Truth-telling Lies

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Written by: Oneimare

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Once again, Rainbow had found herself staring at the door leading inside the mighty oak. The pegasus knew nobody would arrive after her this time either, yet she had hesitated as if it was her rooted into the soil and not the town’s library.

She will be there… of course, she will—she called… me and the others… but there might come a moment when we’re left alone…

Should I tell her? What should I tell her?

Rainbow barely stopped herself in time from banging her head against the door; though, it might have brought some clarity to her sleep-deprived mind. The question of why she had stood silent the last time she visited that place kept her tossing and turning all night.

Twilight, I want to see you smile—

“Are you going to come in?”

Bringing herself back to the library’s door after the unplanned take-off, Rainbow absentmindedly nodded to Spike; the image of beautiful violet eyes still held her consciousness hostage.

Raising his eyebrow, the dragon tried to meet the pegasus’ gaze. “Is everything alright?”

The memories of inky chitin, sharp fangs and vile magic effortlessly banished the lavender unicorn, leaving not a trace but flooding her thoughts with despair.

“Are you seriously asking that?” she snapped at Spike and immediately bit her tongue.

Yet the dragon didn’t seem to hear her—he shivered, staring in space.

“It can’t be that bad, right?” Worry darkened his emerald eyes; his words had an empty seat meant for hope, “The Princesses wouldn’t give Twilight that task otherwise…”

Against her better judgement, an edge forced itself into Rainbow’s voice. “The Princess, you mean. Have you seen her?”

Spike flinched and the pegasus couldn’t help but mirror him.

Cretin! Celestia is like a mother to him.

“Sorry,” Rainbow mumbled, turning away in shame. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

The dragon’s tone—hard with dark determination—surprised her, “I trust her—you all agreed, too.”

“That we did,” she flatly admitted.

Unable to hold Spike’s burning with conviction gaze—to even stand before his faith in Twilight’s friends, the pegasus pushed the door open.

“Rainbow, where have you been?” Twilight met her with a searing accusation. Without waiting for the answer, she addressed the rest of the mares gathered at the table laden with scrolls, “Alright, let’s begin.”

Everything had faded into a buzz as inside her mind Rainbow painstakingly stacked the cards on top of each other—words meant for Twilight. Yet, time after time the card tower crumbled, not rising even a single story high.

Suddenly, she became aware of the first floor of the library housing only two ponies—and no dragon. Rainbow stared at Twilight, as if she saw her for the first time, the sight taking her breath away.

Lost in her scrolls, the unicorn wouldn’t have noticed if Rainbow had started drooling; she didn’t even raise her head to address the pegasus, “The last volunteer changeling’s name is”—she double-checked her list—“Teleta.”

Who cares about some stupid bug?

Careful to not let her mood slip into her words, Rainbow whinnied, “How am I supposed to know which one of them is Teleta?”

Twilight spared her a glance that turned into a level stare as she deadpanned, “How would you know a new pony arrived in Ponyville?”

Rainbow’s heart skipped a beat as their eyes finally met; Twilight’s, violet and beautiful, obliviously and painfully empty as her mind remained in the world of parchment and ink.

NOW!

“Twilight—”

“If that’s not urgent—you still can catch up with the girls,” the unicorn grumbled without looking, her muzzle burrowed in the scrolls and the quill scratching furiously.

The chair screeched as Rainbow stood up, staring at the floor, her ears angled back. She unclenched her teeth and struggled to keep her voice steady and neutral.

“No, it’s nothing important.”

True to Twilight’s word and her nature, Rainbow had effortlessly reunited with her friends. Not that it posed difficulty as only Rarity seemed to have enough motivation to trot in the direction of the tent camp and not the opposite; and even the fashionista didn’t hurry.

The pegasus expected any of the four mares to comment on her strange behaviour, but their eyes remained misted with more personal worries. Landing to trot by Applejack’s side, she followed the orange mare’s sombre gaze.

Dark forms unnaturally flittered over the tarpaulin mounds, the air humming with their ominous chirring; shadows slunk betwixt and inside the tents, cast by the eerie toxic light; the senseless fragments of disturbing speech wafted from the camp, giving an impression of a coven in the middle of a forbidden ritual.

That Rainbow had expected… though, to a lesser degree; bolstering herself, she pressed forward.

Everything for her smile.

It didn’t absolve her of one problem she couldn’t ignore, however.

“Changelings?” she snorted, her eyes jumping betwixt the chitinous equines. “More like samelings—how am I supposed to tell them one from another?”

“Rainbow!” Rarity hissed like a furious cat. “They might overhear you!”

