Caste Off

by Thornwing

Rating: teen
Tags: Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Cutie Mark Crusaders, Slice of Life, Changelings
Length: 10498

Beaten and cast into exile, a young changeling finds that death is a lot harder to come by than one would imagine.

Beaten and cast into exile, a young changeling finds that death is a lot harder to come by than one would imagine.

Help comes from the most unlikely of sources.

Original version submitted as part of the February 2015 Writeoff - Closing Time

Cover art by Huussii

Published 2015-07-21 20:40:02 UTC
Last updated 2015-07-21 20:40:02 UTC

Caste Off

Rejected.

That would be putting it mildly.

My entire life built up to one moment, and I failed. I wasn’t prepared.

I didn’t choose this life. I was handed the role and told to play along. My failure came naturally. All part of the cycle; no more, no less.

All the learning, all my study, wasted in the blink of an eye. I was taught that one day I would lead, built and molded to that end. Nothing could hold me back, or so they said. How could I have been so stupid to believe the lies? Didn’t I know any better? I knew now, a lot of good that did me. Book learning could never equal practical knowledge when it came to combat savvy, not that I had much of either. I was nowhere near a match for her, a plaything to get tossed around until she tired of the game.

Now exiled and alone, I wished my life was over. Given the fluid leaking from my barrel, that wish would be granted soon enough. Fate is a cruel mistress, and her avatar is, or was, my Queen. Even in defeat, she showed me no mercy. For years I had trained; the ultimate shame of a lingering death rewarded my troubles. There was never any doubt. I was a fool to believe I ever had a chance. They wanted a warrior and what they got was an artist. Brush in hoof, I painted the perfect picture of naiveté. A protégé lacking the only intelligence that mattered: survival instinct.

It all came down to kill or be killed.

My trail of dripping ichor mingled with the dusty palate stretching across the wilderness. All remnant of my passing would be gone in a few hours. Even the gouge left behind from dragging my cracked leg would seal up with the evening wind.

I pushed on through the pain.

Moving kept my mind occupied. I needed something to keep from dwelling on the carrion beasts circling overhead. At least I would be dead when they commenced their feast. I couldn’t bear to think of the alternative. The remnant of my own wings hung limp at my sides, barely attached and utterly useless. Had I dared fly too high? No. I struck the mark head on; struck it hard. I gave the greatest performance I could give. It barely registered.

The forest ahead offered a small respite from the emptiness of the plain, and so I continued. Maybe one of the trees would make a nice marker for the grave of one so easily denied a life of meaning? Perhaps my body could somehow grant life where it had barely a shred of its own left? The thought inspired a small burst of will, driving me deeper into the wood. I needed to find the perfect tree, something special, but not in a good way. It had to be broken, abandoned, alive yet barely living—a tree worthy of me.

Straight ahead, I found my plot.

It took everything I had to reach the blasted trunk. Scorch marks told the story of another life shattered by the will of a higher power. Lightning struck hard, but the unscathed bark on the far side stood defiant against the blow. I couldn’t say the same for myself. My entire existence reduced to nothing more than a smudge on an insignificant page of history. I curled up in the tangle of roots beneath the half-canopy, prepared in every way for the end to come. Like so much trash, I begged for the sweet release of death’s embrace. My only purpose in life now lay in death, becoming nutrient for the tree and perhaps minimal shelter for some small beast of the wild. The cycle would continue with or without me.

I should have lived my life blissfully unaware, but I was one of the unlucky ones. I hatched a princess, the perpetuation of the greatest lie ever known, the joke of the changeling race. When a princess grows up, she’ll eventually become queen, except no one ever thought to point out that she had to survive the growing up part.

“Hello?” The blur on the edge of my vision stepped forward. I had no idea the Bringer of Death was so small.

The pain in my side swirled with the pulsing throb in my foreleg. Numbness became a welcome addition to the broken joints further down. What was left of my wings dangled off to the side, barely attached to my upper carapace. Wiry blue-gray strands of mane and tail fell where they may, and I made no attempt to adjust my posture.

I struggled to speak. “Take pity on me, Great One. Bring the end with all haste.” The words spilled out of my throat with hardly a click. My royal instruction found some use in making proper address of my guest.

“A-Alright.” The blur turned away. It paused, then turned back. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.” Without another word, it dove into the brush.

My head swam in the pain that my broken body produced. I shed a silent tear, not for the pain, but for the notion that Death herself left me to linger in agony. At the end of it all, I lay rejected by the one being who accepted all else. Was my life of so little import? Could the cold hoof of Death waste not but a moment in stamping out the last ember of life that remained within me? How long must I suffer in this mortal shell, devoid of any meaning or substance?

How long before the end?

Forever passed, and I waited in silence.

My vision dimmed. Either the light of day drifted toward evening, or else Death enjoyed toying with the fraying thread at the edge of the uninspired tapestry of my life. Both were definite possibilities.

A rustle of leaves caught my attention. Squeak and thud signaled the approach of some odd soul. I prayed it was Death come to fulfill her pledge; I lay beyond fear of some beast surveying an evening meal. Either guest was welcome in this twilight hour.

“See, I told ya!” Death’s blur popped out from behind the trunk of the next closest tree.

“You weren’t kidding!”

“Ohmygosh! Is that what I think it is?”

Apparently, Death brought friends... and a wagon.

My transportation to the other side pulled up as close as could be managed with the mesh of roots beneath my body.

“One of you hold the wagon steady while we load her up,” Death said.

“Are you sure this is safe?” the second blur asked.

“Shouldn’t we get an adult?” the third blur added.

“Look at her,” the sickly yellow hoof of Death stroked the stringy hair of my mane, “she’s hurt, and we’ve got to help. We don’t need an adult to tell us that. Now grab her legs and help me lift.”

“She’s pretty banged up.” The second blur circled around and out of sight. “Her wings… I… That doesn’t look good.”

I tilted my head back to try and address my inspector. “Remove them if they hinder your work. I do not wish to linger.”

“What?” the orange and purple minion replied. “It’s not… that bad. I’m pretty sure they’ll heal.”

“Check out her flank, girls.” A white hoof pointed at my rear. “She hasn’t got a cutie mark either!”

