I awoke in a bed. Yeah, it’s pretty normal. I’m just a normal, fun loving, brightly colored unicorn just like all the other unicorns. I’m not different. I’m not lying that I’m not different, either.
I have a normal, dark purple mane and a normal, dark pink coat. Okay, I lied, I’m not brightly colored. I can’t be truthful about everything. I mean, I was a little truthful. I have this annoying, slightly-brighter-than-the-rest-of-my-mane highlight that really stands out. I try not to look in the mirror too much.
I also have a normal cutie mark of some totally normal sign which I have absolutely no idea what it means. It’s like that Prench thing, the bow-kwet, or something. Something to do with flour; I never really got it, but who really cares, you know?
Pretty normal, though. Norm-al. Normal. It sounds weird now.
Anyway, I woke up in a normal bed, on a normal day. Pretty normal.
The sun was out, and room was kind of dusty, so it made these really pretty rays when it shone through the window. It was pretty.
I had a quilt overtop to protect me from the cold. It was Neighvember, after all. I think it was Neighvember. I’m pretty sure it was Neighvember. I mean, it could have been Neighpril, I get the months confused sometimes.
Okay, I’m going with that it was Neighvember, because that’s a cold month, and that it was a Tuesday, because, what the hay, Tuesday is normal.
It was an average—didn’t see that coming, did you—Tuesday in the nice, quaint little town of Ponyville. Ponyville is nice. All the ponies there are nice, and so was my husband, Night Life. Okay, I’ll be Lavender Flower with you—because that’s my name, and I’m a pretty honest pony—he was kind of a jerk, but I got love, and that’s all that matters, right? Now I’ll be Frank—because I heard he’s honest—and say that I was lying when I said that I was an honest pony.
Wait, if I’m a liar, and I just said that I’m not honest, was I being a not liar?
I don’t know… so uh….
Anyway, yeah, Night didn’t actually love me that much. I mean, he’s nice to me when he’s not all hopped up on the cider and stuff, but that’s not important. My normal daughter loves me, and that’s where I get my love from, so it’s okay.
My daughter’s name is Lovely Flower, because, well, I couldn’t really think of a better name, I guess. I doubt Night Life actually put in any thought into any names. He was a jerk like that.
But whatever. The quilt lying on top of me was dark red, but had this one corner that was bright blue. I’m not very good at sewing, to be Frank. I wonder: who’s Frank, and what’s his last name?
Well, anyway, my husband was laying next to me, and I could smell the cider on him. Well, more like in his breath, because he mouth-breathed at night. I’ll be Lavender, I like the smell of Cider. It wasn’t good that morning, though, because it was Tuesday—apparently—and that meant Night had stayed up until dawn partying, again, and I, like always, had to make sure Lovely was ready for school.
I’m being Lavender again when I say that I really liked getting her ready to go hang out with all the other fillies and colts, but I just wish it wasn’t so early. I’m being Frank, though, when I say that I really do love Lovely.
It brings me joy and fulfillment to be with her. It really does.
Anyway, I trotted into her room, and woke her up. Like me, she was groggy, but unlike her, I didn’t show it. I knew she’d never let me live it down if she saw Mom tired in the morning. I don’t know why, but I guess it’s a normal pony thing.
We went into the kitchen and I made some coffee while Lovely got a bowl of oats. I’ll be Lavender: I don’t really need caffeine or anything, I just like the taste of coffee. I mean, I know most ponies don’t, but that’s one weird thing about me. I pride myself on it, infact.
Yeah, well, I woke up, got her ready, and we walked to school. Sheesh, Lovely can be whiny sometimes, especially when she’s trying to get out of school.
Afterwards, I went to work at Rose’s flower shop, because I guess my cutie mark makes me good at doing flower stuff, though I don’t know how that applies to baking.
I’m joking, I’m joking, I’m not that dumb. I know what a bow-kwet is, but for some reason everypony here pronounces it “boquet”. I don’t know where they get the “kay” part from. It’s got something to do with Prench, I’m sure, but then how are you supposed to pronounce “quiet”?
