Lives' End

by Arvaus

Rating: teen
Tags: Gore, Dark, Sad, Changelings, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 8413

Lavender Breeze has lost everything, but an encounter with the thing she hates the most may give her the chance to claim something back.

Over the course of a single day Lavender Breeze's life was destroyed. Regretting all the things she's lost, she longs for closure.

Then in her darkest moment, she comes face to face with the thing she hates the most, the thing she blames for everything that's happened.

Published 2013-07-02 17:20:01 UTC
Last updated 2013-07-02 17:20:01 UTC

Lives' End

The last hit did the trick and the shield that kept them out of the city fell, shards of magical energy raining down to the streets and melting away into the air. They were in.

He could see the ponies running through the streets below, heading for shelter or trying to find each other in the chaos. Their fear was palpable, and he could feel it polluting the love they all radiated. But even then there was more love here than he had felt in his entire life, strengthened by the ponies’ concern for each other’s safety. The city tasted like a banquet.

His orders were clear: corral the ponies, disable the guards, do not kill. Some others had more specific, vital tasks to perform, but without the ponies Canterlot was worthless.

He dove towards the city, followed by his three wingmates. As they descended a spell flew past them, narrowly missing one of his team. He looked down to the ground in the direction the spell was coming from, and was relieved to see another two changelings tackle the unicorn guard, pinning him to the ground and covering his horn.

In one of the narrow alleys at the city’s edge he saw a group of five or six ponies trying to make an escape. He led his group down towards them, and they landed around the ponies, trapping them. The ponies skidded to a halt, falling over each other, and the four of them pushed the group closer together.

Among the ponies he spotted a mother sitting with her forelegs wrapped tightly around a young foal. She stared at him, her eyes wide, the fur on her cheeks wet with tears. The love from her filled the alley, and he had to fight himself to not just open up and consume it right there. He hadn’t tasted love like this in a long time and his hunger nearly got the better of him, but the job had to come first.

The ponies were almost catatonic; it would be too easy to get them all moved to the castle. The same would doubtless be happening all across the city. It wouldn’t be long before they had everypony contained.

There was a crash further down the alley. An upstairs window on one of the houses swung open, and a lone pegasus mare burst out and flew away down the alley, disappearing over the city’s edge.

“Ssavae co’valar,” he ordered the others. “Sso valahe na si.”

He leapt into the air and chased after the rogue pegasus, the others staying behind to watch the ponies. In all likelihood this one was just fleeing the city in fear, in which case there was little point in stopping her. Cowards never made for good meals. But there was always a chance that she would find reinforcements and send them back, and the standing orders were to contain any potential leaks just in case.

She had spotted him now. She went into a steep dive, quickly gaining speed, heading south away from the city. He followed her, the power radiating even this far from Canterlot pushing him on with impossible speed, and within minutes he was only a few feet away from her.

He glanced down at the terrain that was speeding past below them. He was going to have to get her wings bound and then catch her in mid-air if he was to get her back alive; she probably wouldn’t survive a crash in the woods below.

Then there was a sudden surge from behind him, an outpouring of love so powerful he nearly blacked out. His whole body burned, then turned cold and empty as it felt like his insides were torn out of him. He spared a glance over his shoulder and saw the distant citadel once more surrounded by the great shield. He was cut off.

The power that drove him ran out, trapped in the city by the bubble. Suddenly he could feel the air rushing past him, faster than he could keep up with. The current tore holes through the weak film of his wings and he lost control, falling helplessly out of the sky.

Looking forward again, he saw the pegasus speeding off into the distance oblivious to what had happened. Then he saw the trees rushing up towards him, and braced for impact.

~ ~ ~

The sky was bright in spite of the late hour. Luna’s moon lit up a thin blanket of clouds stretching across the entire sky, robbing the woods of any shadows for Lavender Breeze to curl up in.

As she walked through the woods she automatically stopped to look at the wildflowers growing in patches along the track, even though most were closed up for the night. On another day she would have been looking for any specimens to pick and take home with her. Flowers had been her life since she was a filly, and the sight of so many here should have filled her with joy.

But not now. It was amazing how much so few days could change a pony. Just two days ago she had been in Canterlot attending the wedding of the century, a wedding that she, along with dozens of other ponies, had helped prepare. It was meant to have been, and for some at least still was, the happiest day of many ponies’ lives.

But then, even after all the chaos of that day, the worst part was…

She couldn’t bear to think about it. Some things just weren’t supposed to happen. Or they were supposed to happen some other way. Such a huge part of her life had been torn out in an instant, and there was no way for her to bring it back. Now she’d never get a chance to say all the things she’d wanted to say, all the things she should have said.