“I don’t think they get cutie marks,” the voice of Death answered. It was beginning to sound a lot less like Death and more like Death’s daughter. “That crack in her side and broken wings need tending to. On three.”

“Don’t forget about the broken leg,” I muttered, wanting to make sure she had a complete inventory for her ultimate accounting.

“One, two, three!” The voice cracked, and my scream joined it. Pain shot up my previously numb limb. Moving, definitely not my first choice.

Pried up from the ground, I momentarily stood on whatever legs I had left, teetering and eventually falling over the waiting conveyance. The mostly white minion did an admirable job of holding it steady through my collapse, though I fear I may have caught her hoof in my fall given her yelp.

“See, that wasn’t so hard.” Death wound the harness around her barrel. “You two help push while I pull and steer. We better hurry ‘cause I don’t want to be out here after sunset.”

“Alright.”

“Let’s go.”

Death’s minions took hold of the wagon.

“Cutie Mark Crusader Ambulance Service, GO!” Death’s cry drove off the last of the vultures waiting in the branches above.

“Wait a—”

I didn’t have time to get my question out before we lurched forward. I tried, but a red bundle of tail caught me in the face. Sputtering, I fought to remove the web-like strands from my open mouth.

Ponies. I should have known. Dwelling on the topic of death kept me oblivious to the fact I was being apprehended by the enemy.

With tremendous effort, I turned my head away. I did it somewhat to help rid my mouth of the foul taste of apple, but mainly to say a few parting words. “Farewell, tree I hardly knew. May Death offer you passage more swift than mine.” My three captors offered no heed as the distance built between us and my grave. I lacked the strength to do anything more than remain as I was.

My unpleasant voyage imparted numerous gifts. The screech of the wagon wheels traded with a jarring bump from each rock and root we overran. My fractured carapace smacked the bed with each throw and toss. A stray branch or fern leaf added humiliation to insult, striking various limbs and especially my face over and over as we drove on. As for our destination, I knew it couldn’t be far. With much more jostling, I wasn’t going to care either way.

The light of day drew to a close as we reached the other side of the actual forest. Stretching out beyond, neatly tended rows of apple trees lined the path leading to a cluster of buildings. I felt awash in a sea of apprehension as we neared the tallest structure. The stories I had heard tell left little to the imagination. Once inside the enemy compound, I couldn’t dare to dream the horrors that awaited me. To them, I was nothing more than a parasite, a disease to be eradicated. Now in the clutch of these ponies, Death seemed fun by comparison.

“Quick, open the barn doors,” the yellow one said. “We gotta get her inside before anypony sees us.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the orange one answered, moving swiftly to pry back the double red gate.

“Why are we hiding her?” the white one chirped. “I thought you said we wouldn’t get in any trouble.”

“We won’t!” The yellow one tugged forward, rolling us inside. “We’ll fix her up in here, and then we’ll take her back to the Everfree. Nopony has to know.”

“I don’t think I like that plan, Apple Bloom,” the white one said, finally exposing a name. “We should tell your sister.” I wasn’t here for intel, but I picked up what little I could as they fought over my sentence.

“Then how’re we supposed to earn our cutie marks? This is our chance to earn some really good ones, like a doctor or nurse pony would have.” Apple Bloom’s hoof hit the ground in such a way that she looked both terribly stubborn and adorable all at once.

“How long’s that gonna take?” Orange coat looked overly tired from our evening run. The tiny set of wings at her sides looked almost as bad as mine. “We can’t stay with her all night. Somepony’s going to find us, or her. Then we’ll be grounded for like, ever.”

Apple Bloom slid out of the harness. “It won’t take that long. We’ll get her some food and bandage her up. If we’re careful, we won’t get caught.”

I shuddered as the orange one leaned a hoof against my flank. Our eyes met for a moment before she spun around to face the others. “And what if we do get caught?”

“We play dumb. It’s worked before.” Miss stinky-apple tail had a point. I was pretty sure they could pull off ‘dumb’ without really trying. “She asked for our help, and I’m going to help her, no matter what.”

“I don’t recall asking for assistance,” I said, speaking to no one in particular. “Pity, yes. Help, no.”

“’Course you did.” She came around to my face. Her associates took up positions by her side. “You were all banged up and asked me to bring friends, so I did.”

“I was speaking metaphorically,” I said, tilting up and getting my first good look at my captors. “What I believe I said was that I wished you would bring ‘an end’ to my suffering.”

“Ohhhh…” The light of realization took a moment to spark with this one. “I thought you asked me to bring some friends.”

“An understandable mistake.” My head flopped back in the wagon. “Now, if you would be so kind as to find something solid—a hammer, or a pickaxe or something—I wish to get this over with.”

“What are you talking about?” miss orange hide asked.

“Nothing fancy, a nice rock will work perfectly well.” I tried to arrange myself in preparation. “I believe the torture from the ride here was sufficient. Let us proceed to the execution.” Lowering my head over the side, the target lined up properly with the fillies height. “Be careful not to strike too close to the horn. The chitin is thicker around the base.”

“Uhh, Apple Bloom?” A prodding orange hoof bumped the yellow one’s flank. “The bug’s not making any sense.”

“Are you sure she’s a bug?” The white one lifted my tail, but I let her. It’s not like I had much choice in the matter. “ I know she’s a changeling, but she kind of looks like a pony, all except for the hard, black coat, I guess. I mean, she looks more like a pony than a butterfly, right?”

The orange one lifted my hind leg. “Ponies don’t have holes in their hide.”

“Quite right,” I answered. Someone had to settle the argument or this would never end. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like a hole added to my head now. Nice and quick, and we’ll call it settled.”

“What’re ya sayin’?” Apple Bloom gave a sigh. “We’re not gonna hurt ya. We’re trying to help.”

“Why would you do a silly thing like that?” I asked. The ridiculous notion of aid from the enemy led me to believe I was merely hallucinating. If not, perhaps they intended to allow some time for me to heal so they could extend their torture before I succumb. The Queen would be jealous.