Anyway, for some reason, something felt off, as if I felt extra hungry. But it wasn’t the normal kind of hunger, it was different. I don’t know.
I went to work under Rose. She’s really nice, and pays me a lot more than what I need, because apparently there was some stupid gossip about Night Life and me, so now she knows that I’m the one with a job. I’ll be Frank: I didn’t want to stand out, but I guess I can’t really control it. Sigh.
And I guess I lied earlier. It was actually December, apparently, because I was getting my Hearths Warming bonus in two weeks. I guess that’s a thing. Rose is really, really generous. I mean, I don’t really do that much around the store. I clean the place everyday after it closes, and I mare the cash register, but Rose treats it like I care for the flowers, too. I’m not sure I could do that job if Rose paid me to do it. I mean, she would pay if I did it, but it’d be hard.
Around that time of the year, poinsettias were really popular. So were mistletoes, reefs, and other assorted plants that stayed green in the winter. Except for most of them. Ha.
I actually had to get rid of my poinsettia after Night came in late with some stallion-friend of his and got dared to eat it. He almost did, but I made him spit it out.
Work was pretty easy, that day. A bunch of ponies came in, but we didn’t have to make any orders for flowers. I love days like those. I was in charge of doing the order forms, and I was always worried they wouldn’t be able to read my hoofwriting, so days where I had to fill out order forms for flowers blew. Excuse my language.
So, I got off work and went to my home, where I found Lovely in her room reading a book and Night in our room still recovering. Or maybe he was just being lazy. I don’t know. But whatever.
My aunt always told me to find a nice stallion, have foal, and try living a normal pony life. It was advice that I lived by, as it’d worked wonders ever since I was a little filly. I liked being normal, and normal, for the most part, liked me.
A few hours later, I cooked dinner, like I did every night. It wasn’t anything fancy, just two salads and two sandwiches, because Night wasn’t eating with us, again. Most evenings Lovely talked about school, and I’d talk about work. Then, after dinner, I might try to help her on math. I wasn’t very good, but I could still help because they were only on arithmetic. I entertained the idea of learning some more math so I could help her more, but she wouldn’t need more help than I could provide for another two years. Maybe, someday, I could even go back to school in Canterlot in mathematics, just so Lovely would be proud of me.
That dinner was heady, though. Lovely asked me a question I hadn’t recited the answer to yet, because it hadn’t been in parenting manual.
“Why isn’t Dad eating dinner with us, Mom?” she asked curiously with a hint of longing in her voice.
“Because, Lovely, your dad’s… feeling under the weather,” I replied, being Lavender.
“But he’s…. He’s always under the weather….”
It hurt me to see her like that. I didn’t know how to reply, and I Frankly wanted to ignore it. “I know, sweetie. It’ll be okay, though. Come on, finish your food so you can do your homework and get to bed sooner.”
Lovely’s a weird filly, really. For some reason she actually likes going to bed early.
My distraction seemed to sate her, for the most part, though I could feel she was still sad. Night was a jerk, you know that? I mean, even if he was the father.
We finished the meal, and Lovely, like always wanted help on her math. I wasn’t really good at anything else, but luckily she didn’t usually need help on other subjects. To be Lavender, I could read and write pretty good, but my vocabulary wasn’t like super big or anything.
Finally, she took a bath, I tucked her in, and she fell asleep. It was a pretty normal day.
Okay, I’ll be Lavender. I’m really normal and average, but that doesn’t mean that I’m, like, super average, twenty-four/seven. Like, I’m a really normal pony, but I’m not the most normal pony.
After I was sure that Lovely was sleeping, I went outside to do my quarterly ritual. Every three months, I go out, and I stretch my wings. It really helps with the weird claustrophobic feeling I get.
You know how I said I’m not the most normal pony? Well, Frankly, it’s true.
I used my magic, and I replaced my back with it’s natural, chitinous state. My wings flew open, and the buzzing was marvelous. Even if being a pony was great, something about flying is just… amazing. I really wish Lovely could fly too, just so she could see how it feels. But that doesn’t mean I’m not glad she turned out to be a unicorn, and not an earth pony…. I don’t even want to think about it.
