Long, wormlike, glutenous strings sat endlessly entwined on the blinding white plate in front of Pharynx. “Spaghetti”, they were called. He assumed that the word for a singular noodle was “spaghet”, as he had heard one of the chefs calling it that from the kitchen. Red sauce stubbornly clung to each spaghet. He resisted the urge to start flicking it off via gathering a bundle of spaghet up and shaking them back and forth on his fork. Apparently, the sauce was made from beets, but he was still unfamiliar with Bitalian culture and subtleties, and as such he didn’t trust a thing that his waiter had said to him. For all he knew, it was some form of mind-numbing substance.
He narrowed his eyes at the plate of food, still steaming. He wouldn’t be intoxicated by spaghetti if he could help it.
Many changelings had taken up eating pony food as a way to supplement their main diet of love and other emotions, but a select few had chosen to remain pure. He was one of the few.
Somehow, he was lucky enough to have never tasted pony food in his entire life, even in the old days, he always had an excuse up his sleeve for why his disguises couldn’t ever eat anything. The amount of sicknesses that ponies could acquire which required skimping out of food was more than abundant.
From a political point of view, he understood why his brother would need to eat pony food—food was an important part of other cultures, and by eating something other than emotion he would seem a little more relatable to potential allies—but love was all he really needed. Love was all his entire race needed.
Deciding to take his mind off the food, he looked up and across the room, towards the real reasons for why he had taken a pony form and was currently sitting in a Bitalian restaurant, hating every inch of himself with every fibre of his being.
Thorax and Ocellus were at a large table in the midst of a confusing arrangement of foreign dignitaries. Most of them were different breeds of ponies, but a griffon or two sat at the edge of the table, looking rather bored by the constant chatter.
Pharynx watched closely as his kin slurped up their bundles of spaghet and drank the strange red liquid that he knew as “wine”, tapping into his empathic senses to get a feel for their emotional states. Thorax had an ample amount of nervousness coming off of him. That wasn’t worrying, considering that he was currently representing the changeling kingdom in front of multiple ambassadors that could ruin their race if they wanted to. Ocellus, on the other hand, seemed rather calm. She had clearly studied each culture at the table and was handling herself rather well.
Pharynx felt rather proud. She’d make a fine ambassador after her education with Equestria’s heroes one day, as long as she got over her pre-meeting anxiety and was properly trained in self-defence under his tutelage. Especially that second part. Her and Thorax being helpless in battle was the entire reason why he was there. It wouldn’t do their race any good if they were suddenly attacked and killed at a dinner where their guard was let down because they were so focused on making friends.
“Sir?” A pegasus waitress was standing over her shoulder, plates balanced on her slightly outstretched wings and a look of concern etched into her features.
“Yes?” Pharynx smiled according to usual pony etiquette. In the back of his mind he hoped that his disguise for the evening, a pink unicorn stallion with blonde hair, looked friendly enough without looking like he was trying too hard. He was out of practice after not having to infiltrate for nearly two years, now.
“Is there something wrong with the food?” the waitress asked. “You’ve been staring off into the distance for a while now. I thought that I might check up on you.”
Hive on fire. He was going to have to eat the food. Sending it back would make a scene that he didn’t need to make. Even if he did, he’d have to eat it anyway.“Oh, no, no,” he laughed. “I was just distracted by my own thoughts—there’s nothing wrong with the food.”
Tapping into his magic, he levitated the fork and stabbed at the orgy of noodles, spinning it to make a decently-sized bundle of spaghetti before floating it into his mouth.
The spaghetti tasted amazing. Each spaghet was perfectly firm and stuck to his fangs in a way that he had never experienced food before—mostly because he had never experienced non-feeling food before. The spaghetti tasted like his favorite strain of joy.
The kind of joy that a young stallion had when he hadn’t seen his best friend in a long while due to something of his own design—usually travel—and then saw that best friend for the first time after stepping off of a train. The kind of bright light sparking within him like a fire flying out from a stick of flint.
Hearty. Warming. Comforting.
Pharynx shuddered, sitting back in his seat as his eyes closed and he made a soft murmur of delight.
He heard the waitress giggle and walk away, but kept his relaxed position. His ears swivelled towards where he knew Thorax and Ocellus were, always being sure to keep tabs on the two, but now a majority of his mind was soaking in this new revelation.
Pony food tasted amazing.
“Pharyyyynx! We brought you some take-out!” Thorax called as he stepped into the spacious, three story loft they had been given by the Bitalian nobility for the duration of their stay. The thing had taken almost an hour to check for surveillance spells and the like, but in the end Pharynx had approved.
Pharynx sat up from his spot on the couch, pretending that he had been awakened from a good nap. “Take-out?”
“Bitalian pony food!” Thorax explained cheerfully, walking over and setting it down on the table in front of him. Behind the king, Ocellus climbed the stairs to the guest bedroom. “And I know that you don’t want to eat pony food, and I think that’s fine—if you don’t want it, then just leave it here, but I really think that you should—“
It was spaghetti. Pharynx had opened the cardboard box and was digging in before Thorax could say his next word.
Tangible joy graced his tastebuds. Pharynx tried his best to act like it was merely passable. It didn’t work.
He felt his brother smile beside him. “You like it!”
It was no use to lie—Thorax was too close. He nodded, swallowing down another bite of spaghetti. “I do.”
“I’m glad,” Thorax murmured.
“Me too,” Pharynx said. “You’d think that pony food tasted like garbage, because they themselves are pretty close to garbage, but—“
“I’m glad you’re finally starting to open up, Pharynx. I’m so proud of you for trying new things.”
He blinked. “Uh, what?”
