The Stranger Among Friends

by PhycoKrusk

Rating: everyone
Tags: Drama, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Alternate Universe, Changelings, Original Character, Main 6
Length: 8805

Having revealed himself to Rarity, Driftwood the changeling is brought by the Royal Guard to Hoofington, where Princess Twilight Sparkle will decide how to handle his case.

Changelings have lived in Equestria for a long time, and have survived by staying hidden and keeping their existence a secret.

Driftwood of Portside, a changeling long residing there in disguise, broke that cardinal rule of secrecy when he met Rarity of Ponyville. When the Royal Guard discovered him, her intervention change his fate, sending him towards Ponyville by way of Hoofington rather than to Canterlot, as her involvement would mean that Princess Twilight Sparkle would be personally interested.

Driftwood is not a pony, and Equestrian law does not have provisions or allowances for changelings. He is a stranger in unknown country, and his fate is beyond his control, resting squarely with those who may have no reason to care what becomes of him.

Cover art has once again been provided by goshhhh.

Published 2017-01-30 14:40:01 UTC
Last updated 2017-02-08 15:38:24 UTC

Change

It was shortly before dawn when the train from Portside slowly rolled into Hoofington Station, the seemingly sedate pace belying the uncertainty on board.

It was not Rarity Unicorn of Ponyville whom was chiefly suffering from uncertainty, although notes of it did tug on her senses; she personally, after all, had very little to be uncertain about. Neither was any one part of the cohort of 30 ponies of the Royal Guard aboard the train with her that were chiefly suffering from uncertainty; they would disembark at the Hoofington platform, likely for a day’s leave, and then would be off to Canterlot to be sent somewhere else. This left, naturally, the single earth pony pacing up and down the aisle between benches to chiefly suffer from uncertainty; his future had surely been written, but was covered by so much chalk dust that it was impossible to see.

Rarity took a moment — turning her attention from her sketchpad, still the focus of a vicious assault of designs and fancies — to regard this pony. He was familiar to her by this point, from his dark brown coat and light blonde mane with a tinging of orange — like cherry and sandalwood left in the sun respectively — to his viridian eyes and mark of a tree branch riding a gentle wave. Because he was familiar to her, and because she knew he was uncertain, and because she knew exactly why, she frowned slightly as she watched him.

“You’re hiding from me again,” she finally said to the pony pacing in the aisle, in truth a changeling in disguise.

The changeling, Driftwood of Portside, stopped pacing and shifted his hooves. “I’m not,” he said. “I’m not trying to, at least. It’s just that there’s nothing to be done for any of this. It’s better if I don’t worry.”

“You certainly don’t look like you aren’t worried. You’ll wear a row into the floor if you keep pacing like that,” Rarity replied. She shifted towards the windows, freeing more of the bench she was seated on, and tapped the space next to her with her hoof. Driftwood stared at it for a few moments, but finally took a seat and heaved a heavy sigh.

“Changelings have to be adaptable to survive. I’ve been living in Portside for so long, I think I’ve forgotten how,” said Driftwood, eyes cast towards the floor.

“Somehow, I just can’t envision it,” Rarity remarked, laying a hoof atop Driftwood’s shoulder. “A changeling who can’t change! The very thought.”

When Rarity giggled, Driftwood gave her a cross look, although it did not wipe away her smile. “Oh, don’t dwell on it, dearheart. You’re both bright and quick-witted. Soon enough you’ll remember how to adapt to new experiences and wonder why you were ever concerned in the first place,” she said.

Driftwood, at the least, smiled at that, however unsure a smile it was. A moment later, his smile turned to a confused frown as he leaned back in his seat and looked at the window, and finally his eyes widened and his ears stood straight up.

Rarity did not miss any of this, and rapidly turned to look out the window herself, a similar expression finding its way to her own face. “Oh, Twilight, tell me you didn’t,” she whined as the platform slowly rolled by. Standing on it was, perhaps unsurprisingly, Princess Twilight Sparkle, along with another half a cohort of Guards, and the remaining four Bearers of the Elements of Harmony in varying states of agitation, framed by the multitude of modern gas lamps that lit the platform, making the entire scene look like an especially hazy day.

Fluttershy was watching the train with a mostly neutral expression; if she was trembling even slightly, it was impossible to tell at a distance.

Pinkie Pie looked as she ever did, smiling widely and bouncing up and down in place.

Applejack’s expression was not neutral, but then was not a smile or a frown either; Rarity found she could not quite place the emotion she saw.

Rainbow Dash was actually standing on the ground, but the twitching in her wings and tail could not go unnoticed. Neither could the frown on her face.

Twilight, however, was the true enigma, and Rarity could not help but note that she had perhaps learned from Princess Celestia a bit too well. She stood still, without so much as a twitch in either wings or tail; her expression was calmly neutral, and unlike Applejack’s did not betray any emotion; and like Fluttershy, she watched the train passively as it slowed even further. For a moment, her and Rarity’s eyes met, and even in that moment, Rarity could not determine at all what may have been going through her friend’s mind. The Guards seemed to be taking their cues from Twilight, and were mimicking her in a grand show of consummate professionalism.

Pinkie Pie stopped bouncing for a moment and waved at Rarity, who grinned nervously and waved back.

“I’m going to die,” Driftwood said pathetically.

“Enough of that,” Rarity said with sudden firmness. She turned around to face him, face neutral and steely. “Nothing is going to happen to you so long as I’m here. That is my solemn promise to you.” Driftwood looked at her for a moment, eyes wide, and then turned his gaze downward, looking suitably scolded.