I hopped up into the air, and I flew around in large, arching circles. It was so liberating.
I flew off over toward the forest to make a few laps. I did dives and banks and glides and everything I knew how to do with wings.
I’d be Lavender, though, if I said I’d give everything up so I could show my wings. I love Lovely. I kind of loved Night, for what it’s worth. Flying just isn’t worth what I have. Hay, I’d give up my magic before I gave up Lovely.
Anyway, I finished my thing, and went back home. But something was wrong.
When I arrived near the door, Lovely was standing there, looking out into the dark for me. When she saw me fall from the sky, her eyes grew wide, and I got a thorough chastising. “Mom?! Where were you?! Why did you leave so late at night?! What were you doing?!”
I was stunned. I responded, being as Lavender as I could, “What are you talking about, sweetie?” I was going for the “this is only a dream” thing I once saw in a play.
“You… you’re not my mom!” She ran in the house, startled.
“Oh, no….”
Lovely ran to get Night, shouting, “Dad! Dad! Somepony took mom! Please wake up!”
I was shocked, but my aunt told me about this. I knew what to do, and I was going to make this right.
“Lovely, wait! I will explain!” I quickly followed her into my room with Night, and she backed into the corner, screaming. I quickly put a hoof over her mouth, not wanting to wake up the neighbors. Night was out cold, so I didn’t have to worry about him.
She struggled, tears streaming down her beige cheeks already.
“Lovely, if you promise not to scream again, I’ll take the hoof off your mouth, alright?”
She nodded, but I could tell she was being Lavender. I asked her again. “Lovely, please don’t scream. I promise promise I won’t hurt you. Just listen to me. I am Lavender, your mom.”
She nodded again, and I could tell she was going to listen to what I had to say this time.
“But… how can you fly…. Unicorns can’t fly….”
“I’m… I’m not a unicorn, Lovely. I’m…” I swallowed. “I’m a changeling. A dirty, gross, smelly, evil changeling. But… but I’m also you’re mother, Lovely, and you’re the most important thing in my life. I didn’t want you to know, because I knew it’d only hurt you.”
“But… if you’re my mom, does that make me part changeling?”
“Yes, Lovely, but barely….”
“Oh… cool…” she said, trying to lighten the mood.
“You don’t want to be a changeling, Lovely. Trust me.” I made a serious face, the kind of face that I only make when I’m trying my very hardest to be Frank. Frank’s probably a stern fellow: a no ponyplay kind of stallion.
She nodded, and looked down at the ground. I could tell that she didn’t believe me, though. She never would, probably.
“Lovely? Why don’t you trust me?”
“Because… because you’re a changeling….” Tears started forming in her eye’s again, and it broke me. I love that filly so much, and few things gave me pain like seeing tears slowly drip down her cheeks, especially when those tears were directed at me.
I broke, and tears formed in my own eyes. I couldn’t do it. I pulled up my foreleg to my eyes and turned away when I wiped them, hoping Lovely wouldn’t see. She didn’t deserve to worry about me, I knew it.
“Is it true? Are you really my mom?” she finally asked with a shaky voice.
“Yes,” I replied in turn.
“Then… then… I love you….” She said it uncertainly, as if she was just trying to get me to stop crying, like I was the little filly.
My heart stopped when I heard those words. I pulled her close, and hugged her tightly. I nuzzled her purple mane, getting it wet with my own tears. But it was okay, because she thoroughly soaked my chest, too.
I leaned my head back to look at her, and she looked back up at me with glassy eyes. “Come on,” I said with a small and relieved smile, “let’s go back to bed.”
“Okay,” she said with a raspy voice.
We walked into her room, and I tucked her in for a second time that night, kissing her twice on the forehead.
I was about to leave the room after I had put out the lights when she spoke up, obviously about to fall asleep. “Mom, can I… can I see what you look like some time…? I mean, as a changeling.... I bet you look just as pretty as you do now.”