Her smile brought new concerns. “’Cause that’s what we do. We always help anypony, or, I guess, changeling, in need. We’re gonna make sure you get better, unless… You don’t plan on eating us, do you?”

Maybe they were incredibly dumb.

I laughed. “Silly pony. I am a princess, not some common beast. I have no desire to consume you. As such, your pitiful attempts to assist me do nothing but prolong my affliction. My life was over the moment I hatched from the royal egg sac.”

The white one leapt on top of the wagon. Her legs splayed to the edges, she stared straight down from above. “Wow! You’re a princess?”

“Umm, yes,” I croaked. “That’s not a good thing, if you were wondering.”

“Why not?” She hopped down and proceeded to twirl her way toward a pile of hay. “I bet you have an amazing castle with like everything you ever wanted, right?” Flopping into the pile at the end, pink and purple bobbing curls popped up with added bits of yellow stripe. “Right?”

“Not exactly.” I rolled my eyes, resigned to the task of explaining the horrible existence of a changeling princess to a bunch of flighty fillies. What had they done with their lives to be so far behind in basic studies? “The Queen rules the hive. A princess serves as fodder for her rage. Rarely would a princess deign to face the Queen and live to assume her role. Such is the way of things. I was taught otherwise in order to prop up the illusion. Up until recently, I believed the lie. This was my folly.”

“How old are you?” Apple Bloom asked.

“Does it matter? I teetered on the cusp of adulthood not knowing it meant the end of my expected life,” I replied. “Needless to say, I’m still a child.”

“You sure you aren’t all grown up, ‘cause you sure use some strange words?”

“I am certain.” The stares of the three made me wonder if perhaps I was wrong to assume what was sure to me only moments ago. My formal training was extensive, but I had been lied to before. “I came of age two days prior.”

“You mean, like, a birthday?”

“You might call it that.” I regarded her term and sought to find understanding of its significance. “As a princess, I spent every waking moment of my life preparing to one day become queen, the same as my sisters. On the last solar anniversary of my hatching, I came of age. In retrospect, it was not something to look forward to.”

“Did you get any presents?” The white one shook out her mane and trotted over to join the others.

“As you can see, I received many.” The slow drip from my side seemed to have congealed, but my wings and foreleg remained inoperable. The fillies examined my broken form before responding.

“Your friends beat you up?” Orange fur’s eyes opened wide. “On your birthday!?”

“That’s how it works, and I wouldn’t exactly call them my friends.” I could see my words made little impact in bringing the point across. “When a princess reaches maturity, she must challenge the Queen. If the Queen is weak, it is the duty of the princess to strike her down and take her place. Our Queen is not weak. Perhaps one of my sisters will one day prevail, but I know that won’t be for a very long time. I was a fool to believe any different.”

“Your mother did this!?” Curly mane looked furious.

“Yes. It was expected. I played my part.” I shied away, turning my head to peer out the upper window at the risen moon. “What I did not expect was for her to let me live. She must have been in a particularly horrible mood not to tear my head from my shoulders and gorge on my entrails. Instead, she mocked my very existence by striking me down before turning me away from the hive. Life intact and body broken, I crossed the plain, slunk into the forest, and prepared to die. Her cruel laugh haunts me even now.”

“That’s… That’s terrible!” Apple Bloom squealed. “I can’t believe she would do that. To her own daughter!”

“Apple Bloom!” another voice called from outside.

“Quick! Hide her!”

The three fillies charged the wagon. In seconds, they hoisted me up and carried me to the hay. Apple Bloom tore a blanket off a nearby stall rail and tossed it over my head. It smelled like apples. I don’t particularly like apples. Regardless, it was warm. The soft hay eased the painful burden of my side while somehow relieving the pressure in my leg. I couldn’t feel my wings, so they didn’t matter. Two lumps lay across the covering, pinning me down.

Tucked away, protected by these unlikely captors, I strained to hear the conversation that continued a few yards from where I lay.

“I’ll be right in,” Apple Bloom said. “Just let me say goodnight to my friends.”

“Alright, sugarcube,” the new voice replied. “You look like you’ve had a long day. Say goodnight, and come in for supper.”

Two lumps slid off the blanket. I should have felt pain. Instead, the warmth of the cover fed comfort to my weary soul. An orange hoof pulled back the corner draping my head. I jerked slightly as the fabric caught my horn. The shaft was singed from my brief battle, but the structure remained intact, unlike the rest of me.

“Sorry,” the timid voice said.

“No harm done,” I answered, my vision opening up on the trio once again.

Their leader looked back over her shoulder. “Scootaloo, grab a bucket and fill it with water. Sweetie Belle, grab another bucket and get some apples. I’ll keep a lookout.”

The two fillies nodded and scampered off to their assigned tasks before I could protest. What I wouldn’t give for a sip of sweet nectar right now. I struggled with the thought that these ponies meant to offer me aid. Cool refreshment of any sort seemed beyond my grasp, yet here I was, about to partake. “I could do without the apples, never really cared for them.” Rotten and smelly cores reminded me too much of home.

The filly just shook her head. A mischievous grin spread across her muzzle. “You’ve never tried a Sweet Apple Acres apple then, have you?”

I grimaced a smile in return. “Can’t say I’ve had much else than the leftover scraps from the Queen’s table. If I was lucky enough to find an apple, it was probably only the stem or the seeds.”

“Then just sit tight, ‘cause you’re in for a treat.” Apple Bloom stepped aside with her friends depositing their haul at my feet. “Sorry we can’t stay the night. I asked if everyone could sleep over, but my sister said no. We’ll be back tomorrow to check on you. Try and stay outta sight in the hay. You should be safe in the barn.”

I nodded. “Should I survive the night, I look forward to seeing you on the morrow.” I wasn’t sure why I said that. Meeting with the enemy, no matter how accommodating, should not result in a desire to continue the encounter. The prospect of death shifted slightly in favor of living, but I remained far from convinced.

The trio moved off leaving me to my meal. I overheard talk of bandages and wing care while scoping out the pails set before me. Unable to move much more than my neck, I considered asking further assistance. Weighing my magic reserves, I quickly set aside the notion. The girls shuffled out the door, shutting me in for the night in what should rightly have been called my cage. That thought fell away as well. This place already felt more like home than the hive. Warm, safe, inviting, a meal spread before me that wasn’t the leftover trappings of a glutinous Queen—perhaps I could spare living one more night.

