

Chasing after Jet’s swishing black tail, Wild did as he was told.

What followed was a whirlwind of noble tomfoolery. The server practically prostrated themselves for the son of the “great” West Winds (a famous trade tycoon) and “glorious” Silver Scales (a judge). Assurances were given that they would receive the best and nothing but the best, for nothing lesser could be granted.

Once inside, the two of them were swarmed by every noble house present. Greetings, baseless compliments, and passive remarks on future business ventures with the fledgling tycoon who was poised to follow in his father’s hooves. A merchant destined to sit behind a desk and stamp documents for the rest of his life.

Wild admired Jet’s ability to answer every vapid remark with a smile and professional quip. However, with every meaningless conversation they had on their way forward, Jet’s smile became that much more strained. His ears pinned to the back of his head, his tail flicked to and fro in agitation.

They all, of course, ignored Wild at his side. He was an accessory to be looked over in favour of the prodigal son of two of the wealthiest nobles in Canterlot. Any attempt at introduction was shot down as soon as it was broached.

Frustration, annoyance, and loneliness. Those were the feelings Wild got from Jet. It tasted bitter, like the last dregs of the foulest of teas.

It was a taste Wild could do without.

Before Jet could reach his breaking point and refusing to wait for a natural break in the ongoing shallow conversation about some upcoming gala, Wild nuzzled the side of Jet’s face.

At the touch, a genuine smile spread across Jet’s face and Wild tasted the subtle sweetness of gratitude. Jet graciously exited the conversation, and pushed through the final leg of their journey to arrive at the private terrace.

Double glass doors swung open to a marble outlook looking over the edge of the Canterhorn. Spread before them with a gentle breeze blowing past their manes were the wide plains surrounding the city bathed in the light of the full moon overhead.

Exotic, but tasteful plants lined the terrace giving the illusion of a secret garden. Light through four floor to ceiling windows lit up the balcony in a blaze of yellow.

Wild was unimpressed as he knew not a few degrees to the right past the balcony, one could see the poorer districts of the city. Of course, some well placed architecture made it impossible to check.

The last remaining server that had guided them there, a purple coated unicorn stallion dressed in a crisp tux, trotted to the center of the balcony. With a bright glow of green from his horn, he placed a single lantern on the marble causing a table and two cushions to rise from the floor.

With a crisp nod from the server to Jet, he exited at a brisk pace leaving them finally alone.

Jet coughed into a hoof. “Guests should always be seated first.” He made a sweeping gesture with his hoof toward the table. “After you.”

Wild noticed that a strand of Jet’s wavy black mane had fallen to partially cover one of his eyes. “A moment, Jet.” He tucked the errant strands behind his ears. “You shouldn’t cover your eyes. I like looking at them.” Ignoring Jet’s flushed face, Wild took a seat on the right side of the table.

“How can you—” Jet took the seat opposite as he fought to keep the red from his cheeks. “You’re the most deadpan stallion I’ve ever met. How can you say such cheesy romantic things so easily?”

“Is that not how romantic partners act around each other?” Wild asked.

Jet’s head snapped up. “You thought about what I asked before?”

He had thought about Jet’s proposal to officiate their relationship status as colt friends every night for the past week since he’d told him.

“I wasn’t asking about that.”

Jet looked down morosely. “Well, yes. That is how they act.”

Both were quiet as Wild chewed on his thoughts. “I thought about it.”

Looking back up, a smile began to worm its way onto Jet’s face. Wild thought it was cu— acceptable. “Does that mean… ?”

“It means I thought about it,” Wild gruffly replied.

Undeterred, Jet hummed happily as he rested his chin on his crossed hooves. “That’s a better response than before.”

Contentment, affection, and hope. Those were the feelings Wild tasted. It was sweet, but not overpowering like his favourite comfort dessert, flan, that Jet had treated him to on their first da— friendly meeting.

“What are they serving?” Wild abruptly asked to steer the conversation away from talk of their relationship.

Jet tilted his head to one side causing his mane to flow after him like the waves of the ocean. Wild felt a fluttering in his chest. “Serving?”

“The restaurant.” Wild sighed at the blank expression on Jet’s face. “The food we’re going to eat?”

Comprehension dawned on his face. “Oh, right, dinner!” He snickered. “Gosh, I’m such a scatterbrain. Good thing you’re here to keep me on track.”

“Speaking of, could you answer my question?”

