“Never would have thought a high-class horn-head would be doin’ this.”
Feed.
“Keeping quiet? Good! I’m not paying you to talk.”
Just feed.
“Hah, that’s it. Cry.”
He’s just food. Ignore him. Feed.
Ж
Swansong took her meagre pouch of bits from the nightstand and crept out of the room, leaving the oafish earth pony asleep on his bed. She hurried out into the night, hoping to get home and wash up. Maybe if she hurried, she could also wash away her shame.
Just food. No shame.
The love she got from these cretins left a sour taste and a cold feeling in her stomach. She remembered the stories, the mighty infiltrators bringing precious love back to the hive. It tasted better, even if it was second hand. The proud warriors would gloat of how the love tasted, feeding from creatures and their partners, draining them of every drop of love.
Swansong could not imagine draining the wretches she ‘entertained’ of their foul love, she took only what she needed to survive.
Locking the door to her small downtown Canterlot apartment behind her, she let go of her unicorn disguise.
Standing under the shower, she let the warm water wash over her black chitin. This was a luxury she’d never known, living as a mere drone amongst the Black Swarm. The closest she had ever felt was when she had stolen to the surface during rainstorms, feeling the droplets of cool water hit her chitin.
She would sing a lot, on those days. Alone, atop one of the spires of the hive, she would sing to the world, sing to the rain. She would sing to the moon above, and to the ground below. More often than not, she would be caught, and would be denied food. She would go hungry and wither away, until she learned her lesson.
There was no room for song in the hive.
There was little reason for song now, either.
Swansong dried herself off with a moth-eaten towel. Re-entering the main room of her apartment, she looked to the nest of cloth piled in the corner of the small room.
Maybe there is a reason to sing.
She crawled into the nest, burrowing herself deep beneath the sheets, until she found her hope. A small green egg, speckled with tiny black spines protruding from its shell.
Ж
“Drone!” the warrior-caste changeling barked, snapping her out of her thoughts. “You have been ordered before to remain in the hive.”
The female drone sighed, they always found her. How could she escape, with constant connection to the hivemind? Freedom was never hers to have.
“Follow!” the warrior clicked.
Panic welled up in her as the warrior led her down the winding passageways of the hive. Thousands of eyes watched her from the darkness. She could feel the weight of their gaze upon her, but curiously could not feel their presence through the hivemind.
The warrior stopped in front of a large, imposing door. The guards beside it opened it, and ushered the small drone in.
Queen Chrysalis sat atop her obsidian throne, glaring down at the cowering drone.
“You have disobeyed our orders, my orders,” the changeling queen hissed. A blast of green magic arced across the room, striking the drone in the chest, cracking her black chitin.
Chrysalis slowly descended the stairs, stalking towards the cowering drone. “If you will not live for the hive, then you will live without it.”
Tendrils of black magical aura evaporated off her carapace, as the drone fell to the ground, writhing in agony, her screams filling the silence of the hall.
After moments, the aura dissipated, leaving the drone panting for breath.
“Guards!” Chrysalis turned her back on the quivering mess. “Remove the exile from my throneroom.”
Ж
Swansong awoke with a start, the terrible nightmare still haunting her mind. She curled tighter around the fragile egg in her nest, singing a soft, mournful tune.
Ж
“Yeeeeeeeeeah!”
One of the stallions cheered as Swansong climbed up onto the bar top. She hated doing colts-parties; while the drunk were easier to feed from, their love invariably tasted worse, but the added bits made it worthwhile.
Tonight she was a pegasus. A decidedly younger looking pegasus, as the original patron had requested. Their desire for the untouchable sickened her; despite her hunger, she would not indulge their baser desires this night.
Her hatchling was close to breaking through, and she knew she would have to start feeding for two very soon… but Swansong would not feed her child, her precious child… the love of these disgusting creatures.
“Hey, filly, I bet you’ve never had one of these before.” The stallion who had hired her proffered a drink. Swansong was aware how the foul tasting swill affected ponies, and she had had to pretend to be intoxicated in the past, even if the drink had no effect on her.
She gulped the drink down in one shot, fighting her bodies urge to expel it from her system. Pony food was truly disgusting, but she had a job to do.
“Yeah, you liked that, didn’t you?” Swansong held back a grimace as the stallion rubbed a hoof along her flank. “Come and give our boy a dance, and you can have as many of those as you want.”
Think of your hatchling.
As Swansong started her dance for the groom, a lightheadedness overtook her. She stumbled a little, nearly falling from the couch, had the groom not caught her.
“You okay?” the groom asked, gently stroking her hair. His hoof wandered down her side towards her flank.
“Mmmm,” the other stallion leered. “I bet she’s feeling that drink now. Took longer to kick in than I thought.”
Her head swam. She shouldn’t be affected by alcohol, why was she so dizzy.