My horn alight, a steady stream of liquid rose from the first bucket, gliding its way toward my waiting mouth. After consuming nearly all the water, I paused. The apples from the second bucket looked fresh, their skin unbroken and flesh intact. Never in my life had I taken the first bite. That privilege always fell to the Queen whenever the opportunity presented. Could I even try? I quickly raised an apple to my mouth and sunk my fangs deep into the soft flesh. The juice erupted over my tongue and my mouth exploded with joy. I drew in the nectar, savoring every swallow. The first one drained, I tore into the next. Soon, the bucket sat empty; my belly full for the first time in forever.

Swimming in the wonder of sensation swirling through my body, I couldn’t help but ponder on the reality of my situation. The only logical solution was that I had already slipped the mortal coil. This had to be what death felt like. It wasn’t possible that any shred of my true life remained. How could it be, that after all these years, I felt more acceptance from these young fillies than from any of my own kind? I must be dead already, or dreaming of it in the waning minutes of life.

Gliding on those gentle waves of peaceful thought, I trailed off to sleep.

A dream within a dream opened before my eyes. I knew it was a dream from the light pink fur spread across my flanks, sliding down my legs, and cropping up against a gleaming set of hooves. Tricolored hair draped over my eyes in shades of light purple and red flanking a swath of moderate fuchsia. A red bow in my mane complemented the larger wrap circling my middle and again around my foreleg. My reflection smiled back from a ring of mirrored surfaces. Forgotten were my horn and wings. In this moment, I felt something new. At first I was scared, trapped in a form I didn’t know. Then, it started coming into focus. The warmth and light of the space filled me with comfort and hope. I was… happy.

A sudden burst of light filled the room. Three little fillies drew back in awe. I looked back toward my tail, the same colors as my mane proudly swaying there in steady rhythm. On my rump, three little hearts of orange, yellow and white filled the flat space. Smiles and hugs followed a moment later. In that moment, I felt complete. No more holes. No more gaps.

No sooner had the joy of that moment filled my heart, I felt it shatter. Shards of pain returned. Darkness swept over my companions. I raised my head to meet the layering green glow from two slits hovering a few feet above. A crooked horn above dripped a splash of acid which poured down over me, eating away at my colorful mane and fur. Only the acrid stench of flesh melting into chitin filled my nostrils. I thrashed at the venom as it slowly consumed me. My hooves rang hollow against the solid carapace enveloping my core.

I lay in the dark, mingling with the shadow once again. The buffeting echo of that monstrous laugh seized my ears. I cried out in response, “No! Leave me, foul creature! Let me change!”

I woke with a start. The light of the sun shone down through the loft, warming the spot where I lay. It wasn’t far from the haystack where I began the night’s dream. I raised my good leg up to block the glare. Once again, and as always, the light filtered through the empty spaces dotting the lower end.

The door creaked open.

I turned to find myself completely exposed. Safety beneath the blanket or in the haystack itself was too far off to even consider. My injured foreleg barely responded before a shooting pain flooded my head. I watched helplessly as the door swung open, revealing my nakedness to the outside world.

Apple Bloom quickly jumped inside, gently shutting the door behind. “Shhh,” she whispered. “My sister’s close by. She can hear when you yell like that.”

She hopped to my side and drove her head under my neck. With my good leg draped over her shoulder, she hauled me back to my pile of hay.

I opened my mouth to thank her, but she held a hoof against it turning back toward the door. She quickly dropped to the side and scooped up the blanket. With ease, she heaved it over my body, the door swinging open in nearly the same moment.

“Apple Bloom?” the voice from last night asked. “Where’d you run off to?”

“I’m right here, sis.” The shuffle of tiny hooves beat a hasty retreat from my position. “Just checking the stores.”

“Good. I need your help in the fields this morning. We’ve got a lot of planting to do.”

“Alright, I’ll get my seed bags and meet you out there.”

“Okay, but don’t keep me waiting.”

The clop of much larger hooves faded into the distance. The smaller ones came racing back toward me. Figuring the coast was clear, I poked my head out from under the blanket. Apple Bloom had already retrieved the water bucket and made quick work of getting it filled. Another bucket of ripe, delicious apples soon made for a lovely breakfast pairing.

“I gotta go help my sister in the fields. The others should come by as soon as they gather the stuff they’re supposed to get.” Apple Bloom turned to leave, but tilted her head back around. “Sorry if you don’t like the apples. It’s kind of all I got.”

“The apples are amazing, and I appreciate everything you’ve done for me,” I said, holding back on the tears from the mix of pain and gratitude. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I should be grateful for her help. Everything she did just postponed the inevitable. Why wasn’t I mad? Maybe I should call for her sister and put an end to all of this right now. I froze looking into those eyes, smiling back at me with a grin so cheerful and eager to serve that I couldn’t break their hold on my heart.

“I’ll try and make it quick, but I can’t promise anything.” She ran for the far end of the barn and slipped on a pair of small packs before zipping straight past my bed and out the door.

Again, I was alone. Even so, the same feeling as last night swept over me. That warm glow spread through my core and radiated out from there. The pain melted away as I took in a draught of fresh juice. I ate slowly, savoring each moment. Lifting my broken leg, I barely noticed a difference. I certainly couldn’t move anything below the knee, but it no longer hurt. My magic felt stronger now than before my short-lived battle with the Queen. I could feel something taking hold of me, and I didn’t want it to let go.

With my breakfast consumed, the hours crawled by. I attempted a short walk to the far end of the barn, but only got as far as the next stall before my body gave out. Apparently it takes more than euphoria to mend a broken carapace. The crack in my side oozed a bit when I moved. My leg did the same if I tried to apply pressure. My lofty goal of a cross room trek fell back to a few steps forward followed by a painful retreat. I curled up on the hay and waited for the fillies to return.