Rarity’s expression softened immediately, and she placed a gentle kiss on Driftwood’s forehead. “Everything will be fine,” she said. “I don’t think it’s going to be easy, but everything will be fine. I promise.”

“As long as you’re here, I can make it,” Driftwood replied, looking up at her with a smile.

The train lurched ever slightly as it came to a full stop, and immediately the Guards on board sprung up and began to unload the luggage that had come with them. With a shuddering breath, Driftwood stood up from the bench, and with Rarity at his side, walked towards the exit to meet his destiny.

Author's Note

The story continues, after a very long holiday. So long that the cover art has been ready for almost an entire year. I can't promise that it will have the same draw, but we'll try. As stated, after this one, a new chapter will be posted every day until all of them are up.

Conflict

There had been no introductions made at the station: As soon as Driftwood and Rarity had stepped off the train, the Lieutenants of each cohort confirmed transfer of ‘ponies of interest’ from one to the other, and then Twilight had instructed everyone to immediately follow her to town hall. That there would be no questions asked by anyone until later was emphasized twice.

The scene at town hall was one of organized calm; the rest of the Guard cohort had established a perimeter around the building — which was not terribly tall, but nonetheless had an unusually large footprint for a town the size of Hoofington and appeared utilitarian to the point of boredom— and both ponies watching the front door snapped off crisp salutes as the party approached, but aside from a nod from Twilight, they all marched right on through the doors without missing a step.

The interior continued the story that began outside: The main hall was quite large, and the raised platform at the other end made it clear the space was used for town council meetings. The floor was dark hardwood in the center with a strip of dark blue carpet one and a half lengths wide running along the perimeter, and the space was broken up by four large support columns spread out near the center. Several windows looked outside, though it was too dark to see much, and an assortment of doors lead off the main hall to other rooms, most probably offices. A few short, potted plants brought a touch of green, and everything was lit by gas lamps rather than candles or even oil lamps. The construction all in all looked very modern and even recently finished, and was again utilitarian to the point of boredom.

Since they had left the train platform, the air surrounding the party had been filled with tension, which Driftwood keenly felt as a mixture of apprehension, fear, anger, and disgust, and it wasn't possible to determine who was feeling what. Rarity had been sewn to his side the entire way, and it left him wondering how much of that tension had been directed at her.

The party overall had settled into an uneasy silence. The Guards had spread out, and while most were monitoring the many doors leading off from the main hall, some were engaged with logistics work; these same ones had made a small pile of the luggage Rarity and Driftwood had brought. Twilight was conversing with two more Guards off to one side, too far for Driftwood to hear, but the transverse crest on the helmet of one marked him as the Lieutenant, which likely made the other the Sergeant-at-arms.

Pinkie Pie had slipped away at some point on the way from the train platform, and some Guards had been earlier dispatched to find her. Along the wall — located away from any doors or windows looking out — was a small collection of cushions, three of which Fluttershy, Applejack and Rainbow Dash had decided to sit on, though it was clear that Dash was in no way interested, given the tremors in her wings. Rarity nudged Driftwood in that direction regardless, and he followed her after a moment of hesitation.

Fluttershy noticed them first and immediately averted her gaze, seeming to shrink in on herself. Applejack and Dash both offered frowns, focused more on Driftwood than Rarity, but the tremors in the latter’s wings rapidly intensified until she shot into the air with a frustrated yell, immediately halting all other activity in the hall and drawing all eyes to her.

“Look, why’re we even bothering with all this?” she demanded of no one in particular. “We already know which one of us is the changeling, so let’s just bash him and put him in chains already!”

Twilight opened her mouth, but was cut off by Rarity. “If that had ever been the plan, we would never have left the train station,” she said, drawing herself up as tall as she could. “Never mind that there is no reason at all to do it. Driftwood is harmless.”

Dash fixed Rarity with a harsh glare. “I figured you’d say something like that.” She turned her glare onto Driftwood, who startled backwards several steps, eyes wide. “I ought to give him a good thrashing right now, see if that doesn’t wake you up.”

“You will do no such thing, Rainbow Dash,” Rarity said curtly. She very deliberately interposed herself between the Dash and Driftwood, head lowered slightly.

“Yeah?” Dash said back. She landed on the floor, far too close for Driftwood’s comfort, head lowered to the same height as Rarity’s so she could get right in her face. “Well, who’s going to stop me? You?”

“That’s enough!” Twilight interjected forcefully enough to draw the attention of both Rarity and Dash, their eyes slightly wide. “Both of you behave. We’re not fighting over this.”

Neither one of them looked particularly admonished, but instead exchanged a final glare and then turned and walked a few paces in opposite directions. Twilight shook her head, and then turned her attention on Driftwood. “I understand that this is more comfortable for you, but I will have to ask you not to wear a disguise in here. Nopony outside can see in, so you won’t need to worry about that,” she said.

Driftwood shuffled his hooves for a moment, but then breathed a light sigh and allowed his second skin to burn away, eyes directed downward. The feel of the air around him changed, becoming a mixture of fear, anger and revulsion, as he expected. The Guards, at least, seemed to have solidified an opinion of him, and settled on a kind of indifferent tolerance. How they had managed to do so as quickly as they had was a mystery to him, but at the least they weren’t contributing to the oppressive weight of every other emotion.