“We’re trying some trendy new food called sushi rolls.” He rolled his eyes. “Like that hasn't existed for hundreds of years already.”

“It comes from Griffonstone and is primarily made from fish,” Wild recited as he recalled a trip several years back to Griffonstone. “I would expect with this being a pony based establishment, we will get something vegetable or fruit based instead.”

“Is it somewhere you’ve actually been before or is it…” Jet darted his eyes towards the doors, “... part of your cover?”

“I’ve been there before, though not as an explorer.” He smirked anticipating Jet’s reaction. “I was previously a motivational speaker.”

Jet’s eyebrows raised along with the corners of his mouth. “You were a motivational speaker? You? The deadpan?”

Wild rolled his eyes at Jet’s nickname for him. “It was an odd cover, but I managed it.” He cleared his throat to shapechange his voice to be closer to the higher pitch he had used at the time. “Because, like, I gotta know the job and do it right, you know?”

Whilst he reverted his voice back to its default monotone, Jet slammed his hooves on the table as he guffawed uncontrollably. “Sweet sun spots, that was awful.” Jet wiped tears from his eyes with a hoof. “I suppose you prefer your current job over that one?”

“I…” Wild struggled to say the word, “...do prefer my current occupation and demeanor. I… enjoy… telling stories and I… I…”

“You have a lot of trouble saying ‘I’ statements.” Jet leaned forward with a hoof covering his mouth. “Is it because you’re…” he bit his lip in thought, “foreign?”

“Yes, where I’m from we do not normally voice our personal interests and thoughts. The idea of individuality is… strange.”

“You should—” he seemed nervous before setting his expression in a firm line, “You should be able to be who you want to be, not just on the whims of someone that clearly doesn’t care about you.”

Wild wanted to refute him. Say that without a doubt, he, like any of his many companions, were equally adored by their monarch, but he couldn’t. Instead he replied, “I shouldn’t have told you.”

Jet looked shame faced as he looked down at his lap. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just barged in like that.”

‘That’ was a clear night several months back, when Jet had entered Wild’s abode through the front door that never locked properly. He had appeared in Wild’s bedroom when ‘Wild’ was still ‘Stinger’.

Fear, confusion, and righteous fury. They were the worst of Jet’s feelings. A mix of sour and spicy like the nausea of expired milk followed by the zest of ghost peppers burning your insides.

What should have happened was that Jet should have been trapped in goo, shunted off by drones and eventually replaced by another. But he had seen his eyes, remembered months of time together, and it had been enough for Stinger to instead calm the panicked stallion down and explain himself.

“You shouldn’t have,” Wild said bitterly. “But it’s too late to take it back now.” He felt a pang of regret at Jet’s downturned expression. “But…” he trailed off as Jet looked back at him expectantly. “That you accepted me as I am means… a lot to…” he fought through his awkwardness, “me.”

A wide grin spread on Jet’s face. “I wouldn’t turn on the only one who likes me for me.”

Wild felt another fluttering in his chest. It was happening annoyingly frequently when he was with Jet. He wasn’t oblivious. He knew what it meant, but he refused to admit it because to do so would mean…

It would mean…

The terrace door swung open. In trotted the server from before levitating several trays of food. Moving quickly, the food was placed around the table and the server left with a crisp nod of his head.

“Are they supposed to be so quiet?” Wild asked.

“I paid them extra to be, since the only one I wanted to talk with was you.”

The abruptness of Jet’s statement caught Wild off guard. He felt a heat enter his face as his mind sputtered in place. In an effort to distract himself, he glanced at the tray set before him.

On it was an array of rice rolled vegetables and fruit wrapped with seaweed. He grabbed one with a hoof and plopped it into his mouth. It was tangy. Mango, Wild thought. It was satisfactory, if less savoury than what he would normally expect.

“Oh!” Jet exclaimed as he chomped on what appeared to be a cucumber roll. “This is actually good.”

“Definitely better than the usual trendy drivel they come up with.”

Jet snorted. “Like hot juice?”

Wild rolled his eyes in disgust. “Yes, especially that. I have no idea what they were thinking.”

“Poorly, I presume.” They shared a laugh. As they winded down, Jet had an intent expression on his face. “Wild, can I ask you for an honest answer to something?”

Wild sighed. “Please, Jet, no.”

“You don’t know what I was going to say.”

“It’s obvious what you want to ask. You’ve done it every night for the past week.”

“You shouldn’t just assume what I’m going to ask.” Jet scowled.

