The changeling Guard lit his horn and phased his way through the slime bars. “Fa'al Zuref?” he called.
The much smaller Runner class changeling shackled to the wall looked up. “Fa'al Ponieff,” she corrected automatically.
The Guard snorted and unhooked her chains from the wall. “Your birth name is Zuref, and it is Zuref who is to be judged today.”
Zuref, or Ponieff, made no response as she was led out of the prison block.
She did pause as she was brought into Black Square, though. There were many changelings there, many more than usual, more classes and all paused what they were doing to stare at her, few (if any) hiding their staring. The Guard jerked the chain to her collar, and Ponieff numbly continued walking as she gawked at the attention she was receiving. Most regarded her with curiosity, some with disdain, some with hatred. One very familiar changeling Runner looked at her with sorrow, but looked down, unable to bring herself to say anything.
Ponieff was led to the base of the stairs leading to the queen's chambers right to more thickly-chitined Royal Guard class out front, whereupon she was promptly led up the stairs, inside through the slime screen and up more stairs to the queen's room itself. She was then chained to the floor, with added restraints around her rear legs. The chain around her neck was looped onto a hook, with the chain shortened so that she was forced into a bowing position. As soon as the royal guards had hooked her chains to the rings in the floor, they backed out and the doors (real wood, such as the kind used only for royalty) were pulled shut behind her.
Ponieff licked her fangs nervously. Her fate was now in the hooves of the queen, and she had no idea what to expect. She looked at the sculpted busts of the former queens. Her eyes drifted over their proud smiles, arrogant postures, narrowed eyes, and bared fangs. None looked particularly merciful.
The door on the other side of the room opened, and queen Lectin entered. Instinctively, Ponieff bowed. When Lectin stood in front of Ponieff, she exhaled and lit her horn. For a brief moment, Ponieff was afraid that she was to be simply incinerated; but instead she felt the chains holding her body down being loosed.
“I told them these were unnecessary,” the queen murmured as she opened the last clasp.
Ponieff dropped to her haunches and rubbed her neck, and then looked up at Lectin, unsure what to think of this kindness. It wasn't complete trust—Lectin had left the hoofcuffs linking her forelegs—but it was definitely something.
Lectin looked out the thin slime that formed her window towards Black Square. “Do you know why there are so many changelings here today?” she asked airily.
Ponieff shook her head.
“It is my first ruling as queen of the changelings. My ruling will set precedents for however long I rule, and they all want to know what to expect from me.”
“And what are you going to give them?” Ponieff had to ask.
'And by extension, me?' was silently added to that question, and both knew it.
“I suppose it depends on the outcome of this conversation,” Lectin said airily.
Ponieff was silent.
Lectin sat down to reach Ponieff's eye level. “Why don't you start at the beginning. Why are you here?”
“I was arrested for poniphilia and high treason against the hive.”
“Poniphilia,” Lectin repeated slowly.
It was Ponieff's turn to exhale, and she closed her eyes as she gave the definition she had been reciting for years now. “It means I enjoy having sexual relations with ponies for fun, not just for harvesting; and actively seek out-”
“I am familiar with the term,” Lectin said, gently cutting her off.
“I don't understand. Why is loving a pony such a crime?” Ponieff asked.
Lectin raised an eyebrow. “And here I would have thought you would defend your treason charge first, as that carries the harsher penalty.”
Ponieff swallowed. Six months pit cleaning or other hard labor versus banishment from the hive… or even death. “I suppose; but it's easier to explain the second if I explain the first.”
“Then explain,” Lectin invited.
Ponieff exhaled. This was a comforting turn of events. “It started when I was young, on my very first harvest run. I was with two other Runners, and we were pretty excited…”
* * *
* * *
“I can't believe it,” Gir Helil said, unable to suppress a laugh. “We're really outside!”
“I can't believe there are so many ponies here,” Drro Kila breathed, looking down the hill at the ponies that scurried like ants.
Fa'al Zuref snorted. “I can't believe how bright it is out here. Ponies are crazy to live up top like this.”
“Aw, come on, Zuref. Aren't you the least bit excited to see real, live ponies?” Helil asked.
“Well, I guess,” she said. “Bri'i always said ponies weren't very bright and were easy to manipulate, so I'm curious more than anything, I guess.”
“Well, we'd better get going. Double check everything!”
The three little changelings turned around to check each other's disguises, paying special attention to the biggest problem areas; their teeth, their manes, and their hooves.
“Kila, you still have your fangs,” Zuref pointed out.
“Ugh!” Kila groused. She burst into flame and when she reappeared, her smile looked more like a pony's. “Better?” she asked.
“Yep. That should be good.”
Kila huffed. “Ponies and their flat teeth. 'Ooh, lookit me, I eat plants! I'm so cool!' Ugh.”
“That's why we're predators, and they're prey,” Zuref smirked.
“Indeed,” Kila grinned right back.
“So, back here at sundown?” Helil asked to confirm.
“Yep. Let's do this!”
* * *
Zuref wandered and observed. It was so different from the hive, and yet similar. Ponies trotted from place to place, busy, working, talking. Zuref could feel the incidental love, that subtle light meal that emanated from the ponies. She had fed on love before in her life, of course, but it had always been brought back for the hive. Tasting it from the source made it seem that much sweeter.
And then her curiosity grew stronger. If this was ambient love, what was actual directed love like?
She paused and frowned. It shouldn't be too hard to get a little bit from a pony, right? She looked around for a potential source.
Her eyes fell on a young pony playing marbles in the mouth of an alley by himself. Though still a foal, he seemed only a bit older than her current disguise, so she trotted up.
“Hey,” she said.
He looked up, surprised that somepony would talk to him. Then he seemed confused that someone that attractive would talk to him.