“Just sit down right there, love.” The stallion pushed her forward, guiding her towards the groom. “Take care of the groom, and then you can have a turn with the rest of us.”
“N-no.”
“Come on, be a good filly,” he cooed softly in her ear.
“No!” Green fire erupted around her as her disguise fell. The groom screamed as the black chitinous creature stood above him, all effects of the spiked drink gone from her mind. “No!” she snarled, gathering power in her gnarled horn. Rage bit at her mind, and she fed. The stallions in the room froze, sinking to their knees, silent shrieks on their lips, unable to scream.
Swansong fed deep on their putrid love. She fed until full, then continued to gorge herself. These monsters could rot for all she cared.
Resuming her disguise she left the party, every stallion slumped, unmoving, across the floor.
Ж
“You will return to us, knowing your place, or you will die alone.”
Chrysalis’ last words rung through her head, as Swansong traipsed the cold desert night of the badlands. She just hoped she could make it in time.
Hunger, the likes she had never known before, gnawed in her stomach, while her heart and mind ached with the loneliness of being banished from the hivemind.
She had always wondered what it would be like to be truly her own, her thoughts only hers. Now she knew what it was like.
It was terrifying.
She tripped, and laid in the sands, crying.
Ж
Swansong woke to the sounds of crying. Tears dripped from the corner of her eyes, but it was not her sobs that had awoke her.
There was somechangeling else in the room, and it was their cries that woke the drone from her sleep.
Ж
Swansong danced with joy, pulling the hatchling close to her chest.
“My daughter! My beautiful daughter!” Swansong laughed. She cried. She laughed again, emotions overwhelming her.
It was a broodmothers position to breed within the hive, those appointed by the Queen directly. By all accounts, this hatchling girl Swansong held in her holed forearms should not exist. A tiny ache in her chest agreed.
This hatchling should not exist.
Unlike the drones of the hive, male or female, this hatchling was born with beautiful pink-gosmer wings, a delicate gnarled horn, and locks of pink hair.
Her daughter was a queen.
Ж
Swansong fed more often after her daughter hatched. She’d cast an illusion over the hatchling, making her appearance that of a small pink pegasus filly. Swansong was amazed at the love pouring off the ponies around her, as they interacted with the filly.
Swansong took a little from each, not enough that they would notice, to store for her daughter. She marvelled at the ponies ability to look right past her, to never see her suffering, until she had a daughter. Then neighbors who had never spoken a word to her were offering their congratulations (and surprise, as Swansong had hidden her pregnancy well), as well as general necessities for a mother with a new foal.
She ignored the cot given to her by her landlady, opting to have her daughter remain sleeping, close to her chest, in the pile of cloth that made their nest.
Swansong grew in worry, every day, her daughter was looking more and more ill. She could feel her daughters hunger, but no matter how much she fed her, her daughter was still hungering.
Ж
“What are you feeding her?” Swansong’s landlady asked, holding the screaming foal. “The poor dear is starved.”
“I’ve been feeding her my food, but she hasn’t been able to keep it down,” Swansong responded, nervously watching the pony with her daughter. It was true, she had been feeding her daughter the excess love she had collected, but her daughter was still fading.
“Oh, deary, you can’t feed a foal regular food. They need milk. Didn’t your mother ever teach you this?” the older mare asked.
Swansong looked away. “M-my mother didn’t really take care of me growing up.”
“Well, just let her feed, and she’ll be right as rain soon enough.” The landlady passed the foal back to Swansong.
“But what do I feed her? I’ve tried everything.” Swansong cried, desperate to help her child.
“Oh, dear. Your mother never did explain anything, did she?” The older mare shuffled nervously. “You need to, ummm, feed her. Your milk.”
“M-my milk? B-but I don’t have any.”
“Oh— oh dear.” The older mares eyes lit up, seemingly with some comprehension. “Oh, sweetie, it’s all right.” She crossed her neck with Swansong’s, noticing the other mare flinch. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, it happens some mares, it doesn’t make you any less of a mother.”
She trotted into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of milk from her icebox. Swansong felt bile rise in her throat seeing the horrendous lactate the disgusting ponies ingested. The landlady poured a small amount into a glass bottle with a strange lid on it, and heated it gently in a pot of water.
Bringing the bottle back, she gently lifted the foal into her hooves again. Swansong was about to protest, when the foal started greedily drinking from the bottle. Swansong could feel her daughter’s hunger subsiding.
Her daughter ate pony food‽
Ж
“Mommy! Come push me on the swings!”
Swansong watched with joy in her heart as her daughter played amongst the foals in the park. For a changeling, her daughter was a strange one. She ate pony food, and she did not get the migraines from staying shape-shifted for extended periods of time. Most of the time they were at home alone, her daughter would remain in the guise as the little pink pegasus filly her mother had first chosen for her.
