The Changing of the Sun

Spike eased the front door open, trying not to make a sound. Still, before he had even set foot inside, Twilight very nearly pounced on him.

“Finally,” she hissed. “I was almost starting to think that you’d gotten lost, or someone made you spill the beans, or—”

She looked up, and her eyes narrowed. Standing right behind Spike, tying hard to not look like she was listening in, was Rarity.

Twilight leaned down. “Spike,” she hissed, “I told you to go get someone who could help.”

“She can,” Spike whispered back. “She’s just a good a helper as anypony else—”

“You know what I mean,” Twilight said. “Someone like Fluttershy, or Nurse Redheart—”

“You know,” Rarity said, squeezing past the two of them, “I can hear what you’re saying.”

Twilight shot her a look, then turned back to Spike, who crossed his arms. “Fluttershy’s visiting relatives for the weekend,” Spike said. “And last time Nurse Redheart came, she rearranged all your books, and—”

“This is not the time for fashion,” Twilight hissed. “In fact—

“Princess Celestia!” Rarity shrieked.

Twilight whipped her head around to see Rarity, standing stock-still, staring up at the open door to Twilight’s bedroom. Before any of them could do anything, Rarity dashed forward and up the stairs. Twilight cried out and sprinted after her, Spike following close behind.

The two of them found Rarity kneeling beside Twilight’s bed, her eyes wide and pleading. In the bed itself sat Princess Celestia, her eyes downcast, her chest and right foreleg covered in thick bandages. Twilight winced; she’d had no guide except for a first-aid manual, and it showed—to say nothing of the slivers of black that showed through the gaps and around the edges, where the plates had continued to grow. Rarity would have to be blind to not see the change.

Rarity picked up Celestia’s chitin-free arm, and began to stroke the hoof. Celestia did not react. Spike watched for a moment, then leaned over to Twilight.

“How long has she been like this?” he asked.

“Since just after you left,” she said. She glanced at the clock, then leaned down again. “Two hours ago.”

Spike glared back at her. “You know how long it takes to get out to Fluttershy’s?” he said, “Especially with these little stubby legs? And do you have any idea how hard it is to get something out of Angel when he’s in one of his moods—?”

“What happened?” cried Rarity suddenly. Both Spike and Twilight turned to look. “Your Highness,” Rarity continued plaintively. “Your beautiful coat—!”

For the first time, Celestia stirred. She glanced at Rarity, then looked up at Spike and Twilight with a vague, faraway look.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Celestia said passively, breaking the silence. “I’m turning into a Changeling.”

Twilight opened her mouth, but, before she could speak, Rarity wailed.

“No!” she cried, “you can’t! You’re not one of those monsters, you can’t be! You’re our—!”

Celestia’s eyes hardened. “Shut up,” she spat.

Rarity’s eyes went wide, but she immediately fell silent.

“I know who I am,” Celestia growled. “And I know what’s happening to me. I’m not stupid, and I’m telling you, it’s true. I am turning into a Changeling.” She leaned back against the headboard. “Please don’t try and convince me otherwise. I’ve tried to do it myself; I don’t need any more help from you.”

No one spoke. Celestia looked at the three of them—Rarity horrified, Twilight shocked, Spike merely puzzled—then she looked away. After a long moment, she sighed.

“I’m sorry, Rarity,” she said. “That was uncalled for.”

“No,” Rarity murmured, “It’s alright…”

“It’s not alright,” Celestia snapped, glaring at her. “I’m becoming more monstrous with every passing day. Every passing hour. But I’m not a monster, and I can’t act like one—”

“Actually,” Twilight interrupted matter-of-factly, “it’s a perfectly normal reaction to this sort of thing.”

Celestia and Rarity looked up at her. She had grabbed a book off the nightstand and was flipping through it.

“Unwilling metamorphosis—though it usually happens instantaneously, rather than over weeks, as in your case, Princess—is a well-studied phenomenon. A common reaction is to try to deny the change—to convince yourself it isn’t happening, and to insist that nothing is wrong.”

“Twilight—” Rarity groaned, but Twilight was just getting started.

“In fact,” she continued, “studies have shown that the best thing to do is to embrace the change—to acknowledge that something drastic has happened to you…” she glanced up “...or is happening to you, at least—and to try and make it part of yourself. After all, these sorts of things are rarely reversible, at least not without the help of the pony who inflicted the condition in the first place—or someone else who understands the exact spell being used, or—”

“Twilight—” Rarity repeated, more insistent.

Twilight looked up, eyes shining, and clapped her hooves together. “Of course, this is all true of forcible transformation spells. This is the first recorded incident of a biological process making the change—Ooh! I’ll need to take notes—!”

“Twilight Sparkle, will you kindly put a foundering lid on it?!” snapped Rarity.