“Your marbles look pretty cool. Which is your favorite?”
He picked one up and examined it. It glinted in the sun. “This one. It's a cat's eye marble. See how it kindof looks like a cat's eye?”
“It does,” Zuref agreed. “That's pretty neat.”
A smile crossed his face, and Zuref felt a pulse of appreciation. “You like it?” He looked at it, and then up at her, and then back at it; and then he held it out. “Do you want it? You can have it.”
Zuref shook her head. “I wouldn't know what to do with it. I don't play. But you're pretty good.”
He blushed slightly at the compliment. “I guess.” He leaned down to shoot again, but jumped and missed the shot as a mare's voice called out. Zuref didn't understand the words but it must have been his name, for he began to gather up the marbles. “I'm sorry, mom's calling me.”
“It's ok.” On an impulse, she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. He was so stunned he dropped his marbles.
Zuref giggled and ran away. She looked back to see him staring at her while resting a hoof on his cheek, still in shock.
And even as she ran, she could feel the little stream of love directed right towards her.
* * *
Ponieff sighed. “You know, we hear so much about harvesting and how simple it is; but when you're actually out there, it's just so different. They're real. They feel. They have certain silly little things that mean the world to them. That marble wasn't anything special, but he loved it; and then he would have given it up for a set of pretty eyes. It's just… fascinating. There's just no other word for it.”
“And you gathered all that perspective from one harvest run?” Lectin asked, slightly skeptically.
“I did and I didn't. The first time I really got it was my second day harvest run. I was traveling down by the river and I found a young colt floating against the collecting grate. He was dead, swollen and everything, no chance of reviving him.”
“So you replaced him,” Lectin guessed.
“I replaced him,” Ponieff confirmed. “Just like training; always try to choose a mark where there's no chance of the real pony coming back unexpectedly. I hid the body in the shallows and took his form. I knew where there was a neighborhood with lots of kids in it, so I walked down the street, looking around, greeting his friends and everything. I was surprised to feel love from just the ponies on the street. They must have really liked him. It wasn't long before his real father came out and found me.”
Ponieff swallowed and continued, “And then I was shocked at the intensity of the emotions I felt from his father. Relief. Appreciation. And I felt bad.”
Lectin raised an eyebrow.
“I know, right?” Ponieff chuckled mirthlessly. “Predators aren't supposed to feel, but I did. If ponies were just simple-minded creatures good only for harvesting love from, why did he and everyone else in the neighborhood feel so strongly about his son? Was that what true love was? Maybe I was misdefining love all along.”
“What happened then?”
“I left that night to return to the hive, as were my orders. The next time I went, his body wasn't where I left it. I don't know what happened after that, but I never forgot it.” She shrugged. “Ponies have fascinated me ever since. The way they live, how they act, everything; it fascinated me. Sometimes I wouldn't even try to harvest; I'd just disguise myself as a foal on the playground and see what happened. When I got older, I'd go the market or the park and just… pony watch. They're so… happy and trusting. It's weird.”
Lectin nodded. “But it went further than that, I assume?”
Ponieff nodded. “When I got a bit older and could maintain a mare's form, I pretended to be a journalist for a little paper. The ‘Fact and Opinion’, I called it. I would say I had all the facts I needed, and now I wanted their opinions. I could ask about anything and everything and they'd answer, just for their thirty seconds of fame. The neighborhood. Crime. Their neighbor's bratty nymph. Mother-in-laws, got a lot of those. The Royal Guard. I even got a few ponies to comment on Celestia's hindquarters.”
Lectin cracked a smile.
“No two were ever the same. Ever. I once started a physical fight between two brothers because they disagreed on something trivial, I don't even remember what now. I walked by the next day and they were laughing with each other over drinks. It made no sense! But it did! Because they're ponies!”
Lectin nodded almost imperceptibly.
“I did that for almost a year, varying my locations and times and I never got caught. And then one day I stayed out too late, and got mistaken for a prostitute.”
* * *
Zuref approached the pony and smiled. “Good evening. I'm News Scoop with the ‘Fact and Opinion’, and I've currently got openings for opinions.”
The stallion looked her up and down. “I'm of the opinion that you're looking fine tonight, and I might be using one of your openings.”
Zuref inclined her head. “Thank you.”
“What's your price?”
Zuref frowned, but she'd run into this situation before. “I don't carry bits; most ponies share their story because they want to.”
He chuckled. “Come on. 'Fact and Opinion'? That's a made-up name if ever I've heard one.”
Zuref smiled disarmingly. “Do I look like the kind of mare who'd lie about that kind of thing?”
He tapped her on the flank like he was checking a watermelon for ripeness. “You look like the kind of mare that would be down with anything.”
It was at this point that Zuref realized that they were discussing two very different things. She recalled her training and a slow smile crossed her face. “And what if I am?” she asked, running her tongue across the front of her teeth and letting her tail flick to one side.
* * *
“I was curious,” Ponieff admitted sheepishly. “I remembered my training about sex with stallions, and so I played along, went back to his room, and let him mount me. Moaning, whimpering, complimenting his ability, faking mine before his; I did the whole bit. And that's when I made my best discovery: ponies are very vulnerable after sex. Within minutes after he finished, he told me about his wife's affair and his own insecurities, and how he needed to feel accomplished, like he 'still had it', whatever 'it' was.”
“To a mare he'd just met?”
Ponieff nodded. “The false bravado and pervy remarks were gone. He just felt alone and needed somepony else with him that night.”
“I think I see what's coming next,” Lectin murmured.
Ponieff nodded. “Every night, two to three a night,” she said frankly.
“Even with the training on the dangers of poniphilia?”