The greatest difference was her heart.
Even four years on, Swansong was still amazed by the love that poured from the little hatchlings heart. Her daughter was increasingly popular amongst the foals who played with her at the park. She was bursting with love for everypony.
Love, that was very hard for her mother to ignore.
Swansong had to actively steel herself against feeding from her own daughter. Prolonged feeding off a single source was always dangerous for a changelings victim, and she would not do that to her daughter.
But her hunger had increased dramatically over the previous four months. And she felt a constant pull, something drawing her back south, towards the badlands.
Towards home.
Ж
“Why can’t I come with you, mommy?” the filly pleaded, as they walked together down the cobbled streets of Canterlot.
“Because it is not safe for you to follow me,” Swansong answered.
“Then why do you have to go?” the filly whined.
“Hush, my daughter. Trust mommy, she is doing what is best for you.” Swansong lowered her disguised horn to her daughters head, and the filly fell asleep. She levitated her daughter onto her back and continued walking.
It had taken weeks to organise this appointment, she could not back out now.
Ж
Celestia looked down at the young unicorn mare before her, a bundle of rags rested atop her back.
“You have petitioned hard for this meeting, My Little Pony,” Celestia smiled her warm, motherly smile. “What can we help you with today?”
“Your Majesty,” the changeling responded as she bowed. It was an odd sensation, she had not bowed to royalty since she’d been exiled from the hive. “I have come seeking assistance. I apologise for my deception, but I am not a pony,” she said, as she levitated her daughter to the floor. Green flames engulfed the mare, replaced with a black chitinous form. “I am a—”
“Changeling.” All warmth from Celestia’s words dissipated.
“Y-yes, Your Majesty.” Swansong cowered, the guards around her had seized their spears.
“What does one of your kind doing here?” the princess asked coldly. “What message do you bring from your Queen?”
“I-I bring no message, Princess,” Swansong answered, her entire body shaking with fright. “M-my name is S-swansong, I am an exile.”
“Then what do you want with my city?” the Princess continued.
“I-I have been living here for a few years now, I do not mean any harm—”
“Your kind only means harm,” the Princess interrupted.
“I-It is true, Your Majesty. We changelings do feed from other creatures. I already feel the call to return home, and that is why I had to ask for an audience with you.” Swansong levitated the rags back to her chest, unfolding them and revealing the sleeping filly. “M-my daughter, she is not like me. She is not like other changelings. I—”
Swansong began to sob. “I can not bring her back to the hive with me. She does not feed on love, she only gives it. She feeds like any regular pony would. T-they would kill her as an abomination, or worse…” Swansong’s breath came out in a ragged choked. “Or worse, they’d feed off her. I… I can’t do that to her.”
Celestia walked down the isle, bending down to examine the filly.
“S-she is in disguise now, but this is her favorite appearance.” Swansong blinked back her tears. “P-please, I know you have no love for my kind, but please… would you find a home for her? Somewhere she could be safe.”
Celestia probed the changeling filly with her magic. The foal was definitely different to other changelings, and Celestia could see, at least in disguise, the child was a beautiful little girl.
“Captain, would you please take this filly to my chambers?”
Swansong gently kissed her daughter’s forehead. “Live for me, my daughter. I will always love you.”
Swansong collapsed as the guard escorted her daughter away.
“T-there is one other thing, I would ask of you, Your Highness,” Swansong whispered.
“What would that be?” Celestia’s voice and demeanor had softened; despite any feelings towards the Changeling Empires, this was a mother, giving up her child.
“If I return to the hive, they will know about her.” Swansong got to her hooves. “So long as I am alive… she will never be safe. Could you have one of your guards kill me?”
Celestia frowned, brow furrowed as she thought.
“Come, My Little Changeling. Please put your disguise back on, and walk with me.”
Ж
Celestia led Swansong into the royal gardens, Swansong marvelled at its beauty.
“Where I grew up was barren wasteland,” Swansong spoke as she walked. “I would dream of beauty like this.” She sighed, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her back. “I’ve done terrible things to survive. I don’t deserve it, but I am glad I got to see something like this, before I… before I—”
Celestia smiled, leading them through to a small courtyard.
“Are you certain you want to do this?” Celestia asked, the corners of her smile dropping ever so slightly.
“Yes,” Swansong nodded.
“Lay on your side, over here,” Celestia pointed to a spot on the ground before them.
“I-I’m scared. D-do you think there is a place in the hereafter for a monster like me?” Swansong laying on the ground, tears streaming forth from her eyes.
“There is no place in the hereafter for monsters, Swansong.” Celestia smiled. “But I know there is a place there for a loving mother.”
A gentle light emanated from Celestia’s horn, and Swansong felt herself lift from her own body.
When the light faded, unicorn lay on the ground, encased in grey stone.