Wild gestured with a hoof toward Jet. “What are you going to ask then?”

He tapped his hooves together nervously, like he’d been caught in a lie. “Would you be willing to officially be my colt friend?”

“So, the same question as always?”

“Yes, but!” Jet exclaimed, “You did say you had thought about it this time!”

“I did,” Wild begrudgingly admitted.

“So, you should have an answer, right?”

“Just because—”

“No!” Jet slammed his hooves on the table causing the food to shake from the disruption. Wild could feel the frustration rolling off him in waves. “I’m so tired of not having an answer. Please, just tell me if we can move forward together.”

Despite the pleading look in his eyes that would normally make Wild feel a need to placate him, he instead felt a coil of something hot in his guts. “It’s not that easy,” he said in a heated tone, “I’m… foreign, and you’re a noble. I don't even know when…” the reluctance from earlier came to the forefront of his thoughts again, “I might have to leave soon.”

“Wait, you’re leaving?” Jet said with a hurt look on his face. “When were you going to tell me that you were returning to…” he mulled over his words, “... the head office in Vanhoover?”

“I didn’t want to tell you.”

“But you should have!” Jet said exasperated. “It’s important for me to have that kind of information because it changes things for me too.” He huffed. “When will you be back?”

Eventually. Later. Never. Words that Wild wanted to say to measure the span of time he would disappear from Jet’s life, but found he didn’t want to for fear of making it true.

“I don’t know,” Wild answered in frustration.

“How can you not know?”

“Because it’s not how things work!” Wild exclaimed. “I just infiltrate, harvest love, and go back! This is the first time I haven't wanted to—” he stopped abruptly.

They were both quiet for a moment, both staring at each other. Jet into Wild’s cautious greens, Wild into Jet’s expectant blues.

“Do you want to stay here?” Jet asked. “With me?”

He took a deep breath desperately trying to regain his composure. He ate another roll to buy time as he fought back for control of his emotions.

“I can’t. I don’t!” He quickly corrected. “The… head office needs me back and if I don’t go…” they’ll make me, Wild quietly finished.

Jet nudged a roll idly with a hoof, furrowing his brow in thought. A determined expression crossed his face as he chomped one roll in a single bite.

“What if we left?”

Wild stared at Jet’s hopeful expression. “Left where?”

“Here. Canterlot. Equestria.” Jet had an expression of growing excitement. “We could travel! Just keep moving so they couldn’t follow or track us. You’ve been nearly everywhere, I’m sure you could get us somewhere we could disappear.”

“I don’t understand, Jet. What exactly are you—”

“Run away with me.” Wild stared at him blankly. “Live out our lives away from… this!” Jet waved his hooves around him.

“You can’t just dump everything to go galavanting across the world.”

“Why not? I don’t care for the bits and I certainly don’t care to be a noble,” Jet scoffed. “It’s also hardly galavanting if I have no intention of returning.”

“I can’t just leave my life behind!”

“What’s really stopping you? They don’t have control over your mind, your actions. You’re your own being with your own choices.”

Wild grasped for another reason to stop this insane plan. “How will we afford this?”

“You don’t need that much food to sustain yourself, and I can eat grass even if it's not rolled in rice.” He gestured at the sushi spread before them. “Look, I know this is a fantasy, but I feel trapped here. I want to leave, but—” he hung his head, “I can’t do it by myself.” He looked back pleadingly. “Not without someone I trust.”

“I-I don’t know how to answer this.”

“It’s fine, you don’t have to answer now.” He smiled hopefully, a fragile thing. “I just need an agreement from you. We’ll continue as normal tonight, and, if you decide you don’t want this, we can still be together after this until you have to leave.”

Hesitantly, Wild nodded his head. “Alright, what is this agreement?”

“At midnight tomorrow, I’ll be waiting at the city gates for an hour. If you want to do this, to run away with me… meet me there and we’ll leave. Never look back.”

“If I don’t show up?” Wild asked.

“Then we continue as normal as if nothing happened.”

They descended into silence as they both mulled over Jet’s ultimatum. A final agreement that could change everything, for better or worse.

“Why are you even trying so hard, Jet?” Wild quietly asked. “You have your pick of anyone, why me?”

“Because you’re everything I want to be. Brave, independent, strong willed… devoted.” Jet gave Wild a small smile. It seemed fragile to him. “When I’m with you, I like to think I can be those things for you.”