Ponieff wouldn't or couldn't meet her eyes. “I justified it as my personal project. Just using sex to get what I wanted, nothing more.”
Lectin nodded and gestured for her to continue.
“Turns out it's not just stallions; mares are vulnerable after sex, too.”
“Another project?” Lectin asked tongue-in-cheek.
“In my defense, the first mare started it,” Ponieff said quickly. “I just… didn't say no.”
Lectin nodded.
Ponieff licked her fangs again. “So yeah. Mares and stallions. I got really good with both. I would just start a conversation for the pillow talk and I could usually get a good chunk of their life story before they asked about round two. It fascinated me. I met stallions who felt their mares had grown distant, insecure stallions, stallions who'd gotten laid off and needed something to go right in their lives; mares who'd come out of a bad relationship with stallions, mares who wanted to try something a bit more gentle, mares who felt social pressure to try relations with another mare; every one of their reasons fascinated me. They were all so different, but so similar at the same time. There's no one way to define a pony or their problems.”
Lectin nodded.
“And, since it also got me quite a bit of varied love—especially the after-sex conversations—no one at the hive was the wiser to what I was doing.”
Lectin raised an eyebrow. “You were never caught?”
Ponieff shook her head, and a small, prideful smirk flitted across her lips.
“Then how did you merit the accusation of poniphile?” Lectin asked.
Ponieff shook her head slightly. “I got that title when I fell in love with Written Script.”
“Written Script,” Lectin repeated.
“My lover. The stallion I love,” Ponieff corrected herself. The emphasis on the present tense was subtle, but pointed.
“Why don't you tell me how you two met?” Lectin invited.
Ponieff smiled, wistfully recalling that memory. “I found him in a coffee shop when I was on a harvest run. Prostitutes only work evenings, and so I needed something to do during the morning. I was going for the generic 'give a random lonely pony a nice compliment and pick up the returning love' ploy. I was doing that every morning, and that's all this one was supposed to be, too. Saw him sitting at the table with his head in his hooves and thought, 'hey, perfect target'.”
“But?” Lectin invited.
“You know that whole 'act interested' thing you have to do? It stopped being an act about two minutes in.”
* * *
* * *
Head in hooves, gentle massaging of the temples; indeed, a good target of ever she saw one. Zuref ordered her hot chocolate (coffee had always unsettled her stomach for some reason) and when it arrived, she walked over. As she approached, she could see papers all around him and an empty coffee cup; he must have been sitting here for a while. He didn't look up at her as she came up to the table.
Perfect.
“Hey there,” she started.
The pony jumped slightly, and then scrambled for his inkwell which he had almost knocked over. “Oh, hi,” he said.
Zuref pointed. “This seat taken?”
He shook his head and pulled his papers closer to his side to give her some room to sit down.
She slid into the chair, making sure to go in flank first. It was not an overtly sexual act and would look completely innocent, but being a stallion it would definitely catch his eye, and it would also lower his guard. “So, what's your name?” she asked.
“Written Script. What's yours?”
“Sunflower.” The lie rolled smoothly off her tongue. “What are you up to?”
“Not much, just trying to get some writing done. I'm a writer,” Written Script said, gesturing at his papers and inkwells.
“A writer?” Zuref repeated. “What kind of things do you write?”
“I like creating new worlds.”
Zuref paused. It was a simple phrase. Why was it resonating in her mind? “What kind of worlds?” she asked.
“Mostly fantasy worlds,” he answered. He slid a couple papers aside and held up one sheaf of papers. “This world is composed of ponies that don't have magic.”
Zuref cocked her head. “Huh?”
“Nope. They have to use their smarts to survive after a disease wiped all their innate magic from them and killed half the population. Pegasi can't fly, unicorns can't cast, and earth ponies can't connect with their earth.” He slid another aside, excited to share now. “In this one, it's a world of all earth ponies, but some ponies get unicorn magic that only works on one of the four elements. Earth, air, fire, or water.”
“Like sea-ponies?” Zuref asked.
“No, just regular ponies who can control water.” He grabbed for another one. “This one has sea-ponies, half pony, half fish. They have their own society under the sea and they tell legends of ponies with four legs.”
Zuref blinked, and asked the first question that came to her mind. “How do they reproduce?”
Written cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I'm still working the details out on that,” he said with a slight blush. He shifted the papers, and found another. He leaned in and motioned for her to do the same. He tapped the page and whispered, “This world doesn't need a princess to raise the sun. It does it by itself!”
“No way,” Zuref gasped, staying in character. She held no love for Celestia, of course; but she'd been around ponies long enough to know that that was a pretty taboo thought.
He nodded, grinning as though he were sharing a dark secret. “The moon, too. There is no central authority in Canterlot.”
“Sounds chaotic.”
“It is,” he agreed. “The main character has amnesia because he got beat up by a street gang and left for dead. All he has to go on is a baseball bat and a mouthwritten note that says 'Skyblaze killed my brother', so he's trying to figure out what's going on and who Skyblaze even is, if it's a codename or a real name or what.”
“Whoa,” Zuref breathed.
* * *
Ponieff gestured with her hooves, making the chains clink as she spoke. “He could create worlds in his mind. He created things. He made them come to life. It had never occurred to me to try that. Yeah, we make up identities all the time; but he was making up new realities.”
“It seems you found it fascinating,” Lectin said with a wry smile.
Ponieff nodded. “You know, the more I think about it, the less I like the term 'harvesting'. I've worked in a field as an earth pony.”
Lectin raised an eyebrow.
Ponieff's cheeks colored slightly, but she gave no further explanation. “Harvesting means taking everything of value and leaving the plant to die. Changelings don't do that. Changelings take, but they can also give, and help it grow.”
“Explain,” Lectin invited.