“Thank you,” Twilight said, every bit sounding coolly professional. “Lieutenant, your orders are unchanged,” she added, receiving a nod of reply before she turned around and walked toward one of the door leading from the hall to another room. “Come with me, please.”

Driftwood swallowed hard, and then forced his legs to move and carry him after the Princess.

Author's Note

I struggle with descriptions.

I had a very serious problem in my youth where I would focus on description almost to the exclusion of everything else. I certainly was never expecting to be told, “That is the most exhaustive description of a wing I have ever read.”

Over years, I did a lot of GM-direct role playing and MUSHing, where those things were significantly less critical to do constantly, so now I’m in this weird state where I have problems deciding if any description I write is either “too much” or “not enough.”

And here we are.

Focus

It was no small feat for Driftwood not to imagine that the sound of the door closing behind him sounded exactly like the lid of a coffin, and he had no luck with it in any case: No matter how he tried to dress it up, he was alone in a conference room with one of the most magically and politically powerful ponies in Equestria. His stomach churned, breathing took effort, and there was nothing to be done for any of it.

The conference room was sparsely appointed: It was not very large, after all, measuring only four lengths wide and five or five-and-a-half long. The exterior wall had large windows, although the curtains had been drawn, while the opposite had had two large landscapes — a peculiarity of art that Driftwood had not managed to understand the point of — hanging from it. Light was provided by more gas lamps spread along the walls. The center of the room was dominated by a large table, one-by-three lengths in size, with Twilight Sparkle already sitting at the head of it. Her expression was of careful neutrality, and try though he might, Driftwood could not get a sense of her emotional state. Probably, she had accounted for that to remove any advantage he might have had.

He had expected the table to be covered in all manner of books and sheafs of parchment and paper. Instead of what he’d expected, there were three short, neat stacks of paper arranged in front of Twilight. It made sense, really, that this was likely the sum of knowledge collected about changelings; they had, as a people, worked very hard to remain hidden, after all.

Twilight, not bothering to assess Driftwood’s assessment of the situation, instead gestured to the end of the table across from her, where a single cushion rested. “Please, heave a seat,” she said.

“Yes, Princess,” Driftwood replied, immediately and smartly walking to the cushion at the end of the table not occupied by Twilight Sparkle and sitting down. He was careful to keep his attention focused on a spot on the table, directly in front of her. He was sure that she frowned at him, but it was difficult to know for certain, hard as his imagination was trying to get away from him.

“So, I understand that you go by Driftwood,” Twilight said after a few moments of shuffling some of the papers about.

“Yes, Princess,” Driftwood replied after waiting no time at all. Again, he was certain that she frowned at him.

“If I asked you to call me Twilight, would you?” she asked.

“No, Princess.”

“Is this an aspect of changeling culture?” Twilight asked after a moment. “Extreme deference to royalty?”

Driftwood was not able to stop himself from stiffening, but he tried to hide it all the same. “No, Princess,” he said quickly. A heavy silence fell for a few moments, but Twilight did not press that inquiry further.

“Is there anything I can do to make you feel more comfortable?” she asked instead.

“No, Princess,” Driftwood replied plainly.

For several seconds, the only sound in the room was the shuffling of papers, although from his peripheral vision, Driftwood could see that Twilight was shuffling between the same five sheets of paper and not doing a very good job to appear as though she were hunting for a specific piece of information.

“The information we have suggests that a changeling can absorb emotional energy, specifically love, to make their magic stronger,” Twilight finally said, allowing a small silence after to make her intent clear.

“No, Princess,” Driftwood replied.

Silence reigned for several seconds more, but this time, without the shuffling of papers to accompany it.

“Could you explain?” Twilight asked.

“The strength of a spell depends on the amount of magic fed to it, not the amount of magic the caster has,” Driftwood said.

“So then, love doesn’t make a changeling’s magic stronger, but gives them more energy to use their magic?” Twilight asked.

Driftwood remained silent for several moments. “Love is our magic, Princess,” he finally said. “A changeling isn’t like a pony. A unicorn could exhaust themselves magically, but they’d be fine again after some food and rest. A changeling can’t. It’s like….” When he trailed off, Twilight did not interrupt him, and for a change he felt that he had all the time he might need.

“Compare a pony to a lizard. When a pony gets cold, they can warm themselves back up. When a lizard gets cold, it has to find a source of heat, or else it’ll die. A pony, somehow, produces their own magic. A changeling doesn’t, and can’t. Not ever. If we don’t absorb energy from love, we die.”

“If you’ll die without energy to absorb, then why on earth would you want to live on the outskirts of town where there isn’t any energy to absorb?” Twilight asked with a deal more force than she intended. Driftwood shrunk away from her, but quickly returned to his original posture, refusing to look anywhere but the spot directly in front of her the entire time.

“It’s safer to be alone,” he said.

The princess said nothing in response, the silence that settled over the room broken only by the shuffling of papers. “Driftwood?” she finally asked.

“Yes, Princess?” he asked, managing not to flinch when he was addressed.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to decide what to do with you, because I don’t think I actually know very much about changelings. I think I need to speak with Rarity.”

“Of course, Princess,” Driftwood replied, never once breaking his focus on the spot on the table directly in front of Twilight.

Author's Note

The Phyco Method to Defining Lore: Use a lot of analogies that may or may not actually be helpful. I think this one is pretty helpful, at least.

