Honest Acceptance (Morpheus) Part 1

Changing Times’ Notes: I ask that you pardon me for the lies of omission within my last notes, but it's a habit I find myself using more and more as I mingle with my changeling friends – although they would probably use the term bluff, suggestion, or implication rather than lie.

As you may have gathered, the princess named her report not just for her friends’ reactions, but for how it reflected the many reactions various individuals had to Morpheus' plan. I felt it was best, however, that you experienced Chrysalis without my own thoughts on the matter – at least the first time. I could not warn you without tarnishing your initial impression with my own. For that, I apologize.

It was only recently that the changelings pointed out to me that we ponies lie through omission constantly – almost without realizing it. There are places it stands out to us, and that’s where we feel it to be wrong, yet some of us do it just as much as any changeling without even thinking about it. We hear the changelings speak of such lies so casually and assume they are all deceptive and manipulative. I think the truth is that they are simply more aware of such twists in wordplay. Where we stumble through lies blindly, they consider such statements carefully like moves to a game of chess.

Perhaps that is why they detest the word lie. It is the easy way out, and there is no weight to such statements.

Honest Acceptance: A Report by Morpheus of House Sycadia

Ponies view changelings as creatures of deceit and treachery. This stance is quite understandable given how most lords have used their powers for the last several millennia. The truth, however, is that honesty and loyalty are just as admirable traits to the common changeling as they are to ponies. We may express them differently, but that does not make us dishonest or disloyal.

Perhaps that is why I took Applejack and Rainbow Dash’s bet to heart. They thought I wouldn’t last a day on the farm, and I was determined to prove them wrong.

I doubt they meant me to hear their words, but it certainly struck a chord within me. We are supposed to guide the Hive by example, but most lords would laugh at the concept of doing a day of menial labor. Performing the work of a common changling would be far beneath someone of their status.While they wouldn’t be so bold as to lie when delegating the task to those beneath them, the way other lords would flippantly abuse their power to avoid such a task feels dishonest to me. They take the loyalty of their subjects for granted with no thought of returning that precious gift.

That was why I arose before dawn the next day to head out to the farm.

It was murder pulling myself from the bed, but I had a lot to do today. Reviewing our calculations from the night before, I smiled.

The analysts were still scrambling to deal with the upset mother had caused, but ve had run some rough simulations for the report Celestia wanted while ve slept. The simulations had given us the small – but appreciable – number of about five-hundred harvesters to postpone the point of no return on extinction. It wasn’t that much considering our goal of ten-thousand, but it gave us precious time.

In addition, ve had calculated an appropriate spread for the harvesters across the Equestrian population, and some digging had uncovered a number of appropriate aliases and identities from around one-hundred and fifty years ago. They were close enough to modern times to require only moderate tweaking and should have pre-existing records on the Equestrian side to easily falsify a family history and any necessary legal documents.

That was assuming any falsification was needed. Ve had no idea when Celestia was going to officially announce attempts at peace, but even after last night I seemed to still be nothing more than a test run.

I stretched the kinks from my chitin, and tentatively began to shift into a disguise. When the physical warning signs of a pending breach of contract didn’t appear, I shifted into the disguise from the previous night.

Ve had wondered how the conflicting clauses from last night would resolve themselves, and it seemed the answer was that disguise permission was both prioritized and retroactive. By ordering me to use the disguise I wanted, the Contract had decided that Twilight had implicitly given general permission for me to use the disguise before the order had taken effect.

Grabbing a quill and some parchment I began to write orders for the day.

My first thought as I penned my report to Celestia was that quills continued to taste awful.

The second was that my mouthwriting was still atrocious.

The quill tickled my muzzle as my sigh flowed around it, and I tossed the parchment away before shifting back. Grabbing a new sheet, I levitated the quill and began the report again.

Finishing it, I next wrote the orders for the agents delivering it. Surprise breakfast in bed for Celestia seemed as good an excuse as any for catching the diarch alone, and – committing the image of both items to memory – ve scrambled and stored them in the Hivemind.