Back in the hive, I imagined how life kept on going without me. Of course it would. It wasn’t like I filled a vital role there. I thought of my sisters, a dozen or more just like me, who waited their turn to be dispatched by the Queen. I pictured each face as they learned of their fate on the receiving end of a horn blast. The drones would have their work cut out for them, cleaning the splatter off the wall. Perhaps one or two of the mindless workers would join my next sister in line should they fail to find food for dinner. How could I not see it before? Even though I escaped a death sentence, the life of a fugitive—or worse yet, a pet—tempered my enthusiasm for what lay ahead for me.

In the middle of my daydream, a bump of the big door quickly change my focus. To my surprise, it wasn’t a pony that entered through the crack in the frame. A four-legged beast, even smaller than a filly, poked its head around the corner. I tried my best to remain still, the blanket barely covering my back end. It turned its head; it saw me.

My heart thumped within my chest as we stared at one another. What might have passed for a smile pursed its muzzle, tongue lolling out as if trying to taste the tension between us. Was it dangerous? Would it alert others? I just sat there watching and waiting for whatever would happen next.

The tiny beast moved slowly to the far side of the room, turning every few steps to cast a glance back on me. When it found what it wanted on a shelf across from my haystack, it took the object it its mouth and made its way forward. The closer it got, the more I could feel the pounding in my chest. When it arrived, it dropped a bundle of cloth right in front of me.

I blinked. This animal stared at me with a pair of beady little eyes and barked. The noise startled me more than I care to admit. It lowered its front to point the end of its muzzle at the cloth bundle, and then got up to run a small circle before barking once again. It made too much noise to ignore. I had to respond before it attracted the attention of the ponies. In my magic grasp, I picked up the bundle and tossed it away, hoping to distance myself from this nuisance.

The beast scurried off after the cloth, only to return a moment later with the bundle in its mouth, depositing it right back in front of me. I stared at it. The animal barked again. I picked up the cloth and flung it further. Again, the beast returned. Our game repeated several times, until finally, I flung the cloth bundle into the rafters. The beast tipped its head, moved in close, and gave me a lick before lying down by my side. What started off as a nuisance actually grew on me. Much to my continuing surprise, I didn’t mind the company. We spent the rest of the morning together, tucked under a dusty old blanket, snuggled into a haystack, in a barn, on a farm, a long way from the hive, but closer than I’d ever come to home.

I’d lost track of time by the arrival of the first of my captors. The white one, whose name I’m pretty sure is Sweetie Belle, hopped through the half open door to the greeting of my little companion barking up a storm. “Winona!” She furrowed her brow and quickly chased the noise maker outside, shutting the door behind. “Silly dog. I wonder how he got in here?”

“Apple Bloom must have left the door unlatched when she left this morning,” I said.

“I hope he didn’t cause any problems. Did you hide alright?”

“Actually, we played for a while, and then he decided to keep me company up until you arrived.” I patted the spot of hay matted down with the animal’s imprint. The warmth of his body could still be felt.

“Not sure if that’s such a good thing. I better check with Apple Bloom and see if there’s a better place we can hide you. If the dog can find you here, it won’t be long before Applejack comes sniffing around. At this rate, we’ll be grounded before sunset.”

“Why are you helping me?” I asked, the question right on the tip of my tongue. “By the sound of things, you’re risking quite a lot should you be found out. Why would you help me when it is clear that your elders would not? Don’t you fear reprisal?”

The filly paused and gave me a curious stare. “Isn’t helping the right thing to do?”

“You tell me.”

She walked a little closer and dropped the bags she was carrying right about where the dog’s bundle first dropped. “At first I was scared, seeing that you’re a changeling and everything. All I know about your kind is that you can look like a pony and suck the life out of anything you find. But that’s not right. You’re different; you’re not like that. You might be a good liar, or I might be crazy, but in the end, I know that being a friend to someone in need is what my sister would do, and that’s what I’m doing.”

I sat there taking in her words. What she knew of my race wasn’t far from the truth. I was, in fact, an anomaly. Perhaps my own view of ponies was wrong as well. If there were others like Sweetie Belle and her friends, my instruction could have been even further off than mark than I thought. At least we didn’t see each other as enemies. “We’re more alike than either of us could have ever known.”

Sweetie Belle nodded and began to dig through her pack. Short strips of cloth in all manner of colors fell to the ground while she fought to draw out one particularly long purple piece. Having accomplished the task, her face quickly changed to a smile.

“I guess we can start with your leg,” Sweetie Belle said, eying my cracked flank. “We’ll have to wait for the others on the big one.” She gathered up a number of smaller swatches and laid them out side by side. “What’s your favorite color?”

I looked over the assortment. The question had never been asked of me. “I don’t think I have a favorite color, unless you count black. Pretty much everything is black where I come from. Which do you like?”

“Hmm…” She bit her lip and stroked her chin. “Let’s try white. It’s pretty much the opposite of black, but I think it works for this.”

“Okay,” I said, nodding my head and extending my leg as carefully as I could. Before I could blink, my cannon sported a lovely white bow. I didn’t even feel a thing. “Thank you,” I added, my lip quivering in the anti-climax.

Sweetie blushed. “You don’t need to thank me.”

I didn’t have time to correct her as the door creaked open again. I did my best to dive beneath the blanket, and Sweetie Belle did the rest. In another moment, she pulled back the blanket and smiled. “It’s just Scootaloo. We’re okay.”

The orange filly approached, a frown hung across her muzzle. “Sorry I’m late. I couldn’t find what I was looking for.”

“That’s okay, Scootaloo.” Sweetie Belle dropped into a short hug with her friend which seemed to pass some of the cheer to the one in need of it. “I could still use your help to get the big bandage on… umm… I’m sorry. I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s alright. I don’t have a name.” I tried to hold a smile as two fillies’ jaws dropped. “The only one with a name is the Queen. She gets to choose it when she assumes the throne. The rest of the drones, or princesses, don’t matter, so we don’t have names.”

“Doesn’t that get confusing?” Scootaloo asked.

“It’s actually quite simple,” I replied. “You are either a drone, a princess, or the Queen. It’s really not that complicated.”

“Yeah, but how do you tell each other apart?” Sweetie Belle asked.