Green legs wrapped around Pharynx’s upper torso and pulled, tugging him into a warm chest and nuzzling snout.
Pharynx frowned, about to protest, and then stopped. Love was pouring out of Thorax like a waterfall, cascading down into his tastebuds and pairing delightfully with the already delicious taste of the spaghetti. He decided to let it happen, letting his brother hug and nuzzle him as much as he wanted.
“This really means a lot to me, Pharynx. You won’t regret it. I love you so much.”
“Uhhhh,” he said, still confused as to how to react. “Okay. Sure. Yeah.”
Bitalians sure liked their columns. Their love for them surely rivalled Chrysalis’s love for holes.
Morning light shone through the windows shining on the rows and rows of columns that stood stalwart to either side of Pharynx, preventing the muraled roof above his head from crashing down on him, turning him into a splat on the red velvet rugs that seemed to cover the middle of every hall of the Bitalian consulate; a red streak across the white marble floors that lay naked underneath.
He wondered if vandalizing or even just stepping on marble was a crime in Bitaly. He couldn’t think of any other reason for why the ponies there had gone to such lengths to make it the base for their fancy floors, and then prevent anycreature’s bare hooves from actually stepping on it.
The hive had simple volcanic rock everywhere and nothing else, save for the occasional bed of moss. No majesty, pomp, or circumstance. Just simple needs, simple solutions, and simple desires. It was easy. Familiar. With all the extra stresses that Thorax had started putting on himself, rarely anything seemed simple anymore. There was always a new custom for him to learn, or a new standard for him to adhere to.
Pharynx was glad he wasn’t ruler of the hive. He wasn’t glad that the current meeting required him to be outside of the room.
Great brown doors watched him from a distance, inlaid with ornate carvings that glowed and rumbled on occasion. Soundproof spells and shock absorption spells––to soften yelling and prevent serious fights.
Pharynx felt the urge to profess his belief that he could fight and win against anycreature there, even with his blows softened.
But who would he even say that to? His brother, who would look at him with those overly kind eyes and quietly disapprove? Who would tell him, “I bet you could, but you wouldn’t ever need to. Not anymore,” and then attempt to change the subject?
His wings fluttered. He went towards the doors, getting almost within six hooves of them before two pony guards in golden armor blocked his path.
“Approved foreign leaders and emissaries only,” the one on the right said.
“I just need to check on my brother,” Pharynx explained. He thought back to the moment he had refused to go to any of the meetings during the summit, feeling the cloying taste of regret in his mouth.
“King Thorax is just fine, sir.” The guard shifted hooves, like he were bored.
Which really pissed Pharynx off.
“Are you preventing the leader of the changeling army from seeing his ruler, pony?”
He met the guard’s stare with a glare that could break bones, crouching lower and lower, inching down into his combat stance—
The doors opened. Creatures of all kinds streamed out of the conference room, flowing around him like he was a rock in a river. Most of them were ponies, but there were all kinds of griffons, a few zebras, a yak prince and a couple of hippogriffs added into the strange mix. Pharynx kept an idle but watchful eye on all of them as they passed, keeping most of his focus on finding the familiar lime green chitin of his younger brother.
A minute seemed to pass until finally he spotted Thorax coming out, leisurely chatting with a blue dragon at his side.
Dragon Lord Ember. Pharynx had yet to meet her in person. Apparently she was good friends with his brother, and was teaching him about assertiveness, whatever that meant. As far as he could see, Thorax was the same spineless, sentimental fool that he had known for all his life. The only change that Ember had seemed to bring out in him was a cloying crush that made talking about her a crack in his carapace.
He trotted over to greet them halfway.
“––and then we can go to the beach and trot by the water and then we can fly over the ocean and oh hi Pharynx!” Thorax shifted his attention as the older brother approached.
Pharynx nodded in Thorax’s direction before turning to properly greet Ember. “Dragon Lord Ember. Thorax has told me about you.”
“Has he?” Ember asked, giving her fellow ruler a side eye. “What’s he been saying?”
“I don’t listen to most of it, but he seems very enamoured with your eyes.”
“Pharynx!”
“What?” he asked. “It’s true.”
“You’re not supposed to—“ Thorax stopped himself. “I mean, I said nothing about her eyes!”
“You did say some things, though?” Ember’s cheeks twitched.
“I…”
“Were they good things, Thorax?”
“O-Of course, but I don’t want you to think that I was talking about you behind your back and—“
Pharynx stopped listening, instead watching the two of them interact. Thorax was a mess, as usual, but something about the dragon lord surprised him: she was actually listening attentively, not speaking out of turn or over him at any point. The gentle look on such a dangerous creature reminded Pharynx of the few times he saw Chrysalis in the hive nursery. It was a phenomenon; unsettling and fascinating at the same time.
Something that Thorax had stammered out caused Ember to giggle, and sweet emotion leapt into Pharynx’s tastebuds. The sort of infatuation coming off the two was like a saccharine mist.
He had mixed feelings, of course. Affection tasted wonderful, but it was his brother’s affection for another creature. Something about tasting it felt unbelievably wrong.
Still, he sat there and ate it. It would be stupid of him to refuse a free meal.
“—anyway, Pharynx, did you want something from me?” Thorax nudged him, in a hurry to move to another subject.
“We have some business to discuss regarding the hive.”
He watched as Thorax’s brows scrunched up, and his mouth curved slightly downwards. He noticed as Ember sensed the shift as well, one of her claws raising up, and then falling back down to her sides. Confusion and concern came off of her, directed towards the changeling king.
Pharynx approved of her. She wasn’t stupid, unlike most dragons he had met.
