Twilight just revealed every changeling in Ponyville. There are more of them than she expected. Way more.
Author's note: this story is still undergoing occasional editing as I figure out what the hay I'm doing. Some scenes may be added, modified, or removed.
Two months ago, a changeling posing as Rainbow Dash tried to abduct Twilight. Nopony was hurt, but Twilight became a bit paranoid--how could she make sure something like that wouldn't happen again? The best thing she could think of was to invent a spell, empowered with her full might as princess, that would forcibly remove the disguise of any changeling in the vicinity.
It's testing day, and Ponyville's about to get twenty percent buggier . . .
AU taking place between seasons 3 and 4. Trigger warning for one scene of implied dubcon.
To Applejack, the library basement looked creepier than usual--though that wasn’t saying much. Charts and figures lined every wall, meticulously tracking factors like heart rate and blood pressure. There were several new machines scattered across the room, and Applejack had no clue what any of them did.
She, Rarity, and Twilight were gathered around a large cage, just big enough to fit a pony inside. A large green cloth covered it, but she could tell there was light coming from inside. The alicorn was grinning a little too widely, while Rarity looked oddly intrigued. As for Applejack . . . well, she was used to stuff like this.
“I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve invited you here today,” Twilight said.
“It has something to do with the cage, right?” Applejack guessed.
“Applejack, you must allow a mare her dramatics!” Rarity admonished. “No, Twilight, I have no idea why you’ve invited us here.”
“I’d better check first, just to be safe,” Twilight said.
Twilight’s horn glowed, and light played over Applejack and Rarity’s coats. For Applejack, it tickled slightly. If it felt like anything to Rarity, she didn’t show it.
“Neither of you have been replaced by changelings in the past thirty days,” Twilight continued, “so I can show you . . .” She yanked the cloth from the cage, revealing a curled-up changeling reading a Daring Do book by the light of a small lamp. “. . . her.”
The changeling gazed up at them, blinking as her eyes adjusted. “I was just getting to the good part,” she said, her voice sounding like two ponies talking slightly out of synch with each other.
Applejack was dumbfounded. “You’re keeping a changeling in the basement?”
“It’s in accordance with all laws and customs regarding prisoners of war!” Twilight announced, sounding oddly proud. “Queen Chrysalis never trades hostages, so after Delta Three here tried to abduct me--remember that, Rarity? It was about two months ago. She pretended to be Rainbow Dash, and she panicked when you said Rainbow Dash was in Cloudsdale. Anyway, I let her choose between staying here or in the Canterlot dungeons. Fluttershy feeds her, I give her books, and I get to study changeling magic. Princess Celestia approved it and everything!”
Rarity glared hard enough at the changeling that Applejack half expected her to catch on fire. “I remember you. I tore my dress while teaching you a lesson. I couldn’t fix it in time for the Winter Ball.”
“Just doing my job,” Delta Three said nonchalantly.
“So what do you need us for?” Applejack asked, still somewhat bewildered.
“I’ve been trying to make a better disguise-removing spell. If either of you was a changeling who’d been disguised for more than thirty days, that spell would have done nothing. It took a lot of studying, but I’ve made one now that combines crystal magic, griffon-style runes, and Delta Three’s own unique properties.”
“So . . . what do you need us for?” Applejack repeated.
“If the full spell works as intended, all changelings in Ponyville and the surrounding region will be unable to disguise themselves for up to three hours, depending on how close they are. For this test run, I’ll make it smaller--it shouldn’t go past the library walls. Still, I’m combining styles of magic that were never meant to be used together. This wouldn’t even work if I wasn’t a Princess, and since nopony’s ever done it before, I can’t be completely certain it won’t go wrong. I need you two as spotters.”
“Twi, I’m an earth pony . . .”
“Applejack!” Rarity snapped.
“It’s all right,” Twilight said. “I’ll be using a circle of standing crystals for the spell. If something goes wrong, just kick one over, and the magic will disperse. Just be sure to kick it so it lands outward, not inward--inward will magnify the magic.” She glanced over to Rarity. “And only kicking. It’s dangerous to add magic to magic.”
Applejack didn’t know much about magic, but she certainly knew how to kick things. “Makes sense. But why both of us? And shouldn’t Spike be helping, too?”
“Unfortunately, the spell isn’t meant for dragons,” Twilight admitted. “My first test made him throw up. And I need two of you in case, well . . . how should I put this . . . .” She tapped her hoof on the floor awkwardly. “In case one of you turns into a potted plant.”
Both Applejack and Rarity recoiled.
“That only happened once!” Twilight insisted.
“It was actually pretty fun,” Delta Three said.
Twilight looked back and forth between Applejack and Rarity, meeting both their eyes while keeping her tone even and steady. “Seriously, it’s going to be okay,” Twilight assured them. “I’ve done a lot of tests, and there’s a very low chance anything will go wrong. I mean, if I really thought this was dangerous, I’d be doing it miles away from Ponyville. I just want to be careful.” Her smile was less manic this time, more friendly. “I trust you both to keep an eye out.”
“I can certainly do that,” Rarity said, “so long as I don’t become Equestria’s most fashionable rose bush.”
“I’ll try to tell you if I turn into a tree instead of a tree bucker,” Applejack added.
“Then I’ll just need two minutes to get ready,” Twilight said. “Oh, and we might as well review, just in case . . .”
-- -- -- --
Bright blue crystals, carved into standing shapes half Applejack’s height, stood in a neat circle around the cage. Painted lines ran across the floor between them in a complicated pattern.
“It looks . . .” Applejack struggled for a word. “Heavy-duty.”
“Well, it is very complicated,” Twilight said. “Is everypony ready?”
“Quite ready,” Rarity assured her.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Applejack said.
“Ready to betray my fellow changelings by revealing their identities,” Delta Three said.
Applejack stared at her. It wasn’t the words that surprised her, but the complete lack of emotion in them.
“Well, they did leave me to rot here,” Delta Three explained.
“Three, two, one,” Twilight counted. “Now!”
A line of purple light ran from Twilight’s horn to Delta Three’s, then changed shades to a sickly green. Twilight rose up off the floor, floating without flapping her wings, seemingly lost in a trance. Green fire burned across the painted lines, filling the crystals with a tainted glow. A wall of green surged outwards--
Applejack screamed.
It was like she was dissolving from the inside out. She could feel her bones liquefying and vanishing, while muscles and organs turned into goop. She almost fell, but as her fur burned away, her skin warped into a hardened mass that kept her upright. Small patches on her legs turned into gaping holes, and she swore she could feel the warm air that rushed through them.
Her scream was continuous, endless. The pain prevented intelligible words. But it wasn’t her voice anymore--it sounded like two ponies at once, slightly out of synch with each other.
With tremendous effort, Applejack clamped her fanged jaw shut and bonelessly lurched towards the crystals. But she misjudged her current weight and smashed headlong into one of them, knocking it inwards.
Rarity, who had been staring in horror, rushed forward as well, hook-kicking one crystal after another to knock them outwards. But it was already too late. Pain exploded from Applejack’s forehead and back, and her hat flew off her head, propelled by something pushing outwards. Then the wave passed through her, and the flames went out.
Twilight landed on the floor in a heap. It took her a moment to get her wind back. “You pushed the crystal inward! It was supposed to . . .” She looked over and saw Applejack, and she coughed and sputtered, her mouth opening and closing without another full word.
Delta Three laughed, a hideous buzzing noise. “Looking sharp, Element of Honesty! It’s a nice look for you!”
“I think I’d rather be a potted plant,” Applejack said. Then she collapsed to the floor in a faint.
In the front room of Fluttershy’s cottage, a pony and a rabbit stared each other down. The latter tapped a paw against the floor in impatience. His other paws were all wrapped in gauze, as was much of his body.
“Oh, Angel,” Fluttershy said. “What am I going to do with you? I know you don’t like Mr. Wolf, but he has a right to come here when he’s hurt, just like all my other animal friends. He can’t help it that he eats meat, and he doesn’t hunt near the cottage. He follows the rules, unless someone makes him angry.”
Angel sat perfectly still and continued to glare at her. She glared--or rather, Stared--right back.
“Don’t give me that look, mister! He could have eaten you up if he wanted to! You have to stop picking fights with animals who’re bigger than you!”
Angel wasn’t currently mobile enough to look away, so he had no choice but to keep looking into her eyes. After about ten seconds, he gave in and nodded.
Fluttershy sighed. “In a few months, you’ll pick another fight, and then you’ll get hurt again. The Stare can make you sorry, but it can’t make you change. I just wish I knew what else to do . . .”
A wave of purple magic blasted through the cottage. It passed right through the walls, not affecting anything inanimate. Angel felt a mild tingle, but was otherwise unfazed. Fluttershy, however, passed out from the worst pain of her life.