The path led her under one of the tallest oaks in the wood. Lavender could still clearly remember all the times she had come out to this spot with her father, either to admire the flowers or just to have fun. They had spent so much time together after her mother died, and so many of her most cherished memories were of him.

The old rope swing he had built for her still hung from one of the branches of the tree above her. For a moment she imagined herself climbing up into the tree like she used to, hanging from that rope…

No! Don’t think like that! She silently scolded herself as she turned her gaze away from the tree and continued along the path. That’s not how he’d want to be remembered. So much would have to change now, but she hadn’t lost everything. He wouldn’t want her to just throw away what remained.

The memories were too thick around the path, so she turned north, wandering aimlessly through the trees. Passing through a small rocky clearing, she briefly caught a glimpse of Canterlot, silhouetted in the distance against the bright sky. It looked so much smaller now, so insignificant after having seen it up close. She also couldn’t help but notice how vulnerable it looked now, so fragile and exposed on the mountainside.

She kept walking as she gazed up at the city, but as the trees slid back into her view she noticed something odd. A number of the trees at the edge of the clearing looked like they had been hit by something. Branches hung loosely from the trunks, while others lay scattered across the ground.

The strange sight was enough to stir her curiosity and draw her out of her stupor. Following the path of the object, she found where it had hit the ground. It had gouged out deep tracks in the earth between the rocks, while the rocks themselves were stained with some strange green substance.

She tried to imagine what could have made this mess, but it looked like nothing she had ever seen before. She did notice that there were hoofprints leading away from the clearing, stained again with the green liquid, and followed them into the trees out of curiosity.

It looked like somepony must have picked up the object, whatever it was, and carried it away into the woods. The tracks were heading almost directly away from town though, so she had no idea where they could be headed.

After several minutes the tracks changed, becoming less and less even. Eventually they disappeared entirely and were replaced by a long green smear where the object had been dragged, or dragged itself, through the dirt.

Not long after, the trail brought Lavender to a small cave, hidden under the roots of an ancient tree. She could hear pained breathing from inside, very quiet but clear in the still night.

“Hello?” she called, not entirely expecting any response to come. But barely a second later she was answered by an agonising scream echoing out from deep in the cave. The silence seemed to intensify in its wake, and the breathing grew more and more uneven.

The scream burrowed deep into her soul, pushing past everything that was weighing her down, and for a moment she remembered herself, concern for an injured pony compelling her to help.

“Are you hurt?” she called. The silence while she waited for a response was deafening, but was nothing compared to what she heard next.

“No! Stay away! Don’t… don’t come in!”

A shiver ran down her spine, setting her fur on end. The voice that responded was tortured, desperate. In spite of its owner’s words it begged for relief. But worst of all, the voice was familiar. Impossibly familiar.

It can’t be. She stared into the dark cave, part of her wanting to heed his words and run away from this place as fast as she could. But other feelings lingered below the surface, pushing her legs forward into the cave. Whoever this pony was, part of her desperately wanted to see him.

As she went further in, the cave faded into view as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. The same green substance was smeared in streaks across the floor, leading her along the only available path towards the back of the cave.

While she walked, she asked herself what she even wanted to see. What would she do if she did see him? She had already accepted the fact that she could never see him again, despite how much she wanted to. It couldn’t be him. It had to be something else.

Eventually she came to a bend. She turned and found the stallion she had heard sitting on the ground in front of her. He looked uninjured, but his face clearly showed the pain he was in. She looked deep into those familiar eyes and, through the darkness, her father looked back.

He looked exactly like she remembered. And he was right in front of her, close enough that she could reach out and touch him. This was what she had been longing to see for two days now, but she knew too well that she should never get to see him again. This couldn’t be real. Something had stolen his image just to spite her.

Something inside her snapped. Furious at the universe for such a cruel trick, she grabbed rocks from the ground with her teeth and hurled them at him.

“You’re! Not! Real!” she shouted between throws. The stallion recoiled from the attack, trying to pull himself further into the cave.

“No! Don’t— Why are—” He cried out as the rocks hit him. Too weak to defend himself, he cowered on the floor begging her to stop. The sight of her father so scared of her was too much for Lavender to take, so she relented. She dropped the last stone she was holding and stared at him, panting heavily.

“What are you?” she demanded, slowly advancing on the cowering stallion. She glared down at him, and he shuffled further back, shivering in fear. As he tried to move away she reached out and caught one of his hooves with her own, causing him to yelp in pain.

“You can’t be him,” she seethed. “What are you?”

She pushed down harder on his leg. His face twisted up as he tried to resist the pain, but eventually it got too much and he screamed, “This is what I am!”