A flick of magic sent the appropriate coordinates and decryption method to my agents in Canterlot. Another flick burned the parchment I no longer needed.

Setting my quill down, ve began to examine the analysts’ web of probability in more detail. While it wasn’t completely finished yet – it hadn’t been more than half an hour since ve checked upon waking – ve could still run some calculations on our own on how to deal with mother.

I licked my lips as ve ruminated. The aftertaste of quill in my mouth doggedly remained at the threshold of sensation – distracting me.

“Castle, are you awake?” I looked to the walls around me tentatively. Ve weren’t sure if genii loci slept. Ve were even less sure that a genius loci was the correct term for what exactly Castle was. It was the closest label ve had found in the Hivemind though.

Closing my eyes and counting to three, I opened them to find another parchment and quill wet with ink.

“I am always awake and watching. –Friendship Castle”

I chuckled. “And they call changelings creepy. Regardless, could you grab me a cup of juice?”

The lights winked out briefly, and the tinkling of glass signaled my drink. I tentatively sipped and thrummed at the flavor of orange and mango. Picking up the quill again, ve went back to making projections and calculations.

“Thank you, Castle. Ve’re heading out in a bit. Ve assume that since you’re ‘always watching’ you saw our disguise for the day earlier. Can you please tell Twilight that if she needs us today ve’ll be at Sweet Apple Acres in that guise? There was a bet she may or may not have heard last night between Applejack and Rainbow Dash, and ve intend to deliver.”

The usual flicker of darkness responded, and the ink on Castle’s parchment was rearranged.

“I’ll have you know that I have enough decency to give ponies privacy when it matters. I cannot promise not to feel things though. Changeling fire feels downright itchy, and I swear Rainbow Dash and Applejack form craters whenever they sneak off from the others. I’m still cleaning the backup kitchen from their last romp.”

I rubbed my eyes. “Even as someling who lives for information, that’s something I didn’t need to know. Did you or did you not see my designated disguise for the day?”

“Yes. Yes, I did. Also, you were the one wondering about the amount of whipped cream on the shopping list the other day. What did you think it was for?”

I shuddered. “Once again, that was too much information.”

Picking my quill back up, I quickly penned the orders for my agents outside of Canterlot. I couldn’t have any more of my agents tail mother directly without arising suspicion, but I could indirectly spy on her more by having my infiltrators shadowing the other lord’s spies. It was of the utmost importance that I sabotage their efforts while finding out exactly what mother was doing.

Encrypting the orders again, I burned the parchment as I trotted to the door. I shifted back into the earth pony guise from last night, and I grabbed some of the honey drops from yesterday in case I needed a snack.

The walk to the entrance hall was quiet and tranquil. Opening my senses, I let my filter drop somewhat, and I savored the taste of honey steeped tea and dry desert air that was present in the castle. Love and loneliness as always, yet I no longer needed a filter twenty-four seven.

Ve weren’t sure how much was Castle feeling better versus how much was us acclimating to the emotion-rich environment, but progress was progress – for both of us.

Other smells, sounds, and sights danced at the edge of my heightened perception as Castle took to doing things he thought necessary. What had been barren crystal halls when I first arrived were now adorned with paintings or bookshelves or other items meant to appeal to passerby. I could hear the grating of stone from shifting rooms and furniture – although the shifting stopped whenever I actively payed attention – and I could smell the kitchens cooking. Hive knew why he was so active, but ve figured Castle knew what he was doing.

I finally reached the entrance only to feel a spike in the taste of lonely desert air. For a brief moment I was wandering the dunes back home, and I sighed. I promised myself to play a game with Castle later – perhaps another round of Swindler’s Chess.

The castle doors slowly shut behind me, and – with the position of the last few remaining stars in the sky – ve calculated the trajectory I needed to follow based on an old Hivemind map.

The market was eerily silent as I strolled by empty stalls. Despite the first come first serve nature, the early hour meant not even the most ambitious vendors had arrived. Only the occasional rodent skittered in the darkness. In any normal town that would mean rats, but here it was surprisingly mostly bunnies that were scrounging for food.