She wasn’t sure how long it took for her to wake up and rise from the floor. Angel hadn’t had enough time to find something to throw at her, but with all his bandages, there weren’t many things he could lift.
“What . . .” Fluttershy droned.
She shook her head to try and clear out the confusion, and found it strangely light, as if her mane had vanished or burned away. She swore she could hear something sloshing inside herself, like her body was no longer solid.
Fluttershy spun around to check the mirror behind her, and saw . . . And saw . . .
The former pegasus leapt backwards, instinctively fleeing from herself, but realized that she would land on Angel. She buzzed her wings frantically to divert her path, and wound up in a tangled heap on the floor.
Dozens of thoughts buzzed through her mind at once, each interrupting the next. Half of them cut off at the word "change," preventing it from finishing with another syllable. If she weren't already on the floor, she would certainly have collapsed by now, reduced to a terrified black lump.
This couldn't be real. She wasn't one of those things. She had a home now, a life here. She fit in. Ponies liked her. They wouldn't have befriended a monster.
If her friends saw her like this, would they hate her? Would they mock her? Or would they just silently stare?
Trying not to hyperventilate, not certain if she even could, Fluttershy stared at the holes in her blackened leg. If she was really a--no, she couldn’t even think the name--then she should be able to disguise herself. Nopony would ever have to know.
At first, there was a hardness to her body, but it swiftly wore away. All she had to do was picture her old self, and she shifted as easily as breathing.
She picked herself up off the floor, and gazed into the mirror. She was Fluttershy, and she was hidden. She wouldn't draw anypony's notice. She stared into familiar blue eyes, hoping to stop shaking.
If fear alone had driven her, she would have calmed then. But the shy mare kept secrets even from herself, and at that moment, the deepest of them bubbled to the surface.
“Fluttershy,” she said in her own soft voice. “Twilight,” she said in Twilight’s cool tone. “Pinkie!” she cheered in a voice made for partying. “Eeyup,” she rumbled, low and firm.
On a sudden, strange impulse, she shifted her face as well, sculpting a more masculine jawline. She traced the change down her neck and into her torso, faking muscle under skin and fur--not excessive like Big Mac, but a more subtle strength.
She didn't know why she was doing this. The last few remnants of her conscious mind all urged her to stop. But she still had a picture in her head of Fluttershy the beautiful model, Fluttershy the beloved singer, Fluttershy the most attractive mare in Ponyville. Every time she noticed something in the mirror that reminded her of that pony, she had to change it.
When she was so transformed her own mother wouldn't have recognized her, the compulsion slowly faded, and she began to think again. The walls of her mind rebuilt themselves, and she lost what little understanding she'd felt of what she'd just done, and why she'd just done it.
It was just to disguise herself, she rationalized. She still felt like her insides had melted, but at least she could pass as a pony--and if somepony found her out somehow, they still wouldn’t know who she was.
If she wanted, she could hide there in the cottage and wait. Even in disguise, it would be dangerous to wander around Ponyville. But whatever had done this to her had come from the town. It had moved very fast, and she’d had no warning or time to prepare.
Fluttershy hadn't run out of fears yet. In fact, she was just getting started. Image after image pushed its way into her mind.
Rainbow Dash, trying out some new stunt, hit with a rush of pain that locked her wings up . . .
Pinkie Pie, stumbling forward while putting cupcakes in the oven . . .
Spike, reshelving a book at the very top of that rickety wooden ladder Twilight kept saying she would replace . . .
Fluttershy shook her head again, and she became even dizzier.
A moldy carrot struck the back of her head, and she finally remembered the white rabbit who'd been trying to get her attention for the past ten minutes. She turned to address him, a bit unsteady on new legs.
“Angel Bunny,” Fluttershy said, “would you please keep an eye--”
Angel thumped his good leg on the floor and gestured at his bandages.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t have time to get Harry Bear. My friends could be in really big trouble right now! Please, Angel, you have to take charge while I’m gone!”
Angel didn’t say anything, of course, but she could feel his determination. It hung in the air in front of her, like she could take a bite from it if she so desired. Instead, she nodded and headed for the door.
She didn’t know what was going on. To be honest, she was terrified. But there were ponies who needed her help.
-- -- -- --
Glass broke. Ponies screamed. And that plume of smoke over Sugarcube Corner was probably a fire.
Apple Bloom noticed none of it as she lay in the middle of the street and cried. The bow from her mane lay forgotten beside her, discarded when said mane had burned away to nothing.
Changeling. That was why she didn’t have a cutie mark. Why she’d never have one. Was she even an Apple? No, she couldn’t be--there was no way Applejack could be a changeling, and that meant she couldn’t have a changeling for a sister. Even if she was, a changeling couldn’t live in Ponyville--she was going to be banished to the Everfree Forest, or maybe even the Badlands. She’d never see her friends again . . .
In front of her, Roseluck stared in horror, having nearly crashed into her in a mad dash out of a side alley. Beside her, her fellow Crusaders looked baffled, but unafraid. Sweetie Belle silently touched her hoof to Apple Bloom’s back, trying to be comforting. Apple Bloom could feel her concern, ripe and juicy like a fresh apple, and the temptation to nibble it just made everything worse.
Roseluck’s eyes hardened, and she found her voice. “Get away from that thing!”
Scootaloo stared right back at her. “No way! She’s our friend!”
“I don’t really get what’s going on,” Sweetie Belle added, “but if she was some kind of changeling bad guy, she’d be putting us in cocoons.”
Roseluck pushed her face forward in a manner common to ponies who had attended Iron Will’s seminar. “You guard the changeling, you’re in for pain . . . um, ling!” She rushed directly at Scootaloo.
Most ponies would not have thought of Roseluck as intimidating. Granted, she was an earth pony who worked outside all day, and granted, she was half again Scootaloo’s height, but she was also one of the ponies who’d been terrified by a stampede of rabbits. But a bit of adrenaline can do impressive things, and Roseluck shouldered Scootaloo aside with no difficulty at all. She turned to kick Apple Bloom--
“WHAT do you think you’re DOING?” a blaring voice demanded.
None of them had noticed the strange earth pony approaching, and all of them stared in surprise. His fur was the bleached white of a royal guard, but he wore no armor and didn’t stand like a soldier. His rich red mane was long on one side, covering his right eye, and together with his short stature and lack of a cutie mark, he seemed very young. Nonetheless, he commanded their attention, if only for his voice. That bellowing, commanding, pee-yourself-and-hide-in-the-bushes voice.
“Where did you--” Roseluck attempted.
“Look at her!” the stranger yelled. “She’s crying!”
“I’m not crying!” Apple Bloom insisted, discreetly wiping at her eyes.
“She’s a monster!” Roseluck insisted. “A fiend! You can’t defend a changeling!”
“She’s a filly,” the stranger said, slowly advancing forward. “And she’s terrified! How dare you pick on her like this!”
“Don’t come any closer!” Roseluck yelled. She turned and looked at Apple Bloom, still sitting behind her. “Any closer, and I’ll--and I’ll . . .”
“Like hay you will!” Scootaloo protested.
The stranger stopped mid-stride. “No. I won’t . . .” He visibly composed himself. “This isn’t gonna work, is it?” he asked, the fire gone from his voice. “I can’t just yell at you when you’re scared, too. I promise I won’t hurt you if you don’t do anything to the filly. I just want her safe.”
“You’re a changeling, too!” Roseluck exclaimed. “You want your foal, don’t you? You can have her!” She turned tail and ran, disappearing around a corner.
The stranger approached Apple Bloom. “You’re Apple Bloom, right?” he asked. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she sniffled. “Why’d you help me? I’m a changeling . . .”
The stranger smiled gently, and his compassion wrapped around her like a warm blanket. “You needed help, so I helped you. I don’t care if you’re a changeling or not.”
“Who are you, anyway?” Sweetie Belle asked. “I’ve never seen--”
A full-grown changeling crashed through a window, landing on her back in the middle of the street. The door to the building slammed open, and Blossomforth stormed out. “What did you do with Cherry Berry, changeling?” she shouted.
“I’m Cherry Berry!” the changeling insisted. “Please, you have to believe me!”
The stranger dashed off to help, leaving the fillies behind.
“Wow, he’s cool,” Scootaloo said.
Apple Bloom lifted herself up and dusted herself off. “He’s doing something,” she said, “and we’re just sitting here. There are probably a lot of ponies who’re in trouble right now, and maybe we can help them. We could be . . . Cutie Mark Crusader Search and Rescue!”
“Yay!” Sweetie Belle chorused.
“But you can’t--” Scootaloo began. “Uh, I mean, yay!”
Applejack considered herself level-headed. Reliable. Dependable. A pony who would never shrink away from the truth.
