All Day Long, We Will Be Changeling In The Snow
Deep underground, the entire town of Fargoat sat huddled silently in the dark. At first, the assorted ponies had made as much commotion as they could through their slime (ew) bindings, but as more and more of their fellows had joined them they began to realise the hopelessness of their situation. Now, the only sounds to be heard were the occasional sniffle of a frightened foal.
“Oh balls, what happened…”
Up to now, that is.
Flim groaned, the sound of his brothers voice shaking the last of his stupor from him. “Language,” he grumbled, before looking around sleepily—and rapidly looking around again, a lot less sleepily. His brother was lying next to him rubbing his head, and they were in a dark cavern, lit only by dim light filtering through the entrance tunnel, and surrounded by hundreds of ponies. Every single one was bound and gagged by… slime? Memories came flooding back to him, and he groaned again, this time in fear.
“Oh we’ve done it now, brother,” he whispered.
“Definitely doomed,” Flam agreed, also whispering.
“Positively porked.”
“Bountifully buggered.”
“Fantastically fu-”
Flim was cut off, as all of a sudden, loud kitschy music began booming out into the cave. Most of the ponies looked around in confusion, but Flim recognised the music, and by the look on his face his brother did too. It was, after all, one of the many terrible, generic festive songs they had played in their shop—and unless he was much mistaken, played over one of the cheap tapedecks they had sold the crazy-mare-slash-apparent-changeling-queen.
Suddenly, the room burst into light. Blinking away the spots in his vision, Flim could only gape at the utterly ridiculous sight before him.
The entire cavern was covered top to bottom in Hearth’s Warming junk. Every single glitzy piece of crap that the two had been able to get their hooves on, all the true dregs of their stock that not even the most naive of Hearth’s Warming shoppers had bought—all of it was on proud display. From cheerfully offensive sweaters[1] to neon pink and brown sparkling baubles, the walls of the cave had been transformed into some strange monument to bad decorating. Just as the collected ponies had finished gawking at the bizarre ornamentation, a buzzing came from the doorway—and to Flim’s horror, changelings began pouring into the room.
However, while many of the ponies cowered in fear (and a few fainted again) it soon became clear that the changelings were not quite as intimidating as usual. Every single one was wearing one of the many terrible jumpers that the brothers had had in stock, with one purple-tinged changeling looking particularly grumpy about it, and most of them were wearing Santa hats too—although not all of them were wearing theirs correctly. One had even put one on each hoof, and appeared to have wrapped their head in tinsel. The changelings, instead of attacking as many of the ponies expected, instead lined up in neat little rows opposite, sitting quietly on their haunches.
Finally, Queen Chrysalis herself stepped in. And she was quite the sight to behold. She wore a truly hideous lime-green-and-mustard sweater, multi-coloured tinsel ran around and through the holes in her hooves, and topping it all off was yet another Santa hat. Despite wearing it correctly, it somehow was even more absurd on the feared changeling queen, that had once bested Celestia herself in combat, than it had been on the rank and file changelings. She walked up in front of the ponies, and cleared her throat loudly.
“Ponies of Fargoat!” she began stridently, “You are all hereby invited to the first annual Changeling Hive Hearth’s Warming Party!”
Her words echoed around the cave, ringing through uncomprehending ears.
“Eh?” said Flam.
The Changeling Queen huffed impatiently. “Oh for—BRING THEM IN!”
Immediately, more changelings, equally festive as all the rest, began streaming in through the entrance tunnel. These changelings, however, were a little slower—understandably, given the sheer amount of stuff they were carrying. Presents, chairs, tables, trees—and piles and piles of steaming hot food. Meanwhile, the changelings in front of them had moved towards them to many ‘mmff’s of terror, only to elicit much more confused noises as they began undoing the bindings of every single pony. Flim and Flam gave each other another bewildered look. It appeared to be becoming a trend today, and not a welcome one.
The formerly captive ponies stood up and began talking to one another, only to slowly quiet down as they realised what their captors had been doing. Before them, a truly magnificent feast had been spread out. Carrots, yam, Brussel sprouts, broccoli, alfafa, hay, roasted aubergines, more Brussel sprouts—every kind of vegetable one could imagine, and more gravy and potato than Flim had ever seen in his life. He could feel his mouth begin to water just looking at it. But his gaze was torn away from the food as the changeling queen cleared her throat once more.
“All of you have been invited here to our party. Along with your food. And presents.” She looked at the ponies expectantly. For some reason, she seemed inordinately pleased with herself.
“Errr, but I didn’t want to come?” One very brave stallion spoke up. But instead of the violence that might reasonably be expected as a consequence of talking back to one of Equestria’s greatest enemies, Chrysalis instead looked triumphant.
“Ahah! But you’re already here! Surely you can’t leave now? It would be terribly rude after all…” The coaxing smile she began the sentence with had turned decidedly sinister by the last line. Flim wasn’t sure whether to be impressed by her audacity, or to facehoof at how dumb it was.
She must realise that that’s not going to wor-
“Oh, well, I suppose you’re right...” The stallion from before said hesitantly. Flim’s jaw dropped as he snapped his head around to stare at the offending pony, only for it to drop further as a general murmur of assent spread throughout the crowd.
“Eh??” said Flam.
“It can’t hurt to try, can it?” one mare suggested.
“I mean, it’s Hearth’s Warming! Spirit of the season, and all that,” an elderly stallion next to her agreed.
That’s quite enough of this for me. Flim thought. “Welllll,” he began, yanking on Flam’s stunned forehoof, “that sounds awfully amusing, but my brother and I have a most urgent appointment that we simply must keep, so I think we’ll just be going no-”
“WE HAVE THE EGGNOG!”
Silence descended. Two changelings, apparently latecomers, had appeared at the entrance triumphantly, a large cauldron carried between them in their magic. Suddenly, Flim felt his brother’s hoof slip from his own, and to his shock, Flam stepped cautiously forward towards the two. “Eggnog, you say?”
Flim knew his brother had a taste for local spirits, but this was ridiculous. “Is this really the time for thi-” he hissed, only to cut himself off as Flam held up a silencing hoof.
All eyes were watching the exchange now. A change had come over Flam, and they could all sense it—gone was the confused conpony. In his place, a seasoned connoisseur. Slowly, he walked towards the table, picking up a glass in his magic, and then just as slowly, he walked over to the Eggnog changelings. He stopped. Both shapeshifters were now visibly nervous. The one on the right fidgeted as he lowered the glass in to the creamy liquid. Everyone in the room watched, riveted, as he slowly lifted the glass to his lips, and took a sip.