When I had originally written this chapter, it was among the first ones; almost a year ago and well before changelings had returned in season 6. Most of the lore I’ve developed for this continuity — including lore not yet revealed — was developed long before that point, and once several other things had been invalidated by canon, I figured there was no good reason not to go full AU with this.

And here we are.

Anger

“Everything will be fine,” Rarity had said before she vanished into the conference room with Twilight, and despite the reassurance, Driftwood nonetheless felt singularly vulnerable. With no more guidance in an unfamiliar situation, he sat down on the floor and thought. He started to glance towards Rarity’s friends, but did not make it more than halfway before he felt the glare he was receiving and quickly averted his eyes to the floor in front of him. That avenue would yield him no help at all, and he allowed his mind to wander.

His thoughts drifted to the oranges that were still in his saddle bags, and the sudden discomfort in his stomach reminded him how long it had been since he last ate. A quick glance around the room revealed that the Guards were still largely uninterested in him as long as he wasn’t causing trouble, and that Rarity’s friends were still watching him with varying levels of discomfort and dislike. Enough of both that he remained where he was for several seconds, until finally his hunger won out and his stood up and walked towards the luggage.

Quite suddenly — suddenly enough that he was started backwards several steps — there was a mare standing in-between him and his target, and he was not able to comprehend how she’d gotten there so quickly. “What’re you doing?” Rainbow Dash asked accusingly, head lowered and wings spread wide.

Driftwood swallowed hard. “I have some oranges in my bags,” he said as placatingly as he could manage. “I’m hungry.” Hoof steps echoed at the edge of his perception, and he began to feel surrounded.

“Oh, not gonna snack on some love, huh?” Dash asked again. She raised her head up, but for some reason, this did nothing to make her seem less threatening. “What’s wrong? Our love not good enough for you?”

The other hoofsteps had stopped, but Driftwood felt no less surrounded. “But we don’t eat love,” he protested weakly, shrinking back even further.

Rainbow Dash just huffed and crossed her arms across her chest. “Well, that’s not what your queen said,” she fired back.

Driftwood’s vision suddenly became hazy. “Let’s get one thing straight right now!” he shouted suddenly, his expression hardening and eyes flashing with anger. The shift in his demeanor was enough to make all three mares recoil back from him, and the attention of every Guard focused on him in an instant. Rainbow Dash herself was too surprised to react in any other way even when he stomped over and was right in her face. “Changelings don’t have a queen, don’t need a queen, and don’t want a queen, and don’t you forget that!”

With a snort to conclude his statement, Driftwood turned and stalked away, ignoring the sounds of an argument starting behind him, as well as the food in his luggage.

Author's Note

The revisions for this chapter were to make it more showy and less telly. Otherwise, I wrote this in one go and liked it well enough to leave most of it unchanged.

And here we are?

Anxiety

Driftwood wasn’t sure what he was doing, caught in between wanting to hold onto the anger he felt towards Rainbow Dash for his sake, and wanting to let it go for Rarity’s sake. He stared out one of the windows that looked out onto the street, even if there was nothing to see at so late an hour, at a loss for anything else to do; the Guards, seemingly at the Lieutenant’s direction, were giving him space. He glanced over his shoulder with some surprise when her heard hoofsteps softly approaching across the rug, and when he saw that it was just Fluttershy, he returned his attention to the window. After a time, she came to stop next to him, silent for several seconds. It wasn’t clear if she was thinking of what she would say, or was working up the courage to say it.

“I’m sorry if I’m bothering you,” she timidly said. “I just wanted to make sure that you would be ok.”

“I suppose,” replied Driftwood curtly, not looking away from the window. He didn’t see Fluttershy flinch.

“I’m sure Rainbow’s sorry for going after you like that, or at least, I’m sure she will be, once she gets to know you better.”

Driftwood was silent for a moment, and then he heaved a heavy sigh and slumped, head drooping towards the ground. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper,” he said.

“It’s ok,” Fluttershy said in response. “Rainbow’s very intense sometimes. She can be difficult to get along with, if you aren’t used to her.”

“That’s not an excuse!” Driftwood half-shouted, whipping his head around to look at Fluttershy. Immediately, his eyes widened and he quickly returned his gaze down to the floor. “It’s not. I have to be better than that.” Both of them fell silent for several seconds.

“Are you afraid of us?” Fluttershy finally asked, wincing when she saw Driftwood’s muscles tighten. “It’s ok if you are. I mean, I’d prefer if you weren’t, because I don’t like scaring ponies, or changelings either, but it’s ok if you are. If it were me in your position, I know I’d be terrified.”

“I’m trying not to be,” Driftwood said back, head still down, even if his tension lessened slightly. “Rarity’s risking so much just standing up for me, and you’d never know with how confident she is when she speaks and acts, and what am I doing? Acting like nymph who thinks there’s a monster under his bed. A fine choice I turned out to be.”

“You really care for her, don’t you?” Fluttershy asked gently.

“She’s wonderful,” Driftwood said without hesitation. “The most wonderful. And I know that all of you must be, too. But just to stop hiding from her was so difficult, and then I was arrested, and all of you were here at once….”

“It was overwhelming, I know,” Fluttershy replied. “It’s like that for me too, when I’m around a lot of ponies I don’t know well. It’s ok to feel overwhelmed.” A silence fell over the conversation that was, for the first time since Driftwood had arrived in Hoofington, comfortable, until Fluttershy broke it with a question: “Would it be alright if I gave you a hug? You look like you could use one.”