Right now, the truth was that she really, really didn’t want to open her eyes and fully wake up..
Twilight must have noticed her stirring. “Are you all right, Applejack?” the befuddled alicorn asked. “I mean, apart from the obvious?”
No use faking it now. Applejack opened her eyes to an altered basement, brightly lit but with washed-out colors. Twilight was looking down at her, her wings flared in nervousness, and Rarity was nowhere to be seen. Delta Three was watching them both, her expression unreadable.
Applejack tentatively moved a leg, finding that it wasn’t sore, then rose on shaky hooves. “I think so,” she said. “I feel . . . sloshy. Like my guts are oatmeal, and my skin’s an iron bowl that’s keeping it all in.” She stared into Twilight’s eyes. “You can fix this, right?”
“Most likely,” Twilight said. “I’ll need to figure out exactly what just happened. I don’t know if--”
Applejack held up a holey hoof, gesturing her to silence. “Twi," she said, trying to speak firmly. "You can turn ponies into breezies, mice into horses, and I’m pretty sure that orange that hopped like a frog was your fault." She could feel a slight quaver in her throat, but the sound was lost in the discordance of her new voice. “If you can't fix this, nopony can. And you can fix this. Right?”
“I’ll do my best,” Twilight said. “I promise.”
A slight warmth pulsed out from around her, just barely strong enough to be noticeable. Applejack let it seep into where her bones used to be, and she began to find her balance.
Applejack was reliable and dependable, but she had no skill at lying to herself. Later, when there was less to do, she would think about what it would mean if she was stuck as a changeling forever. She knew she couldn't stay reliable or dependable if she thought about it now.
The newly minted changeling fished her hat off the floor. It didn’t fit over her horn, giving it a rakish tilt. “First things first.” She turned to look at the captive in the cage, who was still observing them, and seemed to be trying not to laugh. “Delta Three? Do you know anything about this?”
“You must have some changeling blood,” Delta Three explained. “If a pony’s mother or father was a changeling, changeling magic can awaken them. Changelings’ grandfoals can be awakened, too, and Queen Chrysalis can awaken great-grandfoals.”
Twilight stared at her. “You never told me this before!”
“You made assumptions,” Delta Three said. Her body language didn’t change, but Applejack could hear the shrug in her voice. “I didn’t correct them.”
“Wait a minute,” Applejack said. “Granny Smith told me once about my great-great-umpteen-great-grandpappy Margil Apple. He had a cutie mark of a heart, and most mares didn’t figure out what it really meant ‘til he left them behind. It was like he was always looking for somepony new to love. Was he a changeling?”
“Maybe,” Delta Three said.
“But he died before Granny Smith was born!” Applejack protested.
Delta Three looked over at Twilight and smirked. “I guess you really are more powerful than the queen, Element of Magic.”
“That’s not the problem,” Applejack said. “Margil was with an awful lot of mares, and most of those family lines are still going. A fifth of Ponyville has some Apple blood. If Twi’s magic did this to me . . .”
Delta Three smirked even wider, and Applejack nervously followed her gaze. Twilight’s eyes were rotating in circles, one clockwise and the other counterclockwise, and their veins were beginning to stand out.
“Twilight?” Rarity called from upstairs. “It wasn’t just Applejack. There are quite a few confused-looking changelings outside.”
Twilight’s eyes focused, and she snapped into action. “Tell them to meet in front of the hospital,” she ordered. “Some of them will probably be injured anyway. I’ll go find Spike and make sure he’s okay, and then I’ll send a message to Princess Celestia. I’ll follow you once I get a reply.”
“Now see here, Twilight,” Applejack said. “You’ve got to tell the Princess about--” She paused. “Wait, what?”
“This is way bigger than I can fix on my own,” Twilight said. “Besides, I learned my lesson from the Smarty Pants incident. I’m just scared of what Princess Celestia will think . . .”
“I screwed up, not you,” Applejack told her. “I won’t let you take the fall for it.” She attempted a smile, hoping her fangs wouldn’t prevent it from being reassuring. “Just be honest. The truth’s on your side.”
“Thank you, Applejack,” Twilight replied. Ruefully, she matched the smile. “If I was in your place, I’d be screaming in panic.”
“Then it’s a good thing you’re you, Twi,” Applejack said. She put on a serious expression. “I’ll go help Rarity. There must be a lot of scared changelings up there, and maybe another changeling can calm them down. See you at the hospital!”
-- -- -- --
In the few years since Twilight had come to Ponyville, she’d seen Ponyville Hospital filled to capacity more than once, but she’d never seen it overwhelmed. Despite tainted baked goods, stampeding animals, and the occasional Ursa attack, it was almost unheard of for a pony to die in the hospital who wasn’t elderly or terminally ill. The nurses were swift, the doctors were learned, and the victims were often remarkably lucky.
Twilight prayed today wouldn’t be an exception.
A lot of the patients were former pegasi, injured when sudden pain knocked them from the sky. Others had been beaten and bruised by confused friends and family. Still more had simply hurt themselves in accidents, distracted from some dangerous task. There were far too many for the hospital staff to help--at least, not without outside assistance.
Outside the hospital, Pinkie Pie was doing her best to keep everypony calm and maintain order. (This apparently involved balloons.) Just inside, a changeling in a familiar brown hat was helping Nurse Redheart with triage. Twilight was working together with Dr. Stable and Nurse Tenderheart, using their experience and her raw magical power to provide emergency healing for the most seriously injured patients, while Rarity and Spike applied their more modest first-aid knowledge to cleaning and dressing smaller injuries. Only Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy were missing.
As the sea of injured slowly subsided, Twilight found herself treating a changeling with injuries from broken glass, gently pushing energy through her to stop the bleeding.
“More . . . More . . .” Dr. Stable ordered. “Stop! Tenderheart, check her.”
Most nurses are earth ponies, for much the same reason most farmers are. Tenderheart put an ear to the patient’s chest and focused on the flow of blood through her body, not unlike the flow of sap through a tree, or life through soil. “A bit of bleeding on the left foreleg,” she observed, “but it’s slowing. She’ll be fine.”
Dr. Stable looked up and down the sea of bodies on beds. There were several yellow tags--critical but stable--but no more red ones for now. “Twilight, you should rest now,” he said. “It wouldn’t do to tire yourself out.”
Twilight hadn’t told him yet that this was all her fault. Looking into his eyes, she wondered if he had guessed. It wasn’t like there were a lot of other ponies who could cause something like this.
“I can still help,” Twilight said. “I should--”
“No, Twilight,” Dr. Stable repeated sternly. “If another urgent patient comes in, I want you fresh and ready.” He gestured over to the far corner. “There’s an empty bed over there. Five minutes will do you some good.”
Twilight stumbled over to the corner, surprised to discover that her vision was blurry. Even a princess could wear herself out, it seemed. She closed her eyes for just a moment . . .
. . . And heard thudding hoofsteps rushing towards her.
“Twilight!” Pinkie yelled. “It’s an emergency!”
Twilight cracked an eye open. “What?”
“It’s Roseluck! She’s gone crazy!”
Twilight closed her eye again. “Roseluck’s always crazy, Pinkie.”
“And she’s got a bunch of other ponies with her! They’ve got rocks and shovels and pitchforks--”
The gust of wind from Twilight’s mad rush out the door added new curls to Pinkie’s mane.
There were about twenty armed ponies outside the hospital, for a given value of “armed,” all listening to Roseluck speak. A small wall of unarmed ponies blocked them from entering the hospital, looking scared but resolute.
“What do we do with changeling filth?” Roseluck asked the gathered crowd.
"Rip off their wings!" one mare shouted.
"Break off their horns!" another added.
"That's a good start, but neither of them rhyme with 'filth,'" Roseluck observed. "It'll make a better chant if it rhymes."
"“Um, I don’t want to rip off anypony’s wings,” somepony whimpered. "Or break off their horn."
“It’s rhetoric, Lilly,” Roseluck insisted. “We won’t sound serious if we just say we want them out of town. Now, how about 'filthy changelings'? Can we do a rhyme with that?"
Princess Luna, who had experience with angry mobs, had given Twilight advice on how to handle something like this. This was her first time putting it to use, though.
“I am Princess Twilight Sparkle,” Twilight bellowed. “You are causing a public disturbance! In the name of the royal sisters, depart or be arrested!”
If nothing else, the volume of her voice momentarily cowed Roseluck, but the mare was surprisingly persistent. “Those wings don’t make you a princess, librarian.” Roseluck glared directly into Twilight’s eyes. “The real princesses raise the sun and moon, and the changelings put one of them in a dang cocoon! We’re taking revenge for her, and if you stand in our way, you’re a traitor!”