“Well,” the changeling on the left asked anxiously after a moment, “how is it?”
Flam closed his eyes, and exhaled slowly through his nose. “Exquisite,” he whispered.
The entire room, changeling and pony alike, broke out into cheers. “Come on everypony!” the stallion from before shouted, “I’m starving!” With a chorus of enthusiastic agreements, the crowd of ponies practically mobbed the table, and the changelings found themselves quickly dragged in as well. Desperately, a purple-finned changeling wrenched himself away from the crowd and pushed his way over to Chrysalis.
“Your majesty!” he shouted over the din, “your majesty please, this is our chance!”
Chrysalis rolled her eyes. “Oh, lighten up Fanfic. Take a break for once!” Ignoring the despair on his face, she skipped over to where Flim was now trying the eggnog, looking for all the world as if he were having a religious experience.
“It seems you have helped make this party a success twice over!” she said, beaming down at the two once again nervous ponies,[2] “I guess there might be something you ponies are good for after all. Sit with me! You are guests of honour for the night, and we can have all the eggnog we like!”
The brothers perked up again. “Now that, your majesty,” Flim began with a grin.
“Is an idea we can get behind,” Flam finished.
In the corner, far out of reach of the cross-species revelry that most of the hive had descended into, a lone changeling sat, nursing a single glass of eggnog. He stared into its depths with the air of a ling who had been beaten down one too many times for the day, and had simply decided that life could take a hike until tomorrow. Even as someone else walked over, and sat down beside him, he didn’t look up. For a while the two just sat there, an almost companionable silence settling in the air around them. Finally, the first ling spoke up.
“She’s just… so stupid.”
His words had the ring of revelation to them. A truth that had been known, before, but never truly understood.
The second ling shifted over to pat him gently on the back, looking down at him commiseratingly. “I know, brother.”
“She’s just so stupid Thorax.”
“I know, brother.”
“Why is she so stupid?”
“I wish I knew, Pharynx. I wish I knew.”
The party was in full swing.
More than a few ponies and lings were passed out on the floor of the cavern, fallen haphazardly over each other, the sound of snores both insectile and equine filling the air. Those that remained were very, very drunk.[3] Herself included.
“Heyyyyy, Chrysssie!” a voice called from behind her. Swinging round, she beamed down at the pony behind her.
“Flaaaaan!” she said, “Where’d you go? I mi-*hic*-misshed you.” She pouted, squinting slightly to steady her image of him.
Flam grinned at her, and held up a rather hefty bag of bits. “Swiped this off some ol’ geezer,” he slurred, “ponies are so-” he swayed a little, “so dumb.” He snickered to himself.
Chrysalis couldn’t help but join in. “You got that right!” she cackled. She threw a hoof around the mustachioed stallion, pulling him up against her side. “Where’s your bro-*hic*-brother?”
“Right here, milady!” Flim called out cheerfully. He was (rather precariously) balancing three glasses of eggnog in his magic as he weaved his way drunkenly over to them. He was rewarded with two enthusiastic cheers at his arrival, as he carefully handed two of the glasses over. “Sh-some party you got going!”
Chrysalis giggled. A few metres away, a slightly less drunk changeling looked over in alarm, before his new pony friend’s enthusiastic explanation of a toasters use and function distracted him. She pulled in the other brother with her free forehoof, squeezing the two in a tight hug.
“Y-y’know,” she slurred happily, “I thought this whole Hearth’s Warming Eve thing was just more pony nonshense,” she took another swig of eggnog, “but I’m starting to think there might be something to it! Look at all these ponies we duped!” she gestured vaguely out at the cavern, “Together! That’sh-*hic*-the TRUE meaning of friendship!”
“That’s right!” cheered Flim.
“Haha, yeah money!” Flam yelled happily.
Chrysalis hugged them again. “I love you guys!” she said happily, “I’m going to eat you last!”
Very slowly, Chrysalis came back to consciousness. She immediately regretted this decision, and tried to return to the sweet embrace of sleep, but someling was making a very loud banging noise. Some very dead ling.
With a moan, she pushed herself upright. Her skull felt a little like the rest of the hive had tapdanced across it while she slept, but she cracked one bleary eye open to see who was making the racket.
Strangely enough, everyling—and everypony—else appeared to either be asleep, or looking for the source of the sound too. Just as she began to wonder what in her name was going on, it suddenly became very apparent, as with a loud crash the entire eastern wall caved in.[4] Obnoxiously bright sunlight streamed into the room, eliciting pained groans from all those who were awake, blocked out only by the silhouette of a lone figure standing in the ruins of the wall. A very familiar silhouette.
She groaned again. “For the last time, Shining Armour,” she said, raising her voice so it carried across the cave, “I am not paying child-support for that hellspawn you call a foal!”
With a mighty bound, the figure leapt into the cave. Shining Armour—for it indeed was him—soared gracefully through the air, flipping twice, before landing on his hind hooves with a solid crack in the most bizarre pose Chrysalis had ever seen. Both his front hooves were contorted around his torso, one wrapping around to his opposite elbow and the other somehow covering its opposite eye. His hips too, jutted out at an unnatural angle—were it not for look of deadly seriousness that he possessed (and his irritatingly good[5] looks), Chrysalis might have been tempted to laugh at him.
“I,” he began, gravitas suffusing every word, “am not here for that, Chrysalis. I know now that I was deceived—the doctors have shown me that Flurry Heart is indeed my daughter. Your trickery shall work on me no more!”
A loud sigh echoed through the chamber. “I think she gets it, sweetie.”
Princess Cadance slowly picked her way over the rubble of Shining Armour’s entrance, making her way slowly into the cave to stand next to her husband. To Chrysalis’ surprise, the Princess looked significantly worse than the last time she had seen her—given that had been when she was her prisoner in the caves under Canterlot, that was saying something. Her mane looked vaguely like somepony had put it through a blender and then tried to stick it back on her head as if nothing had happened, and her coat was dulled and unkempt. But the true horror was her eyes. Quite aside from the massive bags coiled underneath them, they bore the look of a mare old before her time, who had seen one horror too many and was just so very done with it all. She suspected this might be in no small part due to the babbling ball of fur and evil that the Princess had strapped to her back by harness—also known as her daughter.[6]
“You can’t keep blaming your completely irrational fear of Flurry on the changeling queen, dear.” The last time Chrysalis had seen her, Cadance’s voice had been filled with a righteous fury, and a passionate belief in the ability of her loved ones to recognise her absence that had been irritatingly accurate. Now, it was a dull monotone that sent a sliver of something resembling pity down the changeling queen’s spine. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what had happened to Cadance in the last few years.