In an instant his entire body was consumed by green flames. Lavender fell back, blinded by the sudden light. Seconds later the light was gone again, and everything went pitch black.

She stared at the spot where her father had been lying. There was no sign of him any more, or anything else for that matter, but she realised that she could still hear breathing. She inched forward towards the source, and as her eyes recovered she started to make out the twisted black form of the creature that now lay there.

She recognised it immediately. It was one of the things from the invasion. A faint memory stirred of a speech Celestia had given just before Lavender had left Canterlot.

“They are called changelings. They have the ability to mimic the form of any pony, and they use this to feed off our love for each other…”

She had barely registered the information at the time, and had only seen the creatures in their natural form during the invasion, but it suddenly made sense. As memories of the terrible events of the invasion flooded back, instinct took over and she spun round, throwing her hind legs out at the changeling. She was quite small for her age, but all earth ponies had strong legs and the kick threw the changeling far down the passage, deeper into the cave. It met the wall at the end of the tunnel with a sickening crunch and slid to the floor, panting shakily as a new pool of the green liquid started to form around it.

Lavender charged down the tunnel towards the creature. There could be no question in her mind that it was evil. Its entire race had attacked their capital, attacked Celestia herself, and had nearly taken all of Equestria. Now it had violated her father’s memory right in front of her, taunting her for no discernable reason. It needed to be destroyed.

She reached the creature and reared up, fully prepared to throw her hooves down and deliver a final blow—

Then she froze. Looking down at the vile creature, she desperately wanted to hate it. But at that moment, as she looked deep into its eyes, all she could see was an animal, an intelligent creature even, in pain.

Lavender then noticed the state it… no, the state he was in. His body was twisted and deformed, much more than should have been natural even for him. With his disguise shed the full extent of his injuries were clear to her, and she could see huge gashes where the branches of the trees had torn into his skin. Dirt and leaves still clung to him, caked together in patches of dried green blood. One of the cuts ran right past the base of his horn and it stuck out from his forehead at a strange angle.

His wings were almost completely gone, the shredded remains of the delicate film hanging loosely from his carapace. Combined with his broken legs this meant he was completely at her mercy, unable to move let alone fight back. Looking at the fresh green blood dripping from the cuts on his limbs, Lavender realised that some of this was her doing. She had deliberately injured another creature, and she had actually intended to do worse.

She staggered backwards, tripping over her own hooves, and fell against the wall, retching. This wasn’t her. She almost never raised a hoof against another, and rarely even lost her temper. How could she be capable of this?

“What have you done to me?” she said, not even turning to look at the changeling.

“What are you… what are you talking about? You attacked me!” His speech was slow, coming between spluttering coughs, but there was conviction behind the words. For some reason he actually thought he wasn’t to blame.

“I attacked you after you appeared as… as him!” she shouted. She stood and turned to face the changeling again who, seeing her expression, tried in vain to push himself away from her, wincing when he moved his legs.

“Of all the shapes you must be able to take, you use his!” She approached him again, staring down at him. “After you do something like that to me, how in Celestia's name could this not be your fault? Why are you doing this to me?”

The changeling laughed at her, but quickly fell into a coughing fit again. “Doing what to you?” he said. “Why would I want you here making what remains of my time a misery? I wish you’d just left when I told you to.”

What? She tried to process what he said, but couldn’t make any sense of it. There was no way this wasn’t deliberate.

“Why were you my father, then?” she demanded.

He mumbled something, barely loud enough for her to hear. She kicked him impatiently in the leg and he screamed, “It was a defence reflex! You took me by surprise so my body disguised itself without thinking, and very painfully! It’s supposed to use bits of memory from nearby to put together a disguise, but apparently he was the only pony you can think about at the moment.”

“You stole my memories?” She started to back away from him, but stopped when he laughed at her.

“Stole? Hardly. It doesn’t work anything like…” He trailed off and collapsed back to the ground. “Why am I even explaining this to you? Do you even know what I am?”

She turned away from him and walked a short distance back into the darkness. “Of course I know what you are,” she said. “How couldn’t I, after everything you’ve done? You’re a changeling, one of the things that attacked Canterlot. Because of you I...”

She paused. It was still painful to say.

She turned back to look at the changeling, still lying in the darkness. “You want to know why I was thinking about my father? Why I knew you couldn’t be him? My father died two days ago.”

He looked up suddenly, his wide eyes staring back at her. Part of her was glad to see his pain and confusion. His race had done so much to hers – to her – that she couldn’t help but feel relief at seeing them get something in return. They had already been thrown forcibly from Canterlot of course, but their actions had felt too personal for her. This was much more appropriate payback.