Twilight gaped at her, unsure which insult to respond to first.
Roseluck smirked grimly as she turned back to the crowd. “What do we do with pony traitors?”
"Rip off their wings!" one mare shouted.
"Break off their horns!" another added.
"It's a good start, but it still doesn't rhyme," Roseluck observed. "Maybe we can do something with 'fake,' or 'fraud,' or . . ."
Twilight rose up into the air without flapping her wings. Her coat turned bone white, and flames danced up and down her back.
“Go. Away!” she shouted.
Roseluck broke and fled, and the rest of the crowd soon followed.
Twilight sank to the ground in exhaustion. This was all too much . . .
“Twilight!” Rainbow Dash yelled. Twilight opened her eyes to find the pegasus carrying a bloody changeling who looked like she’d been bitten by something. “Ghastly Gorge. Quarray eels. She’s hurt bad!”
Maybe Twilight would have time to rest later. Much later. For now, she rushed into the hospital and called for Dr. Stable.
-- -- -- --
Several hours later, Twilight found herself on a small sleeping pad on the hospital floor. Moonlight shone in through the front window.
“Ughhhh,” she droned, still largely out of it. Then she realized where she was, and she snapped awake. “Oh Celestia, I’m sorry! Where’s Dr. Stable? I need to help--”
“Calm down, Twi,” Applejack said. “Everypony who was in danger is okay now. They’re just resting. Don’t wake ‘em up.”
The changeling was lying on the floor beside a bed, which was occupied by another of her kind whose leg was in a cast. Besides Twilight, she seemed to be the only one in the room who wasn’t sleeping.
“When the guards showed up, they said everypony could go home if they wanted to, but all us Apples stayed. It’s pretty well stuffed, but with those folks outside”--she nodded towards the window behind the bed--“it’s safer here than out at the farm.”
Twilight rose and walked to the window. Roseluck was still out there with a small crowd of protesters, but a full squadron of Night Guards was blocking them from coming in. Twilight’s letter to the princesses had evidently not been in vain.
“Betcha Roseluck’s a changeling, too,” Applejack said. “She’s a distant Apple, and the only other Apple who isn’t one is Pinkie. It’d be just like her to hide it.”
“Is that why you’re still . . .” Twilight fumbled for a word. “Holey? You don’t want to be dishonest?”
“You’ve got me pegged,” Applejack said. “This doesn’t feel like me at all, but I guess it’s what I am. It would be like lying if I put on orange fur, at least until you change me back for real.”
Twilight would have lain down next to Applejack, but there wasn’t enough room between the hospital beds. It felt too presumptuous to keep standing, so she laid in the middle of the aisle facing Applejack, and hoped nobody would rush through the room and trip over her.
“Applejack, I have to ask you this,” Twilight said. “I know you don’t want to tell me, but I need to know. How many?”
“It won’t help to know, Twi. It’ll just burn in your gut.”
“You know, don’t you?” Twilight asked. “You had to ask. You’re not the kind of pony who can just look away from things like that. I’m not that kind of pony, either. How many, Applejack?”
Applejack looked down at the floor for a moment before she spoke. “Three so far,” she said. “Thunderlane and Helia fell too far, and Ambrosia had an accident with some construction equipment. A lot of other ponies are missing. Twi, you won’t listen when I say this, but it’s my fault, not yours--”
“You were just the assistant,” Twilight interrupted. “It was my experiment. I should have set up better safety protocols. This is the kind of thing that gets ponies put in prison, Applejack! And since I’m a princess, the other princesses will be the jury.” She couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. “Princess Celestia is going to have to decide whether or not I’ll be punished for this. How am I going to look her in the eye?”
“Does this fancy princess court allow witnesses?” Applejack asked. “‘Cause I’m gonna tell ‘em you did everything you could. You didn’t know I was a changeling. Hay, I didn’t know I was a changeling. But you told me and Rares everything we needed to do, and she could have fixed it if I hadn’t botched it up.”
Twilight wiped at her eyes with her hoof, then quietly sighed. “We can argue later. I need to check on Spike. I should make certain he’s okay after . . . after today.”
“Er . . .” Applejack briefly trailed off. “I figured he would sleep better in his own bed, but I can’t cross Ponyville with Roseluck’s mob out there. And Rarity was watching Sweetie Belle, and Pinkie’s looking after some foals whose parents are missing, and nopony knows where Fluttershy is. That left . . .”
Twilight looked like she’d been hit in the head with a pickaxe. “Oh Celestia, no.”
-- -- -- --
“Oh hey Twilight,” Spike said, talking at twice his usual speed. “I waited up for you but you didn’t come so I waited more but you still didn’t come but I couldn’t sleep so . . .”
“How many aquamarines did he eat?” Twilight asked angrily.
“Just three,” Rainbow said. “He said he gets six, but that sounded like way too many.”
“He gets one!” Twilight yelled. “And not right before bed! He’ll be bouncing off the walls all night!”
“I tried that,” Spike said, “but it turns out I don’t bounce well so I just jumped on my basket but I can’t bounce there so I jumped on your bed but the bed broke . . .”
Twilight groaned. This was going to be a long night.
At first, you were my sister; now I love you like a mother
Late in the afternoon on the day of the accident, quite some time after Twilight lapsed into unconsciousness, a green wheelbarrow barreled through the front doors of Ponyville Hospital. Loaded inside it was a terrified-looking donkey with one of his legs in an improvised splint. Pushing from behind were three excitable young fillies--all ponies, so far as any onlooker could tell.
“Cutie Mark Crusader Search and Rescue!” Apple Bloom shouted, and the other crusaders echoed her. It had taken an hour for whatever had changeling-fied her to wear off a little, and twenty minutes for her to figure out how to look and sound like her old self, and she was still giddy to be speaking with her old accent instead of a buzz.
An earth pony nurse met them just inside--Nurse Snowheart, Apple Bloom recalled. “What do we have here?” the mare asked, trying to look caring, but simply looking half-asleep.
“Those pegasus movers turned into changelings and dropped a piano on my leg,” the donkey explained. “Then these kids hit every bump in Ponyville bringing me here!”
“Are you dying?” Nurse Snowheart asked, her words slightly slurred from exhaustion.
“No,” the donkey said, “but--”
“Hemorrhaging?”
“No, but--”
“Stung by a manticore?”
“NO! But--”
“Please wait right there. Somepony will be with you soon.” She nearly collapsed as she turned around, but regained her balance and lumbered off.
“Come back here, you--”
“Don’t mind her,” a changeling in a familiar brown hat said. “She’s plumb tired from all the folks who’ve come through. I can take a look if you want--I know a little farm medicine.”
Apple Bloom couldn’t stop herself from staring. “Applejack?” she asked.
The changeling smiled in what was probably supposed to be a friendly display of fangs, and Apple Bloom felt a pleasant sensation surround her. It was warm and cold at the same time, like a chilled drink on a hot day, and it tasted like apples.
“Apple Bloom!” Applejack exclaimed. “I was worried sick about you! Just let me take a look at Cranky here, and then I’ll be right over.”
The exam was over quickly. Applejack knew more about hurt plants than hurt donkeys, so the most she could really do was check the splint. “It’s good work for something makeshift,” she said. “It should hold until a real doctor looks you over. I’m afraid I can’t give you anything for the pain, though--I don’t know what pony painkillers do to donkeys.” She stood behind the wheelbarrow and prepared to lift. “I’ll get you out of the entrance, just in case somepony comes rushing through--”
The doors slammed open, and Rainbow Dash zoomed by, carrying a changeling who appeared to have been bludgeoned repeatedly. She flew low enough to take Cranky’s toupee with her.
“Just in case somepony else comes rushing through,” the changeling amended.
Once Cranky was safely out of the way, Applejack returned and looked the foals over. “Thank Celestia none of you are hurt,” Applejack said. “Sweetie Belle, you should go find Rarity--she’s in here somewhere helping patients. She was afraid you were hurt or something. And Scootaloo, uh, find . . . somepony,” she lamely added.
Both fillies shuffled off, one more awkwardly than the other.
“How are you, little sis?” Applejack asked.
“Applejack . . .” Apple Bloom attempted. “Were we . . . always changelings?”
“Of course we weren’t!” Applejack said firmly. “We don’t pretend to be folks we aren’t. We just . . . had something in us, I guess. Like a seed or something.”
“Were Ma and Pa really our Ma and Pa?” Apple Bloom asked. “And what about Granny?”
Applejack’s grin was almost roguish, an unusual expression for her. “Granny’s dancing around like a little filly ‘cause she can look like she’s young again. She’s our granny all right, and that means we really came from Ma and Pa.”