On her back, Flurry Heart giggled happily, before sending a searing blast of arcane force straight at the ceiling, vapourising a solid three feet of rock. Cadance gave a brief glance upwards. “Mostly irrational,” she amended tonelessly.
Shining Armour faltered slightly. “No no, my darling, that’s not it at all!” he said, dropping his pose to turn beseechingly towards his wife, “I’m bringing her to justice for you! For us, for our family!”
Princess Cadance sighed once again. “Shining, I’d honestly almost forgotten about her.” Chrysalis could not help but be a little insulted by this, despite her still pounding headache and the instinctive gratitude it gave her towards anyone willing to take the noise away. “I think,” she continued with the patient air of one who had long given up hope of being listened to, “that this might be a problem you have with her.”
Shining Armour gave a full body twitch. To an outside observer, it looked a little like he’d just tried to start dancing a jig, and immediately thought better of it. He hunched in on himself. “I,” he said waveringly, “I…” He trailed off, before whatever madness had seized him before seemed to return in full force.
He whirled around again, settling once more into his strange battle pose. “I will avenge my wife, you foul creature!” he cried, “your vile deeds-”
“Shiny, I really don’t care that much about her any more.”
“Your vile deeds,”, he repeated more forcefully, “will not be forgotten!”
“Shiny please go see a therapist.”
“Not ever!” he shouted, before leaping forward in a spinning whirl of limbs straight at Chrysalis. With an undignified yelp, she scrambled backwards, narrowly dodging the equine bullet. He landed instead on the unfortunate sleeping form of one Flim Skim of the Flim Flam brothers, who could only let out a wheeze of pure pain as he was awoken by 250 pounds of pure equine hunk.
“Gah!” Shining Armour scrambled up in horror, “Using hostages as equine shields! You are truly the epitome of all evil!”
“What?!” she said, “I didn’t do anything, he was just sleeping there!”
“I shall avenge my fallen comrade!” Shining Armour howled, throwing himself at her once more.
“Oh come on!” she said, dodging out of the way again.
“Avenge!”
“This is stupid!”
“AVENG-”
“Oh, go boil your head you humongous Malpighian tubule!”[7] she snapped, and with one swift movement snatched a Santa hat off of the nearest lings head, and shoved it over Shining Armour’s face.
Instantly, the stallions composure shattered. Hooves flailing, he fell to the floor, panicked yells muffled by the soft fluffy fabric. The stare that Princess Cadance gave her husband might have been called disbelieving on someone else, but on her it just looked a little more resigned. Chrysalis, on the other hoof, could not afford to waste time.
“CHANGELINGS!” she bellowed, wincing as her head throbbed loudly in protest, “FLEE!”
At once, the many lings that had been lying sleeping peacefully, or painfully awake, sprang into action. A loud buzzing filled the hall as the entire hive rose up into the air and streamed out of the tunnel—something that may have been more impressive without the loud chorus of pained groans and multiple variations of “Oh, my head,” that filled the air. Chrysalis stopped only to give one last wistful glance at the still sleeping Flam, before throwing herself into the air after her subjects.
It seemed she had not been a moment too soon either, as just as she took off a single, dishevelled guard burst in through the broken wall. “Commander, we’ve seen no sight of the changel-” He stopped, staring at the scene in front of him.
The guard looked between the fleeing changelings, his commander screaming through a Santa hat on the floor, his commander’s daughter giggling happily on her mother’s back, and the dead-eyed stare of the Princess of Love.
“Well that didn’t work.”
Princess Cadance sighed, very, very deeply.
[1] Not to be confused with offensively cheerful sweaters. The former comprised any jumpers that a given racist old aunt/uncle might wear, whereas the latter was the sole domain of Ms. P D Pie.
[2] You’d be nervous too if a changeling queen was beaming at you.
[3] For the most part. She wasn’t sure about the pair in the corner.
[4] A feat possible this deep underground only due to the use of an extremely powerful excavating tool.
[5] Read: drop-dead handsome.
[6] And also known as ‘an extremely powerful excavating tool’.
[7] The very end of an insects excretory system. Not to be confused with an aperture belonging to a donkey.
(We Wish You) A Changeling-y Merry Hearth's Warming
Two stallions sat in silence, staring out the window of their train car. The dreary scenery did nothing to lift the tension that suffused the atmosphere of the room, but there was little else to take their attention.
After a while, one of them spoke.
“Next time? No changelings.”
The other blinked. A moment passed, and then he responded hesitantly. “Right.”
There was silence.
The other shifted slightly, then opened his mouth.
“You have to admit Flim, Chrysalis was pretty cute-”
“Stop.”
The changeling hive had just about managed to lose the trail of the Equestrian Royal Guard for the time being, although many of its members could not help but feel their current situation was a little undignified. Hiding in a barn just seemed a little passé.
Still, it gave their many hungover members time to recuperate a little. And one of their few sober ones time to plan.
Pharynx sidled up carefully behind the queen, and coughed loudly. With a little jump, Chrysalis whipped around, eyes narrowing as she saw who it was.
“Yes? What is it, Foreign?”
Pharynx put on his best poker face—a pretty darn good one if you asked him. “I just wanted to give you the plans you wrote up last night, your majesty.”
Chrysalis squinted at him. “...Plans?”
“Yes, your majesty. Plans for taking over Equestria.”
He brought out a sheaf of papers from behind his back, holding them up for her to see. They were very detailed plans. Diagrams outlining Equestria’s power structures sat side-by-side with in depth descriptions of attack formations, and notes on the possible location of the legendary First Hive, whose ultimate defense was said to be an anti-magic field that even the alicorns could not circumvent. Chrysalis frowned.
“This… doesn’t look like my writing.”
Had Pharynx been mammalian, a bead of sweat might have begun dribbling down the back of his neck. Instead he simply shrugged awkwardly. “You were quite intoxicated last night, my queen,” he said stiffly, “but clearly you are as brilliant under the influence as you are sober.”
“Hmm yes, quite,” the queen said, eyes now glued to the plan, “infiltrate the government, replace all bearers and Princesses through stealth… there’s something to this!” She grinned evilly. “Now at last, we can get revenge on those pesky princesses! You did well to bring this to me, Phalanx.”
Close enough, he thought, close enough.
The changeling hive’s other sober member had used the time for a very different set of plans. For the entire flight away from what he had mentally dubbed as the ‘Party Hive’[1], Thorax had been unable to get the image of the Crystal Empire’s sovereigns out of his head. He had seen them before, of course, but this time there was something different about them, or about Cadance specifically.