They stared from the shadows with beady eyes as I passed, and ve had to wonder how ponies could possibly find them cute. The little wafts of bitter hostility their unevolved brains were giving off clearly suggested that they were all little monsters.

As if to prove our point, a nearby bunny gave a very unrabbitlike hiss when I got too close to a carrot that had fallen on the ground. Putting on a slight burst of speed, I cut to the right and entered the park to circle around the market. The market clearly wasn’t safe to travel at this hour.

The faint sound of music reached my ears as my hooves hit the grass. Curious as to who would be playing this early, ve adjusted course slightly. It was still on our way to Applejack’s, and it couldn’t hurt to look.

A mint green unicorn was playing the lyre on a park bench. Her mane was relatively short and scruffy, streaked with aqua and white. Her tail was similarly unkempt, and it was colored much the same. A cutie mark of a lyre decorated her flanks.

Her eyes were closed in quiet contemplation, and she sat in the most peculiar position with her back resting against the bench and her hind legs dangling over the edge. Rather than plucking the lyre with her telekinesis, she was cradling it in her fore hooves playing it much like an earth pony would.

She was an oddity and outlier in every way – location, time, behavior, and even emotion. In fact, her emotions were the strangest peculiarity. There were barely any to perceive, only the barest trace of water from a pure glacial spring.

There was no true flavor, but the smooth flowing chill was refreshing and invigorating rather than frigid and cold. She was a pure font of contentment – chill and moving slowly to savor the moment.

Underlying that pure, sweet water, however, was an even fainter hint of lemons. It was a tiny drop of trepid curiosity added to the mix that had no reason to be there.

Anomalies need to be understood. To understand an anomaly, ve first need data points. Ve did not have time to collect data points right now though. Thus ve forced myself to walk on by, sparing the mare only a couple of glances.

She didn’t acknowledge us as I passed. Her hooves continued to dance across the strings as she wove a simple melody. Ve soldiered on, refusing to sate our curiosity.

It was only when I was beyond the range of hearing – standard pony hearing that is – that she muttered under her breath. “Curious little changeling says what?”

Our response was to fall right into the trap.

“What?”

I spun around, and felt the mares emotions flare – more like flow – as I recognized the lowering of an emotional filter.

The mare gave a lazy smile, opening her eyes. She continued to caress the lyre gently. The song shifted from simple practice to an old and forgotten song – forgotten by ponies at least.

“The old man was right, as always.” Her words were drawn out yet playful – much like a pleasing legato melody. She slowly teased meaning from every word. “He figured you’d bite off more than you could chew and head straight for Applejack. I should expect it by now, but the old geezer has gotta slip up sometime.”

“Who are you?” While the mare – changeling – in front of me continued to lower her filter, I was tripping over myself in a rush to get mine fortified.

“Aww… Don’t shut me out.” A pout and puppy dog eyes adorned her face. “I’m a friend – nothing more or less. If you want my advice, you should start with Pinkie Pie. The only way you’re going to get through to Applejack or Rainbow Dash is if you prove yourself to the others first.”

Ve felt her tentatively shifting her emotions. What started a simple taste evolved into a full experience as her chill contentment flowed around me like a gentle stream.

I ignored the consoling gesture. I didn’t want a heart-to-heart with a changeling ve knew nothing about.

She studied my stony face for a few seconds before sighing. “And here I was hoping the old man was wrong about just how bad it is in the motherland. Well… if it helps, my pony name is Lyra.”

It didn’t help. Twilight had mentioned a pony named Lyra when talking about Bon Bon. It seemed ve had made an error in our assumptions, but that still told us nothing about who this changeling was.

“Ve take it you feed off Bon Bon then.” A small, quick shapeshift forced my vocal chords to sound monotone. “Ve’re curious as to why you would be giving the honey away though. Your Lord would probably kill you if he saw how much concentrated love was in that candy shop."

Hooves danced over strings in a brief staccato of plucks to match her tittering. “Oh, you poor thing. You think I’m just another lord’s pawn, but my family’s been living in Equestria for at least a thousand years. I love Bon Bon and she loves me. That’s really all there is to it – unless you count our double lives as a changeling and ex-secret agent.”