* * *
“So what do you do with all of these?” Ponieff asked, gesturing at the pages.
For the first time, the light in Written Script's eyes dimmed. He pulled the sheafs in a bit. “I'd like to get them published,” he grumbled, looking down briefly, “but that probably won't happen.”
“Why not? You look like a great writer. You're certainly prolific.”
Written cracked a smile, and Zuref felt a trickle of love flow for the compliment. “Thanks; but world creating isn't enough. These days, publishers want, oh, you know… finished stories that are more than just outlines. That's all these are. Outlines.”
Zuref rested her hoof on his. “It's ok,” she said. “I believe in you. You've done this much; I think you can do it.”
Written smiled, and the trickle grew ever so slightly. “Thanks. I'd like to believe, too.”
If Zuref left right now, she could easily pick up five other meals before she headed down for her street corner.
She scooted in closer to the table. “So what were you working on when I got here?” she asked.
He brightened again, eager to explain. “It's about Death being a pony.”
Zuref pursed her lips. “Huh.”
“She wanders around and talks to ponies between taking souls.”
“Wouldn't her cutie mark kindof give that away?”
He smirked. “She's a pre-cutiescant filly. That's what makes it such a shock when they find out she's Death.”
Zuref nodded. She wouldn't have thought of that. “So, who does she meet first?”
Written sighed. “I haven't figured that out yet.”
Zuref paused. For some reason, this bothered her. “Come on. She's gotta meet somepony.”
“That's where I'm stuck,” he insisted. “I have no idea how to start this one.”
“What if she bumps into somepony at the market and says 'you're next'?”
Written shook his head. “She's the kind of pony that would be playing in the play-place of a hospital and stop, turn, and tell you your grandmother lived a good life and then when you look back, she's gone.”
Zuref blinked.
Written Script blinked.
“How about that?” Zuref suggested with a shrug.
“I like that,” he murmured, grabbing for his quill again. “Now I just need names…”
All changelings are good at making up names. “Granny Lavender and her daughter Mauve?”
“Ooh, that's good,” he said, scribbling even faster now.
* * *
Ponieff chuckled. “He asked me to give him time to write, and then meet him there for lunch. Free love, can't complain, so I accepted. He wasn't there ten minutes after he'd said to be there, so I figured we were just going to go our separate ways.” She cracked a smile. “That didn't quite happen.”
* * *
Zuref smiled wryly as she swallowed the rest of her drink. Being a part-time prostitute paid fairly well, but still, spending bits for love she could easily pick up elsewhere for free seemed a bit of a waste. Besides, there were always more ponies.
She had her bits in hoof and had just about counted out the total amount she owed when she paused. Somepony was feeling quite a bit of emotion. Before she could figure out who, Written Script burst in, carrying a large stack of paper.
Zuref sat up and discretely put her bits away. “Thought you weren't going to show,” she accused playfully.
“Oh, I wouldn't miss it,” he said breathlessly. “Look at this!”
Zuref blinked at the stack of papers covered in scribbled writing, and internally she cringed. Reading and writing did very little to help obtain love, and so many changelings (including Zuref) were illiterate. “I can't read your writing very well,” she said apologetically.
Written Script's ears fell slightly, but picked right back up. “That's probably because I was writing fast. See, this page is what I had this morning, and this stack is what I have now. I'm nearly four chapters in, and I'm still going strong. You inspired me.”
Zuref blinked again, but this time as she realized that the waves of emotion were directed exactly towards her. Appreciation. Happiness.
And love. Lots and lots of love.
“Let me buy you lunch,” Written said hopefully. “It's the least I can do.”
Never one to turn down food of either kind, Zuref nodded and let a small smile cross her face. “I'd be glad to,” she said.
* * *
“So that's how it started,” Ponieff finished. “He would share his ideas with me, and I just said what I thought. Every Tuesday and Thursday we'd meet up, and we'd just talk.”
“Am I correct in assuming that's not how it stayed?” Lectin asked with one eyebrow raised.
“He started it,” Ponieff said a bit too quickly.
* * *
Zuref's eyes widened slightly as she took in the fancy dinner setup. Although she wore an impressed smile, internally she was feeling somewhat apprehensive. Excitement rolled in waved off of Written, and for some reason she felt that that wouldn't bode well. Hiding her feelings, she gave him a playful wink. “Looks like we're celebrating something special tonight,” she said.
“Oh, Sunflower, you have no idea,” Written said gleefully. He set the plate down and gestured that she should sit.
Zuref slid into the chair, sliding flank-first as she always did.
Written leaned over and lit the candles, and then sat too, but he was more vibrating than sitting.
Zuref had barely taken her first bite of garlic bread before Written couldn't keep it in anymore. He reached under his chair and pulled out a letter. It looked to be written on thick paper. “This came in the mail today,” he said. “I want you to read it.”
Zuref winced internally, but she gamely took the paper. She squinted at it, paused, and then shrugged with a sad smile and passed it back. “Too dark for me to see. I used to like to stare at the sun as a filly.”
Written seemed slightly put off, but not offended. He took it back and read it. “Dear Mr. Written: We are pleased to inform you that your story, Little Death, has been accepted for publication!”
Ponieff jumped out and wrapped him up in a hug. “Oh, Written! Congratulations!” she said, nuzzling him.
Then Ponieff paused in mid-hug. That excitement had come out a bit too naturally.
Written didn't notice and happily returned the hug. “It gets better!” he said. “They also sent me this!” He held out a check.
Zuref's eyes widened. Money was one of those things taught at the hive, but even if she hadn’t learned, she could still have understood by the number of zeros. “Written, that's amazing!”
“They really liked it. And so with this, I… I want to do something else, too.” He took a steadying breath.