“It’s alright,” Driftwood told her, and with speed befitting an especially energetic sloth, Fluttershy hooked her arms around the changeling and pulled him into a carefully firm embrace. After a few seconds, he began to return it.

“Rarity’s right, you know. Everything’s going to be fine. You’ll see,” said Fluttershy.

Driftwood nodded into her shoulder. “Thank you,” he said.

After another few seconds, Fluttershy gently pulled away so she could look Driftwood in the eyes. “Do you think you might be able to try with the other girls again?” she asked,

Driftwood nodded a second time. “I’ll try,” he said.

With a smile, Fluttershy turned and walked back across the hall, Driftwood following behind her.

Author's Note

I struggle with Fluttershy.

Really, I think the largest contributing factor to this is that I read a lot of fan fiction, and in other fan fiction, her timid demeanor is often exaggerated. I’ve only watched a few episodes of the show; generally just the season premiers and finales, and otherwise I make due with episode summaries unless something happens that seems like a watershed moment, in which case I make a point to watch the episode(s) in question.

The point here is that my perception of what Fluttershy is like is, I don’t think, generally in line with what she is actually like; I feel I have this problem with most of the cast. This might be why I like writing AU so much; if I don’t get some aspect of their personalities quite right, readers tend to overlook or hand wave them away and not worry about it.

I may also like writing the Doomsdayverse so much because everything is so absurd already, that no one notices if I don’t nail someone’s character. They probably don’t care, either, as long as they keep laughing.

And here we are, I guess.

Truth

The first thing Driftwood noticed when he returned with Fluttershy was that Rainbow Dash was gone, and he had no doubts that her absence was due to the argument he’d heard starting when he left. Applejack, meanwhile, had settled back onto the cushion she’d occupied earlier and regarded Driftwood with cool caution.

With far more visible caution, Driftwood looked to Fluttershy, who simply replied with a warm smile and nodded her head towards the cushion before she continued over and settled down on one of them. Taking a deep breath, Driftwood made his way over, pausing just before the cushions. When Applejack offered no protest, he carefully selected the empty cushion nearest to Fluttershy and sat down on it. He watched Applejack, not saying a word, and she responded in kind. Fluttershy’s eyes danced back and forth between them as she scrambled for something to say, when after several seconds of nothing, Applejack huffed.

“Look, Rainbow’s already stepped in it, so I’m just going to out and ask,” she said. “What’d you mean when you said changelings ain’t got a queen?”

“Applejack!” Fluttershy said as admonishingly as she could, although she was not able to say more before Driftwood stepped in.

“I meant exactly what I said,” he replied with some amount of force. “We don’t have a queen, and even if we did, she wouldn’t be that-that tramp from the wedding.”

“Well, if she weren’t, then why’d she say she was?” Applejack asked.

“She was probably trying to sound impressive. You’d know all about seeming impressive, being the heiress to the largest oil fortune in Equestrian history,” Driftwood said accusingly.

For a few moments, Applejack was stunned and confused into silence. “I most certainly am not,” she finally said.

“But I just said that you were,” Driftwood said.

“Just ‘cuz you said it don’t make it true.”

Driftwood responded by quirking his brow, and after a moment, Applejack huffed.

“Ok, fine. Maybe just ‘cuz she says she’s the queen don’t mean she is, but then why were so many changelings happy as clams to follow her, huh?”

Driftwood looked down at the floor for a few moments. “Well, when you were a filly, did you ever believe something just because you heard it from some other pony that was bigger and stronger and older than you were?” he asked once his gaze returned to Applejack. “And if Princess Celestia told you to do something, would you do it, even if you thought she was wrong, because she’s the Princess and more knowledgable and more powerful than you are? What if she told you to hit your neighbor in the back of the head with a birch stick if you thought they were a changeling, to force them to change?”

Applejack quirked her brow then. “That work?” Applejack asked.

“Why wouldn’t it? Princess Celestia told you that it would, so it has to work, right?” Driftwood said. “Why would she say to do it if it didn’t work?”

“Well, ok, since we’re talking hypotheticals here, let’s say she did tell me to do that because it does. What if this neighbor we’re hypothetically speaking about ain’t a changeling? What if I go and brain some poor sap just ‘cuz they was having an off day? Maybe even put ‘em in the hospital or kill ‘em?”

“I guess you wouldn’t know until after you hit them. So would you? What if you didn’t like this neighbor? What if you hated them? Would you do it then? What about someone you’d never met before?”

A silence that was anything but comfortable fell over the conversation. Fluttershy glanced nervously between Driftwood — whose expression was neutral even if the muscles in his shoulders were visibly tense — and Applejack — whose expression was quizzical. “Ok,” she finally said. “Why didn’t you follow her, then?”

“I like Portside,” Driftwood replied. “There’s a lot of good ponies there that care about their neighbors and never did anything to deserve having the energy drained out of them. Maybe she had the right idea with turning ponies into chattel. Maybe it would’ve been better for changelings to do that, but what if it wasn’t? What if she was wrong? What if she was lying? How would I know until after it was already too late to change my mind?”

Applejack did not offer a response to that for a few seconds, and then stood up from her cushion. “Mister Driftwood, you may not be a pony, but I reckon you’re a pretty good one all the same.”

“Where are you going?” Fluttershy asked as Applejack turned to leave.

“See if I can’t find Rainbow,” replied Applejack. “Can’t promise she’ll be in any mood to apologize, but I owe it to Driftwood at least to talk some reason into that rock she calls a head.”