Because Thorax recognised the look on her face. He had seen it all too many times in his own reflection. It was the look of someone who was thoroughly done. With life, the universe and everything.
And Thorax could not help but feel that a leader who understood, who knew the pain of being surrounded by stupidity?
That might be a leader worth following. He supposed Shining Armour made some good eye-candy too—never hurt to have a little of that.
Perhaps, once the hive arrived at its next destination, it might be time to part ways. Make way for new lands—more crystalline ones.
“You’re really too good to me, Cady.”
Princess Cadance rolled her eyes as she patted her husband gently on the head. They were in their bedroom in the Crystal Empire, Flurry Heart was asleep, and she had finally been able to make her bone-headed stallion understand that he needed to stop chasing the changeling queen with moves he had found in his Neighponese manga. Now all she needed was some sweet, sweet sleep, and she might start to believe there was some good in the world again.
“Hey, dear wife of mine?”
Cadance blinked. Shining Armour’s previously sheepish tone had changed to something far more… seductive. Klaxons rang in her brain, as she slowly turned to look at him.
Shining was lying on his side on their bed, head propped up in one hoof, a smirk adorning his annoyingly handsome face. “I was thinking,” he began in a low voice, “I haven’t done anything to thank you for putting up with me all this time.” The smirk widened. “So why doesn’t my knight in shining armour,” his eyebrows waggled as the smirk grew ever wider, “have a night with Shining Armour?”
That was the last Shining saw of his wife that night as, with a yelp, he was unceremoniously tossed straight out the door.
She still wasn’t sure how she’d discovered the location of the long lost First Hive, but Chrysalis had decided not to question her genius. It was big, it looked like her horn, and most importantly it kept that idiot Shining Armour far away. All solid points in its favour, in her book.
She had declared Hearth’s Warming to officially be yet another entry on the long list of ‘stupid pony things’ upon their arrival in the new hive, and all evidence of its existence had been destroyed.
All that is, with one glaring exception.
As the hive settled down for the night all around her, the changeling queen quietly poked her head out of her door. After a quick look left and right confirmed that noling was nearby, she pulled her head back in, shut the door, and darted over to her bed. With one last look around, she reached under the imposing, black slab, felt around with her hoof, and brought it back out again with her precious prize clutched in its grasp.
A red and white, now well worn and faded, bobbled Santa hat.
With a happy chirp, she brought it up to her face, closing her eyes and nuzzling it slightly. Then, with an air of great satisfaction, she carefully put it on. Giving herself a quick glance in the mirror, she beamed at her reflection, and finally went to bed.
[1] An apt name, as it turned out—the second annual Changeling Hive Hearth’s Warming Party, and all those after it, would be held there upon King Thorax off-hoofedly mentioning the existence of a Party Hive to one Pinkamina Diane Pie many years later.
Author's Note
Merry Christmas, folks. 
Change-a-ling Through, I'll Tune In To You
Queen Chrysalis was having a good day.
It was cold, wet, and grey—perfect weather for a changeling! The damp air left her carapace feel soft and limber, and the lack of blinding sunlight made the outside world seem a lot more homey than it usually did. As she cantered down the main street of the small town of Fargoat cloaked in a brilliant disguise (a black coated unicorn, with a blue-green mane and tail and a black crown engulfed in green flames for a cutie mark), she hummed tunelessly to herself. Had she given any heed to the ponies around her, she might have noticed the winces, and the wide berth that quickly formed around her. However, Chrysalis was much too important to do something like that.
The days haul had been quite satisfactory for her—she had managed to dupe two whole stallions into being brainwashed and having their love stolen! And with her cunning plan of luring them into an alleyway and bashing them over the head before revealing herself, no one had even noticed. The conveniently placed dumpsters also provided the perfect place to heave the unconscious, drained ponies into afterwards. They would wake up a little smelly, but none the wiser to being anything other than mugged (an impression only helped by the fact that she had, in fact, mugged them). The large sundae she had bought with her ill-gotten gains and promptly thrown at a passing foal had just been the cherry on top.
What a wonderful day. The humming grew louder. The wider berth grew wider.
There were some days, not many but some, that Chrysalis, as difficult as it may be to believe, doubted herself. Even in the privacy of her own thoughts, this was painful to admit.
But all good leaders must make sacrifices, she thought. And as the greatest leader, it only follows that I make the greatest sacrifices.
Yes, ‘tis true! she cried internally, setting her face into a noble sort of expression. Across the street and out of her earshot, a young filly asked her mother if the bad singing lady was constipated, and was promptly shushed. I, the great Queen Chrysalis, wonder if I might perhaps not be the greatest being to ever exist. And yet once again I have accomplished miracles, banishing all doubt, reaffirming my true superiority. For today, the noble expression grew yet nobler,[1] not only have I brought back love for the hive, but I remain undiscovered by these pathetic backwater ponies!
As loyal servants to their Queen, the entire hive of changelings that she had been broadcasting her thoughts to unintentionally for most of the afternoon dutifully remained silent. Many did take the time, however, to give a quiet sigh of relief. It was quite tiring to move every few days after all, when the Royal Guard was inevitably called by one of the endless stream of ponies that the changeling Queen ‘let escape to tell tales of her might’.
Wrapped up in thoughts of her own greatness as she was, Chrysalis almost missed the sign as she passed by the shop window it sat against. But something about the bright colours somehow caught the eye of the daydreaming shapeshifter. Her eyes skimmed over it lazily—before she frowned, and read the sign again.
Do YOU Have What You Need For YOUR Hearth’s Warming Party?
The words were spelt out in an obnoxious pink, a nearly exact match for that fop of a Princess that had somehow bested her so long ago at Canterlot.[2] The sign itself was a sickly orange that the designer had misguidedly believed an appropriate symbol of the ‘Fires of Friendship’. When combined with the brightly coloured dots meant to represent the seasonal lights, the overall effect was of artfully arranged vomit.
Below the text, four young mares in red-and-white bobbled hats grinned out of a photograph. A pony might have noted that the grins appeared to be a tad too wide to be considered ‘happy’, in fact ranging into the territory of either ‘mid-nervous breakdown’ or possibly ‘criminally insane’.[3] To a changeling however, the ‘mid-nervous breakdown’ grin was reasonably standard fare for a pony that they met, so nothing seemed out of the ordinary to the changeling Queen.
“Oooh, are you thinking of throwing one dearie?”
Chrysalis most certainly did not startle—rather, she immediately jumped into an attack formation to deal with the new threat! When said threat was quickly revealed to be a frail looking elderly pegasus mare, she lowered herself out of her kung hoof pose and mentally patted herself on the shoulder for having such incredible reflexes. Drawing herself up to her full height (not quite as impressive as it usually was, but still taller than the other mare so it would do) she glared imperiously down her nose at the white coated pony. “And what exactly,” she sneered, “would possess me to do that?”