“We don’t.” It felt good to have such a simple answer to give. “The drones can’t really think for themselves, so they don’t care, and princesses don’t live long enough for it to matter, as I recently discovered. If one does, she’s the new queen, and she picks out a name for herself.”

“So what should we call you?” Scootaloo cracked a smile.

“I-I don’t know,” I stammered. “You’re sort of putting me on the spot here. Maybe if you give me some time, I can think of something?” The thought of giving myself a name hadn’t occurred to me. Much like everything that had happened since I was tossed out of the hive, I broke new ground with every step I took.

“Sorry.” She drew away. “It’s just weird to have a friend without a name.”

A friend? Is that what she called me? The thought hadn’t really occurred to me that I was anything more than a captive. Was that how they saw me? As a friend? “I’ll try and think of a good one. When I have it, I’ll be sure and let you know.” The warm glow swelled inside me. Magic poured from my horn and swept down my neck.

The fillies looked scared and fell back. I reached out toward them. “What’s wrong?” The return stares and pointing hooves led me to examine myself. I ran my good foreleg across my cheek and down my neck. The soft touch of fur brushed against the slick chitin of my leg. It felt amazing. Never before had I considered that the touch of fur would fill me with anything other than fear or anger. Fur was a facade to masquerade in while infiltrating behind enemy lines. I had never donned a disguise, the magic was forbidden for any princess to learn.

I reached back to feel how far the changes went, but stopped short when the pain in my side returned in full force. I winced and the others rushed forward. Scootaloo hauled me up. Lifting my barrel off the ground, she balanced my forward half across her back. Sweetie Belle wasted no time in slipping the long purple strip around my middle while tying off the ends in another lovely bow.

Gently, Scootaloo lowered me to my bed and Sweetie Belle drew the blanket back over my hind quarters. I took several deep breaths before nodding my head and giving thanks. “I don’t deserve any of this. By all rights, I should be dead. In spite of the pain, I don’t think I’ve ever felt more alive than I do right now. Thank you both; thank you all.” The third member of their group slid in behind.

“Oh good, you’re both here.” Apple Bloom barely made a sound slipping into the barn practically undetected. “And… wow… that’s new! Pink, huh? I see you got the bandages too. Did we find out anything about setting a broken wing?”

“Nope,” Scootaloo answered, kicking at the ground and failing to make eye contact. “Everypony I asked just looked at me weird. Even Twilight got all flustered and wanted to take me to the hospital when I brought it up. All I needed was a book or something. I was sure she’d have one lying around like she always does.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Not only had these three fillies rescued me from death’s doorstep, but they truly risked the wrath of their fellow ponies in helping me recover. Conflicted best summed up the thoughts in my head. On the one hoof, this was the enemy. On the other, I had nothing else left, no family, no one.

“It’s alright,” I said, smiling the biggest smile I could manage. “My wings don’t hurt. In fact, I don’t really care if they ever heal.” I sort of expected the reaction that comment garnered. A mixture of odd stares and horrified glares spoke volumes. “If you’ll allow, let me try something else.”

The trio gave each other sideways glances, but they soon turned and nodded their approval.

I laid back and focused as hard as I ever had. Slowly, the magic began to flow from my horn, spreading over my body like a warming breeze. The feeling was unlike anything I had ever experienced. As a princess, I wasn’t allowed to practice the shape-shifting or illusionary magic arts. The Queen forbade its use by any daughter of the court. Those rules no longer applied to me. I had seen it done countless times. Without any practice, however, I wasn’t sure I would get it right.

I gazed down in awe as a pale pink coat crept over my black exterior. Holding up my foreleg, the holes borne on the tip sealed up into fuzzy pink tufts reaching down to my shiny new hooves. I could feel the explosion of color as my new tail burst out replacing the old, dingy blue. The magic rolled down my neck and across my back, bright colored hair spilling out of my soft, warming hide. Last of all, a tri-colored swath of hair covered my eyes. The changes complete, I closed my eyes and basked in the glow.

Three little fillies threw themselves on me. Their giggles filled my ears and drew away the last notes of pain in my side.

“You’re a pony!” Apple Bloom shouted.

“You look just like us!” Sweetie Belle squealed.

“That’s totally awesome!” Scootaloo cheered.

I hugged the trio with all the strength I could muster. My tears were tears of joy. No longer did I feel the lingering pain of death’s touch reaching out to drag me down. All I felt was the love of my new friends lifting me up. They saw me as a pony—a pony just like them—someone unique, not simply another copy of a changeling princess or drone.

The hug parted and the trio rose to stand. The tears in my eyes might have had something to do with it. Even though I felt whole, they still feared for my injuries. I rolled over and steadied my new hooves underneath. I tapped the former broken leg to the ground, testing a little weight, but it felt fine.

In one smooth motion, I rose up and tossed my new mane over my shoulder. A large clump of hair promptly fell across my face. I jerked back and forth to try and get it to lie flat, to no avail. Apple Bloom chuckled at the sight and stepped forward. Taking the bow from her own head, she ran the red ribbon through my mane, drawing back the hair from my face. She gave it one final loop before securing it with a knot, thus completing my new look.

She stepped back, taking in the view with Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle at her sides. I could feel my little heart filling to the point of overflowing with gratitude. A feeling so foreign in my life, love warmed me with a light from within. I wanted this feeling to go on forever. I wished from the depths of my soul that it would. A flash and three squealing fillies later, I knew this was only the beginning.

The door swung open.

“What’s going on in here?” The voice from before now had an orange mare to go with it. “Who’s this little filly?”

“We can explain!” Apple Bloom fell to the ground, her hoof raised in plea to her sister.

“It’s not what you think!” Scootaloo joined a moment later.

“Don’t hurt her, please!” Sweetie Belle completed the trio of groveling fillies.

“Now why would I do that?” The mare stepped forward. My muzzle barely reached her shoulder. “What’s your name, missy?”

I looked up into the sparkling green eyes staring down at me. I felt a twinge of fear, but steadied myself to answer. “I’ve never had a real name, ma'am.” I glanced over at my friends, each popping their heads up and turning their ears to hear my trembling voice. “But thanks to your sister and her friends, I think I've found one I like. Please, call me Mended Heart.”