Zuref could see his hooves shaking. Mentally, she prepared for a new sexual experience. He was awkward, but he met her eyes, so he would probably be nervous but enthusiastic and would be down for just about anyth-
“Would you do me the honor of becoming my marefriend?”
* * *
“So that's why he was so excited and nervous.” Ponieff chuckled dryly. “He didn't just want sex; he wanted a relationship. I knew my training. I knew what I was supposed to do: when faced with a relationship, break it off instantly. ‘I'm a fillyfooler.’ ‘I'm already married.’ ‘I have a rare and incurable disease.’ ‘I'm moving to Griffonia.’ ‘If only there were somepony who loved you.’ ‘I'm actually a spy and they've put a hit out on me and I don't want you to be in danger so we can't be together.’ Something. Anything, to irreversibly end it.” She looked down. “I didn't. I said yes.”
“Why?”
“I thought it was because I was stupid. Turns out it was because I was in love.”
“You didn't know it at the time?”
Ponieff shook her head. “I'd wondered; but then I thought, 'How can you love a pony?' They're stupid, petty, immature, and they're one-track-minded, sticking to the one destiny that magically appears on their flank for their whole life. But I said yes. I wanted him to know I was happy for him and glad to be with him and that I… that I loved him.”
Lectin nodded.
“We kept meeting, but more often then. I started cutting back on the prostitute gig. I liked spending time with him best.”
“But… shall we say, ‘physically speaking’, he wasn't the best, was he?”
Ponieff shook her head, and a wistful smile crossed her face. “He was awkward at times, and his flirting was more hilarious than arousing. But I enjoyed it anyway.”
“When did you first figure out you were in love with this pony?”
Ponieff tapped a hoof on her chin. “I think I started figuring it out the first time I instigated sex. He'd had a bit of a difficult day, and I wanted to help him feel better. I wasn't thinking of me, I wasn't thinking of the hive; I was thinking of him. He was down, I could help, so I crawled under the table and… you know.”
Lectin rolled her eyes knowingly.
Ponieff shifted. “I wanted him to be happy, no matter what. And that, I think, is what true love is.”
Lectin nodded.
“But I realized that the next morning when I woke up next to him in his bed. If that wasn't love, I didn't know what was. I'd fallen in love; I'd really become a poniphile. That's where I knew I had to draw the line.” She swallowed. “So I left a note on his nightstand and left. It was one of the cruelest things I've ever done, and I regretted it the instant I set it down.” She exhaled. “But Fa'al Zuref was a changeling of the hive, and the hive is worth more than one changeling.”
* * *
Zuref trudged back to the hive. She was carrying almost a month's worth of Written's love, so why did she feel so empty inside?
She walked numbly, without raising her eyes, until she heard a very familiar voice call her name.
“Zuref?”
Zuref brightened slightly. “Kila!” she said, recognizing her friend.
Kila rushed up and gave her a hug. “Zuref! I haven't seen you in forever! How have you been?”
Zuref shrugged. “Oh, you know, just an extended trip, wandering around Fillydelphia, doing a little harvesting, you know.”
Kila tossed her head. “Ugh, Fillydephia.” She spat the name like a curse. “That's all I hear about these days. My sister Hriti will not shut up! She's just so excited about this invasion.”
Zuref frowned. “Invasion?”
“Yeah. Another full-scale one. This time we're hitting up Fillydelphia, and the ponies won’t see it coming.” She paused. “How long have you been gone, anyway?”
Zuref probably should have thought of how she could best serve the hive in this new development. She probably should have volunteered to fight, or gone to practice (she hadn't needed to spit slime in ages).
Instead, her first thoughts went to Written Script. He would be in danger. She had to warn him.
“It's totally cool this time,” Kila continued obliviously, “because we're far away from Canterlot and the princesses won't be there in time to…” She paused. “You ok?”
“Yeah, I'm fine. I just… remembered that I left a loose end in Fillydelphia,” Zuref lied. Lying came so easy to changelings. “I have to go neutralize it.”
Kila nodded, a small frown at the edges of her lips. “Ok, but come back soon, ok? We can go train together.”
Zuref gave a shaky grin. “Yeah. Sounds great.”
* * *
In her room, Zuref paced on the cold, stone floor. She was having an existential crisis, which was unheard of as a changeling. Changelings served the hive. Period.
So why did she want to go warn Written?
And why just him?
Was it because she loved having sex with him? That couldn't be it; there were stallions and mares she could think of that made for better sexual partners.
She knew the answer long before she could bring herself to accept it.
“Because I love him.”
But even after she'd said it, she had a hard time accepting it. She dropped to her haunches and repeated a phrase from her training. “Changelings don’t betray the hive. Changelings don’t betray the hive. Fa'al Zuref is a good changeling and will never betray the hive.”
She breathed in and held it, then exhaled slowly.
“Then let me be Fa'al Zuref no longer.” Her new name sprang unbidden to her mind. Her eyes hardened as she spoke, and it became a personal affirmation. “I am Fa'al Ponieff. I am a poniphile. I am in love with a stallion.” She cracked a wry smile. “And I am about to make the biggest mistake of my life.”
* * *
Ponieff knocked on the familiar door, and shuffled nervously. She could hear the chair he always sat in being pushed back on the carpet, and could hear his hooves clicking softly on the linoleum floor. He'd wanted to replace it with tile, and calculated that he'd have enough for that upgrade after six books.
Then the door opened. His eyes widened, then narrowed as he recognized the mare.
“Hi,” Ponieff started. “I know you don't want to talk to me right now, but-”
“You're right. I don't.” Written made to shut the door, but Ponieff protested.
“It's important,” she insisted.
“Yeah, well, so is making my publisher's deadline, oh… two weeks ago!” Written spat.