More seriously, she continued, “Maybe it’s more like an allergy than a seed. Some folks can’t eat strawberries--if they try, their throats swell up. If your pa and grandpa and great-grandpa are allergic, but they never eat strawberries, you won’t know until you eat one. I guess the Apples are allergic to changeling magic, only we don’t get red and itchy, we get black and holey. But we’re still Apples, and we can still get through this.”
She nuzzled up against the younger changeling, and though her chitin was cold and hard against Apple Bloom’s disguised flesh, something about the motion was still recognizable as Applejack’s. “Don’t let anypony tell you otherwise.”
“I won’t,” Apple Bloom promised.
“Now let’s clear out of the entrance,” Applejack suggested. “I should go see how Granny’s getting along--she may look young now, but she was getting pretty wheezy last time I checked. And I ought to check on Big Mac, too.” It took Apple Bloom a moment to realize that the buzzing sound Applejack made was a giggle. Applejack, of all ponies, was giggling. “I know I shouldn’t find it funny, him being so broken up to find there aren’t any changeling stallions, but I’ve been a mare since I was born--he can at least handle it until he heals up enough to try changing.”
Apple Bloom followed her transformed sister deeper into the hospital, pondering changelings, strawberries, and Apples.
-- -- -- --
The next morning, colts and fillies filtered into Cheerilee’s classroom under the watchful eye of a royal guard, who was standing outside the front door and keeping a close watch for some unspecified threat. A couple of foals tried to converse with the guard, intrigued by the new presence, but were soon foiled by his staunch passivity. Others stayed as far away from him as possible. Apple Bloom fell into the latter category.
“Quiet down, please,” Cheerilee said. “I have an important announcement. Because of what happened yesterday, I’m moving our unit on magical creatures to now instead of spring. Today, we’ll be learning about changelings. Now, who can tell me what a changeling is?”
Snails, of all ponies, raised his hoof. “They’re monsters! They stick ponies in cocoons and eat their love!”
“That’s close, but it’s not quite right,” Cheerilee gently chided. “Changelings are actually ponies.”
A chorus of “No way!” ran through the class.
“Yes, it’s true,” Cheerilee said. “Every changeling is born a pony, just like you or me.” She pulled the top sheet from the easel at the front of the class, revealing a diagram of the possibilities. “She can grow up, get a cutie mark, and be just like any other pony. But because one of her parents, or grandparents, or other ancestors was a changeling, she’ll carry their magic in their blood. If a changeling uses strong magic on her . . .” She tapped a drawing of a changeling. “She’ll change, just like that. She’ll lose her cutie mark, and all her magic will become changeling magic. But she’ll still be the same pony, with all the same memories.”
“Uh, Miss Cheerilee?” Truffle Shuffle asked. “How do you know all this? Has . . .” He fumbled for a word. “Has this stuff happened before?”
“A few times, yes,” Cheerilee explained, “though it’s always been just one or two ponies. There was one in Canterlot who became a therapist, using his magic to help ponies control their emotions. Another one in Hollow Shades became a royal guard.” There was something oddly firm in her voice. “They lived long, happy lives, even without their cutie marks. Now, class, what else can you tell me about changelings?”
Silver Spoon raised her hoof. “They don’t get cutie marks.”
Cheerilee looked confused. “Yes, that’s right. Didn’t I say that?”
Silver Spoon looked around the classroom, her eyes lingering on each of the Crusaders. A dark cloud began to build around her, but only Apple Bloom seemed to notice it. “They don’t have special talents.”
“That’s not quite--” Cheerilee began.
Silver Spoon stared into Apple Bloom’s eyes, and the force of her hatred pressed into her soul. It was a small hate, a childish one, but it tasted so vile that Apple Bloom thought she might vomit. The young changeling couldn’t stop herself from crying out, a wordless yelp that died halfway out of her throat.
“No talents at all,” Silver Spoon said. “Ever. That’s why they have to fake--”
“Stop it stop it stop it!” Diamond Tiara screamed.
The whole class stared at her in surprise. She looked tired and shaken, and her tiara was nowhere to be seen. Apple Bloom looked closely at her cutie mark--it looked smudgy, and she thought it had one less point than before.
Tentatively, afraid of more hatred, the young changeling reached out with her other senses. She felt nothing at all from Diamond Tiara, like the filly had turned into a lifelike ponnequin--or so thoroughly walled in her true emotions that she might as well be a ponnequin. She hadn’t seen anything like this since yesterday . . . since Roseluck . . .
Apple Bloom had never heard Cheerilee’s voice so cold. “You just earned detention, Silver Spoon.”
“I was just--” Silver Spoon attempted.
Cheerilee ignored her. “Let’s skip ahead a little, class. I’ve--I’ve been thinking about whether or not to do this.” She tore another sheet from the easel, revealing a more detailed diagram of a changeling. “I could just teach you from sheets like this. Or I could, well . . .” Green fire rippled across Cheerilee’s body, burning away fur and blackening skin. “This.”
Every colt and filly in the classroom suddenly drew in a breath. A few of them let it out again, yelping in surprise, while Featherweight fell out of his seat and scrambled backwards two rows. The others just sat and stared.
“I’m a changeling,” Cheerilee explained, “but I haven’t changed. I’m still your teacher. I know some ponies won’t like that, but it’s what I was meant to do, even without my cutie mark.”
Apple Bloom looked her over, then giggled.
“What is it, Apple Bloom?” Cheerilee asked, looking slightly annoyed.
“I’m sorry, Miss Cheerilee,” Apple Bloom said. “It’s just . . . you look just like my sister. Your voice is like hers, too, but you don’t say the words the same way. It’s kind of funny to think of her talking like you.”
Silver Spoon stared at Apple Bloom. “Wait,” she asked, “you really are a changeling?”
Apple Bloom considered that, then let her disguise drop. After a few seconds, Truffle Shuffle matched her (much to her surprise--his cutie mark was perfect.) Diamond Tiara looked back and forth, apparently deciding which side of the battle line to be on, then sighed and followed suit.
Featherweight finally lost his nerve completely and ran ran out of the room. Silver Spoon turned pale through her fur, and Snips started laughing like somepony had set off a fart bomb. Most of the rest of the class just stared in silence.
Archer looked Apple Bloom up and down, as if coming to a decision, then shouted “Cool!” She got up out of her seat and walked up close. “Your skin looks like armor. Can I touch it?”
“Um, I guess so,” Apple Bloom said nervously.
Archer reached out a hoof and ran it along Apple Bloom’s cheek, almost too softly to feel. “It’s cold,” she said. “Are you cold in there, or does it keep all the heat in?”
Apple Bloom hadn’t even thought about that. “Your hoof feels warm,” she said, “so I guess I’m cold. I don’t feel cold, though. I just feel like me.”
Archer smiled, and a little bit of warmth passed from her to Apple Bloom. “I guess most ponies would say that.”
The blue filly looked over at the teacher. “I’m sorry for interrupting, Miss Cheerilee. I’ll go back to my seat now.”
“It’s all right,” Cheerilee said. “But as long as you’re out of your seat, would you please go fetch Featherweight?”
Apple Bloom took another look around the classroom. Most of the foals still looked confused, but apart from Silver Spoon, none of them seemed scared. A few were even smiling at her, though she didn’t feel much love from them.
She didn’t know what would happen next, and she knew that some ponies might never trust changelings. But at that moment, she was absolutely certain that everything would be all right.
Author’s note: I’ve made several retcons to previous chapters. They’ll be listed in my next blog post, but the only one that’s important going forward is that changelings can now walk on clouds.
Early the next morning, Fluttershy sat outside the front door of Carousel Boutique and debated whether or not to knock again. It usually opened around now, but there was no guarantee Rarity would be working today after what had happened yesterday. Maybe she should try the library--no, Twilight would definitely be busy today. Or Sugarcube Corner, but it was probably closed for repairs. Or she could go look for Applejack, but she was afraid the Element of Honesty would see right through her.
The door swung open, and Rarity stared in surprise at the mare on her doorstep. “Fluttershy? Where were you yesterday? You had me worried sick about you!”
“Um . . .” Somehow, it hadn’t occurred to Fluttershy that she’d need to answer that question.
Rarity’s mane was combed and styled, and there weren’t any obvious lines around her eyes, but the friendly warmth around her had a sickly tinge. Fluttershy suspected she hadn’t slept well, and the yellow mare began to feel very guilty.
“Oh, what am I saying?” Rarity asked. “I’m just glad you’re safe. Come in! I’ll make some tea for you.”
“Thank you,” Fluttershy said, “but I don’t think I can stay very long. I just wanted to tell you I’ll be going away for a few days.”
“If I may ask, where are you going?” Rarity inquired.
“I need to go find somepony,” Fluttershy said, not entirely lying. “I haven’t talked to her in a really long time. I don’t know what she looks like now, but I think I can find her.”