The changeling rolled his head back. “Urgh, incompetent rookies,” he groaned. “They were ordered not to kill anypony. What’s the point in invading if everypony gets killed? But that doesn’t change the fact that I’d never even heard of you or your father until you turned up here!” he added, shouting back at her through the darkness.

“No, he didn’t die because of the attack,” Lavender replied, shaking her head. “He wasn’t even in Canterlot. He died in hospital after having a heart attack at home. But I was in Canterlot. Thanks to all the extra security, not to mention the attack itself, I didn’t even get the message that he'd gone into hospital until the next day, and by the time I was able to leave he was already dead. He died alone because of your invasion, and I never got a chance to say goodbye to him.”

She tried to hold her tears back, to keep up a strong appearance in front of the enemy. There was a long silence as she waited for the changeling to say anything. She wondered if she might even get an apology, but she couldn’t imagine what he could possibly say to make up for everything that had happened.

“That’s it?” he said eventually. “That’s the thing you’re holding against us? That’s not even our fault!”

She was on him in an instant, galloping out of the darkness and skidding to a halt with her muzzle inches from his.

“Not your fault?” she yelled, jabbing her hoof into his side. “If it wasn’t for your stupid invasion I would’ve been with my dad when he died! I could have held his hoof, told him all those things I should’ve told him, and he would have died with a friendly face watching over him, not some doctor he’s never met! Can you even understand what that means?”

“He would still be dead,” the changeling responded flatly.

Lavender blinked away the tears that were welling up in her eyes, but even with her eyes clear she felt like she might as well be looking at a timberwolf. She couldn’t understand anything about him. What sort of creature could think like that? Were his emotions in any way like hers? Did he even have any feelings beyond those of his disguises?

“You’re a monster,” she said, staring in disbelief at him. “You can pretend to be ponies, but you can’t even understand our most basic emotions! How can you be so ignorant? Is there anything pony-like about you?”

Unable to bear the sight of him any more, she turned and faced down the tunnel again, wiping the tears from her eyes. “You said nopony was going to die in the invasion,” she said. “Why?”

There was a sigh from behind her. “We can’t feed on you if you’re dead,” he replied defiantly.

“That’s all we are to you, isn’t it?” she said. “We’re just food, like plants for you to harvest. You tolerate us just because you need us to live. You don’t need to understand us, so why bother?" She laughed drily for a moment. "What could you possibly gain from understanding something about love, the thing that you feed on!”

“Don’t…” he said before descending into a coughing fit. “Don’t act like you know us,” he continued when he recovered. “We know enough about love.”

“And I know enough about you,” she responded, glancing back at him over her shoulder. “I was there. There were thousands of you, pouring down from the sky, attacking everypony you could see. And you know what?” She turned to face him properly, looking at his alien form and remembering all the others that had looked like him. “You were all the same. No way to tell you apart. I could see full well what you are. Just a mindless drone in a swarm of locusts. You steal identities, so what’s the point in having your own? You probably don’t even have a name—”

“Corascha.”

“What?”

The changeling coughed again, spraying drops of green across her fur. “That’s my name. I’m Corascha, from the Vahass family. My brood-father was—”

“That’s not a name!” she shouted, wiping the blood from her face and kneeling down to face him. “That’s just a sound, a label. Where’s the meaning in it? Where’s the identity?”

The changeling spat in her face, and she recoiled away from him. “Don’t insult me!” he screamed at her. “Corascha means ‘Blessed by the queen’ in our tongue! My brood was saved from being wiped out in a flood by Queen Chrysalis herself before I was even born! It’s an honour and a privilege to carry a reminder of that! My name is just about all I have left now, and don’t expect me to let you take that from me as well!”

“You have your own language?”

“Ssa varra co’masso na sova, sa eckvas,” he hissed.

“What did you say?”

Corascha rolled his head away from her, closing his eyes. “It wouldn’t make any difference if you understood," he groaned. "You’ve already decided that you hate me.”

He was right there, at least. She hated him and his entire species, and she told herself that she had very good reasons to. He seemed to defy everything she expected from him, but if anything that just made it worse.

“If you must know,” he added, “I said ‘there’s a lot you don’t know about us, pony’.”

“I don’t care,” Lavender said, latching on to one thing she could still blame them for without question. “None of that can change the fact that you tried to invade Canterlot. And even now… Your invasion’s failed, and you’re dying, but you still act like you didn’t do anything wrong! Do you feel any remorse for what you did?”