With a final nod to them both, Applejack took her leave, and Driftwood was free for a time to ponder exactly what had happened.

Author's Note

As this chapter went through more and more revisions, Applejack had fewer and fewer lines. I attribute this to her being a farmer, who appears to spend long stretches of time working alone in her orchards, leading her to becoming more introspective when she’s processing something. This is a reflection of my personal experience more than anything else.

I am pretty proud of her jab at Rainbow Dash, though.

Breath

Fluttershy was, it turned out, not as timid as Driftwood had been led to believe, even if everything he’d heard about her had been a third or fourth accounting from someone who had invariably heard it from a friend or family member. They had not conversed on a wide variety of topics, but he’d learned that she was an animal caretaker in Ponyville, as well as a warden in the Ranger Corps. While his own occupations weren’t anything she personally had experience with, she nevertheless found it admirable that he would try to guide ponies — and other changelings — through difficult and confusing times in their lives. He would remember the smile he’d received — warm and filled with honest joy — for a long time afterward.

It was near the end of the latter topic that Applejack finally returned with Rainbow Dash in tow. While Applejack settled back onto her vacated cushion as if nothing had happened — or at least as near to such a state of being as well possible, all things considered — Dash all but fell onto hers, folded both her arms across her chest, and promptly began glaring at the wall for several seconds until Applejack cleared her throat. With an annoyed huff, Dash turned her head to glare at Driftwood instead, and while she certainly did not look happy, she also didn’t look like she might try to attack him either.

“So. Changelings don’t eat love, huh?” she asked, sounding less like she was curious and more like she had been told to ask.

“Well, no. I don’t even know how you could eat something like that,” Driftwood replied. “Changelings can’t eat love anymore than they can eat magic. ”

“But, ya’ll still need it, even if you don’t eat it, right?” Applejack ventured.

“It’s not really any different from food or water, except for where it comes from” Driftwood answered, turning his attention to Applejack. “Changelings that don’t absorb love always die. If we never disguise ourselves or use magic, we can live for a little while, but we always die without it.”

“Are you absorbing it right now?” Dash asked suspiciously.

“Well —”

Driftwood was interrupted by the sound of a door opening, and when he turned to look, he saw Rarity approaching from the small conference room she’d joined Twilight in earlier, a glowing smile on her face. Without wasting even a moment, she walked right to Driftwood and nuzzled against his cheek. “I told you everything would be fine,” she said. “Twilight only has a few more questions for you. Just relax and be truthful.”

“No promises about relaxing, but I can be truthful,” Driftwood replied sadly.

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Rarity said. With a quick peck on the changeling’s nose, she nudged him towards the door. “Go on.”

Turning to the door to the conference room, Driftwood took a breath and walked to and through it.

“Wait! How do changelings absorb love?” Dash called somewhat frantically.

“Oh, did he not tell you?” Rarity asked. “They breathe it.”

The final word to grace Driftwood’s ear as he shut the door behind him was Rainbow Dash asking, “What?!” at a volume that was wholly inappropriate for use indoors.

Author's Note

Rainbow Dash is challenging to write into dramas, I am finding. At least, this seems to be the case when she’s not the chief protagonist or otherwise a central character. Like Applejack, she strikes me as being very introspective, which is something I touch on a bit in another story of mine.

For as devil-may-care her attitude generally is, she actually has a lot of responsibility, and I get the sense that she doubts herself a lot; not in the sense that she doubts her capabilities, but that she isn’t really sure what her place in the grand scheme of things is. That is to say, she isn’t really sure what her destiny is, in the sense that she’ll look at her mark and say to herself, “It can’t actually be that simple.”

Also, her personality and traits seem to get exaggerated in fan fiction just like Fluttershy’s, which makes it hard to actually write her. I think I like her portrayal back in Conflict better than here, if only because she seems to have more depth to her action. Of course, she doesn’t really do much here, so that may be coloring my perception.

I struggle with deciding whether “breath” or “breathe” is the correct word to use, even if I don't struggle with Rainbow Dash much.

Decision

When the door of the conference room closed behind Driftwood the second time, it did not sound as much like the lid of a coffin. His stomach was uneasy, but did not churn, and breathing came more easily to him.

Twilight remained sitting at the head of the table, her expression still carefully neutral and her emotions still a mystery. “It’s nice to see you again, Driftwood,” she said. She gestured to the single cushion that was in the same spot — perhaps the exact same spot — it had been previously. “Please.”

“Yes, Princess,” Driftwood replied, although he did not walk to the cushion quite as smartly as he had before. He paused when he reached it, drawing in a deep breath, holding it for a moment, and then exhaling before he sat down. He kept his eyes firmly on the same spot on the table he’d picked out the last time.

“I know what to do with you now that I’ve talked to Rarity, but before we get into that, there’s something I want to make sure is absolutely clear first,” Twilight said. “I am a Princess of Equestria. That means that in cases when it’s not clear how a law is to be applied, I am granted some freedom to interpret the law as it would pertain to the situation.”

Driftwood’s muscles were so tense that he felt like he had steel underneath his chitin.

“The laws that provide legal protections to ponies do not make allowances for changelings,” Twilight continued. “They also do not make allowances for donkeys, griffons, or any other creatures either, but those protections are still applied because the laws do not make allowances for any specific creature, ponies included. They do not make specific exclusions of changelings.

“As a Princess of Equestria, I, Twilight Sparkle, hereby declare that you, Driftwood of Portside, possess the same legal protections that would be afforded to a pony in your situation, effective as of the day of your birth and into perpetuity.”

