What if I say you're not like the others?
For Feather Duster, it was just another day in the office. Stuffy nobles going out of their way to make her job harder, large unused rooms somehow managing to accrue vast amounts of filth overnight, and her coworker, Broom Stick singing YET ANOTHER TUNE as he worked the other half of the room. Normally she could just tune it out, but alas, 'tis not to be this time.
"What if I say you're not just another one in your place?~"
Ignoring the line, assuming it's probably some kind of coincidence, she turns back to the shelf she had been dusting prior to the disturbance. Fighting the urge to sneeze amidst all the dust being kicked up around her muzzle, Feather carefully works around the priceless antiques that adorn this particular room's shelves. Across the room, Broom has stopped working and begun using his mop as a prop microphone stand, having engaged wholeheartedly in the melody that's come over him.
"You're the pretender!~"
Feather stops dead in her tracks, this one statement having aroused a sensation she hadn't felt before in her life: doubt. Slowly, she turns to the offending stallion, her serene mask starting to slip.
"Broom Stick?" She halfheartedly calls out. Broom is too deep in his performance to notice, though.
"What if I say--"
"BROOM STICK!" Feather Duster thunders, snapping the aforementioned azure earth pony out of the music.
"Oh... uh, right. What's up, Feather?" he asks sheepishly. At this point, his cream coated counterpart just sits there, staring silently into his soul.
Seconds pass, and then seconds turn into minutes. The tacet quickly turns awkward as Feather Duster continues her silent contemplation.
"Broom... how did you know?" The question earns a confused expression from the stallion.
"How did I know what?" he replies.
Feather Duster shakes her head, the odds of her adorably empty-minded coworker randomly guessing her secret not being lost on her. Noticing not for the first time that he's actually kind of cute when he gets confused like that, she considers possibly courting him once everything's out on the table... assuming he doesn't hate her afterwords, that is.
In the blink of an eye, she wreaths herself in the signature green flames of her species' unique ability, burning away the disguise of Feather Duster and revealing her natural form for the first time in nearly a decade. Stretching her disused wings, the newly revealed changeling infiltrator chitters contently. To her delight, Broom Stick doesn't seem to be freaking out at the realization that his coworker is not just a changeling, but an unreformed one to boot. Not outwardly, anyway.
"By the hive, it's been too long!" she exclaims, punctuated by a chirp of pleasure as she works out a particularly nasty knot in her neglected flight muscles. "Before you ask, no. There never was a Feather Duster. She is and always has been me, just with a mask on. While SOME changelings might have preferred to take on existing ponies' identities, that was never my style."
Broom releases the breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding at this point, which doesn't go unnoticed by the holey insectoid equine.
"So..." Broom begins. "if Feather was a lie, then what's your real name?"
Oh... so much for him taking it well, then. Has anyling ever mentioned that anger and betrayal taste REALLY nasty, by the way?
"Elytra," she replies simply. Another pregnant pause ensues. "Broom, I--"
"Save it." Even if Elytra wasn't an empath, she could still see the hurt in his eyes. And deep down, it hurt her to see that she'd hurt him.
"Broom, please understand--"
"Understand what?!" Broom Stick roars, causing Elytra to involuntarily shrink back away from the angry stallion. "You LIED to me, Feather! Or Elytra! Or whatever the buck your name actually is! Who have I been working with for these last 8 years? WHO ARE YOU?!" He turns from the changeling mare with an exasperated sigh. "And what's truly sad is that I think I was actually falling for you... bucking figures that'd be a lie, doesn't it?"
A moment later, a choked sob draws his attention from behind him. Turning around, he finds the changeling he had just accosted sitting on her haunches, crying.
"I know... and when you started singing that Tartarus-forsaken song, I thought you knew. I thought that maybe there was finally something better to be had in this life; something that didn't require me to give up my true form like all those idiots who followed Thorax did years ago." Elytra looks into Broom's eyes, or at least Broom thinks she does... those creepy blue orbs really don't give much away in that department, if he's being completely honest with himself. "Bucking figures that'd be too good to be true, doesn't it?"
"I..." Broom stutters, taken aback by the turn of events. Another flash of green changefire later, and Feather Duster stands before him once more.
"Well, then," she remarks, starting towards the entrance to the large guest suite. "I guess that's it. I'll just go tender my resignation, and then you'll never have to see me again." She opens the door. "Goodbye, Broom Stick."
She doesn't make it halfway out into the hallway before Broom calls out.
"Elytra, wait..." The aforementioned changeling pauses to hear what he has to say. "Did you have any feelings for me, or was it one-sided?" Elytra, still wearing the mask of Feather Duster, turns to face Broom Stick.
"Yes," she replies. "Yes, I did. And when you started singing that song, I thought maybe... just maybe..."
Broom Stick clears his throat.
"Elytra, I'm... I'm willing to try and make it work." This sparks a glimmer of hope in Elytra's chest.
"You really mean it?" She asks, and Broom nods.
With a squeal and a burst of changefire, Elytra flies across the room and hugs Broom Stick, which he quickly returns upon recovering from the shock of being glomped by a changeling.
Maybe, Elytra thinks to herself, things will work out after all.
And such was the beginning of a long, beautiful relationship that even Princess Cadance herself couldn't have arranged, and which continued onward happily ever after.
Author's Note
Embed for those without Google-fu:
If 4 lines is too much, I'll eat my hat. The premise was too good to pass up, though.
My only regret is the cheesy ending, though. Endings are hard. And on that note, I'm gonna get some shuteye. With any luck, I can knock out some serious mileage tomorrow.
PEACE