He shook his head at Thorax. “Don’t worry. Cornicle’s having some trouble corralling the nymphs and settling some disagreements. It’s nothing we won’t be able to fix with a letter, but we do need to discuss this.”
Thorax nodded, and turned to Ember. “Hey, I’ll—“
“Tomorrow, at the…coffee place, right?” Ember said.
“Café.” Thorax smiled.
To Pharynx’s surprise, his brother leaned forward and nuzzled the slender blue dragon right under the crook of her neck.
“I’ll see you,” he said.
Ember was too flabbergasted to speak.
Pharynx didn’t blame her. It seemed that her lessons on assertiveness were actually working.
It turned out that towards the end of that afternoon, they had a spot of free time, and neither of the brothers objected to the idea that they use it to lie on their couches and do nothing at all.
It had been a long day. After sorting out the select problems with Cornicle, Pharynx’s second-in-command and the drone that they had left in charge of the hive, Thorax had several other meetings to attend to. They were meetings that allowed for Pharynx’s presence, at least, but they quickly turned from ‘less boring than waiting outside’ to becoming infinitely boring on their own.
Pharynx soaked in the golden glory of the rays of light beaming in from the windows, feeling the soft, plush texture of the couch underneath his belly coax him into a state of true relaxation––the kind he hadn’t felt since leaving the hive.
“I’m sorry,” said Thorax, somewhere vaguely to his side.
Pharynx exhaled. “For what?”
“I can tell that you’re homesick.”
“What?” Pharynx snorted. “Don’t be stupid.”
“You can go back, if you want.”
“I don’t need to go back.”
“But you want to?”
Pharynx rolled to his side and opened his eyes, staring intently at the white fabric of the couch. “The ruler of the hive needs the best guards with him. What will it look like if my brother gets in trouble while I’m lounging around at home? We’ll lose all respect for our power within the hive, and the next you will overthrow us and potentially destroy all diplomatic ties you’ve managed to make for us thus far.”
“…You sound excited by that idea.”
“Maybe I’m itching for some action. Honestly, part of the reason I’ve been longing for the hive is because I’ve realized that ponies are utterly incapable of any excitement. I mean, come on, we’ve been away from the hive for a month now and the most I’ve had to protect you from is a dignitary mispronouncing your name.”
“So you are homesick!”
“I never said I wasn’t.” Pharynx stretched a leg out, feeling a small pop in his shoulder joint. “But I trust Cornicle. She’s become a decent member of my patrol, and we can always use the teleportation spell if we need to get back to the hive quick.”
Thorax whined softly in discomfort. “I don’t like that we keep that thing around.”
“Deal with it. You already had us toss out the communication scarabs.”
“Because—“
“I know. You don’t need to explain it to me again. Let’s drop this before I get another lecture from you about how you don’t want anything from Chrysalis’s reign around because it makes you feel bad.”
Thorax went silent. Pharynx wondered if he went too far.
Then decided that even if he did, he didn’t care.
He closed his eyes and focused on the sunlight, and all the idle love drifting in from outside.
“Where’s Ocellus?” he asked.
He heard his brother shift his seating. “Discussing a trade deal with Queen Novo.”
Pharynx sat up and turned around, eyes wide. “You’re letting her handle the hippogriffs?”
Across the room was Thorax, reclined peacefully with a big, stupid smile on his face. “How do you think we have so much free time right now?”
“Why did you think that was a good idea? Queen Novo will take it—“
“She knows that I’ve been feeling overworked recently, and she was happy to let an emissary come and discuss the boring stuff with her if it meant that I could catch a break. Plus, Ocellus knows them better than I do.”
Pharynx reexamined the smile on Thorax’s face, this time finding hints of smugness and calculation. “You’re not feeling overworked. You love diplomatic meetings. What’s this really about?”
“Oh, nothing,” giggled Thorax. “Just that my big brother’s finally opening up, and even missing me a little bit when he can’t come to meetings with me.”
“That—I do not—“
“When you fed off of mine and Ember’s emotions, I could feel yours, as well,” Thorax cut in, smile growing a smidge wider. “ "Not that I needed that initial link, but it made everything so clear. You missed me, and you were worried. And I thought that maybe you were bored, which you are, and also that you were homesick, which you are again. So, I figured that we could spend some quality time together today. I’ll say it one more time: Queen Novo was happy to reschedule last minute. She’s a sweetheart.”
Pharynx narrowed his eyes at his brother, ignoring the heat rising in his neck and face. “You can’t just skip out on your duties because of some ridiculous—“
“I’m done!” Thorax said, and held up a small plush toy.
Pharynx looked at it. “How were you sewing this whole time? I didn’t notice anything.”
“I’m sneaky.” Thorax winked.
“You are anything but—is that supposed to be me?”
“Yep!”
Thorax tossed the toy over and Pharynx caught it with his hoof, holding it eye-level to examine it closely.
It seemed that he was holding a smaller version of himself. His face was twisted into a ferocious growl, and the silk that he was made with played nicely with the light, catching on the edges of his form so as to make him look more menacing. And that wasn’t even the most impressive part. Somehow, Thorax had managed to create and stuff tiny little fangs into his mouth, tipped red in what he could only assume to be the blood of his enemies.
Overall, not bad. He set the miniature version of himself on the table.
“Craft time’s paying off, huh?” Thorax chuckled.
Pharynx glanced at his brother and made a show of raising an eyebrow, before bringing his gaze back to the plush.
He didn’t realize until later on, but he didn’t take his eyes off of it until it was time to leave the loft again.
The next morning Thorax had woken him early, insisting that they go to a specific spot in the local market.