For the first time since he’d met her, Driftwood looked directly at Twilight Sparkle, shock and surprise written all across his face. “I-I don’t,” he tried, groping for words that wouldn’t cooperate with his desire to communicate for several moments. “I don’t understand. I’m a changeling!”

“That shouldn’t matter,” Twilight replied evenly, to which Driftwood could reply in no fashion other than staring straight ahead at nothing in particular. Suddenly, nothing made sense to him anymore. He shook free of his stupor when he heard Twilight address him again.

“There’s so much that we don’t know about changelings, and I’d like to ask you more about them, but not here,” she continued, her magic sweeping up the few notes she took during her talk with Rarity. “I’d like for you to come with us to Ponyville, at least for a few days, as a guest of the Crowns. I know that’s probably not the circumstance you’d like to visit under, but it’s the best that I can do.”

Driftwood looked down at the table in front of him again for a few moments. “So I possess the same legal protections as a pony?” he said, looking to Twilight again. “And it doesn’t matter that I’m a changeling?”

Twilight nodded. “That’s correct.”

“Then why did you say ‘shouldn’t?’”

Twilight did not reply. Her mood was not betrayed by so much as a twitch of her eyes, and to that, Driftwood nodded. “Princess, I’m not well educated at all, but I notice things. For example, I noticed that you said it shouldn’t matter that I’m a changeling and also agreed that it doesn’t matter, when those don’t mean the same thing. I also noticed, now that I’ve had some time to think about it, that I can’t feel any emotions from you at all, and that’s impossible. So please, in your own words, tell me again why it doesn’t matter that I’m a changeling.”

“Because Equestrian law doesn’t make allowances or exceptions for any specific creatures, so logically they apply equally to all creatures,” Twilight replied.

“Now, tell me why it shouldn’t matter that I’m a changeling.”

To this, Twilight offered only silence as an answer, and several seconds passed before she finally spoke. “It shouldn’t matter because you haven’t done anything illegal or harmful to others, and it’s not fair to treat you differently just because of what you are. I’m the Princess of Friendship, and I don’t know if I can do what I need to do.”

Both alicorn and changeling were silent for several seconds, Twilight watching Driftwood, and Driftwood watching the table. Finally, he looked up and made a deliberate eye contact.

“A crossroad, then.”

Author's Note

The chapter originally had a very different, much happier ending.

And then nightwalker left a comment:

I always did agree with the idea that Twilight would not be easily forgiving towards changelings.

And I realized pretty immediately that this would make for a more interesting story and ran with it. Of all the cast, I think I find Twilight the most complex. The show tries to convey this complexity, but I feel that it falls short because they’ve written themselves into a limited space where the mane 6 have accomplished so much that it’s getting difficult to think of things to reasonably challenge them with. This is especially true with Twilight; she’s an actual alicorn with actual alicorn magic, and a princess with actual princess duties. Where else is there to go?

Of course, writing a compelling psycho-moral dilemma for a program with the designated demographic is probably challenging.

I struggle with cliffhangers.

Acceptance

The reactions when Driftwood and Twilight left the conference room were mixed, but he focused solely on Rarity, her smile glowing as much then as it had before. Without a word, she stepped up to him and nuzzled his cheek. “You see?” she asked.

Everyone that was present, ponies and changeling alike, jumped suddenly when the tree, root bulb and soil in one of the planters along the wall suddenly rose into the air, resting atop of Pinkie Pie’s head.

“I’m back!” she exclaimed.

“Pinkie?! Goodness, you… where have you been?” Rarity stammered as Pinkie extricated herself from the planter and dropped the soil, root bulb and tree back into it.

“Baking, silly!” Pinkie answered happily. “It wouldn’t have taken me nearly so long but I needed ingredients and ovens and aprons and the bakery here really has an unreasonable level of security. Cupcake!”

She held out both hooves in front of Driftwood’s face, a chocolate cupcake with a dollop of orange, buttercream frosting and rainbow sprinkles held gingerly between them. Seeming to have no words, Driftwood lifted up one tarsus and accepted the treat, before staring at it blankly.

“Oooh, not a chocolate fan? Darnnit, I can usually get that spot on! Does this mean my Pinkie Sense is slipping? Oh, I hope it doesn’t mean that because that’s going to really really really complicate things tomorrow!” Pinkie said, not really paying any attention to the looks she was receiving.

“N-no, I’m sure it’s delicious! It’s just that, well…,” Driftwood fell silent for a moment. “The truth is that I’ve never had cake before, not even cupcakes.”

Pinkie blinked owlishly. “Ever?” she asked. “In your whole life? From now and back and back and back and back and back until the beginning of time?”

“Erm, yes?” Driftwood replied, fidgeting a bit. “I’ve always been poor, even when I’ve been doing well. And for the cost of one stone of sugar, I can get almost two stones of rice, and flour costs almost as much as beans or millet and cake is so much more expensive than bread. Cake was just… never….” Driftwood stared at his empty tarsus, the cupcake nothing more than a memory.

“Cupcakes are amazing!” Pinkie said. “So amazing that there’s a whole world of cupcakes and coffee cakes and patty cakes!” She threw an arm around Driftwood’s shoulders and pulled him against her. “A whole world, Driftwood!” She lifted her other hoof and slowly swept it across the space in front of them to emphasize her point. “Driftwood! A whole world!”