Twilight looked up and gasped. Celestia still sat in her bed—but now her head was bowed almost to her chest. And—Twilight felt a hitching in her own chest—tears were running down her cheeks and plopping on the bedspread.

Rarity shot Twilight a poisonous look, then turned back to Celestia. “I’m sorry, Your Highness,” she said soothingly, “she didn’t mean harm, I’m sure…”

Celestia sobbed. “She’s right,” she choked out, then put her face in her hooves. “I’m a freak—and there’s nothing that can change that…”

Rarity put a hoof on her shoulder. “Don’t say that,” she said. “We’ll find something…” She turned back to Twilight. “How does it work?” she asked her. “Normally, I mean. When someone gets turned into a frog, or a goose, or a donkey or somesuch. How does one turn themselves back?”

Twilight had to swallow once or twice before she could answer. “I don’t know,” she said.

Rarity shot her another nasty look, and she threw up her hooves. “I mean—it’s different,” Twilight said, “Almost every single time. Pay off the debt, or apologize for the insult, however the witch set up the spell…” She swallowed again, then hesitated, and, slowly, turned to gaze at Celestia. “Princess,” she said carefully, “if you could tell us exactly what happened… I think that might be the place to start...”

Princess Celestia returned her gaze, then turned and looked out the window. For several minutes, there was no sound except the clock ticking in the corner. Rarity raised an eyebrow at Twilight, who shrugged and silently shushed her.

“It was at the wedding,” Celestia said suddenly. Both Rarity and Twilight jumped, then looked up in wonder. “It was after we fought.” She swallowed. “Chrysalis and I, I mean. She knocked me out, and then…”

She fell silent. When she spoke again, her voice was quiet. “Her drones, they… they coughed up something. Something green. Fed it to me. Force-fed it to me. And I—” she gulped, then went quiet again.

“I noticed it the next morning,” she said. “A black spot, right here.” She touched a spot under her arm. “I thought it was nothing—a little nick from the fight—but it grew. It wasn’t long before I…”

She trailed off. For another moment, she was quiet. Rarity opened her mouth to speak, but just then, Celestia spoke again.

“Luna still has nightmares,” she said. “Do you know what they did to her at the wedding? Pulled her out of bed, and…” she swallowed uneasily. “She fought them off, but all the same—”

“I’ve heard rumors,” Rarity interjected, her voice hoarse.

Celestia glanced at her, then looked away. She swallowed again before speaking. “I couldn’t tell her,” she said. “Couldn’t let her know I was becoming… becoming one of them. So I…”

“You hid it,” Twilight said quietly. “You stopped going out in public, then started wearing clothes so no one would see.”

Celestia nodded silently.

“Oh, Princess,” Rarity said, taking her by the hoof again. “You can’t let anyone tell you what to do. You’re the Princess! You’re in charge! And you shouldn’t—”

“They’re already talking about an inquiry,” Celestia snapped at her. “See whether it was nepotism, or plain stupidity, that had me promote my niece’s fiance to Captain of the Guard. To see whether I should be criminally charged for putting wedding security in the hooves of the groom himself, possessed or no.” She turned and shot a withering glare at Rarity, who shrunk under her gaze. “What do you think would happen,” she added acidly, “if I told them that, oh, by the way, on top of everything else, I might actually be a monster?”

For a moment, no one spoke. It looked almost like Rarity was about to cry. Celestia scoffed, then turned back to the window—but Twilight cleared her throat.

“The—the stuff they fed you,” she said uncertainly. “The Changelings, I mean. What was it like?”

Both Celestia and Rarity looked at her again, Rarity scandalized, Celestia bewildered.

“It, uh…” Celestia said uncertainly. “It was green…? And—and bitter?”

Twilight nodded. “What was it?” she asked. “Solid? Liquid?”

Celestia shook her head. “It was a slime. Warm and thick. And…” she shuddered. “There was something in it…”

Twilight picked up another book and flipped through it. “Let me see…” she murmured. “That… might have been Royal Jelly.”

“Royal what?” Rarity gasped.

Celestia shifted uncomfortably in the bed.

“Royal Jelly,” Twilight repeated. “In certain insects, like bees, workers produce it when it’s time to make a new queen.”

Celestia shifted again, this time, a slight moan escaping her lips.

“Its full of protein and hormones,” Twilight continued. “The sort of stuff needed to turn a regular larvae into a queen. Pinboard theorized that Changelings share a great deal with insects, which suggests that they make use of Royal Jelly too. But no one’s entirely sure—”

Celestia squirmed uncomfortably. “Twilight—” she gasped.

“Of course,” Twilight continued heedlessly, “that’s what happens for Changelings. I would assume that the effects on ponies would be quite different—”

Celestia suddenly gritted her teeth, and, despite herself, cried out. everyone looked up at her—teeth clenched, tears running down her cheeks, and trembling.