That spot turned out to be a dusty old magical artifact preserve in the middle of a street that was much too busy for Pharynx’s liking, and it was something like half an hour before Thorax had finally concluded his business there, trotting up to proudly announce that—
“I got us necklaces!”
Pharynx sighed. “What?”
“I got us—“
“No, I heard you, you dolt. Why?”
“Because they look cool!” chirped Thorax, proudly puffing out his chest, looking down at the thin band of metal wrapped comfortably around his neck. It was made with radiant gold and shaped to look like a pair of vines woven together, with a bright blue jewel inlaid into where the middle of his neck was.
Around them, ponies were stopping to stare. Pharynx fought off the urge to glare them away, instead directing that annoyance to his brother. “Is that it? Is that the kind of ruler you’re going to be? Unnecessary extravagance at the drop of a—“
Thorax touched a matching necklace—silver in color—to Pharynx’s chest.
“There’s also a communication spell enchanted into the metal,” spoke Thorax, directly into his mind.
Pharynx stepped back, but took the necklace with a hoof. “From how far away does it work?”
“The stallion who enchanted them said it would start getting static-y if you went more than halfway across Equestria, but anything within that limit is fine.”
“Why is this not a common item?”
“They’re working on it, apparently. Something called a ‘foam’ or something, I don’t know. I wasn’t listening because I was so excited!” Thorax fluttered his wings. “Do you like it, Pharynx? I think I want to get you a sword, next.”
Pharynx raised a brow. “I don’t need a sword. I have hooves. And claws, if I wanted. And just about anything that I can imagine.”
“But you’ll look even cooler! And super dignified. The Saddle Arabian sheik has a sword, and he looks extra cool and dignified, in addition to being as tall as Princess Celestia.”
“Why don’t you get one for yourself, then?”
“Because you’re my protector, silly!”
Pharynx was too slow to stop the lime green hoof from bumping gently against his snout. He swatted the thing away as soon as it made, contact, though.
And now Thorax was looking at him weirdly.
“What?” he asked.
“Did you smile after I booped your snoot just now?”
“No. Can we please get walking? We’re going to be late.”
“You did!”
“No I—“
Thorax was hugging him, now. Pharynx idly wished for death. He attempted to pull away from the bigger changeling’s grip, vehemently ignoring the many passersby who were now staring at the pair, but all that did was get Thorax to squeeze harder.
So he gave up, and a thought crawled out of the sandpit that was his frustration and declared that his brother was warm.
Very warm.
“I’ve been thinking,” said Pharynx.
Thorax looked up from his pile of paperwork, glancing over to where the older brother was curled up on the couch. “Uh huh?”
“The taste of pony food—“
“It’s like emotions?”
“Yes, but I was thinking that I wouldn’t mind going for some more. Just to compare.”
“So why don’t you?”
“No, that’s not what I…” Pharynx trailed off. “I was saying, that maybe I could go for some more sometime.”
“Right,” Thorax said, dragging the word out like Pharynx was a nymph. “So why don’t you?”
“Unable to pick up on implications and loaded sentences that play on relationship dynamics.” Pharynx groaned. “You are the worst changeling in the entire world, and somehow you’re our ruler.”
“What?”
“I’m asking if you want to get dinner with me, Thorax. Ocellus can come too.”
A moment passed as Thorax let the words process. For that single moment, Pharynx could only hear the drifting conversations of ponies in the street outside.
Buzzing filled his ears, and paired with that was Thorax’s pearly white teeth, glinting in the sunlight and nearly blinding him.
He drew back, but a long leg kept him from moving too far.
“You mean it?” asked Thorax.
“When did you learn to move so fast?”
“You mean it?”
“Please don’t hug me.”
“Pharynx!”
“Yes!” he barked. “Yes. I mean it. Let’s…eat. Together. Tomorrow afternoon. You’re supposed to see Ember later today, yes?”
“Yeah,” Thorax said. “Pharynx, we’ve never scheduled time to simply be together before.”
“I realized.”
Thorax’s leg began to tug.
“Don’t hug me,” said Pharynx.
Pharynx was hugged anyway.
He didn’t bother trying to fight it.
In fact, it never came to his mind.
Thorax had gone out to a full day of meetings, and for once, Pharynx had decided to stay back.
It was a split second decision. Just before leaving the loft, Thorax had turned to him and said, “You don’t have to come, you know. Everything I’m doing is all in the same building anyway, and that place is super secure. You can stay here, and meet me at the restaurant later, if you wanted! And I’ve got my necklace on, so it’s not like I’m gonna be alone.”
And that made sense, so Pharynx had said yes to his proposition. The communications necklaces would do their job, if anything went awry.
And now Thorax was late.
Why?
It didn’t make sense to Pharynx. ’Time’, in the way that ponies used it, never really did. Time was simply a way to measure how fast the Queen wanted her bidding done, after all. Time was an enemy that you had to fight against to service the hive in the best way possible, as soon as possible.
He tapped his hoof against his necklace, rubbing it against the bright blue jewel laid into the centre and watching it glow faintly with magic.
“Thorax. Where are you?”
Like the last dozen times he had tried, he received no response.
Maybe it was broken. He put his hoof down, feeling it clop against the dusty beige ground. He looked out to the ponies walking by, looking for his brother.
Ponies flooded his vision. Pastel blues, pinks, and yellows were everywhere to be found.
Every color of the rainbow, really, save for lime green.
“Sir?” someone said.
Pharynx turned to see a pegasus mare––the same one that had waited on him a few days ago, though she wouldn’t recognize his true form.
“What?” he asked.
“You’ve been standing here for an hour. Are you okay? Are you lost? Do you need me to call the consulate?”