“An’ so that?” Applejack barked, her voice louder than it was necessary. “Do ye wanna t’first thing ‘m tellin ‘em t’be a lie?”

Rarity winced and as her eyes kept studying the changelings, a grimace of distaste blemishing her features. Before donning a mask of politeness and hospitality, she whispered, glaring at Rainbow and then Applejack, “At least make sure Twilight doesn’t ever overhear you—it would break her heart.”

Whilst the pegasus clamped her jaws so hard, she expected to hear the enamel cracking, the earth pony’s frown only deepened.

Dust raised around the orange mare as she abruptly pivoted, blocking the road; the fire consumed the forest green in her eyes.

“Don’tcha ya think Twilight hafta know the t—”

“Girls,” Pinkie’s voice, though terrifyingly small, it nevertheless cut above the starting argument. “I think Fluttershy—”

A dull thud interrupted her and all but AJ whipped around to gape at Fluttershy sprawled on the dirt, unconscious.

Everyone rushed to her side, bumping into each other only to slam into a barrier of blue magic. Rarity jerked and rubbed her horn as the bubble popped with a sound of shattered glass—but it achieved its goal.

Before anyone could wonder what this was about, she shooed the concerned mares away.

“The poor dear needs some air.”

That failed to convince the two earth ponies and pegasus and their inclination to barge past the alabaster unicorn only waxed when a moan came from a heap of yellow feathers and lanky limbs. But Rarity shielded Fluttershy with her body, resolutely saying, “I’ll take care of everything.”

Still refusing to heed her words, Rainbow and Applejack stepped forward, but then each of them sensed a hoof gently tugging their shoulders—they turned to witness with their wide eyes Pinkie slowly shaking her head.

Her ears flattened against her skull, Rainbow cast her stare back to watch the unicorn helping up her shaking childhood friend.

A pink hoof pulled more insistently and she obliged.

She found neither smile nor frown on Pinkie’s muzzle—only eerie blankness. Applejack, however, scowled with her eyes fixed on the same scene to which the pegasus turned her back; but then she, too, averted her eyes.

Everything for her smile.

Rainbow had wandered the throngs of changelings in tense solitude; daydreaming through the meeting didn’t help her as she had no idea what to do when she had found Teleta.

If I found her.

Somehow, Applejack had managed to conjure enough hospitality to address the miniature swarm, her tone nowhere near hostile even if terse, “Heya, folks. Which one of y’all be Marmor?”

Pinkie, too, had blended in without a hitch—the pink mare looked like an impostor herself, stiff and with joy that retreaded deep into her eyes. At least the Pinkie Sense still guided her—telling her where to look for her charge, Lamina.

Rarity and Fluttershy didn’t join them; Rainbow could swear she had spotted the immaculate coat flashing amidst the sea of chitin, however.

The changelings skittered around the pegasus, sparing her but the briefest of glances as they hurried to settle down before the dark; though she couldn’t help but wonder if it would only make things more comfortable for them.

Faceted eyes reflected the sunset unsettlingly and thin fangs glimmered blood-red in its last rays; the silhouettes of changelings were impossible to tell from the long shadows they cast; gossamer wings whirred and Rainbow’s skin twitched—with phantom stings of gnat bites, even though it was a too early season for those parasites.

Do they feed on me right now?

Suddenly, she itched to flee from the creatures who must have read her better than herself. But if the mare had brought dinner to the camp indeed, none thanked her or even let her know.

Rainbow’s confusion doubled as she realised—she wasn’t the only one confused there. The insect-like equines never stopped, yet their motions often served little to no purpose.

They failed to find a place where to put their belongings, forlornly moving them from a tent to a tent or outside and back. They trotted around or zipped above, asking one another something only to return later and ask more, the lost expression never leaving their sharp snouts. Some just stood, staring around wide-eyed, seemingly on the verge of a breakdown.

The pegasus froze—an emotion she hadn’t expected pricked her heart. Just a twinge, but she stared at the changelings in sympathy.

Like fish in the sky.

Her eyes met that of a random mare and no disgust, fear or anger surged through Rainbow—only pity. She knew not their language, but was sure if she were to ask that changeling what was on her mind the changeling would tell her the same thing she thought:

What am I doing here?

Icy claws gripped Rainbow as her mind continued to follow that track.

We want the same thing, but have no idea how to get that, now that everything has changed.

She continued to stare into the changeling’s teal eyes, unable to tear her gaze away, paralyzed; that mare needn’t green flames to burn her coat away to reveal Rainbow underneath. Then the pegasus screwed her eyelids shut—what if she looked at herself and would see not the cerulean fur but glistening chitin?