Ponieff cringed. “I know, and I'm sorry…”
“Sorry? Sorry? Sunflower, you're the only thing that kept me writing. You helped me get published. You leaving devastated me! I've written maybe two lines in three weeks! I can't do it alone anymore. And now you're back? What, do you expect me to just pretend nothing happened?”
“I came back because I figured I owed you an explanation.” That was technically the truth, right?
“Yeah, you know, that'd be great. Tell me why you decided to rip my heart out and stomp on it the week before I was going to ask you to marry me!”
Ponieff froze. “You wanted to marry me?”
“I do. Did.” He shook his head. “Whatever. Tell me why.”
“Because… I'm a changeling,” Ponieff admitted.
Written stared for a good thirty seconds before bursting out laughing. “Come on!” he said. “I know crazy stories when I see them. I'm a writer, remember? I mean, at least use a believable excuse, like you're a fillyfooler or you're already married or something like that. I mean, there's no way-”
Ponieff knew what she had to do. In a burst of green fire, she dropped her disguise.
* * *
Lectin shifted. “Really?”
Ponieff chuckled and shook her head, as if unable to figure out why she had done that. “Yep. Decloaked. Right there on his doorstep. It was such a pony thing to do.”
“What does that mean?”
“You know, when a changeling sacrifices itself, it's for the survival of the hive, for a bigger purpose than the one changeling. Ponies will sacrifice for their own detriment if somepony they love can benefit, even if it's just one other pony. I don't… didn't… understand. But right then I did. And I knew that while I might regret it, I'd made the right choice.”
* * *
Written Script let out a scream much more becoming of a schoolfilly than a grown stallion and slammed the door. Then he opened it again, this time having made sure to put on the protective door chain.
Not that it would have stopped Ponieff if she had really wanted to get in, but still.
“You- You're really a changeling,” he said hoarsely.
“Yes.” Ponieff winced internally. Changeling vocal cords made the ponies' language come out somewhat garbled, a stark contrast from the soothing voice she used in her Sunflower disguise.
“Are you going to… eat me?” he asked fearfully.
Ponieff snorted. “Can't digest meat.”
“Stick me in a cocoon and drain my life energy?”
Ponieff snorted again. “Cocoons are for holding, not feeding; and draining an entire pony would make me sick. Too many bad emotions with the good ones.”
Now beginning to believe that he was out of mortal danger, Written relaxed ever so slightly. “So you were Sunflower?”
Ponieff nodded.
“For how long?”
Ponieff cocked her head. “I was born a changeling,” she said. “The whole pony-changeling conversion thing is just a nasty ru-”
“No, I meant…” Written shook her head. “How long has it been you instead of Sunflower?” His voice grew slightly more urgent. “And where's the real Sunflower?”
“It's always been me, Written,” Ponieff said quietly.
His eyes widened. “No…”
“We met in a coffee shop.”
“No…”
“You showed me your ideas, your wonderful, wonderful ideas.”
“Impossible…”
“I helped you write your story about filly Death…”
“…can't…”
“And you invited me to lunch afterwards and you showed me how far you'd gotten on your story after meeting me…”
He sank to the floor. “The whole time… Sunflower, I loved you…”
“I love you, too,” Ponieff said, making sure to emphasize the present tense. “That's why I'm here.”
“Why?”
“Because I love you,” Ponieff repeated.
“You love me.” Written shook his head. “That's kindof hard to believe.”
“But I do.”
“Then why did you leave?”
“I didn't think changelings could love. I know better now.” Ponieff took a steadying breath. “And that's why I'm telling you that the changelings are going to invade Fillydephia.”
“What?” This shocked Written enough that he got back on his hooves.
“It's true. In two weeks.“
“I… I don't know what to say. How do I know it's not a trick?”
“You don't,” Ponieff admitted. “But I just betrayed my own kind for you, because your happiness is more important than mine; and if that's not love I don't know what is.”
He digested this. “The invasion is really coming?”
“It is. In two weeks' time. Do with that information what you will.” Ponieff recloaked, and sprinted down the hall and nearly flew down the stairs. She hadn't bothered to form tear ducts on her eyes, but if she had, she would have been unable to see from the tears that would have been streaming down her face.
* * *
“Obviously, he went to the authorities, and that's how they knew of the invasion,” Ponieff finished, “turning the operation into our biggest failure since the wedding at Canterlot.”
“I wouldn't call it a total failure,” Lectin murmured. “The Fillydelphia invasion was the distraction I needed to get the last few meals of royal jelly I needed to ascend; and the pony resistance meant that afterwards Chrysalis was barely a worthy opponent, even for one as young and weak as I.”
Ponieff smiled. “I can't complain about that. I think Chrysalis would have just disintegrated me by now.”
“It's likely,” agreed Lectin. “What happened next?”
“I couldn't go back to the hive, so that night I went back to my prostitute routine, but it felt wrong. Five stallions—two at once for one of those experiences—and every experience felt wrong. It wasn't Written Script. So I went to work in a field for two weeks, just laying low for a while. The day after the invasion, I walked by that coffee shop again. I have no idea why or what I even expected; I just… wanted to see him again.”
“And was he there?”
“He was.”
* * *
“Hey,” Ponieff started.
Written jumped. “Hi,” he said, shocked. “You're back.”
“I am.”
A pause.
“May I…?” Ponieff pointed at the chair.
Written pulled some of his papers aside. As he did, Ponieff noted the numerous scratches and corrections on the pages, and it didn't look like he had made much progress on anything at all. “Sure.”
There was another pause. Written swirled his cup around. “It happened,” he said. “The invasion, I mean.”
“Told you,” Ponieff said with a pained smile.