“No!” he barked, feeling a small sense of satisfaction in her reactive flinch. “I’m just waiting for someone. My brother’s just running late. I’m—I’m alright.”
The mare nodded, and left, leaving Pharynx alone once again.
Thorax was late for something that he had surely been looking forward to for years. Something that he had dreamed of.
Pharynx looked to the sky, searching for smoke, or of any other sign that the fate of the world was in danger, but found only a cloudless sheet of silky blue.
Thorax was late. Maybe he had run into Ember?
But he would have never left with her without telling him.
“Pharynx?” A high pitched soprano interrupted his speculation.
He turned towards Ocellus, who stood, rubbing her leg. “Are you guys okay? We were all supposed to go to the gala tonight, remember?”
“I remember,” he said. “Do you know where Thorax is?”
“Wait, you guys haven’t even gone inside yet?”
“You haven’t seen him anywhere?”
Ocellus shook her head.
Pharynx’s wings buzzed out. “So neither of us have seen him all day, and now he’s an hour late for an important meeting.”
“…Pharynx?” She sounded like she was shivering. "Are you okay?"
“We have to consider the worst possibility,” he said. "There's no reason why he should be anywhere but here. His necklace isn't working, which means it's either junk or he isn't conscious enough to receive my messages. I've been waiting for an hour, Ocellus. We need to take action before it's too late."
He set his sights on the Bitalian consulate, tall and mysterious with its fading white marble and its many columns. “Thorax has gone missing. We have to find him. Now.”
Please don't do that again.
“Thorax, where in Mirage’s wings are you? Respond. Immediately.”
Pharynx took his hoof off of his necklace’s gem as he entered the Bitalian consulate, the ground underneath him transitioning from beige earth to red velvet that used to feel soft, but now just felt scratchy on his hooves. He ignored the sensation, though. His brother wasn’t anywhere to be found. It was up to him to find him.
Ocellus was glued to his side, staying as close as was politely possible, which, for changelings, was right up against him. She wasn’t saying much, the emotions coming off of her—nervousness, alertness, worry—spoke for themselves. She was trying to figure out where their leader had went as much as he was.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“What?” Her large eyes slimmed down into a suspicious squint. “Are you okay? You’ve never been one to ask about feelings before.”
“Maybe I just need some noise to fill my ears.”
She tilted her head, but nodded. “I’m fine.”
“What do you think of Bitaly?”
“It’s beautiful, obviously. There’s so much history here it’s pouring out of the walls. It’s so much different than Ponyville, but the same at the same time? It seems like there’s story for every single thing I can see, that there’s a tradition and reason for every little detail. It’s the size of Manehatten, but it’s as comfortable to walk in as Ponyville. I feel like I could learn a lot if I was able to stay here for longer.”
“And the summit?”
They turned a corner, walking down an identical hall to the one they were just in. Columns, security and dignitaries engaged in idle chat stood on either side of them. The barest hint of a smile entered Ocellus’s voice. “Oh, it’s so so interesting. It’s like being back at school, except I have a hundred group projects with a hundred different creatures, and I get to learn all about them while benefitting the changeling race as well. I think I’m going to enjoy being an ambassador full time in a few years, once I graduate.”
“You’re keen on the job, then?”
“In essence, it’s professional friendship, and you learn all the time. It feels like I was made for this job, and in a way, I was, wasn’t I? Why else would you and Thorax and Mom and Dad have sent me to the School of Friendship?”
Pharynx sent positive emotion her way—one could call it pride if they wanted, but she deserved a reward for being so sharp. She accepted it happily, giving him a fresh wave of gratitude in return.
A cooling sensation brightened his palate. He licked his lips. Gratitude was something that tasted good only in small doses, but it sure tasted great right now.
The conversation stalled as they travelled up a flight of stairs, having to show their passes to a couple of guardsponies guarding the entrance to the part of the consulate that contained the ambassadorial suites. This was where most of the pony emissaries were staying, and where they’d find Princess Cadance, Prince Shining Armor, and hopefully, Thorax.
They were directed to the end of another hall, painted beige and lined to the brim with rooms, where a particularly large apartment was located, guarded by a trio of topaz-colored crystal ponies that stood to attention when they approached.
“Identify yourselves, please,” said the one in the middle, who stood the furthest back and was directly in front of the huge double doors that led into the royal apartment.
Pharynx was quick to comply. “Prince Pharynx and Ambassador Ocellus of the Badlands Changeling Hive.”
“Your business?”
“We’re looking for my brother, King Thorax.”
“He’s not here.”
Disappointment. Burnt wood and dirt. Pharynx disconnected himself from Ocellus’s emotions, keeping his expression neutral despite the terrible taste in his mouth. “Then we’d like to ask Princess Cadance a few questions about his visit with her today.”
“She’s busy,”
“She can’t be too busy for a couple of friends, can she?” He hated saying that word. It felt like he was spooning rocks into his mouth every time he did.
“I’m not,” a muffled, musical voice said through the doors.
The guards were off to the sides and standing at attention before Pharynx could say another word. The doors opened, and out of the sunny apartment came a pink alicorn with tri-colored hair that framed her face in slightly curled, elegant tresses.
Princess Cadance smiled in his direction. Pharynx fought his urge to step back, reminding himself that he wasn’t at a wedding in Canterlot, and that this alicorn was now an ally.
“Prince Pharynx.”
“Princess Cadance,” he replied, bowing his head. He’d be respectful. For now.
“And that cute young changeling beside you must be Ocellus?”
“Yes, Princess,” Ocellus said. “Princess Twilight has had a lot to say about you and your husband.”
“All good things, I hope.”
The princess laughed. Pharynx exhaled through his nose. Where was his brother?