Maybe it’s not too late?

When Rainbow’s eyes opened again, they burned with a resolve to get back to the Golden Oaks; yet before her vision adapted back to the remaining daylight, she knew something drastically changed. By the time her mind caught up with her sight, the dark blur sharpened into the toothy grin of a changeling that might want to learn about the concept of personal place.

“Miss Dash!” the changeling all but squealed; her wings thrummed and she shivered, about to burst from delight. “I’m so glad Miss Sparkle assigned me to you—she was so glad I’ve volunteered…”

Too late.

Almost everyone stole a glance at Rainbow as she entered the post office—standing in a line had left them little opportunity for entertainment, after all; and then those ponies did a double-take to stare at the grimace twisting the pegasus muzzle.

The severity of her scowl only waxed as her gaze travelled across the office till it stopped on another pegasus, the mare with a grey coat and straw-coloured mane—who was sitting behind the counter.

Ignoring the protests from the line, Rainbow stomped to the table to bark, “Derpy, there is Teleta?”

She couldn’t tell if the postal mare glared at her or it just was her eyes; either way, her hoof pointed at an earth pony who arranged postcards on a stand, humming to herself.

That ‘pony’ squawked as Rainbow grabbed her by the scruff of her neck, hauling her to the corner, away from the shocked stares of the visitors.

“Teleta,” the pegasus hissed in her ear, “what are you doing!?”

Rainbow cast a quick look at the ponies who gawped at them with avid interest; muttering curses, she dragged the changeling into the staff room. Luckily, it was vacant—not that it would have stopped her.

“Change back to your bug form this instant,” she demanded, rage boiling in her voice.

Teleta cocked her head. “Bug?”

The flood of suffocating panic snuffed out the fires of ire, leaving cold fingers constricting around Rainbow’s throat.

Twilight is going to kill me.

“Your original form,” she still managed to squeeze out of herself. “...Natural?”

The face of the lovely mare before her bore nothing but naive confusion that remained after the jade flames ate her skin away, leaving charcoal chitin. Rainbow forced a sigh of relief to come out as a regular breath.

It was premature anyway, as Teleta spoke in a hurt tone, “But it’s natural for us to change into other creatures.”

“You don’t walk around the hi—” The sigh managed to slip this time, adding intensity to Rainbow’s scowl. “The dormitory. You don’t walk around the dormitory as ponies, don’t you?”

If changelings had eyelids, Teleta would have blinked at the pegasus; so she just blankly stared at her before whinnying, “That’s because it’s our home.”

A false note in Teleta’s voice echoed in Rainbow’s heart—she wouldn’t be able to sing that song in tune herself.

“Just don’t walk around as a pony, alright?” she mumbled, suddenly weary.

Her ears drooping, Rainbow turned away—too soon.

“Why?” Teleta’s eyes darkened. “The ponies prefer me that way.”

“Wouldn’t it be better if they knew your true self?”

Do ponies prefer a lie over a truth?

Rainbow hoped Teleta wouldn’t sense (and choke on) the bitter regret that surged along with that question, even if the pegasus asked that only of herself; her conscience didn’t stop there.

Wouldn’t it be better if ponies knew my true self?

Teleta didn’t pry into her turmoil—she didn’t seem to be doing that great herself, lamenting, “I’m a changeling—that’s my true self. And… I’m not sure if… I’ll be able to feed…”

Like slapped, Rainbow flinched; she hated how she hated those stabs of sympathy—they poked holes in her unyielding determination, revealing things for what they were.

“Listen, it’s a rule set by Twilight,” she reminded Teleta, but her voice lacked the firmness supposed to accompany such a statement. Taking a breath and closing her eyes shut, she continued, “I’ll talk to—”

Words died in her throat.

Why? Why won’t I talk with Twilight?

The changeling absolved her of answering that, conceding defeatedly, “If Miss Sparkle says so.”

Rainbow softly landed before Twilight’s abode; her hoof froze mid-air, following the theme of her flight to the library—full of the times she had almost changed her mind.

The image of the changeling slumping, her ribs showing even in the dim lighting of the staff room, had haunted her dreams and every waking moment. She kept clinging to the hope that things would improve, but as the days had gone by and the ponies had shunned the chitinous pony to the point the flow of visitors to the post office had dwindled in half…

The pegasus knocked. Nobody answered.