Suddenly, she dropped to the ground, and Driftwood looked at the empty floor next to him. “But it’s better to take it slow at the start.” His head spun around to look in the opposite direction, where Pinkie was standing as if she’d always been there. “I’ll make you a sampler when we get to Ponyville, and then you can start your mystical magical journey into the incredibly unbelievably incredible unbelievable world of cakes-es-es! Sound good?”

Driftwood stared at Pinkie, and after a few moments, Rarity shifted her weight from one side to the other and back again. “Pinkie, darling, do you think that you might be….” She trailed off, her question unfinished when Driftwood leaned towards Pinkie and embraced her.

“Thank you, Pinkie Pie. Thank you,” he said with a slight hitch in his voice.

Smiling a warm smile, Pinkie embraced him right back and asked plainly, “What’re friends for?”

Author's Note

Originally, I had finished this story and then realized I’d completely forgotten to include Pinkie Pie. And then immediately remembered that writing Pinkie Pie is very challenging for me.

That is to say, I struggle with Pinkie Pie.

This is not for the same reasons as Fluttershy or Rainbow Dash, were their traits and personalities are exaggerated in fan fiction, but because Pinkie’s traits and personality are exaggeration. As such, she does not have a consistent portrayal except when one author writes multiple stories with the same tone. There’s also the fact that a fair number of her gags are sight gags, and the only media where sight gags really work are visual media. The closet I’ve ever gotten to working sight gags in literature have been my attempts in the Doomsdayverse, and I still haven’t figured out the step that comes after writing the joke, but before profit.

Dawn

The whole party had left town hall, and for Driftwood began a period of waiting. The Guard cohort had travelled light, bringing only a single wagon with only a small amount of water, dry rations, and medical supplies. Accordingly, there was plenty of extra space for them to pack up the luggage that he and Rarity had brought with them to Hoofington. With nothing to do himself, and without the weight of incarceration on his shoulders, Driftwood had settled for looking to the east as the first rays of the sun began to creep above the horizon: The first sunrise he could remember watching that was not accompanied by the whisper of surf.

He glanced over his shoulder when he heard the sound of hooves, and greeted Rarity with a smile as she approached. She smiled in kind, and he returned his attention to the sunrise when she came to stand next to him. The pair stood in silence for several seconds, and then Rarity moved her attention from the sunrise to Driftwood. “You still seem worried,” she remarked.

Driftwood turned from the sunrise to look at her, and then he nodded. “Yes,” he said.

Rarity sighed. “At least you aren’t hiding from me anymore,” she replied.

Driftwood took a step closer to her and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. “It’s easier now, not to worry about meeting your friends. It’s other things now,” he said, a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth.

“Oh?”

“I’ve never been to the Midland before.” Driftwood looked back towards the sunrise again, more red and gold creeping into the sky now. “I don’t know Canterlan customs outside of the odd book, and I’ve never had the food.” With a suddenness, he turned to look at Rarity again. “Is it true that they’ll only sell water in glass bottles?”

Rarity couldn’t help herself, and a giggle escaped before she could stifle the rest behind a hoof. “No,” she said. “And forget what you’ve read. You’ll find that much of the Midland is nothing like Canterlot at all. I think you’ll find that Ponyville is a good deal like Portside, in fact!” She leaned in close and whispered conspiratorially, “But I sincerely hope you like apples, because you won’t find many oranges at all.”

Driftwood quirked his brow, his mouth drawing into a frown, and Rarity giggled again. “Never mind me, dearheart. It’s a bit of a private joke between the girls and me.”

Driftwood nodded, although he did not smile even if his frown disappeared. “As you say,” he said.

Conversation paused, interrupted by the light ‘clank’ of one of the Guards approaching them. “All luggage is packed, Lady Rarity. We’re departing now,” she said.

Rarity nodded. “Thank you, Corporal,” she said. The Guard gave a shallow bow, and then turned and left to rejoin her compatriots. Rarity turned back to Driftwood, and found him regarding her with a quirked brow again. “What is it?”

“‘Lady Rarity?’ I feel I should be panicking right now. Won’t I cause a stir with the rest of the gentry?” he asked.

Rarity smiled. “We all received titles after re-imprisoning Discord, dearheart, but as we were granted no land and are otherwise of common birth, that’s all that we have,” she said. Her smile turned mischievous. “Besides, wouldn’t you rather like to cause a stir among the gentry?”

Driftwood gave her a lopsided grin. “You’re incorrigible,” he said.

Rarity giggled again, and then pecked Driftwood on the lips. “I told you everything would be fine,” she said.

“You did,” Driftwood replied, pecking Rarity right back. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’d worry,” Rarity said. “You’d worry a great deal, but you’d still overcome, just as you always have.” She looked briefly towards the wagons, and then back to Driftwood. “Shall we?”

Driftwood nodded, and then followed after Rarity to the rest of their party, before thirty six ponies and one changeling set off down the road as the sky was painted in the colors of dawn.

Author's Note

I struggle with resolutions.

I’m especially struggling with them here, I think, because this story is part of a larger saga within the Matterverse; I had larger the same issue with the ending to The Unicorn and the Stranger because I know there was going to be another story that followed it, just like I know that this story will be followed by The Strangers of Ponyville, so I don’t feel a great need to resolve every single plot thread that comes up. If I know I’ll have another chance to resolve them, why kill myself trying to wrap everything up right now?

Of course, there may also be something to say for the lore I’ve developed which I know, for a fact, I will never use.

I struggle with resolutions.