“What do you want me to do, pony?” He made another attempt to pick himself up, before rolling back onto the floor. “I’m not going to grovel in front of you and beg for your forgiveness. And I’m certainly not going to apologise. I shouldn’t have to make excuses for what I am.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?" she asked "You invaded just because that’s your way?” She glared at him, feeling the hatred rising again. There was the monster she was looking for. “You think I don’t understand you? You say there’s so much more to you, but it’s not complicated at all. You didn’t even think if there might be another way, you just came here and attacked, trying to destroy the lives of thousands because it’s what you are!” Her eyes narrowed to slits, and her voice went quiet an cold. “And that is what you are,” she continued. “You’re a plague. You're vermin. You come here and you attack us for no reason. Everypony would be better off if you were all dead. I should just leave you here to rot.”

She turned and started to march away from the vile creature, heading back towards the cave’s entrance, but was stopped by a strained laugh from behind her.

“Good! Go!” The changeling coughed and spluttered, but shouted at her regardless. “I’ve got enough problems already; I shouldn’t have to listen to your nonsense as well. You think you know what you’re talking about, but you’re pitiful! It’s like talking to a nymph! Just go and let me die in—aagh!”

Lavender had had enough. Without turning round she had kicked at him with one of her hind legs, catching him on his flank. She could feel something sticky clinging to her hooves and tried to wipe it off on the ground, but at least he had shut up.

“Well if there’s so much I don’t get,” she said, turning and staring at him with narrowed eyes, “then why don’t you explain it. I’d love to know what you think could possibly justify everything you’ve done.”

“What’s the point?” He had given up moving now and just lay limply on the ground, staring at the wall beside him. “But if you’re not going to leave, maybe I can get something into your stupid head, so that at least some good can come of this.

“You think we never thought about other options?" he continued. "What other options could there be? There’s no way we could ever live in the open in peace. Either we hide or we go to war. That’s it. Do you have any idea why?”

Lavender watched him, waiting. That wasn’t even an attempt at justification. She couldn’t see any worth in responding.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he said. “Your race call us parasites. That’s what we are. We have to feed off you in order to live. If you spent too much time around a changeling it would literally hurt you. We don’t hide because we want to; we hide because you’d wipe us out if we didn’t.”

"Don’t you dare say that!” Lavender tried to get round his side to look him in the eye. “Ponies would never wipe out another race! We’re not monsters!”

Corascha pulled his head up and met her eyes. “Think about what you’ve done today and tell me that’s true,” he said.

The words hit her like a sledgehammer, and she staggered backwards into the darkness again. She didn’t want to admit it but he was right. If she could be driven to kill so easily how many more would? If ponies had these creatures living around them, feeding off them, using the forms of their loved ones, how long would it take?

“We didn’t attack because we wanted to,” he continued. “It’s been getting harder and harder to feed unnoticed. We’d have died out if we didn’t do anything. We couldn’t come peacefully, so that left one option.

“I’m not going to apologise for wanting to avoid extinction. I doubt you’d do so in my place. And besides,” he added, “I know more about emotion than you seem to think. It’s plainly obvious that nothing I can do will ever redeem my race in your eyes, so I’m not going to waste my time.”

With nothing more to say, he rolled his head away from her again. He lay there in silence, his chest rising and falling shakily as he breathed.

Lavender collapsed to the ground and lay there, staring at him in silence. He was right again. In her eyes, there was no redemption for his race, or for him. Even if they had acted out of desperation there was no way that could ever justify what they did, not after everything she had seen while in Canterlot. They had herded ponies round like cattle, not caring about the terror they were creating. She’d never be able to forget the looks of greed she had seen in their eyes. These creatures lived off the suffering of others; she couldn’t see any other way of looking at it.

It wasn’t just their actions that she couldn’t forgive. These creatures were abominations. They stole your love; they even stole your loved ones in order to do so. Their very nature crossed lines that should never be crossed. Nothing was more valuable than a pony’s identity and they could steal it away from you without even thinking.

And even the dead weren’t safe, it seemed. He had managed to steal her father’s face by accident! It made no sense to her that such a repulsive creature could even exist in this world. There was no way that that power could exist and not be abused. So many ways you could manipulate, create false hope…

The memory of her father's voice came back to her. She could remember that sensation, buried under the disbelief, the hope that she could see her father one more time. She had refused even to entertain it before but suddenly, as she stared at this creature she hated so much, it reasserted itself. She couldn’t believe that she would even think of such a thing, but the thought was there now and she couldn’t deny it.

She picked herself up and approached the changeling again. Her legs felt heavy, fighting against the commands from her mind, but she pushed forward until she was standing over him again, looking down at his pitiful form. Had she actually managed to justify his existence to herself?

“Changeling,” she said.

“You’re still here?” he replied as he opened his eyes again. “What do you want now?”