Rarity wrinkled her brow at that. “There’s no need to dance around the subject, Fluttershy. If I may venture a guess . . . You’re going to see your mother?”
-- -- -- --
A little yellow filly rushed through the front entrance of her cloud house, crying every step of the way. She nearly bowled her mother over with a desperate, wordless hug.
“You’re home late again, Fluttershy,” Mommy said. “I was worried about you.”
Fluttershy pressed her face into Mommy’s neck, still too scared to speak.
“Are you all right, little wings?” Mommy cooed. “Did those mean colts hurt you again?”
“Hoofball,” Fluttershy whimpered, her voice somewhat muffled by Mommy’s fur. “I just wanted to play hoofball. They didn’t have to be so mean.”
“It’s all right,” Mommy said. “You’re with Mommy now.” She lifted her foal up and embraced her. “I’ll always be here for you, little wings, but you have to stay safe. Tomorrow, you have to come right home after school. No mean colts will ever get in here.”
“But . . . what about hoofball?” Fluttershy asked.
“You can’t keep playing hoofball, Fluttershy,” Mommy tutted. “Those mean colts could really hurt you, and then they’d just say it was an accident.”
“But--” Fluttershy attempted.
“Trust me, Fluttershy,” Mommy said. “All I want is for you to be safe.”
She knew it was true. Mommy would never leave her like Daddy, or hurt her like the colts. Mommy loved her more than anything, and she loved Mommy more than anything, too.
-- -- -- --
“Fluttershy?” Rarity asked. “Are you all right?”
“I’m sorry,” Fluttershy said.
“You never talk about your family,” Rarity said. “I assumed you parted on bad terms, and I thought maybe you wanted to mend your bridges now.”
“It’s . . . hard to explain,” Fluttershy attempted. “I don’t think I can tell you.”
“I won’t pry, then,” Rarity promised. “But a word of advice: if there’s ever something you need to talk about, something you simply can’t hold inside, Pinkie Pie is a surprisingly good listener.”
Fluttershy considered the prospect of telling Pinkie Pie everything that was wrong with her. She would rather pick a fight with a dragon than start that conversation. “She’s probably really busy right now,” she said, “after everything that--”
“I won’t let you do this to yourself, Fluttershy,” Rarity interrupted, her voice growing a little louder and her aura turning a little darker with each word. “You have a history of quietly being miserable because you’re afraid speaking up will make your friends unhappy. None of us are happy when we know you’re hurting yourself!”
Fluttershy stared wide-eyed at her furious-looking friend, finding herself at a total loss for words.
The fashionista shrank in on herself, her anger already fading. “Forgive me,” she said. “I’m more tired than I realized, and it seems I’ve let my temper get the better of me.”
“No, you’re right, Rarity,” Fluttershy admitted. “I’ll go talk to her.” After a moment’s hesitation, she added, “Thank you.”
-- -- -- --
Sugarcube Corner was mostly intact, though several burn marks hinted that it could have been a lot worse. Pinkie Pie opened the front door at the third knock. “Sorry, but we’re--oh hi, Fluttershy! Come in!”
This time, Fluttershy had her apology prepared. “Hi, Pinkie. I’m sorry I wasn’t around yesterday. I should have told somepony I wasn’t hurt or anything.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Pinkie said, beaming positive emotions like a miniature sun. “I knew you were okay. Probably really, really scared, but okay.”
Fluttershy almost asked what Pinkie meant, but they were interrupted by a loud wail from the second floor. Pinkie Pie zipped off, and Fluttershy followed.
Pumpkin Cake was sitting on the nursery floor, crying plaintively, while Pound Cake looked on in confusion. Green fire flickered intermittently across the little filly, changing the color of her mane from orange to purple to green, but no matter what she tried, her coat remained a lifeless shade of white.
“It’s okay, Pumpkin-Wumpkin,” Pinkie Pie assured the foal. “Just calm down a bit, and you’ll be back to normal in no time!”
Pumpkin’s crying continued unabated. Pound silently patted her shoulder.
“Um, do you think Mr. or Mrs. Cake could help?” Fluttershy suggested.
“They’re not changelings,” Pinkie said. “Or Apples, either, which is kinda weird. Besides, they’re not here.” She leaned in close to Fluttershy. “They had a really bad night,” she explained quietly, “so they’re having a picnic. I asked if they were gonna make music together, and Mr. Cake said he didn’t think so. Which is too bad, because I was gonna loan them my new drum set.”
Fluttershy blinked repeatedly, uncertain what had just happened. “Um, why is it weird they’re not Apples?”
“Genealogy,” Pinkie explained. “Almost all the changelings at the hospital yesterday were Apples. Or Berries, or Shuffles, or Doos, but those are all related to Apples.”
Pinkie grit her teeth and squinted for a few seconds. Nothing happened.
“And I get zip!” she added. “Nada! Nothing! Is it too much to ask for a horn and wings? But anyway, I need a bag of flour. Be right back!”
She dashed down the stairs before Fluttershy could say anything.
Without anything else to distract her, Fluttershy couldn’t keep her focus off the loudly crying filly. She knew all about baby birds and bats and beavers, but she was hardly an expert on foals. As Fluttershy, she might have just stood there until Pinkie came back, scared to do the wrong thing.
But Little Red wasn’t scared of anything.
“You’re trapped,” he said quietly. “You know this isn’t you, but you can’t change, and nopony knows how to help.”
Almost on impulse, he whitened his coat, focusing on exactly how it felt. It was difficult to describe in pony terms. The best he could come up with was that he felt blank.
Pumpkin and Pound watched him, confused and intrigued. Pumpkin had stopped crying, but he knew she would start again if he couldn’t find a way to solve this.
He’d changed from white to yellow before, but he’d done so naturally, instinctively. Focusing in, he found that he couldn’t do it directly, any more than he could grab a hoof-full of air. Before he could change colors, he needed to make color--all the colors at once, blended so none showed.
He smiled gently as fire blackened his coat. “White to black,” he said, “then black to color. You can do it. Try it.”
Pumpkin squinted, straining, and she slowly darkened. She checked the fur on her front legs, then clapped her hooves together in delight.
Pinkie Pie rushed back in, carrying a large brown bag. “All right, buddy,” she said sternly. “You asked for it!” She upended the bag over both herself and Little Red, covering them both in flour. “Now we’re white, too! And we’ll stay white until--huh?”
Ignoring Little Red’s repeated sneezing, Pinkie Pie gently touched a hoof to Pumpkin’s coat. “It doesn’t come off.” She touched the same hoof to Little Red’s coat, wiping away the flour. “That does come off. And underneath . . . A-ha! I found you, sneaky changeling!”
Little Red wasn’t scared of anything. Fluttershy was scared of quite a few things. With just five words, the mare’s legs locked up, and she fell sideways with a frightened bleat.
“Do you know what this means?” Pinkie demanded, her expression serious and her aura cloudy. Then she cracked a smile, and the clouds dissipated. “We’re cousins! Pinkie Apple Pie and Fluttershy Apple, uh, your last name!” She hopped around the room in excitement.
Still lying on the floor, Fluttershy drew in a sudden breath. “You really scared me, Pinkie,” she said. “I thought you were going to call me an impostor or something.”
“I had to make sure you were Fluttershy,” Pinkie said, still bouncing. “Or else you’re a goat. Can goats be changelings? Anyway, now I know you’re not some big meanie.” She stopped and looked down into Fluttershy’s eyes. “How come you never told me you were an Apple?”
“I’m not an Apple,” Fluttershy said. “I mean, I don’t think I am.”
“Maybe you’re a secret Apple!” Pinkie speculated. “Your grampa could have been Granny Smith’s long-lost pegasus love! Or maybe you were found on a doorstep, and brought up by another family--do cloud houses have doorsteps?”
Fluttershy lifted herself off the floor and did her best to focus. “Um, I don’t think it’s like that, Pinkie . . . ”
But what was it like? How could she possibly explain this?
Pumpkin caught her attention again. The little filly seemed to be trying to mirror her brother’s appearance, but so far she’d only managed to change her coloring. Eventually, she managed to make her horn melt into her skull, and then got to work on wings.
“She’s a fast learner, isn’t she?” Fluttershy mused. “Pretty soon, she’ll look just like Pound. Do you think they’ll be the same then, or will they still be different?”
Pinkie gave her a weird look. “Is this like that thing with the black bowling ball and the white bowling ball, and you paint the white one black? Because I kind of think Twilight was messing with my head when she told me about that.”
Fluttershy sighed. “I’d like to ask you something, but it’s not a very nice thing. If I’m hurting you by asking, you can tell me to stop. It’s just . . . when you’re feeling something, how do you know if it’s real?”