“Hmm…” The orange pony with the hat rubbed at her chin. “That name don’t sound familiar. Are you from around here? Where’re your parents at?”

I cowered a little lower. “My mother drove me from my home. Alone, I wandered across the wilderness. I had nothing until these three came to my aid deep within the forest. Through their generosity, kindness, and love, the holes in my heart have been filled, and I stand before you today, a changed pony, no longer a nameless changeling princess.”

“Changeling!?” The fire ignited in those deep green eyes. I shrank in terror from the beast I had inadvertently unleashed. “Scootaloo, run get Twilight—NOW! Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle—inside the house, GO! I'll take care of the bug!”

“But, sis—”

“Not a single word! MOVE!”

I cowered on the spot. Nothing remained of the princess I was. My horn, my wings, my whole life—not that any of that mattered—all of it gone. My friends burst into tears, and I joined them in that respect. I watched as they left the barn, some slow and one fast. I tried to catch one last glimpse as they turned past the door, but my attempt met the wrathful glare of Apple Bloom’s sister.

My dream unfolded before my natural eyes. All of it coming true, just as I witnessed before.

It didn’t take long for another pony to join. The one called ‘Twilight’, a princess in her own right, brought all the questions, and I replied as best I could.

“You admit to being a changeling?”

“Yes.”

“And you refuse to drop the illusion?”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t, or you won’t?”

“Even if I wanted to, which I don’t, I can’t. My magic won’t respond. I don’t even have a horn anymore.” I tried to summon my magic but nothing remained.

“Changeling magic is illusionary in nature. It’s clearly masked beneath your spell. Why are you lying about not having a horn?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t allowed to study shape-shifting magic, so I’m not exactly sure how this works.”

“How is that? You’re obviously not a drone. Why would a changeling queen not understand the basic concepts of changeling magic?”

“I’m not a queen. I used to be a princess, though.”

“A princess?”

“Yeah… Not a drone. Not a queen. Sort of a fall back in case we ever need a new queen, but really nothing else. There’s a whole bunch of us.”

“Interesting…”

I looked up from the ground which I had thoroughly examined over the course of the last several minutes. Twelve small pebbles, eight blades of hay, dirt; I could probably relate the size, length, and color of each speck should it ever be required. The unflinching green eyes of the orange mare remained locked on target: me. Twilight paced across the barn, muttering to herself.

“Ah ha!” The Princess turned and signaled to my jailer. “Applejack, take a step back. I’m going to try a little magic.”

“Whatever you say, Twilight.” Applejack snarled. “You just give the word though, and I’ll buck this little bug clear out of Equestria.”

“Just give me a clear shot.” Twilight’s horn ignited. Applejack backed away.

I braced for impact, knowing full well what was coming. I could already smell the fur burning away from my black undercoat. Closing my eyes, I tried to maintain one last image of the pony I wished I could remain forever. Like all my other wishes, it was never meant to be.

The crackle of magic washed over me like a tidal wave. I didn’t budge. A couple of birds peering down from the rafters took flight, but I remained rooted in place.

I opened my eyes.

With a sniff, my furry pink muzzle tasted the air. It didn’t taste right. I should be smelling the acidic burn from re-exposed chitin painfully overtaking my fur. All I could smell were apples. They smelled good.

Twilight looked just as shocked as I felt. She picked up her hooves and cautiously made her way forward. “That was my most powerful revealing spell. It should have destroyed all form of illusion.” Circling around, she took in the sight from every angle. With a discerning eye, she poured over every inch of my pink, furry body.

After what felt like an eternity under her gaze, she stopped. Reaching out, she lay a hoof against my flank. The warm glow returned, bubbling to the surface and throbbing out from each tiny heart. She gasped. “I don’t understand.” Her hoof dropped to the ground, and she resumed her pacing.

“Could I ask a small favor?” I said.

“Depends on the favor,” Applejack answered.

“It’s not much. All I ask is that you allow me to say goodbye to my friends before you execute me.” The words felt like razors slicing up from my throat. “I need to say ‘thank you’ one last time.”

“What do you mean?” Twilight asked. She stopped her pacing and took a few steps toward me.

“I want to say thanks to the fillies that fixed me.” I raised my head and directed my plea at the Princess. “I was broken, and they patched the holes in my heart. It’s because of them that I know what it feels like to be loved. Just let me say goodbye, and I’ll go quietly.”

“Applejack,” Twilight turned her attention away from me, “bring the girls in, please.”

“But…” Applejack drew back. “She’s a changeling! Shouldn't we keep the girls out of this?”

Twilight smiled and spread out her wings. With a flap, she lifted off the ground. Her horn took on a glow, and the stars on her flank sparkled, emitting a light that danced around the barn interior.

“Whoa now…” Applejack scooted forward. The apples on her flank beamed a bright red, shining their own light and not merely reflecting Twilight’s glow.

I felt a familiar warmth spread through my flank. My own little hearts danced and sang adding three more colors to the surroundings.

Twilight’s glow subsided and she floated down. Smiling directly at me, she tipped her head giving a nod of acceptance. “I don’t know how it happened, but this little filly is one hundred percent pony. Her cutie mark is irrefutable proof of that.”

“Well, I’ll be,” Applejack said, shaking her head. “What’s the deal with that spell, Twi?”

Twilight gave a little giggle. “I’ve been doing some research into one of the least understood fields of Equestrian magic: cutie mark magic.”

“What do you mean?” Applejack looked a little confused, and I found myself even more lost than usual. “Everypony knows you get your cutie mark when you discover that special something that makes you who you are.”

“That’s not all,” Twilight replied. “A cutie mark is a special kind of pony magic. Unlike a unicorn horn, pegasus wings, or earth pony hooves, it’s something that all ponies have in common, and something that makes each one of us unique. It’s one of our most powerful magics.”

Applejack rubbed her chin. “So how’d a changeling end up with one?”

“That’s a very good question.” Twilight approached and lifted a hoof to my bow giving it a bit of a tease. “I believe she tapped into her changeling magic in such a way that she actually became a real pony. In doing so, she discovered who she was truly meant to be. Cutie mark magic took care of the rest.”