Twilight lunged forward. “Princess!” she cried. “What’s wrong?”

“—hurts—” Celestia hissed, clutching at her abdomen.

“What can we do?” Twilight said, almost screeching. “Tell us how to help!”

Celestia opened her mouth to speak, but she snapped it shut again and hissed through clenched teeth. She shuddered, then screamed, a long, drawn-out, high-pitched wail. She fell back on the bed, her chest heaving—then looked down at the bedspread, dawning horror in her eyes.

Rarity gulped, then lit her horn and gently pulled the covers back. There, on the sheets between Celestia’s hind legs, in a small puddle of fluid, lay three watery spheres.

Eggs.

Changeling eggs.

For a long moment, no one spoke. Celestia clenched and unclenched her jaw several times as she stared, eyes wide, at the eggs. Twilight’s mouth hung open, and she made a tiny, high-pitched whine in the back of her throat. Spike looked like he was about to be very sick. And Rarity—

A number of emotions washed across Rarity’s face in quick succession: fear, horror, disgust, among others. But, even as Twilight was just beginning to form her first, awkward syllables, Rarity swallowed, hard, and stood up a little straighter. Now, the only emotion on her face was a strange sort of determination, a hard, sharp, clear resolve.

Rarity lit her horn, then scooped up the eggs in her magic.

“Not to worry, your Highness,” she said, “We’ve all had our leaks before. We know how it feels. We’ll get you taken care of.”

Rarity turned to leave, still holding the eggs. As she was halfway to the door, Celestia finally found her voice.

“But—” she breathed, “they’re my—”

Rarity turned to look at her, her determination giving way to a little warmth. “You haven’t been around a stallion recently, have you?” she asked. “So, these aren’t fertile, just… an accident. Nothing to be worried about—-we’ll get these taken care of, and we’ll get you cleaned up, and we’ll get on with figuring out a cure for you.” she smiled a little. “We’re all mares,” she said. “And we have to look out for each other in times like this. That’s just what we do. It’s only civil, after all.”

And with that, she turned and left.

Both Twilight and Celestia stared at the door long after it had closed. Spike nervously tapped his claws together, then began to gather the soiled blanket into a bundle.

Celestia looked down at Twilight. “Twilight?” she asked.

Twilight turned and looked up at her. “Yes?”

“I want you to be honest with me,” she said. “I’ve had a thousand years of sycophants and hoof-kissers to train me to notice when someone is lying. And…” she swallowed. “I don’t think I can take any of that right now.”

Twilight hesitated, then nodded. “Okay,” she said.

Celestia was quiet for a moment, then took a deep breath. “Is that… how it goes?”

Twilight hesitated. “In beehives,” she said carefully, “one of the major roles of Queens is, um… reproduction.” Twilight paused. Celestia said nothing. “I suppose that, if Changelings follow the same rules, then… experiences like these will be…” she gulped “...par for the course. But that's only a guess—” she added quickly.

Celestia did not react. “How often?” she said.

Twilight took a deep breath. “I don’t know, she said. “Though, I expect fairly often. Perhaps every day.” She looked down. “Perhaps more.”

For a few moments, none of them spoke. Then, Twilight looked up at Celestia, a faint smile on her face.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “It’s like Rarity said—we’ll be here for you. We all will.”

Celestia swallowed, then looked down. “Thank you,” she said slowly. “However, I would prefer that it’s only you three who are here for me.” She hesitated. “I don’t want anyone else knowing what’s going on.”

Twilight nodded. “Of course,” she said. “You can stay here for as long as you need. And we’ll do our best to keep others away. It’s like Rarity said—” Twilight took Celestia by the hoof “—we gotta stick together. And we’ll help you in any way we can.” She smiled a little wider. “If you want anything—anything at all—just ask. We’ll do everything we can.”

Celestia nodded numbly. Twilight hesitated, then smiled again.

“Tell you what,” she said. “Let’s start with getting you some new sheets. Be just a minute.” She turned to leave. “And Spike,” she added, “bring that blanket down to the laundry room, will you? Might as well get that washed now.”

Twilight stepped outside, but waited halfway down the steps for Spike to appear. When he did, she gently took the blanket in her magic, then reached over and gave him a quick squeeze on the shoulder.

“Thanks,” she said. “For getting Rarity, I mean.”

Spike puffed out his chest a little. “Told you she’d help,” he said proudly. “She knew just what to say.”

Twilight smirked. “Don’t get too proud of yourself, now. You did good, but you still took way too long.”

Spike shrugged. “Yeah,” he admitted. “But you still love me anyways.”

Twilight laughed, then hugged him again. “That I do,” she said. “that I do.”