“Oh, so you think I look like an ugly changeling?” I said with a cheeky smile on my face.
“No! N—” she tried correcting herself before I cut her off.
“It’s okay, I was just joking.” I started walking out the room again.
“But… can I, Mom?”
“Yes,” I said, Lavenderly.
I walked out of the room, and waited until I could sense she was asleep.
When she fell asleep, I creeped back into her room. I sat over the little unicorn, and I stared at her sleeping image. She had a faint smile on her face, and I could tell she was dreaming of something nice.
I took my horn and placed it on the tip of hers. I used my magic and went moment by moment, removing any evidence that I was a changeling. She didn’t deserve to carry an ounce of the burden I carried. I couldn’t let her.
To be Lavender, it wasn’t that hard to remove the memories. I mean, I was doing it for a good cause, even if I did deeply want her to love me for who I really was.
I walked out of the room, and into my own.
Of course, Night was still dead on the other side of the bed. I don’t know if he had gotten up a minute today.
You know, on a different note, I hope I can meet Frank some day. I think he could help me be a better unicorn, even if he is probably an earth pony.
My name is Princess Metamorphine, but you can just call me Princess Metine, because Auntie didn’t know about morphine when she named me, so now some of the changelings joke about how it sounds like I’m some hardcore underground new age alternative to heroin. They don’t do it when they think I’m listening—I am always listening—because they think that it’d hurt my feelings.
Regardless, I’m a pretty average changeling princess. I’m the second oldest of my sisters, and my mane is this beautiful light blue with these distinctive, blue-green highlights. I try to keep my mane pristine, but my sisters and Auntie make fun of me for it. It get’s really annoying; I mean, why can’t a changeling just be naturally pretty, without magic?
Just because they make fun of me, though, doesn't mean they look down upon me. In fact, not to brag or anything, but I’m probably one of the most, if not the most, looked up to changelings in the hive. All of my sisters ask me for advice, and Auntie has said numerous times that I’m going to be the next queen, and it’s… well…. It’s a lot of pressure, to be honest. I try to keep my cool, and it doesn't really show except when I’m around Auntie. Me and Auntie are really close.
We’re so close that she once told me in confidentiality that she liked to sing. I laughed. She made a weak laugh, and it got awkward. I then said, “I’m sorry, Auntie! I didn't mean to laugh, you just don’t seem like the type to sing. I’m sure your voice is beautiful, just like you.”
“Why, thank you, Metine.” She was trying not to blush.
“Could you sing for me?” I asked, trying to flatter her. Changelings are so oblivious to flattery in the hive that it’s ridiculous.
“Why, yes, I’d be delighted to.” I don’t know if Auntie was seeking my approval or not, but it didn't matter, really. She was happy to share something with me, so I was happy too.
She sang, and, wow, I had a lot of misconceptions, clearly, because she could sing!
Then again, she was a changeling, and I wasn't sure if she used her natural voice or not. So, I took the honest route, and asked. “That’s beautiful, Auntie. Is that your real voice?”
She smiled back at me, clearly happy. “Yes, Metine. It is my real voice. I practice when I’m alone.”
“It’s amazing, Auntie. I’m truly envious.”
It turned out that she just wanted me to be jealous, as she stopped trying to impress me after I said that. “Thank you, Metine. I’m glad I could share this with you.”
“And I’m glad so you could share. Thank you so much, Auntie.”
“It was my pleasure.”
Then I had to go and do some princessy stuff, so I left.
Really, being a princess is everything I imagined it would be. Although, I didn’t know it would involve giving birth to a metric ton of nymphs, but hey, what are you going to do?
And really, I grew to like birthing duties. Sure, it was pretty gross, and a little painful at times, but getting to see their cute little faces—after all the goop had been cleared off, of course—was worth it. They always smiled. Big smiles, too, like the sac was really that bad and they were just overjoyed to get out. Smug little things….
I remember my first birth. I was really scared, and the first nymph’s incubation always lasts the longest because the body is still developing. It hurt. A lot.