Written sighed. “So, Sunflower… Is that even your real name?”
Ponieff shook her head. “My name is Fa’al Ponieff.”
“Fa’al Ponieff, then. Where do we go from here?” he asked.
“Now I silently plead for mercy from you.”
Written squinted. “From me?”
“I can't go back to the hive, Script. I just sold them out, big time. If I'm caught, my carapace isn't going to be worth an ounce of pigeon droppings.”
He nodded. “So what are you doing now?”
“Now I'm hoping you'll let me stay with you or something,” she admitted.
Written bit his lower lip. “That’s… that’s a big decision,” he said. “I mean, I trust you, and you did save the entire city…”
“Not that anypony should know,” Ponieff said hurriedly.
“Right. It’s just… I need time to think about it.”
Ponieff nodded and made to stand up. “I'll see you tomorrow, then?”
Written gathered his papers up. “I’ll try to have your answer by dinner. If it’s yes, you can come home with me. If it’s not, you’ll still have time to find someplace else.”
Ponieff nodded again. It hadn’t even been anything concrete, but already she felt happier.
* * *
Ponieff walked up to the window and pressed her nose against it. Written sat at his usual table, bouncing slightly. That was a good sign, right? Last time he was vibrating, he had asked her to be his marefriend.
She sighed, took a deep breath and let it out slowly to steady herself, and pushed the door open.
This time, he didn’t even wait for her to speak before he called out to her. “Check out what I’ve written!”
Ponieff smiled wryly. “Time for another reveal: I don’t know how to read.”
“You don’t?”
Ponieff shook her head.
Written scowled. “That explains a lot… we’re going to have to change that.”
Ponieff felt her heart rate speed up slightly. Something told her that his strong emotion wasn’t just for his stories.
“These are some of the stories I’ve sketched out. Got all the ideas today, after you left. This one is about a pony and a griffon falling in love. This one about a pony and a dragon who end up in a relationship. This one about a stallion who loves a goat. Are you seeing a pattern here?”
“They’re… all about ponies?” Ponieff tried.
Written facehoofed. “No! They’re about ponies in relationships that make no sense, but make them happy anyway. I tried, but I couldn’t think of anything else all day.”
Ponieff licked her lips. “So, you’re saying…”
“Yes,” Written said. “You can come home with me tonight.” He paused. “Please come home with me tonight,” he rephrased it, making it more of an invitation.
“Really?”
“How could I not? You’re the best thing that’s happened to me. You gave my stories life, and you gave me something to look forward to. I could look for years--I have, actually--and couldn’t find anypony better.” A small smile crossed his face. “And besides, technically you’re still my marefriend, right?”
Ponieff laughed, a true, joyous laugh. “Yes. Yes, I am.”
* * *
This time, the familiar door seemed inviting. Written unlocked it, and let Ponieff go in first. Ponieff made sure to sway her hips a little bit more than strictly necessary as she did.
“How do changelings eat, anyway?” Written asked as he locked the door behind himself and set his papers down on the counter.
“We just absorb it. Right now, your love is coming off in rolling waves.”
“Oh, so… this is basically a romantic dinner for you,” Written guessed.
“Pretty much,” Ponieff said with a smile.
“So there’s that taken care of,” Written murmured. He looked at her, and looked as though he were steeling himself for something. “Can you… you know… undisguise yourself?”
Ponieff froze. “I… could, of course; but are you sure you want me to?”
“Yes.”
There was only a hint of hesitation, so Ponieff decided to do it. She closed her eyes and burst into flame, revealing her true form. She closed her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see the disgust on his face. “If you want me to put a disguise back on, I can…”
* * *
“And then, he kissed me. The real me. Carapace, fangs, and all. He kissed me.”
Lectin smiled. “I bet that was surprising.”
“Not as surprising as when he stuck his tongue in my mouth and started playing with my fangs.” Her voice grew quieter. “Felt good, though.”
Lectin coughed, and Ponieff got the hint. She continued, “I looked forward to every morning, because he would greet me with a kiss. He loved me. And I loved him. Together, we wrote two whole stories, just because we could.” She smiled. “It was the best week of my life.”
“You only lasted a week?” Lectin asked, bewildered by this.
“It wasn’t exactly our fault,” Ponieff said. “Just some… bad luck.”
* * *
Ponieff lay on her back, basking in the taste of the afterglow as Written showered first. It was always somewhat bittersweet in taste, and Written had theorized that it was because it signified the end of something amazing. It was amazing, but it was the end.
Then again, round six was only a wink and a nudge away, so she didn’t have anything to complain about.
The knock on the door, though, definitely came close to making it on her ‘complain’ list. She groaned and then pushed herself up. Perhaps it was a letter carrier, bringing news that they had accepted one of their novels. She put on her Sunflower disguise and opened the door.
A maintenance mare stood there, smiling far too widely. She must have been enjoying their ‘performance’ earlier, and Sunflower scowled. “Can I help you?”
“Could have a nice good evening, like it not’s going sadly?” she said in reply.
Ponieff returned the keyphrase without even thinking. “How I verily enjoy much a thing, evening.”
The maintenance mare bounced in place. “I knew there was something wrong with the love coming from the sound! Too much noise from both of you but only one stream. You must be really good at that.”
Ponieff grinned nervously. “I’ve had… practice,” she said.
She held out her hoof. “Drro Kila,” she introduced herself.
Ponieff’s eyes widened. “Kila? Kila, it’s me, Ponieff!”
Kila cocked her head. “I don’t know a Ponieff,” she said.
Ponieff rolled her eyes and decloaked.
“Zuref!” This time, Kila gave her a hug. “I can’t believe it’s you! I didn’t see you after the invasion failed, I was so worried! There’s a lot of us that didn’t make it back, and I thought… I thought you…”
“No, I just… I never came back,” Ponieff admitted. “Let’s just say my loose end tied me up, instead.”