The old mare smiled up at her from behind thick-lensed spectacles, undeterred. “Why, to meet ponies of course! You are new here, aren’t you dearie?” Her voice had the unique tone that only grandmothers seemed to possess, full of the promise of baked goods, warm cocoa, and diabetes. Before the disguised Queen could reply, she continued. “It’s just that, I’ve lived here all my life, and I have never seen anypony like you here before. Why, with that coat of yours I’d almost mistake you for one of the changeler thingamabobbers!” The mare chuckled good-naturedly, apparently blissfully ignorant of her conversation partner’s twitching eyelid.
“Haha. Yes. Quite.” Deep underground, in the centre of the newly constructed hive, an experienced changeling infiltrator smacked a hoof into his face.[4] “But of course, I am a normal pony much like yourself. Not one of those evil change… changelers.” The last word seemed to physically pain her.
“Of course dearie, don’t mind me, just an old biddy having some fun.” She waved a hoof dismissively at the changeling. “I hope you have some planning done already, you’re a little late if you haven’t started—it is tomorrow after all!”
Chrysalis sneered internally (and externally). She was about to dismiss the old nag, when suddenly something happened. Something that her changelings had grown to dread with every inch of their shrivelled, love-starved frames.
Queen Chrysalis had an idea.
“Old nag,” she said slowly, eyes locked on the garish sign. “If I were to hypothetically hold this ‘party’, ponies would come to it?”
She peered up at Chrysalis, blinking owlishly. “Well, yes. Ponies can’t resist a good party!”
An evil grin began to spread over the dark furred pegasus’ face. “Willingly?”
“Ah well, you might have to cajole them along a little, you know? But once you’ve got them hooked you’re all set. It’s terribly rude to just leave after all.” She nodded with the iron-cast certainty of a mare who had never once failed to berate a family member into shame-filled submission.
The grin now encompassed most of Chrysalis’ face. “Excellent,” she hissed out, “I believe I will be throwing a party after all! MUAHAHAHAHA!” And with that, she pushed the door of the shop open and strode inside, her evil laughter only slightly marred by the cheerful ‘ding-a-ling’ of a bell announcing her entrance.
The old pegasus blinked after her, before shaking her head with a rueful laugh. “Ahhh, teenagers. So dramatic.” She perked up a little. “Looks like I can tell Pinkie her Granny Pie can still get a party going!”
Business had been frustratingly slow today for the dynamic duo of Flam and Flim. It seemed like the little town of Fargoat was wise to their tricks—or more likely, already done with their Hearth’s Warming shopping. With a little sigh, Flim exchanged a resigned glance with his brother standing out on the shop floor, before grabbing the keys from under the till in his magic and moving towards the door to lock up. It seemed they would have to sell this junk some other way.
It was at that precise moment, when all seemed lost, that salvation walked through the door.
At first glance the mare didn’t seem like much, but something in the way she held herself drew the eye. It was almost queen-esque—the look of a mare who was used to getting her way no matter what, and damn the consequences. The look of a big spender, a daddy’s filly. The look of somepony rich.
And, much more importantly, she looked dumber than a sack of bricks.
The brothers exchanged another glance, this time charged with an expectant energy. Both had the exact same thought at the exact same time: We’re fleecing this one for everything she’s got.
“Ahhh mademoiselle, welcome!” began Flim.
“Welcome indeed!” Flam chimed in, “What wondrous gifts-”
“-dazzling decorations-”
“-terrific trinkets-”
“-can we help you acquire today?” Flim concluded, both twins giving her identical winsome grins. As they spoke, they artfully shepherded the slightly bewildered looking mare into the centre of the store, and she was staring around her as if she had never seen anything like it.
“W-what is all this?” she demanded, squinting suspiciously at the two. Flam chuckled magnanimously.
“I suppose,” he said with a gracious air, “it might all be a little overwhelming to the uninitiated.”
And he wasn’t wrong.
Everything around them sparkled. From gaudy ornaments, twisted into various faux-meaningful shapes, to massive, too-bright trees that were clearly made from something that was very much not wood. Toys by the hundreds, shiny and plastic and instantly forgettable. Glossy cards adorned with meaningless but vaguely celebratory phrases and pictures of creatures great and small, united only by the dead-eyed look of the truly soulless. But most truly ubiquitous were the hats.
Identical to the ones worn by the four mares in the possibly-a-hostage-situation-possibly-a-party picture in the sign outside, the floppy little red and white hats were everywhere. Every surface, every item, anywhere they could potentially be hung—there they could be found.
“This, mademoiselle,” he gestured grandly, encompassing the seasonal flotsam as a king might survey his lands, “is the true meaning of Hearth’s Warming.”
The mare blinked. “Really?” she said skeptically.
“Oh yes m’dear,” Flim practically purred, “the true holy grail of the holidays.” He turned to his brother, their eyes both glinting with some strange fervour, and as one they chorused:
“Buying stuff.” A brief pause; then Flam added, almost as an afterthought, “And alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol.”
The mare looked around appraisingly at the monument to the tackiest, most tasteless and heartless parts of the holiday season, hoof coming up to rub at her chin. “Hmmmm…” She dropped her hoof back to the floor, looking mildly impressed. “I must admit, I kinda like it.” Her face shifted into an evil smirk for a moment, before abruptly dropping into a scowl. “Don’t call me that though.”
The brothers blinked in unison. “Err, call you… what miss?” Flim ventured after a moment.
She scowled. “A deer. I’m not. I am very obviously a totally normal pony. And I’m not made of mwahzzles or whatever it was the one with the parasite on his face said.”
It was not often that the seasoned con-artists found themselves brought to silence, but even they were brought up short by the sheer stupidity of that statement. Still, after struggling through their bafflement, they rallied valiantly.
“But of course, Miss!” Flim cried out, “How utterly foolish of us!”
“How awful!” cried Flam.
“How tragic!”
“How downright rude!” they finished together.
“We never asked your name!” Flam continued, “What is the lovely mademoi-er, miss called?”
The mare scoffed. “You were indeed foolish not to ask before,” she said loftily, “I am Qu-er, Chrysal…” Her eyes widened as her mouth suddenly froze, the previously haughty expression rapidly shifting to one of mild terror. Flam glanced at his brother, raising an eyebrow. He looked back helplessly, shrugging in a way that seemed to say we’ve just got to deal with the crazy until we have her bits. Seeing no other reasonable solution, Flam revitalised his flagging salespony grin and turned back to the mare, who was now sweating profusely.