My older sister reassured me that the second was much less painful, and the rest after that were just minor discomfort. She was right.
Maybe it’s pretty gross and weird, but hey, I’m creating the next generation of changelings, and they’re basically my slaves. But don’t tell them I said that, because that would make them sad, and it would make me a little sad too.
Anyway, so in the hive a princess’s first born are special and often are a lot more readily promoted, except Queen Pupa’s, who was disabled. That was a long time ago, though, and I’m sure that that was really sad.
So, anyway, you’re expected to name your first three, and my older sister, Ecdys, thought it would be funny to tell me that at the last minute and act like she “forgot”. I don’t want to say that I hate her or anything, but she gets on my nerves sometimes.
I ended picking a hastily chosen name, just choosing something boring and normal. His name was Chitin. I know, I know, pretty original, considering a sixteenth of the hive has the name Chitin or some variation of it, but after I did that, no other caregiver dared to name a nymph Chitin. Maybe it’s out of respect, but absolutely nochangeling in the hive takes anything I do with a grain of salt: even my sisters!
I have to be so careful about everything I do. I love being a princess, but it’s a lot of stress sometimes.
Yeah, after my first birth I made sure to pick out names for my first and second that weren’t bad.
I named the second—a filly—Grace, because…. well, I wanted her to be graceful and beautiful like me someday.
The third and last, another colt, I named Venom. Because… he hurt more than I thought he should have, and I wanted to spite him. In the end, he actually got the better end of the deal because he got a pretty cool name that he could use to intimidate the other nymphs with. I had a name picked out for him, originally, too. It would have been Phillip.
Yeah, me and my younger sister, Princess Hemi, short for some word, and I are really close. We hang out a lot. Also, her being the youngest means that I get to teach her a lot of stuff about the hive. I feel a little bad that I don’t know what her full name is, but she doesn’t either, so it’s okay.
My middle sister, Princess Naia—Auntie just dropped the “d” from naiad—and I don’t talk much. Ecy—what I call my older sister to annoy her—and her and a little close, but Naia seems really depressed sometimes. I want to cheer her up, but she never let’s me get close. I just hope she’s not jealous of me.
My two aunts, Queen Chrysalis and Princess Cocoon, are really nice. They both give me good advice and are really supportive. Cocoon and I don’t talk much, but when we do she’s really insightful.
One time, I went to Auntie because I was really stressed, so she recommended that I see Cocoon. I did, and Cocoon told me that I needed to step away from the hive for a bit and get some fresh love.
I took the place of this idiot stallion’s mare friend, and he really loved her. Wow.
He was an interesting stallion; he was a scientist who studied enchanted gems. I think his name started with something weird like an “x” sound.
Anyway, I’m glad I listened to Cocoon because it was nice to get some love from the source. It was a lot different than what I received from the subjects.
Later, I asked Auntie if I could join the feeders, and she said “Well, Metine, okay. But don’t do anything too dangerous, okay?”
I couldn’t believe it, to be honest. She didn’t even let Ecy do that!
I’m not sure if that meant that she liked me more or less, and I still don’t know.
However, I haven’t actually been feeding, lately. I was going to go out a few weeks ago, but I had another birth, so I decided not to.
It’s not all fun and games, though. After Aunties Canterlot thing, a lot of the soldiers were lacking morale, including her, so I had to make a speech. It was hard. There were just so many staring at me I wanted to turn into a little bee and fly away before anyone could notice, but the smallest thing I can be is a sickly filly, and I know I would have still been visible.
So I gave the speech. The first line was pretty memorable, apparently. “Changelings, I welcome you. Please, before we begin, I must say that I love all my subjects deeply. And though I my love may not be tangible, it exists, just as a thought does.”
It was a bold statement, although, I honestly didn’t know that at the time. No speech in changeling history ever had “I love all my subjects deeply” because, well, changelings can’t give love to each other. But I said it, and after the speech, everychangeling screamed in cheer, and Auntie had a big smile on her face. Hemi was way too young to know any better then, but I think she would have been happy too.