“I hear you two are looking for Thorax?”
“Yeah,” Ocellus continued. “He was supposed to be with you today, according to the schedule I helped him make.”
Cadance shook her head. “Thorax came by the apartments three times in the last week, but he never came by today.”
Nervousness. The two changelings shared an electric glance.
”Please,” Princess, anything at all would be helpful. We’re worried he’s in trouble, and we just want to find him.” Ocellus beat Pharynx to the punch, using an overly gentle tone in her words, almost rubbing her kindness in the prince’s face. If it were up to him, after all, he would have immediately accused the alicorn of lying and gotten into a row with all three of her guards.
“I…” Cadance stopped, steeped heavily in indecision, and a slight dash of worry. “I didn’t see him today, no, but he did hand deliver a letter to one of my guards. He asked for my forgiveness for a last minute reschedule—today was mostly a visit to spend time together as friends, so I was more disappointed than anything, but I figured something came up that he had to address.”
More worry. Pharynx snorted loudly.
Cadance raised a brow, but Ocellus cut into her impending reaction by stepping in front of him. “I see. Did he say where he was going? What he was up to?”
“No,” said Cadance, looking past the student at Pharynx. “I have no idea.”
Pharynx waited for more emotion. Anger, resentment. Something. Anything. But he could detect nothing. Nothing but worry. The genuine kind.
She was telling the truth.
She had no idea where Thorax was.
So Thorax “had business” to take care of. Thorax, who never left a negotiation room until everyone were satisfied, or at least everyone except for the changelings. Thorax, who wouldn’t have gone to a diplomatic meeting in the first place without first remembering that he had a dinner planned with Pharynx. Thorax, who didn’t really do much except for gawk over dragons and fawn over his family, friends and subjects.
“Where next?” asked Ocellus.
Pharynx could barely hear her over the wind. He glanced downward at the city—the buildings looked like little clumps of sand from so high up above. “Isn’t that obvious?”
“I don’t think Ember—“
“She has to,” Pharynx said, looking up and focusing on the tower in the distance.
Thorax had to have been there. Ember was in trouble, or she had some kind of problem that only he could solve, and it was the kind of problem that was time sensitive, thus rendering him unable to come and tell Pharynx that their dinner was cancelled, and that he was going to be up in the tower where the dragons were staying and he was completely, completely fine.
Pharynx wasn’t worried for Thorax as much as he was worried for the hive. They couldn’t afford to lose their leader now. It would have drastic effects on them diplomatically. They would lose all progress they had made. Without Thorax, no one else except for Ocellus had any adequate enough experience to lead their race, and she was much too young to have so much responsibility on her hooves.
But it was silly of him to be thinking about something like that. Thorax was fine. He’d stay their leader because he was fine. He was in the dragon tower that Pharynx was currently approaching, Ocellus in tow. They’d be let in without any problems, and they’d discover Thorax with an anxious or injured Ember, and everything would be explained, and Pharynx could slap him so hard his chitin would fall off and he would trigger an early molt.
“Stop right there!” a growly voice called out.
Pharynx stopped, about thirty metres from the old beige tower standing high enough to graze the clouds. He didn’t know why ponies had such a big building in the first place, but it was probably good that they did. Every dragon ambassador was crammed into that tower, and from what Thorax and Ocellus had told him, they were finding it quite comfortable.
If he were the Bitalians, though, he’d probably be worried about them overstaying their welcome.
He waited a few more moments for the owner of the voice to come out before looking around.
“Hello?” he called. Ocellus fluttered closer to him.
Shade came out of nowhere. The world was suddenly dim; the air above them, displaced.
Pharynx looked up.
A purple dragon flapped his leathery wings above them, duochrome scales turning half green in the sunlight that most of his body was obscuring.
Ocellus gasped. “How did you—“
“Invisibility,” the dragon explained. “My name is Tephra. You are changelings…but you are not King Thorax. Who are you?”
“Thorax’s brother,” said Pharynx. “I would like to see him now.”
“I don’t know Thorax’s brother.”
“I meant that I am Thorax’s brother. Take me to him.”
Tephra glanced to Ocellus. “Who are you?”
“Ocellus,” she said.
“You’re tiny.”
“I am,” she agreed, nodding at him and smiling like he had said something clever.
Tephra stared at her for a moment longer before nodding himself, and turning towards the tower. “Follow me.”
He led them to the top of the tower, through a window connected to a large room filled with gold bits and gems, in the middle of which lay Ember with her eyes closed. Her scales seemed to glow in the middle of the treasure, her limbs lazily stretched every which way. She looked as if she were taking a warm bath.
Her head turned towards them as they touched the makeshift hoard. “This better be important, Tephra.”
“Changelings are here, Dragon Lord Ember.”
“…Thorax?” Her eyes opened, revealing pearly white sclera dotted with glossy pupils the color of bright, fresh blood, and Pharynx’s antlers. She examined him, then Ocellus, then yawned. “Oh, Pharynx and Ocellus. What’s up?”
“Do you know where my brother is?” Pharynx clopped a hoof on the bits he was standing on.
“We were hanging out this morning,” she said. “But no, I don’t. Why?”
Ocellus was quick to speak. “He—“
“He’s missing.” Pharynx was quicker.
“Missing?” Ember said, eyes flicking back and forth between them. “What do you mean?”
“We don’t know where he is.”
“Okay but what do you mean?”
“Exactly what I said,” Pharynx growled. “You don’t know where he is?”
Worry. The same kind that Cadance had given off. Even stronger, actually. Ember was worry and nothing but worry. She tasted terrible.
“Is he okay? Do you need my help finding him?”