Unbeknownst to either of the two charlatans,[5] Queen Chrysalis was about five seconds from attacking them with the large, sturdy looking toy giraffe leaning against a nearby cabinet. She knew that the name she picked for her disguise was some kind of bird—her chief infiltrator had suggested it, some sort of little red thing associated with the season. But what was it? Think, Chrysalis! It was a-
“Tit!” she blurted out.
There was silence.
“Tit.” Flam said slowly.
“Yes!” she shrilled, a desperate grin plastered over her muzzle, “How silly of me to almost forget, heheh, silly me!”
“Your name,” Flim said doubtfully, “Is Kwer Crisal Tit.”
“Haha, that’s my name, don’t wear it out!” Her voice had taken on a deranged tone usually exclusive to overworked primary school teachers. “Kwer Crisal Tit! Boy, did I get bullied for that in school!”
Once again, there was silence, broken only by the strained wheezing of Kwer Crisal Tit’s breathing.
Flim took a long, deep breath.
“Are you su-”
“IT’S A VERY RARE BIRD,” she shrieked, her eyes bugging out and briefly crossing each other, the force of her shout almost removing Flim’s ever present hat. Wide-eyed, he backed off.
“Right,” he said weakly, “A bird. Of course.”
Although momentarily at a loss for words, Flam once again rallied mightily. “Well then, Miss Tit, what can we get you? What holiday hampers, what garish goodies can we supply you with? Whatever it is you desire, we have something for you to acquire!”
Chrysalis Crisal Tit’s eyes darted around the room, frantically searching for something to change the subject. “The hats!” she shouted, desperately latching onto the most plentiful distraction available.
Flam frowned. “The hats?”
“Yes, the hats! What are they?”
The brothers blinked. This customer, for all that their initial impressions of ‘used to getting her way’ and ‘thick as two short planks’ held true, was proving to be a perturbingly problematic to deal with.
“They’re, um, Santa Hats, Miss Tit.”
Crisal Tit raised a haughty brow, some of her composure finally returning. “And what is a ‘Santa’ supposed to be?”
Flam opened his mouth to answer, but after a moment could only close it again. He looked to his brother questioningly. Flim shrugged, and turned back to the unicorn mare.
“I don’t think anypony knows, Miss. That’s just what they’re called.”
Crisal Tit gazed searchingly at the nearest one. The little white ball on the end—it called to her.
Abruptly, she turned back to the pair. “You say that all of this-” she gestured a hoof at the shop “-is the true meaning of Hearth’s Warming?”
“Why absolutely-”
“-indubitably-”
“-most definitely Miss!”
Her eyes narrowed. “I’ll take it all.”
“HURRY IT UP,” a voice bellowed, echoing through the underground cavern. With a collective yelp, several changelings that had been slowly moving pieces of debris aside began rapidly increasing pace, and rapidly increasing the distance between them and the source of the noise. Just to its side, another changeling winced.
“You really don’t need to be so loud, Pharynx,” he said timidly.
Pharynx scoffed, an angry buzz underlying his tone. “If I wasn’t, they wouldn’t listen to a thing I tell them.” He glared back at the first changeling, who shied away. “A bit like how they don’t listen to you, Thorax.”
Thorax sighed. “We both know that this hive isn’t going to last. We’ll be gone within the week—why are you trying so hard to clear it up?”
The larger ling scowled. As much as he hated to admit it, the little twerp was right. A part of him detested his brother; for his weakness, his quietness, and his unwillingness to fight—or cowardice, as he tended to call it. But for all that, he had to admit that he was also the only other ling in the hive with half a brain in his head. Hell—he was probably smarter than Pharynx was. Even if he refused to use any of his brains to help with the war plans.
“Because, dear brother,” he sneered, “the Queen will have our gasters[6] if we don’t.”
Thorax slumped. “Oh. Right, that.”
Pharynx rolled his eyes, but before he could give that response the scathing reply it deserved, he felt a familiar brush against his mind. As one, he and every other ling in the room (and, though he could not see them, in the hive beyond) froze.
“She’s coming!” a random ling hissed, “Everybody panic!”
The room instantly descended into pandemonium. One ling curled around the rock he had been hauling to the side of the cave and began to gently rock back and forth, muttering nonsense to himself. Another flew straight up, crashed into the ceiling, and fell back to the ground unconscious. One particularly hysterical ling fell upon her neighbour and began gnawing at one of her front hooves, prompting said neighbour to immediately begin shrieking.
Pharynx slammed a hoof into his faceplate so hard, he thought for a moment it might crack. “THAT’S ENOUGH!”
Once again the room froze, with the exception of Thorax, who had not moved in the first place, and the unconscious ling. Pharynx glared balefully out at the crowd. “Instead of running around like a bunch of scared ponies,” a few winces around the room showed that particular barb had landed home, “how about you idiotic larvae go get the damn throne room ready?!” He practically snarled the last line. The apparently cannibalistic ling whimpered through her mouthful of carapace. No one moved.
“Well?” he barked, “Get moving!”
With another collective yelp, the whole group scarpered. Pharynx took a long deep breath, glowering at the wall opposite. “Right. Thorax?”
“What is it brother?”
“You make sure our Queen doesn’t break anything. I’m going to make sure the morons in Section 14 haven’t started undermining the main hall.” And with that, he stalked off.
Thorax approached the entrance to the hive with more than a little trepidation. Pharynx was in many ways everything he was not—cold, harsh and violent. But for all the differences that he had with his brother, they shared something that very few others in the hive seemed to possess:
Intelligence.
He was far from the most assertive of lings in the hive, but he at least knew his tail from his head, something he wasn’t always sure his fellows did. And as much as he hated to admit it, that made him by far the best fit to deal with their tempestuous ruler. Given his brother’s personality, he was far better suited to bossing other lings about, while his own more reticent style was better suited to corralling the Queen’s wandering attention span.
Speaking of which…
“You there, whatever your name is! Tingle!”
Yes, for all that he knew he was the best fit, Thorax was apprehensive about approaching the entrance to the hive. He was apprehensive about anything involving Chrysalis, really. After all, it rarely ended well for those involved.
But for now, there was little else to do but grin and bear it. There weren’t exactly job offers pouring in for changelings these days. Plastering an obsequious smile onto his face, he stepped out into the small entrance area.
“Y-yes, your majesty?”
Chrysalis glared down at him imperiously. His queen was intimidatingly large for a changeling—other than Celestia herself, he had never seen another equinoid even half as tall. But far more worrying was the gleam in her eye—the one that meant she had an idea.
