“Heya.” Spike waved from his table.
The changeling paused, wings trembling, then looked around the room. Half a dozen tables of various shapes and sizes filled the area, ranging from intimate one-to-one tables, to giant banquet size monstrosities capable of holding an entire horde. And still, the only creature there was a small purple dragon.
“So, what will it be?” Spike smiled. “You've seen the menu, right?”
“Umm.” The changeling looked at a large sign pinned to the wall. Scribbled on with chalk were a dozen sentences—all utterly illegible—showing today's “Menu”. “I'm not sure”
“Ah, first timer. That's cool.” Spike nodded, a claw on his chin. “Just you or are you here with friends?”
“Just me.” The changeling stepped forward. “So, how does this work?”
“Oh, simple. Give me a sec to move to the right table.” Spike stood up and ran to a table for two. “Right.” He sat down. “So you just sit here and tell me what you'd like to eat.”
“Um, okay?” The changeling tilted its head, giving the dragon a skeptical glance, then with a shrug flew to the table.
“You can order anything from the menu, although I'd avoid Battle Friendship.” Spike rubbed his hands. “A warrior drone got promoted to lieutenant yesterday and brought his entire squad to celebrate. I’m still a bit thin on that. I can do a mean First Love, though. And there's the usual: School Snacks, Hoof Holding, Family Reunion, Favourite Pet...
With every word the changeling’s eyes grew wider and wider. Like a foal in a candy shop he sat there, listening, drool sliding down his chin. Meanwhile, Spike recited dish after dish, from simple starter snacks to gourmet feasts, each as delectable as the last. The changeling leaned forward, tongue hanging out.
“Hey!” the dragon snapped. “No sample tasting!” He crossed his arms. “You'll ruin your lunch!”
“Sorry.” The changeling pulled back, flustered.
“Well it's too late now,” Spike sighed. “You won't be able to finish any meal. I might as well give you some junk food.”
“Junk food?” the changeling asked with alarm.
“Gem Delight. It's not filling. Tastes good, though. Would you like that?”
“Umm?” The changeling smiled.
First timers, Spike thought. Gotta love them. He shook his head in disapproval, then leaned back and started his tale. Words flowed out of his mouth like a river, each filled with sweet emotion. It had taken him months to get the hang of it, but now he knew exactly how to model his thoughts to provide the best nutritional value. It was always about the focus. As he spoke of gems, he didn't just speak of gems: he felt them, he imagined them larger than life, condensing years of memories in one single moment.
The changeling gasped. His wings flapped as he looked at the dragon, cross-eyed. Then started to tilt to one side.
“Oookay.” Spike abruptly ended his tale. “I think that's enough for now.”
The changeling hissed, glaring with murderous intent, but the dragon just shook a finger.
“Uh-uh!” Spike said. “I have a very strict no hissing policy. You hiss you're banned for a week.”
“Aww,” the changeling grumbled. “Can't I just have one more minute?”
“Dude, you could barely take thirty seconds.” Spike narrowed his eyes. “Enough is enough. Now get along, I have customers waiting.”
With a frown and a grumble the changeling dashed out of the room. And that's the problem with newbies. The dragon tapped his fingers along the table. Such incidents were starting to get bothersome. Tomorrow the changeling would probably be back, hopefully with a much changed attitude, and ask for something “exciting”. They always did the first week. Only after that would he calm down and become more sensible.
“Hello, Spike,” a new changeling said, flying to the seat across him. “How are things?”
“Hey, Shelly.” Spike cracked a smile. Thank the stars for regulars.
Shelly had been one of the first changelings to feed on him. At first she had been confused as everybug else, but since then she had developed habits and character, even her appearance was slightly different from that of other changelings—changeling black with just a touch of femininity.
“Newbies giving you a hard time?” Shelly adjusted her chair to be more comfortable.
“Nah, you know me.” Spike puffed up his chest. “As strong as granite. It's the party yesterday that still has me tired.”
“Newbies and parties,” the changeling mused. “A dragon’s worst nightmares.”
“Aww, I didn't know you cared. So, what will you be having today?”
“First Love.” Shelly leaned forward on the table.
“Are you sure? You've been asking for a lot of that lately.” Spike looked around, making sure no one was within earshot. “You know, I'm not one to make suggestions, but maybe you should go find a special someone? Ponies aren't as unforgiving as you think. And it even doesn't have to be a pony. As long as you explain—“
“You know I'll never be allowed.” Shelly shook her head. “As long as mother doesn't change her mind I'm stuck here. And you know she'll never change her mind.”
“Who knows? Maybe one day?”
“You're sweet, Spike,” the changeling sighed. “But we can always tell when you are lying. First Love, please.”
Spike began talking about Rarity. Years had passed since that fateful day he had met her at the Carousel Boutique, yet he still remembered. It was the very day Twilight was first sent to Ponyville—a quick and boring assignment, Spike had thought, but that was before he had seen her. Rarity had shone brighter than the sun and stars combined that day, a single moment of perfection that had pierced the dragon’s heart making him melt away into a flurry of emotion. As he spoke a pinkish glow surrounded Shelly, lifting her into the air.
Rarity, Spike thought, a tear running down his cheek. Remembering her was painful, yet nowhere near as painful as having his memories of her ripped out for changeling food. Yet he had to endure. The dragon kept going on, then—when the final mental image of memory had gone—he brought the story to an end.