So apparently Hemi is short for Hemimetamorphine. I need to tell her never to tell that to anychangeling, though, otherwise they’ll start making fun of her, too, and I think it might make her sad.
Still, my heart starts racing when I think about how Auntie named her after me. Auntie said that she did it so that, maybe, Hemi would turn out as perfect as me, and it made me blush profusely. I almost wish I didn’t ask.
I haven’t been completely honest. My name is Metine, yes, and Auntie did name me, but Auntie isn’t my real aunt. I was adopted. It’s kind of sad, but my parents didn’t love me, anyway, so I’m happier being a place where I’m appreciated and cherished.
I don’t know…. I guess Auntie was sad after Princess Coly went missing. I asked Ecy and Cocoon about Coly, and Ecy said that she remembered Coly as always being sad. I asked Cocoon, and I could tell she was conflicted when I mentioned the name. It took a while for her to reply, but she said the Coly was a promising princess, a lot like me actually, but had bad self esteem issues. I asked her what happened to Coly, and Cocoon said she ran off. I didn’t question her after that, as I could see she cared deeply about Coly, and it was hurting Cocoon to talk about Coly.
I didn’t really see why, because it’s not like Cocoon was Coly’s mother or anything; she was just her aunt.
But anyway, Auntie found me and made me a princess. I already had the traits of a princess, so it was easy just adopting me without too much extra metamorphosis. I have a hunch that that’s why Auntie named me Metamorphine, but she won’t say. She told Ecy, but that… changeling won’t tell me. Grr.
I don’t remember much before I was a changeling. I know I was an ugly filly because all the other foals I met told me so. I know that my mother got replaced once, and I managed to figure it out, though I don’t remember how.
After I saw what a changeling was, I was so jealous. I realized that, really, changelings are the most beautiful creatures. They define beauty. They can be anypony they want, so they must be the definition of beauty.
I wanted to be a changeling so, so bad. It was always a fantasy of mine. After I had the revelation, it’s all very blurry to me. I remember a few, images, probably from when I began my metamorphosis. The next thing I knew, Auntie was holding me in her forehooves, and I was scared: very, very scared. When I looked up to see her fangs, though, she looked happy. Not evilly happy, but happily happy. The genuine type. And I couldn’t just see it, I felt it, like I had some organ that could sense happiness.
She looked down at me, and asked, “Coly? Is that you?”
I replied, still scarred, “N-no, my name are Lav-der.”
She frowned, and looked like she was about to cry. Then, she hugged me. Tightly, too, and I couldn’t breathe. But I knew she wasn’t going to hurt me, at least.
She finally loosened her grip, and asked me, “I’m sorry, Lavdur. What hive are you from?”
“Hive?”
“Yes, you are a changeling, aren’t you?”
“I are?!” I yelled.
“Well, yes, you are.”
“No, I a filly…. a dumb, stupid, ugly filly.”
“No you’re not. You’re a changeling. You’re not a pony.”
“No, I am, I want to be changeling….”
“Lavdur, look at yourself. You’re a changeling.”
I looked at my body and was astonished at what I saw. I gasped. I was a changeling, just like I saw that night. I realised, then, that I was finally beautiful. Nopony could ever call me ugly again. “I am changeling! I am changeling!” I squealed in joy.
“Little ‘pony’, why would you want to be a changeling?”
“I want to pretty like you… I don’t want ugly….”
Auntie was skeptical, and by skeptical I mean she did not believe a word I was saying, but confirmed that I was telling the truth after looking at my memories.
A few days later, she made me a princess and gave me a proper changeling name.
I don’t know if Ecy knows. She probably doesn’t.
I know Auntie knows, and she doesn’t care. She’s proud of me, unimaginably so, and this is where I’m happy. Here, in the hive, where I belong.
And I wonder and hope that wherever Coly is, she’s as happy as I am.
Author's Note
This story was really fun to write, and I only wrote in a few hours. To be Lavender, I probably broke a record.
Regardless, It was fun not having to try and be prose-ful (which I still fail at doing even if I try).