Lavender looked down at him, her face expressionless. The tears were gone now. She was far beyond that point, and just wanted to get this done.

“I can’t forgive you for what you’ve done,” she said. “But one thing can at least be put right again. I want you to give back what was stolen from me. Show me my father again.”

Corascha laughed, but fell silent when he looked back up at her.

“You’re not joking, are you?” he said.

“You’re going to do this,” she said, staring resolutely at him, “and this is why. Your kind stole this from me. Nothing I can do will ever bring him back, but I need to at least be able to say goodbye to him. I need to tell him that I love him.”

The changeling didn’t say anything. The mention of love clearly gave him pause.

“All you’ve ever done is hurt ponies,” she said. “Maybe now you can actually do something good with your life.”

Corascha bent double as another fit of coughs caught him. He lay on the ground, worn out by the effort of just trying to breathe.

“You’re mad,” he said. “You think you need this, and by the queen, I’m desperate enough to try, but look at me. I’m barely holding together. I don’t even know if I’ll be able to transform properly. If it goes wrong, do you want to see that?

“You’re asking more than you know,” he continued. “Why should I do this for you?”

Lavender blinked a tear away. “If the most precious thing in your life was stolen from you,” she asked him, “how far would you go to get it back?”

The Corascha opened his mouth to say something, then paused. For a moment Lavender almost thought she could understand him, like she had found some thought they were able to share.

They stared at each other for what felt like hours. Eventually, with a deep sigh, he threw his head to the side and shifted his weight, wriggling around until he wasn’t lying on his side. There was an awful grating sound from his limbs as he moved them and Lavender started to feel light-headed.

“I can’t believe I’m even doing this,” he groaned. Still panting from the brief exertion, Corascha turned to face her and said, “You’ll want to look away. This won’t be pleasant.”

Lavender turned round and closed her eyes, and moments later the tunnel was filled by a churning green light. Cries of pain filled her ears, shifting between different voices. In an attempt to distract herself she tried to cast her memory back to the last time she had talked to her father, but the sounds of the changeling’s body trying to shift between forms was hard to ignore.

Then it stopped again. The cave went dark and she stood still, waiting for her night vision to recover. Once she could see, she turned round. Corascha was still lying exactly where he had been before, but he looked completely different. The cuts and scars were gone, as were his horn and wings, and he instead wore her father’s white fur and brick-red mane. That was his friendly face looking back at her, right down to the small nick in his left ear. It hadn’t worked completely though, and one of his hind legs still had holes in it, but it was close enough.

“What now?” he asked.

It was still the changeling. She couldn’t ignore that. But she desperately wanted to. Closing her eyes, she went back to that last conversation again, trying to remember the last things she had said to her father.

~ ~ ~

“Ready to go, Lavender? Got everything you need?”

“I think so,” she replied as she came down the stairs towards him, saddle-bags fastened to her sides. “The rest should have arrived at Canterlot now. I should hurry or I might miss the train, though.”

“Stay safe,” her father said, giving her a hug. “The newspapers are talking about…”

“Oh, stop worrying, dad,” she replied. “The doctor said you should go easy. And besides, it’s probably just some nut trying to get in the news or make some kind of statement. Nopony’s actually going to attack Canterlot. It’s got to be the best-defended place in all Equestria!”

Her father laughed. “I guess you’re right," he said. "Now make sure the princess gets a nice-looking bouquet. I expect to see you bringing it back with you.”

“Oh, cut that out.” She pulled the front door open and headed out, looking back over her shoulder before closing it again. “And don’t forget your check-up on Friday if I’m not back.”

“I won’t. Have fun!”

“Bye, dad.”

~ ~ ~

And that was it. There was nothing special about it; it just felt like any other day. She had run off to the station, caught the train, and spent the next day helping put together hundreds of flower arrangements around the castle. Then later she had got a letter from the hospital, and…

…and…

…and then…

…and then there were no attacks, no delays. She had left before the wedding had even started, come home and gone straight to the hospital. Now she was here with him, and she had her chance to be there for him like he always had been for her.

She opened her eyes again. There was her father, lying on the ground and staring back at her. He looked confused, even concerned, to see her back so soon. She could tell that he was in a lot of pain, but at least she was here with him. Her mouth spread into a lopsided smile, and a single tear ran down her cheek.

“I came as soon as I heard, dad,” she said. She walked over and lay down on the floor next to him, nuzzling cautiously against him. “How are you feeling?” she asked.

He looked uneasy, cringing at the sight of her lying next to him. Then after a few seconds he let out a sigh, shaking his head, and said, “I’m fine. How are you holding up?”