Kila smirked. “You couldn’t leave, huh?” Her eyes narrowed playfully. “You’re not a poniphile, are you?”
“No, of course not!”
“You hesitated,” Kila accused. Her eyes widened, and she looked Ponieff up and down. “Really? Really? Why ponies? They’re… weird! And all… fleshy!” She shuddered.
“It was kindof an accident,” Ponieff defended herself. “I didn’t mean to; I just couldn’t leave him.”
Gears started turning in Kila’s head. “Wait. You never came back, and you left when I mentioned Fillydelphia, and he’s your loose end… Did you tell him about the invasion? Were you our hole?”
Ponieff whimpered. Kila was always good at detecting lies. “Well, yes; but I had a good reason.”
“There is never a good reason to betray the hive.”
Both jumped. The bellhop stepped forward, scowling. He decloaked, revealing a large Guard changeling.
Kila, a bit more focused on self-preservation, looked back and forth, and her eyes widened in horror. “I- I’m sorry, Zuref! I didn’t know!”
“Ponieff,” Ponieff corrected quietly, staring in horror at the Guard. She couldn’t fight him. She didn't have a He was bred to fight. She was not. That invasion must have ended really badly to require Guards called up as Runners.
“Fa’al Zuref, you are under arrest for high treason.” He stepped forward, ready to bring her in.
But love makes changelings do strange things. When he lunged for her, Ponieff ducked and delivered a punch to his jaw.
The Guard didn’t even flinch. Instead, he reared back and delivered his own, much more powerful punch. Ponieff was bowled over backwards and skidded across the floor, now somewhat disoriented.
Written stumbled out of the shower, wearing a towel over his mane. “Ponieff? What’s going on?” He gasped as he saw the two changelings fighting in his living room.
The changeling guard lit his horn, and before Written could even raise his hoof in defense, he fired the memory scrambler spell. Written fell backwards, his eyes rolling in his head.
“No! Written! Written!” Ponieff scrambled and tried to reach for him, but it was in vain. The guard grabbed her and pushed her back down, and then raised a hoof and brought it down on the back of her neck.
* * *
“And that’s the last thing I remember,” Ponieff finished. “I woke up chained to a dungeon wall.”
‘And now I await your judgement,’ was silently added, and both knew it as well.
Lectin took a deep breath. “This is definitely something I hadn’t expected,” she said. She stood up and paced for a few moments, and then turned to face Ponieff again. “You are familiar with how a new queen is created, I assume?”
Ponieff nodded. "Every changeling knows that."
“What isn't common knowledge is that a young queen often needs to leave the hive for her own protection, as old queens tend to want to destroy new queens while they're still maturing. I've left the hive and lived among ponies for a while out of necessity and, Ponieff? I've arrived at much the same conclusion. Changelings and ponies can thrive when they live together. Your story has done nothing but confirm my theory. Poniphilia is nothing but natural love, and should not be punished as such.”
Ponieff smiled, feeling a weight lift off her withers.
Her voice hardened. “But, Fa'al Zuref, I cannot ignore the laws of the hive already in place, or else I risk becoming a tyrant in my own regard.”
Ponieff's breath caught in her throat as all the weight came crushing back down. She knew the punishment for high treason: death, either instantaneous, or by banishment; changelings couldn’t survive alone. “No…”
“The poniphilia charge can be dropped…”
“Please…”
“…as the punishment for the charge of high treason would supersede any…”
“Your highness…”
“…punishment for that charge, which is as follows.”
“I'm begging…”
“Fa'al Zuref, you are to be banished or executed, at my discretion…”
“…never got to say good bye…”
“…and thus I deliver my punishment.” Lectin lit her horn and smiled… smiled? “Farewell, Ponieff.”
Ponieff covered her face as Lectin cast the spell. Green fire burst into existence, and it covered the changeling's body.
And then Ponieff was no more.
* * *
* * *
Ponieff coughed and brought a hoof to her aching head. That was a good thing, right? Pain meant she wasn't dead.
Or maybe she was dead, and she had made it to the Sky Pasture, and it wasn't just for ponies, after all.
No, they said the Sky Pasture was full of lush, green grass. This felt like she was laying on a scratchy old blanket. And why was it so hot?
She forced one eye open, half-expecting to have been banished to the middle of a desert somewhere.
Instead, it looked as though she had appeared in a living room that looked oddly familiar. She was face down flank up by a fireplace, and the coals still looked to be red hot. That answered one question, but a bigger question was…
“Who's there?”
No, the question was 'where was she?', but that was a good question too.
Wait.
Ponieff shot to her hooves and quickly searched her scrambled brain for a passable disguise. She instinctively fell into one quite familiar to her.
A pony pushed open the door, carrying a bread knife in his mouth. “I'm warning you, I'm skilled in the art of origami…” Written Script's voice trailed off, and the knife dropped to the floor. “P- Ponieff?”
Ponieff dropped her disguise and tackled him all in one move.
There is something special about a kiss between lovers that has been delayed, and this kiss had been delayed far, far too long.
Ponieff pulled back, far enough to break the thin strand of saliva connecting them. “So, paper folding is your defense?” Ponieff asked with a wink.
“Stop,” Written said, blushing slightly.
Ponieff gently ran a hoof up his chest. “Something tells me that’s not what you’ll be saying in a minute,” she breathed. She leaned down to finish her kiss.
‘Why ponies?’ she’d been asked.
And the best answer she could think of is, ‘How could you not?’
Author's Note
Changeling succession concept from here.
The concept of "Little Death" is loosely based on the play La Dama del Alba