I rubbed my temples. She certainly didn’t sound like a standard changeling from the Hive. She was talking more like a pony. It could have easily been an act though.

“Changelings don’t just abandon the hive like that, and if they do even the somewhat decent lords would probably make a graphic example of them. You seriously expect us to believe you aren’t working for another lord?”

She smiled lazily again. “Well… Gramps was a little lordling when he left – fresh out of the Chrysalling. The other lords didn’t take kindly to his father’s proposal that we try and broker peace, so they exiled the entire house without food or water expecting it to starve. A lot of lings did, but we managed to survive and thrive once we got here. I’m his great-great-great-so-many-greats-that-it-hurts granddaughter.”

Our mind was flashing through the history section of the archives as she continued to play.

“You won’t find anything in there~ The lords took each and every care~” Her legato voice became staccato for a second as she sung.

Ve glared at her. “Ve find it hard to believe that anyling would tamper with the archives – if that is indeed what you’re suggesting. There are some lines even the more dubious lords don’t cross.”

She shrugged. “If you want to believe that, then fine. But is it more likely that you’re the only changeling lord to ever want peace, or is it more likely that you weren’t the first and all the others were purposely erased from history?”

“Considering the lack of any precedent–” ve began.

“Considering the probability of only one ling like you ever existing – despite the uncountable billions that have lived and died over our species history…” she countered.

Ve thought about the odds. “Point. And the fact that you saved Applejack...wait, you were the one who did that, right?”

She nodded.

Ve tilted our head. “Alright then, ve will give you the benefit of the doubt for now – provided you come to the castle and talk to Twilight and us tomorrow. Convince both of us that you aren’t a threat, and you might be able to stay.”

It was a statement of generous implication, but ve didn’t have the authority to guarantee that she could stay. Ve didn’t promise she could, however. Ve only said that she might be able to. She knew that as well as ve.

“If you’ll excuse us, ve have another matter to attend to now.” It was a bit rude perhaps, but ve didn’t want to deal with the changeling in front of me right now. It would be far better to digest what she was claiming before getting invested in the details.

As I turned to go, she called out one last time. “Go on then. Gramps said you probably wouldn’t have time to talk, but I wanted to meet you anyways. I’ll be at the castle tomorrow around seven, and I’ll bring the old geezer too. Just tell Sparkles not to freak when the walking dead show up.”

I paused. “Do ve want to know what that meant?”

I could hear the grin in her response. “Nah. That would ruin the surprise for her. She might panic a bit at first, but I promise there’s a significant chance Sparkles will be jumping for joy when she gets over it.”

I finally arrived at Sweet Apple Acres to find ve had made a few mistaken assumptions. Just because farmers were stereotyped to get up and out in the fields before dawn didn’t mean it was literally true.

The orchard was currently deserted. Moving silently through the trees, ve soon came upon the Apple family home and the reason why.

The unmistakable smell of breakfast filled the air as I approached the homestead. The Apples were up all right, but they were enjoying a little time together before starting all their hard work.

Moving near the house was like walking into molasses – so heavy was the love in the air. The taste of honey and apple pie added to the heady scent of pancakes, causing my heart to feel hollow and my stomach to growl. There was more to it though. Comfort foods of all kinds trickled through the love, and for a moment images of mother flashed before my eyes. I brushed them away as fast as I could and strengthened my filter slightly. I didn’t need to see those memories. The few good ones I had of mother were far outweighed by the bad.

I made it to the front door and knocked. A slight scuffling of chairs ensued, and the sound of heavy hooves signaled the approach of somepony. The door opened to reveal the largest earth pony I had ever seen in the flesh.

He stared down at me – something I wasn’t used to even in pony form. His silent judgement made us start running the math on how much pressure he’d need to exert to squash me like a bug. The answer was in no way reassuring.

I stood there fidgeting until it became clear he wasn’t going to talk.

Clearing my throat, I tried not to stutter. “H-hello. Is Applejack home?”