“Everything went fine at the castle,” she said. “There were no problems during the setting up, and I imagine the wedding’s started by now. But being here is more important. I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“You didn’t have to come all this way for me,” he said, his voice pained. “I can manage by myself.”

“Come on, dad," she said. "I’m here because I want to be. You were always there when I needed company when I was growing up, and I want to do the same. Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“I… of course I am.” He turned his head to look at her. “But I’m not sure about this. It doesn’t taste… it doesn’t feel right. You shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Don’t be silly, dad,” she said, meeting his gaze. The tears ran freely now, and she had to fight to keep her voice steady. “This is what I want. I want to be here, with you, right now. You don’t have to like that, but it’s what I’m going to do.”

He sighed and lowered his head, resting it on the ground. ”It’s better than shouting at least,” he muttered.

“Come on, I came here to spend time with you, not to argue.” She lifted a foreleg and rested it across his back, before removing it again when he winced at her touch. “Look at you,” she said. “You’re in a terrible state. The doctors said it was serious, but not this bad.”

“It’s… it’s nothing,” he replied weakly. “I’m just sore.” Tilting his head to the side so he could see her again he asked, “Is there something you wanted to tell me?”

Lavender tried to find the words. She knew exactly what she wanted to tell him, but she had never thought how she would say it.

“I guess so,” she said. “I wanted… to thank you.”

“For what?”

“For everything. Everything you’ve ever done for me. You’ve given me so much to keep me happy, and I never properly thanked you for it. I’m not sure I ever could. Losing mum was hard on both of us, but you never let it stop you. I don’t think I’d have managed if you hadn’t been there to help me.”

“I’m your father,” he said. “Of course I’d look after you.”

“You did a lot more than you think,” she said, lowering her head next to his. “I never realised how much until you… until your problems started. I hadn’t realised how much work it took to take care of another pony, and you did so much more even than that.

“But I was never able to do what you could. It felt like, even as I tried to care for you, it was you who was carrying me. Now that you’re… now that you’re dying, I’m not sure what I’m going to do. I need you around. I’m worried, dad. How am I supposed to keep going without you helping me?”

She buried her head in her hooves, and there was silence. Then, after a short while, she felt his head nuzzling against hers. This took her by surprise, for some reason she couldn’t quite remember, but it brought her some comfort.

“You were working at the wedding,” he said. “How did you get that job?”

She opened her eyes and looked up at him. “You already know that,” she said.

“Er, yes. I know.” He paused, thinking. “But… I want to hear you say it.”

“Well,” she replied, “it takes a lot of ponies to put together a wedding that big, and they wanted it to be a national event. I was one of a number of florists from around the nation asked to take part, along with ponies with other jobs.”

“You were personally chosen by the princesses?” he asked. “Your work must have impressed them, then.” He nudged her cheek with his muzzle, and she turned to look at him. “I’m sure you must be very capable. You’ll manage fine on your own.”

“But I don’t want to!” she cried. “I want you to stay! Please don’t die!” She looked into her father’s eyes, begging him not to go. But he just stared back, his expression firm.

“Listen,” he said, “you need to let go eventually. This was always going to happen at some point. But you’ll be surprised by what you’re capable of. I know you’ll make me proud.”

He gave her a weak smile, and she smiled back.

“I love you dad,” she said.

They looked at each other, and Lavender felt at peace. As she watched him, his eyes lost focus and rolled upwards. For a moment she felt a cold feeling in her stomach, but she didn’t care why. She leaned in towards him and held her head up next to his. They didn’t say anything more, and she just enjoyed his company in silence—

Without warning, her father let out a blood-curdling scream. He threw his head back, his eyes wide open, and cried into the air.

Lavender scrambled to her feet and watched in shock as he writhed on the floor, his back bent double.

“What’s happening?” she cried. She spun around, looking for help. “Doctor! We need…”

The dream shattered. She was standing in the cave again, staring along the empty tunnel. She turned again and saw the changeling sprawled on the ground, his legs twisting round in all directions. Green flames burst randomly from his body as it alternated in patches between white fur and black skin. It was still her father’s face, though, and the screams were unmistakably his voice.

“No, no, no!” he shouted. “This is—aagh!—this is bad!”

“What’s going on?” Lavender called. “What did you do?”

His entire body tensed, stretched to its limits, and then it stopped. He collapsed sideways onto the ground, his body stuck in a mottled patchwork of black and white.

“It’s too much,” he gasped. “I took some love from you and tried to heal, but… I think I’m just too injured. My bones won’t set, and I can barely breathe. Healing just made it worse.”

Lavender stared, aghast, at the thing lying in front of her. Suddenly, she had no idea how she was supposed to feel. She still hated the changeling, but after what had just happened…

“I should go,” she said, backing away from him.