That usually meant bad things.
“Inform the hive at once—there is to be a general meeting in the throne room.”
Thorax chewed the side of his cheek nervously. “It’s, uh, not quite done yet my queen.”
Chrysalis sneered. “Well then find somewhere that is damnit! I’m going to need everyling for my cunning plan.”
“What plan, may I ask, y-your majesty?”
She chuckled evilly.[7] “Why, we’re going to throw a party of course,” she paused dramatically, an effect on slightly ruined by the lack of distant thunder, “A Hearth’s Warming Party! AHAHAHAHA-glrk!” Her evil laugh was significantly more ruined by her abrupt coughing fit. Thorax dutifully ignored the rather undignified state of his leader as she wheezed helplessly, beating her forehoof against her chest. Any acknowledgement of Chrysalis doing something as ordinary as choking would only end in punishment—instead, his mind whirred over this strange new development. It seemed absurd for Chrysalis to be throwing a party for a pony holiday, one all about the importance of friendship no less. As far as he was aware her thoughts on friendship were not unlike what most ponies would think of a particularly stubborn genital rash. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a tiny spark of hope.
Maybe, just maybe she might listen.
Chrysalis, meanwhile, had finally stopped choking, her breathing evening out again. She gave a small sigh of relief, before turning her gaze expectantly to him.
“A Hearth’s Warming Part, of course! W-what a masterful plan my queen.”
She scoffed. “Of course it is, Tariff! It is my plan after all. I have discovered that these idiot ponies can’t leave a party once they’ve arrived! We bring them here, and then once the party is over we can feast on their love for as long as we like! Those fools will be lured in by the most important part of it all, which I have acquired through various devilishly clever means.”
“The, the most important part?” a slightly dumbfounded Thorax replied.
“Indeed,” she grinned wickedly, leaning in close until her face was millimetres from his own. “Merchandise!”
Thorax stared into her wide, gleeful eyes, and the very last defenses his mind had been struggling to prop up ever since he was old enough to understand the world crumbled.
Oh gods she’s completely barmy, isn’t she?
“O-oh.” he said dully, eyes glazing over as his brain attempted to fathom his ruler’s latest act of utter stupidity, “Merchandise. Of course.”
Chrysalis didn’t appear to notice his sudden despair, drawing back upright with a satisfied look. “Oh I am good, aren’t I,” she sighed, staring into space dreamily. “Anyway, I-”
“I-If I may, my queen?”
Chrysalis blinked, and looked down. Sure enough her usually timid subject had actually asked her something. How strange.
“Yes, Terrace? What is it?”
He winced. “It’s, uh, Thorax ma’am. My name, that is.”
She waved a dismissive hoof impatiently. “Yes yes, Turgid, whatever. What’s your damn question?!”
Thorax’s eyes twitched a little, but he doggedly continued. “H-have you considered, um, maybe…”
“‘Maybe’ what?” she prodded impatiently.
He closed his eyes. “Maybejusthavinganormalpartywithnokidnapping?” he squeaked out.
For a long moment, Chrysalis stared at him. Thorax was just beginning to regret not preparing a will, when suddenly the queen burst out laughing. He could do nothing but stare, bewildered, as she practically doubled over, howling with mirth. He continued staring as she slowly regained control of herself, letting out a last few huffs of amusement before finally calming down.
“Oh Turgid,” she chuckled, wiping away a tear with her forehoof, “I didn’t know you had it in you!” She beamed at him with something bizarrely like pride. “I’ll have to tell your brother you’ve got some skill as a comedian! Fahrenheit will be so proud. But there’s work to be done first—come on!”
And with that, she skipped off down the tunnel, the occasional amused chuckle still falling from her lips. Thorax watched her go, face slack.
“It’s Pharynx,” he whispered helplessly into the empty cavern.
Flim and Flam’s day may have started slow, but things were certainly looking up now! It had been a long time since the brother’s had last managed to sell all their stock of any of their scams—not since that used cart scheme down in Detrot. It was not hard to see, therefore, why they were in such a good mood.
Flim hummed a cheerful little tune to himself as he steered carefully down the bumpy roads of the outskirts of Fargoat. He was sitting on a technomagical doohickey that he and Flam had cobbled together in order to solve their age old argument of who got to pull the cart. Behind him, latched onto the steadily chugging little motor, was a cart piled high with glitter, toys, and lots and lots of red and white wooly hats. His brother was perched precariously on the top of the pile, the green glow of his magic keeping the wobbling tower of toys from spilling out into the neighbouring fields.
Flim’s brow furrowed, his good mood fading slightly. He had followed the directions that strange Tit mare had given them exactly—he didn’t want to miss this sale for any reason—and yet they were almost at their destination without a single house in sight. Where on earth was their customer?
His internal musing was abruptly cut off as Flam shouted down at him from atop the cart. “Right turn ahead, brother dearest!”
Flipping a lever, he pulled the wheel of their machine round with a buoyant grin. “Right-y ho, brother mine!”
However, his return to high spirits was short lived. Their final turning had taken them into the middle of an empty field. Other than a scattering of trees at the opposite end, showing the start of the great northern forests that surrounded Fargoat, there was nothing noteworthy about the place at all. It didn’t help his nerves any that the dim light of early dusk gave the place a distinctly gloomy haze either. He turned in his seat to look up at his brother, who was looking around with a noticeable frown. “Are you sure we’re in the right place?” His brother looked down, opening his mouth to answer, before a voice cut through the chilly air.
“But of course friends!”
Flim jumped, and judging by the yelp his brother did too. Whipping around, he saw that the cart had somehow been completely surrounded by ponies he had never seen before, with the exception of Miss Crisal Tit, directly in front of him, staring at him with an alarmingly wide grin. He grinned back, a little uneasily.
“Ah, Miss Tit! We rather thought we’d taken a wrong turn! It’s a little, uh, rustic out here for a mare of your standing, surely!” He gave an awkward chuckle. The unblinking stares of the strange ponies were giving him a severe case of the creeps, and he’d be lying if he told himself he wasn’t unnerved by how quickly and silently they’d approached. Still, there was a reason the Flim-Flam Brothers worked together—even if he’d been thrown off his A-game, Flam was there to pick up the slack.
“Indeed! But it has a certain rural charm, does it not Flim? I hear that kind of thing is all the rage up in Canterlot these days!” Whether it was because he’d had a little more time to hide it, or because he was a little further away from the admittedly creepy ponies, Flam’s voice betrayed less of the nervousness they were both feeling.