“We’ll be fine for now,” he said. “Do you know anything about where he might be?”
“No,” said Ember, furrowing her brows. “Look, if you can’t find him in a few more hours, come and find me — I’ll help.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Pharynx was already at the window, Ocellus quietly in tow. “Thank you for your time.”
“Pharynx. Pharynx!” Ocellus cried behind him. “Slow down!”
He kept his eyes on the city underneath. He kept flying as fast as he could. “Why should I?”
“We have to think about this!”
“There’s nothing to think about. My brother is missing. Your leader.”
“Just because Cadance and Ember didn’t know where he was doesn’t mean that he’s missing! We have to find out where he went!”
He put his hoof on his necklace.
“Thorax you better answer right now or I’m going to raise tartarus on this city. I’ll burn it to the ground. I need to know that you’re not missing, hurt or worse.”
“Don’t ignore me. You said that these ridiculous necklaces worked. You demonstrated that they did. Why aren’t they working now?”
“Thorax! Answer me!”
It was too tiring to keep flying. He spotted a familiar building—a café nearby, ponies walking through the street. He made for the alley right beside it. A perfect spot to continue his way back, and possibly formulate a plan of action.
He landed in the alley, pleased at the fact that no one else was around, and began to walk.
Only for Ocellus to stand in his way.
Green magic coursed through her form, swirling around her until there was a red, male earthpony standing in her place.
“Let’s consider the worst possibility,” Ocellus said, her voice deeper and richer by a considerable amount. “The possibility that Thorax has somehow fallen prey to a villain. There’s a chance that he left some kind of a sign for us to find. Which means we have to retrace his steps. But we don’t know where he went.”
Pharynx raised a brow before transforming himself, picking out an indigo mare with a silver and yellow colored mane. “And the point of disguising ourselves?”
“To attract less suspicion, of course.”
It made sense. Ocellus was good at making sense. If she were a pony, it’d be her special talent, for sure.
Pharynx felt her send a wave of affection towards him. He consumed it voraciously.
“Where could he have gone?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” Pharynx grumbled. “That’s why we’ve been running around this stupid pony city in the first place. I have no idea—“
“Wrong. Think harder. Is there anywhere but the consulate that Thorax could have gone? Anywhere at all? Because then that would be our lead.”
“I’m telling you that—“ He stopped. “Hold on.”
Hope glistened in Ocellus’s eyes. “What?”
“I might know a place.”
The sun was setting, dissipating the formerly blue sky with the kind of pink that a third of the hive had chosen to make the main color for their exoskeletons. It sent a misty light down upon the neutral colored buildings of the city, giving each of them a dreamy bubblegum tint that made the crumbling artifact shop look like something out of Discord’s dreams.
Pharynx stared the shop down, unimpressed. It looked like even more of a dump in the afternoon light.
“You’re sure he came here?” Ocellus inquired.
“I saw him enter and leave with our necklaces,” Pharynx tapped the band of silver around his neck.
“Let’s go in, then.”
And so they did.
The shop was as dingy as its exterior. Dust lined every corner, and covered most of the long pews of glass cases that contained an single item of every piece of jewelry imaginable, all inlaid with jewels or runes colored neon. Pharynx swore that he saw a few glow, but by the time the thought had processed, they had stopped. Wherever. however Thorax had found this place, Pharynx didn’t trust it.
“Hello,” an old, withered voice greeted him and Ocellus from behind a shelf. They watched as an old pegasus stallion stepped out, covered in necklaces and wings heavy with woven chains. “What shall I be doing for you today?”
“We’re looking for someone,” Ocellus said, stepping forward and afterwards shooting Pharynx a look that said “I’m taking the lead on this one.”
“I have many customers,” said the old pony. “Are you guards?”
“We work for the government. We’re looking for someone who might have important, confidential information.”
“Do you know what they look like?”
Ocellus nodded, pulling out a small picture of Thorax at his Equestrian award ceremony thing. Pharynx had refused to attend. At that point he was still in his old form, snarling and growling at all of the change happening around him. Those were certainly fun days, but now he wasn’t sure if he was as willing to go back to them as he was before.
The old pony examined Thorax thoroughly, staring the changeling king up and down, holding the picture closer to his eye, even rotating it so he could see upside down. “Yes, I’ve seen this changeling before. He’s quite polite, and kind. He was here today.”
“When?” Ocellus said.
“Possibly an hour ago. Possibly two.”
“Why?”
“He was looking for a sword. He wanted something interesting. Something ‘as cool as his big brother was’.”
“And did he find what he was looking for?”
“Eventually.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Pharynx asked, stepping towards him.
“It means he bought a sword,” the pony said with a shrug. “And then he looked like he forgot about something, and then he ran off in a rush.”
“Which way?”
“Didn’t see.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yep.”
“Useless!” he roared, rearing up and detransforming, slamming his real hooves into the floor as he did. The stallion’s eyes widened and he backed up hastily, tripping over himself in the process. Pharynx’s wings fluttered out as his hackles raised. He inched forward, looming over the pony. “You’re useless. What have you been selling my brother? Junk? These necklaces don’t work and you can’t even tell me where no doubt your first customer in ages went after purchasing your trash?”
“Pharynx!” Ocellus cried. “Stop!”
“According to all the information we have, this guy was the last creature to see Thorax today.”
“That doesn’t mean anything!”
“It means I’m going to cocoon him and probe his mind to make sure he’s telling the truth.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Ocellus said, louder and slower, like she was talking him off of a ledge. He glared at her as she did, but allowed her to slowly approach.
“I didn’t detect suspicious emotion off of him,” she stated. “Did you?”
“He could have some way to hide it.”