Pinkie put her hoof to her chin. “Hmm . . . I still don’t get it. I’m Pinkie Pie, Ponyville’s prolific party planner, and I feel like Pinkie Pie, too. If I were a clone or something, and I felt like Pinkie Pie, that wouldn’t be real. But I’m not a clone; I checked!”
Pinkie suddenly gasped, her eyes wide as saucers. “Are you a clone?” she asked. “Are you gonna foalnap me and put a Pinkie clone in my place?” She pressed her hooves against the sides of Fluttershy’s head. “Nope, false alarm.”
Fluttershy stared in bafflement. “You were scared,” she said. “Even though it was a joke, it felt like real fear. And earlier, you acted angry because I was a ‘sneaky changeling,’ and it felt like you were really furious, even though you were just pretending so you could scare me. You change emotions so quickly, like you’re putting masks on and taking them off . . . You’re scaring me, Pinkie.”
“Geez,” Pinkie said. “I’m sorry, Fluttershy. I just get a little into my jokes sometimes.”
Fluttershy took a deep breath, then slowly let it out again. She idly pondered the mechanisms involved. Did changelings have lungs? Did they even need air? Or was it just a way of looking normal?
She forced out words, slowly, steadily. It felt a bit like vomiting. “I’m sorry, but I have to ask all of this. Pinkie, I . . . I have masks, too. I’ve had them since before I left home.”
-- -- -- --
Fluttershy quietly walked through the front door of her house, and a burly blue pegasus marched behind her. A shining yellow badge hung from his orange vest: Air Safety Marshal.
“Is this your filly?” the marshal asked Mommy.
Mommy fixed Fluttershy with a stare that could burn through iron. “Fluttershy, what did you do?” she asked firmly.
“I found her on the roof of a shop in the lowest part of town,” the marshal explained. “Apparently, two bullies twice her size tried to take some foal’s lunch money, and she tried to stop them. They’re swearing up and down that they just meant to push her aside, not knock her off the cloud.”
Mommy didn’t look at him, keeping her eyes on Fluttershy. Still, her expression softened slightly. “Are you hurt?” she asked. “Did you land okay?”
Fluttershy quietly shook her head. “I froze up,” she said. “I couldn’t fly.”
“Fluttershy, you have to be more careful!” Mommy scolded. “You need to stay away from cloud edges unless you’re ready to take flight.”
“What your foal needs is proper flying lessons,” the marshal said sternly. “Any filly her age should know how to get out of freefall, especially in a town like Cloudsdale. If she hadn’t landed on that roof, she could have died!”
“I’ll thank you not to tell me how to parent,” Mommy said. “It’s true that Fluttershy’s had a few problems learning how to fly, but she’s getting better, and she doesn’t need you butting in.”
The marshal grimaced. “Whatever you say, ma’am. Anyway, those bullies are minors, and there’s no proof they intended to hurt her, but you can still press recklessness charges if you want. Think it over, and if you decide to do it, come down to the sheriff’s office sometime this week.” He adjusted his badge, as if trying to reassert some manner of authority. “I’ll be going now. You have a very brave filly, but for her sake, I hope I never have to rescue her again.”
As soon as he was gone, Mommy rounded on Fluttershy. “This is about those blasted books you’ve been reading, isn’t it?”
“Big Red wouldn’t just stand there and let somepony be bullied,” Fluttershy said firmly. “Daring Do and Skychaser wouldn’t, either. They’d do something to help.”
“That’s because they’re not real!” Mommy yelled. “You can’t go around trying to save everypony! Sooner or later, you’ll just get yourself hurt! Do you realize how close you came to killing yourself today?”
Of course she did. It still terrified her to remember falling. But it wouldn’t have been right to just stand and watch. Would it?
“Fluttershy . . . I’m taking those books away,” Mommy said. “And I’m not pressing charges against those bullies.”
“But they won’t stop!” Fluttershy protested. “They’ll just keep hurting other foals!”
“You can’t always stop bad ponies, Fluttershy,” Mommy said. “Sometimes they’re bigger than you, or stronger than you, or they’re just too powerful to touch. You need to learn that before you get yourself hurt.”
Fluttershy didn’t even try to protest further. She just looked down at the floor and cried.
Mommy draped a wing over her, warmly embracing her. “I’m sorry, little wings, but you’re the only family I have left. Daddy’s gone, but we’re still here, and I can’t lose you. I love you, and I know someday you’ll understand that.”
-- -- -- --
Fluttershy told that story, and the hoofball story, and the library story. Somewhere along the way, she became Little Red without realizing it, and he explained why Daddy left. When he finished, he realized that Pinkie Pie was crying.
“After a while, all Fluttershy had left was her fear,” he said. “She could pretend sometimes to be happy, but her fear was the only thing that was real. Then she fell to the ground, and she thought she’d been reborn. She found peace. She found kindness. She even had a talent!”
Pumpkin and Pound stared quietly at him, matched so perfectly he didn’t know which was which. Their emotions were simple, and thankfully, they didn’t seem to understand much of what he was saying. But they knew that Pinkie was sad, and that made them sad, too.
“And don’t think you girls haven’t helped me, either. Fluttershy learned to be brave, to be honest with herself, to laugh even when she was scared . . . But there was always something missing. There was a piece of myself that I couldn’t fit into Fluttershy. I think that’s why I made this stallion--Little Red. Even in this sloshy, gooshy body, there’s something about him that feels like me.”
Pinkie Pie wiped at her eyes, then loudly blew into a white kerchief. Her emotions were so garbled that Little Red couldn’t make heads or tails of them, but she seemed to be listening.
“When I was Mommy’s ‘little wings,’ it felt real,” he said. “I thought that was how I was supposed to be. And then I was Fluttershy, and that felt real, too. But if this is me, then what am I? Can I still be Fluttershy if I’m Little Red? And if this isn’t me, then am I anything at all? That’s why I need to understand you, Pinkie. You change so much more than me. How do you know what’s you?”
“Fluttershy, in ten seconds, I’m gonna hug you,” Pinkie said. “Unless you say no. I’m getting better about asking after I hugged Twilight while she was carrying that bottle of dragon stomach acid.”
“You don’t have to--” Little Red attempted, but Pinkie embraced him before he could finish.
“This is real,” Pinkie said, her arms wrapped around his neck and her cheek against his. Her love flowed into him, no longer tainted by sorrow. “You’re my friend, Fluttershy. You’re kind. You’re caring. You love little furry things, unless they’re three months old and in the fridge. Even if you change your name, all of that’s still true.”
“You’re . . . choking me . . .” Little Red coughed.
Pinkie Pie loosened her hold. “Sorry. Anyway, you’re the Element of Kindness. You can’t fake that. And your cutie mark’s real, too. You don’t have to figure out the rest of it right away. Look at how much Twilight’s changed since we met her!”
“If I do change . . .” Little Red attempted. “If I’m not Fluttershy anymore . . . will you still be my friend?”
“Of course I’ll be your friend, silly!” She let go to make a familiar gesture. “Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.”
Little Red chuckled, quietly and briefly. “You couldn’t lie if you tried, could you? Your feelings keep changing, but all of them seem real. It’s like you’re feeling all of them, all at once.”
Pinkie smiled back at him. “You still wanna understand me? Lesson one in Pinkieology: I feel everything. If some of your friends got hurt--really badly hurt--you’d be sad, right? But if some of your friends fell in love, or learned to fly, or figured out a little bit more about who they were, you’d be happy. And if both of those happened, you’d just feel weird. I’m friends with everypony in Ponyville, and my Pinkie Sense tells me when things happen to my friends.”
It took a few seconds for the implications to hit him. “Um, Pinkie Pie . . . Please don’t take this the wrong way . . . But how are you not completely mad by now?”
Pinkie bugged out her eyes and stuck out her tongue. “I’m a nut! I’m crazy in the coconut! But it makes folks happy when I show them I’m happy. And sometimes, they need to see me sad, so I show them I’m sad. If I just do nothing, I get so sad I can’t act happy anymore, and then things get really bad. But if I make them happier, I’m happier too.”
Little Red fumbled for words. Eventually, he came up with “You would have been a great changeling, Pinkie.”
“That’s the second-weirdest compliment anypony’s ever given me,” Pinkie said cheerfully. “But speaking of changing, Pound and Pumpkin need new diapers. I’ll be back soon!”
-- -- -- --
“Back again! I’ve been thinking. Apple Bloom told me about a white pony with a red mane who helped her yesterday. Was that Little Red?”
“Um, yes,” Little Red admitted. “I didn’t really do anything, though. I just talked.”
“You said the right things,” Pinkie observed. “That’s more than I do most of the time. I say one wrong word, and then Rarity throws a ponnequin at me.”