Nevertheless, Rainbow pushed the door—and it yielded; deciding to wait for Twilight’s inevitable return the mare plopped down into one of those comfortable reading chairs. As the silence took reign over the reading space, she flicked her ears—reached by the gentle sound of snoring muffled by a door.

Against her better judgement, Rainbow crept up the stairs and once again paused—stopped by common decency that demanded to not watch ponies sleep, even if she was being quiet enough to not wake them.

And then she snuck into Twilight’s room.

The unicorn had fallen asleep at the table, drooling on the mound of scrolls serving her as a pillow. Rainbow turned away, but then curiously pulled her tail and she, on the tips of her hooves, approached her slumbering friend.

Her heart fluttered as she breathed deeply the scent of lavender and book dust, but immense guilt followed that pleasure.

That’s almost disgusting.

For a brief moment, the pegasus contemplated covering Twilight’s shoulders with a throw blanket—if only to rectify her weakness; then something caught her eye—a Royal Seal.

Leaning over the unicorn sprawled on parchment, she squinted at the squiggly lines that had no right belonging to a thousand years old alicorn—neither of them. To her surprise, the missive came from under Cadance’s quill and its contents removed the weight from her shoulders—Teleta wouldn’t starve, after all.

Preparing to leave not just the study but the library, Rainbow started to turn away when the scrolls once more snagged her attention like hooks would do a cloth.

The very parchment upon which Twilight dreamt flashed at the pegasus with the words she had never expected to see in the vicinity of the chaste unicorn, more so written by her. Rainbow’s brows climbed higher and higher as her eyes explored the lines of text peeking from under Twilight mane—a story that revolved about two characters: its author and the certain alicorn of white coat.

Suddenly Rainbow became aware of one of Twilight’s hooves snaking under the table, clenched betwixt the purple thighs; and she understood why the aroma of lavender was so sweet.

Ablaze with shame, she hastily fled the room.

But amidst that fire of embarrassment a chip of ice lodged itself into her heart.

A race where only first place matters.

The post office met Rainbow with the emptiness of a lunch break, letting her head for Derpy without the risk of the customers rioting. At the same time, the circumstances of her visit also lowered her chances to avoid Teleta’s attention and to be done with her task without interacting with the overbearing chitinous equine.

“Miss Dash!” the changeling chirped, nimbly intercepting Rainbow.

Her eyes narrow at Teleta. That’s too much enthusiasm even for her.

The pegasus tried to catch Derpy’s eyes—one of them, at least—but instead had found a multifaceted glowing gaze filling her vision. Its owner sweetly asked, “Is everything alright, Miss Dash?”

“I should ask you that.” Rainbow squinted at her from under furrowed brows, then demanded, her voice icy-cold, “Why won’t you let me see Derpy?”

Teleta stared at her hooves.

“Everything’s okay, Rainbow,” Derpy called from the other end of the office, rushing to them. Approaching closer, she added with an awkward smile, “She just scared me a bit, that’s all.”

Rainbow’s burning gaze pinned the changeling to the floor.

“What did you do?” she growled.

Despite her anger, Rainbow couldn’t help but sense a wave of relief upon seeing Teleta’s ribs no longer protruding so sharply through her chitin coat. Still, the fear-shrunk mare all but writhed under her withering glare and she expected the changeling to turn invisible or flee any moment.

Teleta did neither; surprising Rainbow, she steadily met her gaze to admit, “I wanted to help move bigger parcels and changed into a minotaur.”

Stifling an urge to groan and too tired to feel anything but dull annoyance, Rainbow flatly reminded her, “Didn’t I tell you not to change?”

Derpy stood betwixt them, putting her hoof on the pegasus’s shoulder.

“Rainbow, it’s fine,” she neighed. “No harm done.”

I owe that mare more than just for that one delivery. Making a mental note to swing by Sugarcube Corner later, Rainbow turned to the changeling, preparing to give another lecture—not as scathing as she planned, but admonishing nonetheless.

Eyes, wide with confusion and hurt, stared at her; for a heartbeat, Rainbow got an impression that she—or Derpy—stabbed the changeling.

“I… I don’t understand…” Teleta stammered, “You told me to not turn into ponies and I didn’t!”

Rainbow stared back, her skin twitching and her heart tearing in two as she knew—there was only one way she could act.

Everything about it—I hate it.

“Just…” Every word had to be forced out. “Just make sure you don’t scare anyone again… alright?”

I’m not checking on Teleta ever again—should have taken an example from the others weeks ago.

I’m not betraying Twilight again, no matter what.

She abruptly pivoted to marsh from the postal office, blind to Teleta’s smiling so hard, her eyes brimmed with tears.