Optimism, hope, and love. That was what Jet conveyed to Wild. A perfect blend of all the things that kept Wild by Jet’s side. That taste of comfort that made Wild feel like maybe there was another path for him.

Jet wasn’t the only one that wanted to emulate another.

A polite cough from Jet interrupted Wild’s train of thought. “Well, this sushi isn’t going to eat itself. Anything in particular you want to try?”

Wild stared blankly at Jet for a moment before he answered, “... I’ll take a cucumber roll.”

“Excellent choice.”

It was the next night, ten minutes before midnight, and Stinger was a mess. The normally calm and collected Changeling paced about his ramshackle home with a frown etched onto his face. He was in turmoil. Needless turmoil.

Jet’s idea was stupid.

Jet was stupid.

He growled in frustration and stomped his hoof causing the floorboards to rattle. Who did Jet think he was making such a decision for him? To offer him this kind of chance.

Tears gathered in the corner of his eyes. They dripped down and created dark spots in the dusty floors of the room.

Stinger was getting emotional and he didn’t know why. The offer ultimately didn’t matter, he wasn’t going to accept it. How could he even accept this while he had the hive?

He wanted to accept it, though.

And it was that thought which scared him.

Stinger was considering it. It should have been easy to say no, but it wasn’t. It shouldn’t even be so prevalent in his thoughts, but it was.

Changelings didn’t experience romance. Changelings didn’t have romantic partners. Changelings couldn’t feel love. They could understand it, they could use it, but it wasn’t something they felt.

But Stinger thought he felt it.

And to his mind, that was wrong.

Once denied, now acknowledged, his mind took a turn away from what he logically knew. What was previously considered worthless thoughts took over the forefront of his brain.

When Jet laughed, when Jet looked at him, when Jet saw him.

When Jet loved him.

He had tried to deny that for as long as he could, but deep red love in jars not a few gallops above his head proved otherwise. Jet loved him. What truly tore at him were the swirls of green. He had seen it once before: denial. Jet was open about his feelings and, since Stinger never mixed different ponies' emotions together, it could only come from one source.

Him.

Stinger loved him back.

All the facts were present, all the options given to him. All that was left was to choose. It was not a choice he should have. He was an infiltrator, a drone. It should be obvious.

The main gate was a ten minute gallop away. He could be there in time for Jet’s initial arrival.

In a moment of perfect clarity, his decision became clear.

In a flash of green, he disguised himself as Wild Heart and galloped out the door.

Wild could see him. In the distance, just under the stone gate leading out of town was Jet, standing expectantly waiting for him. He was close. A few more gallops and he would be there.

He would travel the world with him.

He would be able to be who he wanted to be.

He would be loved.

And that was when he was shoved to the ground.

As he impacted the ground, Wild attempted to stand up, but was pushed back down again with a hoof covering his mouth.

A face leaned into his periphery. The purple unicorn server from the restaurant last night. “Such a stupid drone.”

Wild’s eyes widened as he struggled against the grip of his assailant. It could only be another Changeling from the hive. From the corner of his eyes, he noted the appearance of two other ponies pinning him down, presumably also Changelings.

“Stop struggling.” The Changeling in disguise tsked. “Such a disappointment Seven-Two-Three-Three. You sought to run away from the hive with some nobody you just met?”

Tears gathered in the corner of his eyes. He strained forward, desperately trying to reach Jet.

“We always have a few drones to keep tabs on our infiltrators. You think you were the first to try and run?” The disguised Changeling shook his head and slammed Wild’s head against the ground. “Always a shame to see such stupidity in our drones.”

Wild could see Jet. His watchful gaze as he swiveled his head to and fro waiting for Wild to arrive. Wild needed to reach him.

Anxiousness, exhilaration, and hope. He didn’t need to taste it to know that was what Jet was feeling. A comforting sweetness. Flan. His favourite flavour.

Wild cried into the hoof that covered his mouth, desperately hoping Jet would see him.

“Well, we’ll have to drag you back to the hive. The Queen knows what to do with your type,” the drone said nonchalantly. “Say goodbye, drone. You’ll never see him again,” the drone whispered into his ear, “You’ll stay in the hive, forever.”

This wasn’t supposed to be goodbye. This was supposed to be a new beginning.

Why had he ever thought this could be a happy ending?

As he felt an impact to the back of his head and his vision faded to black, his last sight was of Jet hanging his head, defeated.

Stinger had been right all along. It was never a choice.

The decision had always already been made for him.

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