“I can’t take credit for any of that,” I said. “It was all my friends’ doing.”

Twilight smiled down at me. “Applejack, would you mind fetching the girls now. I’m sure they would love to see their new friend.”

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” Applejack replied.

“I believe I just did,” Twilight said.

Applejack blushed, then nodded, and finally trotted away.

“Are you sure we’re not in trouble?” A floppy, red mane poked out from behind Applejack. Two other heads and three bouncy tails followed.

“On the contrary,” Twilight said, “I believe some awards are in order. I’ll have to clear it with Princess Celestia, but I see four little fillies that I think deserve the title ‘Honorary Princess’.”

“Four?” I asked.

“Of course,” Twilight replied. “You all played a part in one of the most amazing displays of friendship I have ever seen. It isn’t every day you find a changeling who becomes a pony who gets her own cutie mark. All of you deserve some recognition for that.”

“I don’t think I ever want to be a princess again, honorary or not.” I ran forward and dove into the embrace of my friends. “I’m happy just being a pony.”

Applejack slid away from us and stood next to Twilight. “I don’t know about awards, but we’re gonna have to figure out some more permanent arrangements for the new addition. I don’t want her sleeping in the barn.”

“I don’t think I wanna be a princess either,” Apple Bloom said over my shoulder as we hugged. “How about you let us have a sleepover instead?”

“How about I do you one better?” Twilight replied. “Let’s go back to the castle and celebrate like princesses. You can all stay the night as well. We’ll worry about who’s staying where after we talk to Celestia.”

“Princess castle birthday party! Hooray!” Sweetie Belle cheered.

Scootaloo finished her hug and smiled at me. “Only a few days late, but you gotta be a kid while you still can, right?”

“Wait a minute,” Applejack said. “You’re just a child?”

“Yes,” I answered plainly, following with more detail. “I just barely came of age according to the recent edict of the Queen. The ten year anniversary of my hatching was only three days ago.”

“You're only ten?” Twilight dropped back into thinking mode. “That means, your magic wouldn't have fully matured...”

“I guess.” I really had nothing to base my understanding on other than what I had been taught, which I now knew to be a lie. It’s not like every princess could grow up to one day become queen, even though they taught us all the same.

“I think I see what’s going on here.” Twilight draped a foreleg across my shoulder. “The Queen is eliminating her competition before they grow powerful enough to really challenge her. She’s weak after her defeat in Canterlot, so she’s not taking any chances.”

“All I know is what I’ve been told, but that would explain the sudden shift in coming-of-age requirements.” It felt kind of awkward to think back to my former life. At this point, I wanted to forget it ever happened. All the training to become Queen had been a lie geared toward keeping up the pretense of order in the hive.

“You poor thing.” Twilight wrapped me up in a hug complete with a wing surround. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

“Don’t be,” I said. The gentle embrace touched my soul. A mother’s love should feel like this, not at all something I was accustomed to. “All that matters now is that I’m here, and I have friends for the first time in my life. I couldn’t be happier.”

“I’m sorry too,” Applejack said. “It’s not everyday you find a changeling foal in your barn that isn’t trying to invade the kingdom.”

I shook my head, curls bobbing before my eyes. “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about me at all,” I replied. “The changeling part of me is gone, and all that’s left is what you see. I know the change is real because for the first time ever, I can feel it in my heart. This is who I’m meant to be.”

I sat back and started to remove my bandages. The broken chitin had dissolved into my new body already healed. I no longer felt the pain of a broken leg, cracked barrel, or twisted wings. I sort of missed the wings, and also my magic, but they were a small price to pay for all I had gained. With a little help from Twilight, the knotted wraps came free. First, the white from my leg which I handed to Sweetie Belle. Next, the purple from my barrel which I handed to Scootaloo. As I reached for my mane and the large red bow atop my head, a yellow hoof rose to stop me.

“You can keep that. We’ll call it a birthday gift.”

I smiled and rose to my new hooves. “Thank you, Apple Bloom, and thank you all.”

We had a bit of a giggle and finished with a big group hug. I stepped away from the group and took in a deep breath. Five smiling faces looked back. The hive was a distant memory and fading fast. My future looked brighter than ever. Maybe fate had this planned all along.

“Shall we get a move on then?” Applejack held the door.

"Certainly," I said.

Twilight led the way, and we took to the road.

Walking out into the open, I soaked in the golden rays of sun. With every step I took, I felt stronger, more alive. The sweet smell of apples wafted all around, and the birds sang a cheerful song from the trees. I could tell my life as a pony would be a lot different than my life as a princess. Knowing that every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end, I closed the book on my old life and opened up to the first page of the new one before me.

A life without friends was certainly not one worth living. I’d learned that the hard way. Perhaps one day I could share that lesson with the Queen. For now, it felt good to be alive. It felt even better to finally belong.

Author's Note

First off, yes, I know that the cover art is supposed to be Chrysalis. Changeling queens all look the same - shouldn't be a big deal, I hope. :unsuresweetie:

Anyway, I'm finally getting around to updating a few stories from my Writeoff entries for general publication. This was one of my favorites based on topic alone. Some people may not like the tone, it gets a bit purple, but I felt the character had the voice and maturity of an adult even in a child's body. If it bothers you, try and read the story from the perspective of looking back on this moment twenty years down the line. I tried writing it more juvenile, but it just didn't work for me.

The other thing people may not like is the Mary-Sue type, love and friendship rainbow ending. Sorry if that disappoints anyone looking for the morose vibe carrying though. Horizon went so far as to post this picture

in his review of the original. I died laughing when I saw it. Funniest thing I've ever seen attributed to one of my stories.

The whole point with this story is to show how someone's life can be changed by a simple act of kindness. A hand held out to lift someone up at a critical time means everything to the one needing help even when they don't think they need it. We may not think we have an impact on others, but it's the little things that can make a huge difference. Doing the right thing, even when it's not popular, is also something to take away from this. We should never be afraid to act when it's the right thing to do.

Show your support and toss a like or a fav up there if you agree. As always, I love reading comments, so keep those coming as well.

They'll be more coming up, so follow along if you want to get notified when I publish something new.