“Then so could Ember and Cadance, if you want to look at it like that. Just—just calm down, Pharynx. Please. We’re here as representatives of our race. We don’t want to start anything.”
Pharynx looked at her, and glanced back at the terrified old pony on the floor.
“…Fine,” he muttered.
His wings buzzing angrily, he left the shop. He had a better idea, anyway.
He was back at the loft. He didn’t remember the journey back. Only flying faster than Ocellus could possibly hope to fly, and nearly kicking down the door before remembering that he had a key on him.
He had been in the same position for twenty something odd minutes. He was looking down, and staring at the gem.
It was green in color. The kind of green that Chrysalis was in love with. It was shaped like a pyramid, and underneath its surface sand colored magic swirled around like a tiny tornado. All it would take to activate it was a single touch from a member of the royal caste, and the utterance of a keyword.
He could do it.
“Pharynx?” Ocellus’s voice soared through as she entered the room.
He didn’t bother looking at her, instead listening as her footsteps got closer to the couches and to him, stopping when they got close enough. He heard her gasp softly, no doubt in reaction to the gem.
“No,” she said. “No. We have to wait. Thorax might still turn up.”
Pharynx kept his eyes gem, paying close attention to how it shimmered and shined. “We’re changelings. Someone has attacked one of our own. We can’t afford to wait. What if you’re next?”
“You’ll protect me.”
He was quiet for a time.
“Maybe I can’t,” he said. “Maybe I should have stayed at the hive and sent Cornicle here with you and Thorax.”
“Don’t say that.”
He blinked. His left ear twitched involuntarily. “I’m going to bring the rest of the hive into Bitaly, and then we’re going to disguise ourselves, and kick down every door that exists in this city until we find my brother. And then I’m going to turn into a dragon and turn whoever took him away from me into ash.”
“Okay, that’s enough,” Ocellus said.
There was a detransformation. From what, Pharynx didn’t know. Ocellus was in her original form. She had no disguise to drop.
He turned away from the gem to find his brother, standing and scratching the back of his head. “Surprise?”
Pharynx reached out with his empathic senses. Thorax sent back an imprint—a wave of specific emotional beats that could only belong to him.
Thorax was there. He was standing in the room with him.
Thorax was fine.
“Explain,” Pharynx said, feeling himself grow cold.
“You were talking about how boring it was to guard me for the past month because nothing’s happened,” he began, beginning to move closer to Pharynx. “And then I was walking up to Cadance’s room and it hit me—you needed something to do! So I-I thought that you might appreciate the opportunity to feel like you were actually in danger, or that I was, and that maybe you were going to have to get into some action? I wouldn’t have actually let you if you did, but it totally felt like it, right? Right? I figured that maybe giving you a thrill again was gonna be much better than giving you a sword that you’d never use. And, uh, not gonna lie, it’s been pretty interesting seeing how you reacted. So there. That’s—that’s my gift!” Thorax laughed nervously, tensing up under Pharynx’s cool gaze. “Do you like it? Please say you do or else I’m gonna feel really stupid.”
Did he like it?
Well, for one, it was completely insensitive and completely insane. This wasn’t the kind of thing that anyone ever had in mind when they wished for more excitement. If he hadn’t known any better he would have thought that it was done out of spite, or revenge.
It was almost mean. It was definitely manipulative.
A smile grew, slowly but surely, until Pharynx’s mouth had stretched farther than it had ever gone. His biggest smile in his entire life. “I thought it was real,” he said. “I thought you were truly missing. I was prepared to potentially send our race to war over you.”
“I—“ Thorax started.
Pharynx raised a hoof, stopping him. He lowered it after and cleared his throat, looking at his younger brother and declaring “That was a truly impressive gift, Thorax. Thank you.”
Thorax, whose emotions had been swirling back and forth from overjoyed to panicked, nearly deflated in relief. “So you’re not mad?”
“Oh, I’m still mad. Be on your guard for the next month.” A laugh slipped out of him. He hadn’t felt a rush like that in ages. He stood and walked to Thorax, who cowered in his place but stood his ground. When he was close enough he closed his eyes and pressed his forehead into his younger brother’s chest. He heard Thorax gasp, surprise and delight swirling into a delectable meal for him to feed off of.
“Please don’t do that again,” he said.
“Okay.” Thorax coughed. “I don’t think I can stomach doing something like that again, anyway. I forgot how hard it was to act like another creature.”
“Where’s the real Ocellus, anyhow?”
“Who else would be doing all my work for today?”
“…I would be more mad if it weren’t for how well thought out this was.”
Thorax chuckled. “I take it you like your gift?”
“Much better than a sword,” purred Pharynx.
There was a moment of quiet as each brother soaked up the other’s presence.
Eventually, Pharynx felt the other changeling fidgeting. He heard a hoof clop against a jewel.
“Hey, you still wanna get dinner? I know a place that’s open until late.”
He stepped back and looked Thorax up and down, taking in the strange dichotomy of his awkward smile and regal stature, his near-tangible aura and his tendency to get embarrassed if someone stared at him for too long.
He pressed his own jewel, and he said something that he’d never say out loud. At this point in time, at least.
Thorax’s eyes widened. Tears began to flow.
Pharynx was wrapped up in long, green legs before he could think another thought. He let it happen, though. He even rested his head against Thorax’s neck, closing his eyes.
“IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou,” Thorax repeated, over and over, holding him tight.
“My brother,” Pharynx said. “You have another minute of hugging before I detach myself from you and drag you to a place where we can eat pony food.”
“Okay,” Thorax laughed through his unrestrained sobbing. “But I’ll have to wipe my face up first.”