“Oh, yes. All the rage.” Crisal Tit’s voice had taken on a sibilant quality that sent shivers down Flim’s spine. Still, he was a salespony damnit! He wasn’t going to let a little thing like a psychopathic customer stop him from making a quick bit. With a hop, he got down from his seat, and spread out his forehooves with a flourish.
“All of the delightful decorations, phenomenal playthings and breathtaking baubles that anypony could ask for! Delivered as promised, ma’am!” He gave her his most winning smile. “Now, for the small matter of payment…”
However, Crisal Tit did not respond. Instead, her grin simply widened yet again—and Flim felt his brain stutter to a halt.
She should NOT have that many teeth.
“Is there a problem down there, my dearest bro…””
Flam trailed off, freezing in place as he took in the sight below him. In bursts of green flame, the changelings surrounding them shed their disguises, hissing at the two brothers. Staring down at them with wide-eyes, Flam reached deep down into his salespony instincts, and said the one thing he could think of.
“Oh, cock,” he whimpered, before with a loud warcry the changelings attacked.
The new changeling hive had only existed for a few days, but it was rapidly shaping up to be the most outlandish one ever built. Tinsel hung from every nook and cranny. Strings of fiddly little lights festooned the corners. Baubles were glued over every doorway. One particularly enterprising ling appeared to have used his slime to glue a fake pine tree to the ceiling. All in all, Chrysalis felt, things were going splendidly.
Now if only Fiberglass would leave her alone.
“Your majesty, this is the perfect opportunity!”
She rolled her eyes, stepping around a few lings whispering urgently over the instructions for some sort of miniature plastic brick based structure. “Yes yes, you’ve mentioned that. But there is no need for anything so complicated as ‘prisoner exchanges’, whatever they’re supposed to be. This plan will keep us fed for months, Flannel!”
Her companions face spasmed for a second. “It’s Pharynx, my queen,” he said through gritted teeth, “And if we use your glorious plan to keep these ponies hostage, we can do so much more than that!”
She gave him a look. “Are you suggesting,” she said flatly, “That I have made an imperfect plan?”
The normally brash changeling wilted slightly. “...No, ma’am,” he said. She nodded, satisfied.
“Good. Now, how goes the invitations?”
Pharynx perked up a little. “Oh, quite efficiently my queen! We have captured-”
“Invited!” she interrupted.
“-invited just over half the town’s population at this point, and we are well on our way to getting the whole lot of them. Here comes the latest patrol now!”
Both lings turned to the cavern entrance just as two lings flew in. Between them, a wide-eyed stallion that Chrysalis recognised as the ice-cream sundae vendor from earlier in the day struggled against his impromptu slime bonds, only to stop in favour of staring in slack-jawed bewilderment at the glittery decorations around him. He was only able to catch a glimpse of the proceedings, however, before his escort carried him deeper into the hive.
“Excellent,” Chrysalis said, smiling happily out at all the chaos. Pharynx couldn’t help but be deeply disturbed by this—he could count the number of times he had seen his monarch smile in genuine happiness before today on his hooves, all of which had involved some kind of dastardly deed. And yet in the last two hours, he had seen her smile no less than six times. Once because of some tinsel! Somehow, the setup for this ‘party’ was giving the changeling queen greater joy than she had seen in years. Just then, he noticed her turn towards him. Pushing those thoughts from his mind, he snapped to attention.
“Head out and help with the rest of the invitations, Fireball.” With a nod and a quick salute, Pharynx darted into the air, heading up towards the surface. Bizarre as it may be, he was in no hurry to ruin his leader’s rare good mood.
As Pharynx flew off into the night, down in the hive Chrysalis examined her subject’s preparations. As she looked over their various creations,[8] she could not help but muse that as irritating as the whole ‘friendship’ schtick was, all of this shiny stuff was very pleasing to the royal eye. Suddenly, she stopped, brought out of her thoughts by the strange sight in front of her.
“What in my name are you doing?” she demanded, looking down at this particular pair of lings quizzically. With an ‘eep!’, the closest ling scrambled around, while the one sitting a little further away jumped to her hooves and frantically tried to bow at the same time, only to collapse into a pile of limbs.
“Y-your majesty! We are attempting to create a festive specialty, just as you asked!”
She frowned. “I thought I’d ordered for the gatherers to just steal everyone else's holiday food,” she said.
“Ah, yes, that is true,” the ling who had collapsed said, awkwardly getting back to her hooves, “but you also said that alcohol was very important.”
“And,” chimed in her fellow, “we discovered that there is a special alcohol mix specifically for Hearth’s Warming! The ponies call it ‘Eggnog’.”
Her brows raised. “Oh? What’s that?”
The first ling pulled up a page in her magic, clearly torn from a recipe book. “I believe it’s primarily composed of eggs and brandy, my queen.”
Chrysalis stared at her. “Eggs? You’re telling me the ponies make their celebratory drink out of the unborn children of lesser beings?”
Both lings stared up at her uncertainly. The back one somehow mustered up the courage to answer. “...Yes?”
Chrysalis blinked a few times, then gave the lumpy, off white mixture in front of her a considering look. “Huh. Didn’t know they had it in them.”
[1] A young medical student, passing by on the opposite side of the street could not help but stare at the contorted, almost pained look on the mare’s face. “Do you think she’s ill?” he asked his companion hesitantly, listening with growing alarm to the strange wheezing noises she appeared to be producing. His friend, a fellow medical student, gave the mare an appraising look. “I think she’s just constipated,” he said .
[2] The cheating little floozy. As if anyone could defeat her in a fair fight.
[3] It was widely accepted by most that Pinkie Pie was the only pony to be able to pull off this sort of grin successfully. Researchers (namely one T. Sparkle) had come to the conclusion that this was due to her hopefully unique ability to fill all three of the aforementioned states of being simultaneously.
[4] It would someday become quite a fierce academic debate among former changeling operatives as to whether the slightly strangled, monotone delivery of this sentence, or the speaking aloud of the words ‘ha ha’, was a more egregious offence to the basic principles of infiltration.
[5] While most ponies might have taken the name as an insult, the two brothers saw it as a point of pride. After all, if you’re going to be a scammer, a con, a hoodwinker—well, may as well do it right.
[6] The hind section of an insects body. Not to be confused with a donkey.
[7] Thorax was never sure why his Queen had decided that she needed to do things ‘evilly’, but she had made it abundantly clear that she was not to be questioned on the issue. And that the next ling who called her laugh ‘hammy’ was going to get it.
[8] Ranging from abstract art made of the many broken baubles that had been dropped, to a fully functioning set of gallows, complete with ribbon noose and teddy-bear in a hoof-made executioner's outfit.