“You don’t have to be so hard on yourself,” Little Red said. “You really helped me just a few minutes ago.”
“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” Pinkie said. “I mean, why’d she even ask me how that dress made her flanks look if she didn’t want an answer?”
Little Red blanched under his fur.
“Anyway,” Pinkie continued, “one of my friends did something really bad, and I don’t know what to do. I think somepony could help her if they talked to her, but I say the wrong thing a lot when I talk. Can you keep a secret?”
“Um, I don’t really like secrets. But if it’s important, I promise I won’t tell.”
Pinkie leaned over and whispered into Little Red’s ear. He felt like somepony had hit him in the head with a rake.
This wasn’t Berryshine’s first time in the Ponyville jail. In fact, she was its most frequent occupant, thrown in the drunk tank night after night and released with a fine in the morning. She’d actually talked the constable into letting her buy new sheets and a softer pillow, though he’d balked at letting her keep part of her reserve there.
All that was going away now, she supposed. As the constable silently led her past empty cells, she pondered what it would be like in the real prison up in Canterlot. All she had to go on were rumors, but if half of what she’d heard was true, one night that could have been perfect had just bought her several very miserable years.
She followed the constable into the seldom-used interrogation room. Waiting at the table was a stallion she hadn’t seen before, a short earth pony with white fur and a red mane. He was wearing a blue overcoat that hid his cutie mark. To her surprise, he smiled politely at the sight of her.
“This could be your lucky day, Berryshine,” the constable snarled. “The victim hasn’t decided yet whether to press charges. I don’t know why, but he asked for his friend here to talk to you first. There’s little precedent for this, but no rule against it, and the victim takes priority—even if I’d sooner just toss you in prison.” He turned to the stranger. “I’ll be waiting just outside the door. Give me a holler if you need me.”
He slammed the door behind him, leaving Berryshine alone with the stranger.
“Hello, Berryshine,” the earth pony said softly. His voice was quite deep, but he was making an attempt at being gentle.
With her strange new senses, she snuck a peek at his aura. Even from outside the door, the constable’s hatred made her feel ill, but all she could pick up off the stallion in front of her was a vague confidence and friendliness. He wasn’t at all mad at her. That wouldn’t do.
“Who the hay are you?” Berryshine asked.
“You can call me Little Red. I’m a friend of the Cakes, and I’d like to ask some questions, if that’s all right with you.”
“And if it’s not all right, I go to Canterlot,” Berryshine said acidly.
“I’m sorry about the constable,” Little Red said. “This won’t be like a trial or anything. I know you’re scared, and I want to help you. I just need to . . . understand.”
Berryshine wasn’t accustomed to being this sober, and she wasn’t in the best of moods at the moment. She stomped up to the table and glared into Little Red’s eyes. “I did it because I wanted to,” she snapped. “That enough for you?”
“I don’t think it’s that simple,” Little Red said evenly. “Mr. Cake was at his wits’ end when I talked to him. I tried to edge around the subject, and everything just poured out of him like I’d pulled a cork. He doesn’t want to press charges, and he doesn’t want to put you in prison, but he’s afraid it’s the only way to protect his family. If he thought you were just evil, I don’t think he’d be so conflicted.”
Berryshine’s eyes widened, and she felt something thump in her chest where her heart used to be. “Are you saying he still—” She choked on something in her throat. Still cares about me? she thought.
“N-not in that way,” Little Red said, looking flustered. “I don’t think so, anyway. But he wants to help you. I want to help you, too.”
Berryshine cursed at him, just a few words she’d picked up from a diamond dog. He stared stonily at her, his composure restored, and for a while, they stood in silence.
“You can go back to your cell any time you want,” Little Red said. “You don’t have to tell me anything. You’ll go off to Canterlot, and everything will come out in public.” He leaned on the table, shortening the distance between them, and his voice grew slightly louder. “There’ll be all sorts of rumors that Mr. Cake let you do it. There’ll be rumors about Mrs. Cake, too. Even the foals might get dragged into it.”
Berryshine sighed. “You first.”
“Um, what?” Little Red asked, drawing back slightly.
“Who are you?” Berryshine demanded. “What’s your deal? Why do you want to help me so much? You tell me, and I’ll tell you.”
“Like I said, I’m a friend of the Cakes.”
Berryshine just glared at him.
“To be honest, I’m friends with Pinkie Pie, too. She really wants to help you, but she’s afraid she’ll say the wrong thing.”
“So you’re just their friend from out of town, come to save the day?” Berryshine asked. “There has to be more to this. Unless . . . wait, I have seen you before, haven’t I? You just looked different then.”
Little Red’s expression hardly changed, but another quick peek at his aura picked up a spike of fear. “I’m not trying to deceive you or anything,” he attempted. “I just thought it would be easier for me to talk like this.”
She pressed her advantage. “Why? I’m not pretending to be anypony else. Why do you have to pretend in order to talk to me?”
Little Red seemed to shrink in on himself. “Um, I . . . Well . . .”
“Is this really about me,” she asked, “or is it about you? Do you just want to be the hero? Save the innocent young mare from her doom? I haven’t been young in years, and I’m sure as hay not innocent.”
“I think I could have been you,” Little Red said quietly.
Berryshine’s train of thought derailed and fell into a canyon. “What?”
“I think I could have been you,” Little Red repeated. “I’m not sure yet, but I think I might know why you did it. That’s why I want to help you.”
“Enlighten me,” Berryshine said. “Why did I do it?”
Little Red pulled himself together. It was barely even a figure of speech—he tucked his fear back inside himself and closed his confidence over it, like he was putting the stuffing back in a torn doll and sewing the tear shut.
“You’re Berryshine,” he said. “That’s who you are, and it’s what you are. You drink, you dance, you party. It’s what you know how to do. You don’t save bits. You’d never settle down. You just stay up all night and keep drinking.
“I was the opposite,” he continued. “I did what I should. I stayed in line. I thought that was who I was, the pony who obeyed. I didn’t even know I could do anything else.
“I was lucky. I made friends—so many friends—and they changed me. I didn’t have to be that pony anymore. But if nopony helped me, I think I would have broken. I would have done anything to change, even if it destroyed me. That’s why, isn’t it?”
Berryshine looked down at the table. Arguing further suddenly seemed like a waste of time.
“You know me and Carrot used to date, right?” she asked.
“I wasn’t sure,” Little Red admitted.
“It was right after I’d gotten out of school,” Berryshine explained. “He’s older than me, so he was already running the bakery back then. I know he doesn’t look like much, but he’s such a sweet stallion, and he seemed so mature.” She paused. “And I, well, I wasn’t. I drank too much, and I stayed up too late, and that just wasn’t his thing, so we had to break up. And now I’m older, and I’m getting so tired. He’s all domestic with his wife and foals, the kind of thing that used to make me want to put my hoof down my throat, but he seems so much happier than I am.” She sighed. “I’m such a scumbag.”
“Don’t call yourself that,” Little Red said firmly. “You’re just somepony who got caught in a bad situation.”
“It was just one night,” Berryshine said, trying not to look desperate as she stared back up at Little Red. “When that light passed through town, and I got all black and holey, I thought I could spend one night being Mrs. Cake instead of being me. The real Mrs. Cake would just have a little blank spot in her memory—” She paused. “She doesn’t remember it, right? I’m new to the whole ‘changeling magic’ thing, so I was pretty much casting at random.”
“No,” Little Red said, “but Mr. Cake told her what happened. He said he didn’t want the secret hanging over them.”
Berryshine sighed again. “I didn’t think he would snap out of it. Us together, me looking just like her, and then somehow he realized I wasn’t really her. And I know it was a terrible thing for me to do, but how do you say you’re sorry for something that big? How do I keep him from remembering it every time he sees me?”
“You leave,” Little Red said. “Appleoosa needs more settlers, and there’s room to grow in Dodge Junction. Or you could go north and try Vanhoover or Hollow Shades.”
“Or else I go to prison,” she said, “where they don’t have cider and they don’t have parties. Where this Celestia-danged cutie mark won’t matter one bit. Where I won’t be able to hurt anypony else . . .”
“You’re forgetting something,” Little Red said. His eyes flashed solid blue for a moment. “Changelings don’t have cutie marks.”
She felt like she’d just been cracked over the head with an empty bottle. “But my talent . . .”
“ . . . Is gone,” he finished. “You don’t have to be Berryshine anymore. You can make a new name, a new body, a new self. But they have to be yours, not somepony else’s.”
She stared at him. “To be honest, that sounds pretty scary.”
“Scarier than Canterlot Penitentiary?” Little Red asked.
When Little Red opened the door, he told the constable that he’d recommend Mr. Cake drop the charges. The constable was predictably unhappy about this. Berryshine wasn’t so sure what she thought of it herself.