“Spike…” Shelly managed to say, still drunk on the feast of emotions. “It was delicious. As always.”
“Nothing but the best for my regulars,” the dragon forced himself to say. “I think you should cut down. Three times a week might be a bit too much. Maybe try two for a while?”
“Uh-huh,” the changeling replied, though Spike knew she wasn't listening to him. Right now she was probably savoring the taste of his first love. In a few days she'd be back for more, and he would have to serve her with a smile.
“Right. See you later this week then.” The dragon stifled a sigh. “Just don't fly into anything, okay?”
“Thank you, Spike.” Shelly beamed, then gently fluttered towards the exit, not a care in the world.
On her way out Shelly bumped into the top of the doorframe, hiccupped slightly with a childish giggle, then flew out without further incident. Spike watched her as she left, remaining quietly in his seat. He knew full well she was overdoing it. One day she would eat too much love and transform into a mothling and be chased out of the hive. Then again, maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.
Right, I better get back to work, the dragon said to himself and went to the menu boards. With an old rag and some spit he wiped off two of the chalk scribbled names, then after some hesitation he erased one more. No one is going to order Flight Fancy anyway.
“You seem pensive today, Spike,” another voice said behind him. “Nightmares again?”
“Hey, Femur.” Spike glanced over his shoulder while still rubbing the third item off the menu. “I'm fine, don't worry about it.” Pleased with the result, the dragon hung the cloth on the nail by the sign. “It's just Shelly. She's at it again. Sometimes I wonder what she's thinking.”
The new arrival laughed, then slowly made his way to the table for two. He was far older the previous two customers, probably the oldest bug in the hive after Queen Chrysalis. Once he had been the commander of the guard; now he just an old useless geezer, deemed too weak to take part in raids.
“She's young.” Femur sat across Spike, transforming part of his body into the equivalent of a cushion. “She'll learn intime. So-” he rubbed his forehooves “-what do you have today?”
“Pretty much the usual.” Spike smiled. Of all his regular customers, he liked Femur the most. The old changeling had an all knowing air about him. He was slow and rarely performed a complete shift, but he enjoyed telling stories. Even if they didn't make sense half of the time. “Want some Moonlight Night? Or will you finally dare a Lovely Sunset?”
“Quite a choice.” Femur nodded. “I was hoping I could ask something else, though.” He turned his glance away. “I know everyone asks a lot of you, but can I taste some motherly love?”
“Wha?” Spike froze. This was the first time he heard such a request. “You know I’m not a girl, right? Heck, I don't even have children. How do you expect me to cook that up?”
“I know, I know.” The old changeling sighed. “It's just that's it's been so long since I last tasted that. The queen doesn't have time to bother with me, she's focusing on her new changelings.” Femur frowned. “The strong ones. I'm just left too weak and useless.”
Damn it, Femur! There were half a dozen changelings at most that could make such requests. Anybug else and Spike would set them on fire and kick them out. Femur, was different—the dragon actually felt pity for him.
“Look.” Why am I such a wuss?! “I can't exactly prepare motherly love, but I can try something close? Now I've never tried it before, so I have no idea how it will taste. You okay to risk it?”
Femur nodded. Spike took a deep breath and started his tale. He spoke of the first memories he had of Princess Celestia. Back when he had hatched, it was she who had taken care of him. It didn't matter how much he cried, or all the messes he caused, the Princess was always there. From dawn to dawn, during important meetings or while walking through her gardens, she would let him tag along. Spike visualized her warm laugh, her soft mane, her ticklish magic, gathering them all in one single thought he sent to the changeling.
Femur’s eyes grew wide. Spike was about to continue with his tale, when changeling put his hoof on the dragon’s mouth.
“That's enough,” Femur said. “I just wanted a taste. Keep the rest for yourself. It's a beautiful memory.”
“O-okay.” Spike blinked. Never before had he seen a changeling refuse food. “Are you okay? I can make you something else.”
“No, no, it was perfect.” The changeling stood up, a smile on his face. “Enough to keep me warm for years. You take care, youngling. And don't let these young bugs give you any mouth, you hear?”
“I won't, Femur.” Spike laughed. “And go easy on the shapeshifts, okay? You're no longer young, you know. Just saying.”
The changeling mumbled something under his breath, then was gone, leaving Spike alone once more.
Celestia, the dragon thought. The memory of her had faded slightly, but she was still there, singing in her mind. Of everyone she was probably the only one left. Everyone else, all his other memories, had become so faded he could barely see their faces. Twilight, Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie, Rarity… He remembered their names, what they meant for him, yet with every changeling he fed it became more and more difficult to visualize their faces. His mind might as well be filled with cloth puppets.
Five months. That was how long he had been trapped here, a prisoner, forced to feed changelings with his memories. It had been his choice, the decision nopony knew about. While a fake Spike followed the real Twilight around all over Equestria, he was here alone, yet he was the only thing that kept them safe. As long as he continued to fulfill his duties as a changeling food dispenser Chrysalis wouldn't risk another attack and his friends would remain safe, if blissfully ignorant.
That was how it would continue for years to come. Spike would cast his pain and sorrow aside, and continue to feed changelings with a smile for the sake of his friends, until the day he could remember them no more.