“Wait!” he called. “I’ve played my part. I did what you asked. Now it’s your turn.”

“What can I possibly do to help? I have no idea how to heal you!”

“Weren’t you listening?” He twisted on the floor again, curling up tightly around himself. “Healing won’t work. My body’s pulling itself apart from the inside. Nothing can save me now.” He lifted his head and stared right at her. “End this. Put me out of my misery.”

She looked back into his eyes. Into her father’s eyes.

"No," she said. "I… I can't do that."

He looked at her, his eyes filled with pain. Lavender looked away, unable to bear the sight.

"I'm already dead," he said. "I just need you to finish it. Please."

She shook her head. "Not while you look like that," she said. "Change back."

“I can’t,” he panted. “I don’t know why, I just… I can’t. I’m stuck.”

Lavender started to back away down the tunnel. That was too much. When she had first seen him it had been all too easy to consider. Back then he was an evil, nameless monster. Now… now she didn’t know what he was.

“I can’t do this,” she said. “I need to go.”

She turned and started back up the tunnel, then paused.

“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for helping me.”

Corascha groaned. “You realise I only did that—”

“Because you wanted to feed,” she said, then sighed. “I know. But whatever your reasons, you did help. I think. So, thank you.”

Without another word, she galloped away along the tunnel, disappearing into the darkness.

~ ~ ~

Corascha lay back and closed his eyes. After all that, he had only succeeded in making his lot worse. His insides crawled, and every muscle in his body burned. A strange numbness appeared at the base of his chest as his body started to give up. Even without the pony’s help, at least this wouldn’t last much longer.

It had probably been foolish to expect much from her. He had never held any illusions about the possibility of ponies ever liking him or his race. But they did have an extraordinary capacity for compassion; that’s why they made such perfect food sources.

For a while he had thought that he might have actually managed to get through to her. She had asked him for help after all, a remarkable show of trust on her part. He had even thought that she was beginning to show concern for his well-being. This was nonsense, of course; it was her father she cared for, not him.

In the end her compassion turned out to be a curse rather than a blessing. Why did ponies have to be so focussed on preserving life at all costs? His time had come and gone now, and the fact that he was still awake benefited exactly nopony, least of all himself.

He had always known he couldn’t understand ponies. Sure, he knew enough about their behaviour to fool one for a few weeks, but that wasn’t the same thing as understanding them. They never ceased to shock him with what they were capable of letting themselves do. How could she just choose to delude herself like that? What had pushed her mind to such a point that she could even want that?

She was right that there were things that would push him to extremes too, of course. The idea that he would never get to see his home and family again tore him apart almost as much as the injuries, and he knew for a fact that if his hive was threatened he would do anything he could to protect it. But how could she want so much to bring back one pony that had already died? Death was a sacred boundary, and he felt sick for helping her cross it.

It wasn't like she was completely alone, after all. There must be some other pony out there she could talk to, to get all those things off her chest. That's what any changeling would have done in her place, and it had always served them well.

In spite of everything else, he found himself chuckling. In a way, she had found somepony to talk to. Maybe he had helped after all.

But he could still feel the presence of death lingering around him. He would be crossing over soon now. With a deep sigh, he let himself go limp and accepted his fate, praying that the others in the city might have fared better. But if his fears were true, so many of his friends and family could already be waiting for him on the other side. So many changelings that he had been unable to protect. His borrowed physiology asserted itself and, for the first time in decades, he started to cry.

Then he felt a hoof rest against his cheek. It pushed him down gently, holding him against the ground. Summoning all the magic he had left, he shifted his vocal membrane so he could speak in his own voice again.

“Thank you.”

A second hoof landed hard on his neck, and the world went silent.

~ ~ ~

She didn’t know why she did it. She couldn’t even bear to look at him as she did, not wanting to remember that sight.

He had spoken to her just before the end, not as her father but as himself. That small act was possibly the kindest thing he had ever done in his life.

She emerged from the cave, the changeling’s half-disguised body draped across her back. The sun was beginning to rise, and the clouds in the sky burned a bright scarlet. In the trees all around her birds were singing, welcoming in the new day. As she looked around, breathing in the fresh morning air, she started to see the beauty of the land again.

She walked back through the trees in a trance, until she reached the path. A minute later she was standing under the great oak again. She slid the body off her back, letting it rest against the trunk of the tree, then stood and stared up through the leaves and branches to the distant sky. A single tear ran down her cheek, but she found that she was smiling.

“Goodbye, dad,” she said.

After glancing back at the body lying by the tree, she searched around for a patch of soft earth, finding one nestled between two beds of flowers. She knelt down, and started to dig.